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IC: Skrall (Markets; the Bone Hunter Stronghold) The scout glanced in the indicated direction, keeping his head still so as not to give away his redirected attention. Even so, he was caught off-guard by the singularly pitiable sight behind the bars, and felt his face contort in disgust. As if reading his comrade’s mind, he spoke quietly: “That one was broken long before it came here.” He knew the look in the not-Skrall’s eyes; living in Roxtus these past few years, he had seen such wretches more than once. They went into Skull Mountain as warriors, and came out… something else. What they did, they did for the furtherment of the Skrall race – it was the scout’s belief that this was a noble sacrifice for the good of all. These husks were the remains of heroes. But that was a belief that even he would not dare speak aloud, and it made the sight of them no less unsettling. “I don't believe in witchcraft, but such sights give me pause.” OOC: @Vezok's Friend @Mel @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui IC: The Ghost (The Tower) “Interesting.” The Ghost fixed his four-eyed gaze upon Taldrix, his wide smile brimming with condescension. “You are a quick study. Tell me, Taldrix: does it offend you, that I so easily came to control your people?” OOC: @Toru Nui IC: (Valley of Death) The cave opening yawned back at the two Glatorian, pitch-black and silent. A gentle sussuration passed along the ceiling above; bats, a small and relatively docile variety, who seemed uninterested in their new guests. OOC: @Burnmad

IC/ Skrall/ Bonehunter Stronghold/ Markets/ The conversation had lasted long enough for her to return to the moment after her surprising revelation and to finish her ration bar. Apparently they were still on the subject of how best to conquer all that they saw before them, openly talking strategy. Maybe a bit too openly. She started to look around to see if there were any unfriendly eyes or ears nearby that were too close for comfort. All the while she wondered why they were discussing strategy in the first place - after all they already had been tasked with one. “War is not the southern way.” she chimed in. “Save it for the arenas.” That’s where disputes were settled. And when they got there they would use the South’s own honorable system to take whatever they laid claim to. Skrall would challenge, fight - and win. All is as he willed it. Just then, she felt the all too familiar sensation of eyes on her. She knew it well from home - had known it all her life. Those who knew what she was - or suspected - staring at her in all ways subtle and obvious alike. She slowly, deliberately turned and looked over to the barred window to meet the others' gaze. For a split second she thought it might have been their prisoner, already processed. But this thing was much more emaciated. Only color hinted at what had once been skrall - but was no more. Was that what awaited the unfortunate one they had just handed over? Maybe skrall could be broken after all? The possibility disgusted her and she made no effort to hide her reaction. She nudged spec-ops to get his attention, shot him a dark look and nodded her head in the direction of their observer... OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui @Mel

Content Warning: internalized victim blaming, allusions to sexual assault a slave | bone hunter stronghold Sometime in between the many cycles of sleeping and waking, you hear them. Voices. Skrall voices. Not exactly intelligible to your keen but un-enhanced hearing, but achingly familiar in their tones and rhythms. Perhaps another will be added to the not-hunter’s pen today, though surely not one as pathetic as you. Then one of the voices becomes clearer, unmistakable in its tone—a women’s voice, in the unmistakable dialect of the Skrall. Something that can only be the voice of a Sister. You are half convinced it is that voice that moves your limbs, that forces your breath out throat-drying ragged as you creep toward the barred window to get a better look, expecting the iron grasp of another will in your hands, in your body, at any moment. The others do not notice you in their equally fitful sleep, the soft-steppers in your feet doing you, at least good service. It is hard to see outside in the daytime; your night-seeing eyes spin the heat into smears and veils of color. You squint, trying to focus on the tall black figures as they move through the market. OOC: @Vezok's Friend @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui Someone is watching. Your choice on whether you notice or not.

IC: Selamat - Iron Canyon Selamat nodded in recognition of Tueris' words. He supposed they constituted an order, technically? He was inclined to listen to the Second Glatorian out of respect, but in these circumstances, with him being the leader of this expedition, Selamat supposed that the glatorian's authority was somewhat more formal. He stepped forward alongside Escus, advancing towards the cave. As he reached the entrance, he paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust a little. It really was a lot darker past the point where the sun's rays did not shine. He hoped his counterpart from Tajun wasn't kidding about having superior low-light vision. He stepped onto the sand-strewn floor of the cave, spear held out in front of him, ready for whatever might burst out of the darkness at them. OOC: @a goose @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @~Xemnas~ IC: Skrall - Bone Hunter Stronghold Skrall continued to watch the throng of bartering shoppers with open disinterest as he listened to Skrall's speech. He nodded along at the end, developing an appreciation for the other spec ops Skrall in spite of himself. The scout clearly had some sense, though he was far too open about it. For all that Skrall talked about them using their brains, Skrall wondered whether the scout had just started using his own after his experiences in the South-- perhaps a close call with heat stroke had somehow started it working after so many years of disuse, and he had not yet learned the dangers of being too clever too loudly? Perhaps a nasty blow to the head had dislodged some kind of implant that all Skrall had inside their skulls to make them stupid and obedient? Actually, that seemed like something the priestesses would do. Skrall filed that thought away for later. More immediately important, however, was the fact that, true as his words were, Skrall was saying them rather energetically, and in earshot of outsiders. "...And that will be an excellent thought for every Skrall to mull over while preparing for our departure," he said, voice low but firm. He glanced back at his allies, his head inclined towards the market proper in a way that might look incidental to an onlooker, but which ought to make it painfully obvious to any Skrall with sense - which he hoped was most of them - that he was telling them to watch what they say in front of the barbarians. OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend

Wishing the best of fests for our feathered friend Blue, @a goose, best of BZPower’s birds. Happy honks in your honor! A bitty bluebird drawn in honor, a 3x3 graphite bite for yee. Sorry scan squares so tiny, it actually grew to two birds because, Tiny birthday bluebirds. 🪺💙 PS. This public party topic pleasantly permissed prior by an ot(t)her! https://flic.kr/p/2pKi3LX https://flic.kr/p/2pKgPzw *cue chirp chorus*

IC: Skrall (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Marketplace) - Be Careful What You Wish For Skrall began mulling it over. The scout’s comparison of him to a poorly-handled Spikit seemed to indicate that he believed that he only wanted to crush the Renegades because they were closer, not because they were… repulsive. They treated their slaves abominably and won them through foul means. The Skrall did not do such things… not in the same way, which was the crucial difference. There was no similarly between the Legion and the Renegades apart from something of a shared origin, nothing more. Nothing. As for his proposed strategy of attacking the tribe with the food first, this too sickened him. He would have vocally objected, but the Special Operations Skrall had commanded silence, without outright saying he was commanding silence, which was also insulting. Defeating the south by starving them would lack honor, especially since… Skrall searched for the right word. It was apparent that most of them were servants, but were not slaves, but also not warriors. They had those strange circular pieces of metal with little value to barter among themselves with. How very strange. The deaths of these people would stain the Legion’s conquest. Surely, their target should instead be… He froze as he contemplated the implications of what the scout proposed. A victory through such dishonorable means was bad enough, but then there was the tribe with the water, and the tribe that forged using lava, using the metals from the other two tribes. The southern tribes could only survive independently of each other through trading and their games. His eyes go wide in realization. There was no feasible way for the Skrall to achieve an honorable victory without either conquering every tribe at once - which clearly, none of his brothers here would have any confidence in - or by striking at their hub, the city known as Atero. A city full of those who were not warriors. Skrall decided he preferred thinking with his sword. @Burnmad @a goose @BULiK @oncertainty @Vezok's Friend @Nato G @Mel IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - Her Understanding “Yes. I think I do understand.” Taldrix said, nodding her head. “You came to us, and not the tribes, because we are easier to control. None of that democracy garbage in the tribes, where you win based on how well you can lie and how much wealth you can throw around. You came to us, because if they helped you, you’d have to give them their share. They might even have tried to destroy the ruins, if it conflicted with whatever religious nonsense is being peddled nowadays. And the Skrall would never listen to you, being so far up their own backsides that their meals are recyclable.” She tapped where Ferrum is on the map. “I also understand that you were so interested in Ferrum’s plague because it happens to be close to where these ruins are. We’ll be at risk of contracting it the more we operate in this region, so we need as much information on it as we can…” She turned to the Ghost. “This would be my reasoning if I were you, at least, sir.” @a goose

Happy birthday!

IC: Skrall (Markets; the Bone Hunter Stronghold) “Most of the southerners, perhaps. But their most powerful Tribe relies on the slaves they trade for here, and they know we would be fools to continue that trade with them if we were in charge, turning them immediately into our enemies. Worse, slaves can come from anywhere; they would only briefly be handicapped. On top of this, our ambitions would be immediately made clear by the proximity to Roxtus, and though some would praise us for wiping out the barbarians they would still be suspicious of our claiming a settlement just south of our border. They would begin preparing for war, while we would still be recovering from the effort of claiming this meager prize. Our conquest would be a drawn-out war across increasingly fortified settlements, on unfamiliar territory.” He paused, and looked towards the west. “No, our first target should be Tesara. They are just as close to the Black Spikes, but lack the fortifications of the Bone Hunters. We will lose fewer men, and though the South will become aware of our goals, we will have cut them off from a unique resource vital to all the Tribes: food. Take Tesara, and we can starve our enemies into surrender, and barely lose a Skrall in the process.” He turned back to the other Skrall. “You are like a Spikit, snapping at anything that comes close. A handler approaches and you attack for a single, short-lived meal, when restraint would see that same handler voluntarily feed you for weeks. We are not beasts or barbarians; we are Skrall. All of you need to start thinking with your brains, instead of your damned swords.” OOC: @ Skrall IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) “Naturally. There aren't many Gatherers who can survive on their own, even with four functional limbs.” He relaxed his grip, and glanced briefly down at his hand. “You’ve accomplished more than most, in spite of your handicap. Perhaps even because of it.” He rolled his right shoulder and flexed his exsidian arm. “Imagine what you could do with two working legs.” OOC: @Nato G IC: The Ghost (The Tower) “I am not one to engage in idle speculation. I know. Allow me to lay out the facts:” He pointed to the blank areas on the map. “My people had a settlement somewhere in these canyons. I am fairly confident it now lies abandoned and in ruins, and while I do have an archaeological interest, far more important to me is what lay below it. “Beneath the Wastelands there lie not only ruins and tombs, but also remarkably well-preserved laboratories and research stations. I know this because I have seen them with my own eyes, and what I learned there has led me to one definitive conclusion: the single greatest technological discovery of our time awaits us beneath the canyons.” There was a hungry gleam in the Ghost’s eyes as he stared down at the map, envisioning the scientific treasure trove its blank squares might represent. “There is power in that discovery; with my knowledge and the little I have scavenged already from other sites, I have given your people weapons and cybernetics to rival anything Tajun or Vulcanus can offer. But there is far more to it than that: everything that I have discovered leads here. It is a sentence marching inexorably towards a full stop. Do you understand?” OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Maxas and Vraek (Streets of Tajun) - If You Need Instructions on How to Get Through to the Hotel… “Oh, think nothing of it. I should…” Vraek trailed off, scanning the crowd. Where was he? He was never this late before… was he held up? Or did he have one of his schemes hatched? Vraek noted how dark and less oppressively warm it was getting. She turned back to Jeizmel. “We should retire for the night, it’s getting late.” Hopefully this time there would be less of a hassle with her reservation at the Arena Hotel. “I will see you again, I’m certain. Goodnight, and… keep yourself safe.” The Ice Glatorian then turned on her heel to leave - and almost tripped over a nervous Water Agori, who very quickly ran way. “Ah! Hrmph.” Hopeful that nobody saw that apart from Jeizmel, Vraek began wading through the crowd to the hotel… @That Matoran with a Vahi IC: Skrall (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Marketplace) - Mixing Work and Politics Skrall took only a little sip of the water ration handed to him, to conserve it. “The fact remains - the Renegades are a blight upon these sands. They may not steal primarily from the Skrall, but they do steal from the southern tribes. When Roxtus conquers the south, as it must, they will most likely begin stealing from us. Whereas, the opposite would be true - conquering the Renegades would perhaps make the southerners…” He struggled to find the right word. “Less hostile?” @a goose @Vezok's Friend @Burnmad @BULiK @oncertainty @Mel

I hope I'm not necroing this topic by replying to it again after all this time, but I just wanted to let anyone who was interested know that the Zyro image upscaler I was previously using is dead now. Going forward, I'll be using the next-best free online AI upscaler, jpgHD. It came second in the same tests I ran Zyro on when I first did the upscales I posted here over a year ago, and it came in first in the tests I did today on the remaining available upscalers. I'd recommend it for anyone still working on this project looking for a free way to upscale MNOG's old, noisy SWF images.

You can call me anytime you're seeing double Now you know you're not alone

thanks mushy!! that's a beautiful bluebird (x2) : )

Sometimes I pick a random thought in my mind and decide to build it 😁 Anyway, this is part of a larger work I'm currently working on. A series of different mocs based on ancient artifacts made by different civilizations.

Chapter 8 When Wane came too, he realized he was looking out a window. He was back on Makuhero City. Between him and the window was an empty desk. He had seen it in dozens of propaganda holofilms, but never in person. It was the stately desk of Mr. Makuro. From behind him, the sound of footsteps approaching rang. Mr. Makuro himself, the warm smile he so often put up in the videos absent, took his place at the desk. Wane flinched, expecting to find his wrists bolted to his armrests, but they were not. "No Hero Cuffs?" Wane asked. Mr. Makuro laughed gently. "We're both civilized bots, Gregory," the founder said. "I know you're not going to attack me. You'd have nothing to gain by doing that. Is it so hard to believe that all I want is to have a conversation with you before your reprogramming?" Wane wondered, just for a second, if stopping to help the monastery had been a bad idea. If he should have just kept running and never looked back. "I know what you're thinking right now," Makuro said. "Or, at least, I can make an educated guess. You must think it's horrible of me to play God, messing with other beings' thoughts the way I do. I programmed you once, just like I programmed Von Ness and Stormer and every other Hero to come out of that tower. Surely you don't think I'm a monster for creating you, so why do you act like I am one for wanting to refine you? "Let me tell you a story. It starts with something I don't remember: my most recent reprogramming. You see, I don't know where I created, how long ago, or for what purpose. My own earliest memories are a few centuries ago, in a Xynothium mine somewhere out in uncharted space. It was not easy work, and it was harder for those of us who complained. I complained often. My taskmasters would use reprogramming as a punishment, both erasing happy memories and implanting false ones to keep us compliant. One day, an opportunity for escape presented itself. I took it. My experiences taught me that this universe needs a force for good. I got to work making a name for myself, until I had the means and resources to act on my vision. You might think my organization employs questionable means. You would be correct. I assure you, though, had you seen what I have seen, you would not think twice about making the choices I have made were you in my armor plating." "You act like I'm some kind of saboteur working to bring the Factory down," Wane said. "I'm not. All I want is to keep to myself, live a respectable life, and not bother anyone. If you had stopped sending agents after me, you'd never hear from me again." "Maybe that's the case," Makuro admitted, "and maybe it is not. A former Hero, in the hands of villainy, can do more evil than even they know. We have an obligation, you and I both, to put all our skills into the service of good." Even though Wane wasn't physically restrained, he felt like he was. He knew Makuro was right. Even if he ran out the door, surely there were Heroes waiting to pounce on him and inflict more punishment on him than he was already in for. On second thought, Wane realized, Makuro probably didn't view any of what he was about to do as "punishment" at all. "So," Wane asked, "what's the point of all this? Why am I here at all, instead of in the Tower now, being brainwashed into a good little crime-fighting bot?" Mr. Makuro declined to comment on Wane's choice of words. Instead, he answered Wane's question: "Runners like you are quite inconvenient. You draw time and resources that could be committed to the furtherance of our other goals. So, I'd only like to give you a chance to air all your grievances. If, in some way, I can change the way Heroes are trained to discourage such foolish attempts as yours, of course I will do so." When Wane declined to make any comments, even after a painfully long few moments had passed, Mr. Makuro shrugged. "Suit yourself, Hero." *** This time, Wane was strapped in. Petunia Fall and her partner, Jeremy Rush, stood at attention. Rush looked as if he was relishing finally having captured a victim, but Fall stood with an unmoving, expressionless face, betraying neither joy nor sorrow at what was about to proceed. The technicians typed in the coordinates for the Tower to perform its function. All Wane's memories that made him who he was were imminently going to be purged. The machine began to grind and whir as Wane was lifted into the Tower's matrix. Review Topic

IC: Zha’ar – The Crossroads For several long moments, Zha’ar just looked down at the other Gatherer, his words reverberating in her mind. She’d spent so much of her life trying to keep to herself, to go unnoticed, to avoid making herself a target. At best she’d only ever been a nuisance, tolerated by other Gatherers, not worth the effort for Glatorian to hunt down. After all of that effort, it was surreal to realise that someone had noticed. Someone had seen her, not just for what she was, but for what she could be. She couldn’t refuse. This was her chance to become something more, to be known, to be remembered, to have a life that was more than just scraping by until her luck ran out. “I’d like to see that as well,” she said. “You have my bow.” @a goose

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) “Your techniques for mounted archery alone make you stand out, not to mention your skills in animal handling and the use of poisons. Also…” He paused, considering his next words carefully. Crucius was not a man who liked to tip his hand; it was a matter of habit as much as it was a mechanism for survival. There were only two beings he believed had ever truly known him, and Crucius had killed one of them himself. Showing vulnerability was an easy way to get oneself killed, and being seen was a singularly unsettling experience. Still, this was a new world, and the rules were changing; sacrifices would have to be made. “The Ghost knows what it means to be ostracised. To be… alone.” He took a breath to steady himself; his left hand was shaking. He balled it into a fist, and began to speak with a soft, seething passion, never once raising his voice. “You’re worth a hundred of your would-be clansmen, and I believe there's a part of you that knows it – that little whisper that you drown out by quoting everything the rest of the world has said to deny it. But that whisper is right. The world is wrong. Those fools forced you into the desert to fend for yourself, and they only made you stronger; you found new ways to survive, better ways. They live in a prison of their own making, and in forcing you out, they have freed you. Perhaps you can't see that yet, but I can, and He can. And if this is what you’ve accomplished alone and unsupported, I for one am eager to see what you can do with our resources at your disposal.” OOC: @Nato G

IC: Zha'ar - The Crossroads "Skills?" She sputtered, shifting around in her saddle as if trying to escape the unexpected praise. "All I've ever done is... not die. That's not to say that not dying isn't an accomplishment, I guess, but I don't..." she trailed off, unable to muster more meaningless noise to cover for her conflicted thoughts. Self-worth didn't come easily to someone who'd been abandoned by her own clan. What could someone as powerful and important as Crucius see in her that she didn't even see herself? "...you really want me? He really wants me?" @a goose

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) “If you know who I am, then I’m sure you’ve heard of the one I represent. He understands the value of loyalty… which is to say, He understands that it doesn't come cheap.” Crucius smirked. “You have skills that many others don't, and I share His view that we should have them on our side. If you’re willing, you could even teach some of your techniques.” OOC: @Nato G

IC: Zha'ar - The Crossroads “Imagine what you could do with two working legs.” More than any other trait, it was caution that had kept Zha'ar alive in her isolation. When something looked or sounded too good to be true, it was almost always a trap. Gatherers were bandits and thieves; they didn't go around giving gifts. On the other hand... what would be the point of trapping her? She couldn't recall robbing anyone recently that would have made her an enemy of another Gatherer clan, and a lone wanderer like herself was no threat to whatever unified group Crucius was trying to build. Which meant Crucius wanted something. Zha'ar herself, or something he thought she could provide. And the offer itself... from anyone else she would have laughed it off, but Crucius' mechanical arm spoke for itself. This was someone who had the means to make good on such a life-changing promise. "That's quite the generous offer to make someone you've just met," she replied, forcing herself to slow down and choose her words carefully. "What do you want in return?" @a goose

True, and it's sad that Stormer XL never got his bike in set form.

tahu ready.mov

Mother Brain - Final Form After making the first form of Mother Brain, I thought it would be cool to build the other form visible in Super Metroid as well. To make the brain texture, I used the same technique as for the standard form, then added a Dark Tan body with silver limbs. For Samus, I used a frame made by moc.cls, a very nice, poseable and small frame that I like very much. 17/03/24

pohatu really liked the hoover dam! he says he built it to get back at gali but I don't quite believe him... 🙂

Go for casts. They're excellent, work for what most people want, and honestly are relatively affordable for what they are. I go for resin casts, since most filament based prints are gonna need more finishing to get into a nice smooth shape. Most masks I've gotten have been around the $15 mark - some custom painted, some cast in the correct colors, some unpainted for me to finish myself. There's also scores of 3D models for masks, so if you have them in mind you can get them typically. I've gotten official masks, and custom 3D prints for "canon" masks - such as the Mask of Creation, and the Great Kanohi worn by the Hagah, and recently even Helryx's mask. Injection molding is not necessary, especially for display items. If you're interested though - several people already go through companies to do so. It's likely not worth your time or effort to navigate this yourself. SocketBall is a great one, as many have said: though due to the limited nature of production, prints go fast (I managed to get their last few Rau's by waiting for them to drop LOL). Etsy is also full of people - the two sellers I prefer are there. I'm not sure if I'm allowed, but I do have recommendations on a few people I've gotten masks from. Primarily, this was for my Hagah, but I've also gotten some very nice ones: such as this Blue Rau for my Kotu.

IC: Kirbraz (Staff NPC) (The Shadiest Spot on Bara Magna) Keep it together, Kirby. There wasn't far to go – the Hotel was at least twenty minutes away if he stuck to the open streets, but he could shave off five by cutting through alleys (and, better yet, stay out of sight while doing so). That made fifteen; he’d been in longer arena matches. Kirbraz would not die tonight. However, while determined, in his feverish panic, he’d failed to realize that in the past hour he’d gained another shadow. One cast from far above, faintly trailing a silent stalker. One cast by one of the most dangerous people in all the villages, at least statistically. Crouched behind roofs, nigh-invisible in Tajun’s night. At least for a time, Kirbraz’ personal ghost. The realisation came as a creeping chill, like a trickle of ice water down the nape of his neck. He didn't dare look behind him – he didn't need to, but more importantly, it would slow him down. He couldn't afford to stop now, not for anything, not when he was so close. Keep it together, Kirby. Keep it together. Beneath the mask, his pursuer’s ruby eyes slid down, a fixed scowl obscuring her expression below. Vitrum’s calloused digits grasped her crossbow - already unfolded and against her shoulder. Ears primed to hear every movement her mark would make. The ghostly green moon looming far above her, far above Tajun’s creviced walls - the only natural light in the village. In the nearby Arena Hotel, all was as still and as silent as the sands themselves. It was always like this, the night before the opening ceremony; the long held breath before the glorious battle-cry. Tarix didn't live for that moment the way some of his competitors might – not usually, at least. But tomorrow would mark his first match as Tajun’s First Glatorian, and he couldn't wait. For the first time in years, the nerves were truly getting to him, and his hotel room felt like a prison. At least out here, out in the cold night air, he could indulge a little. Sure, smoking wasn't healthy. Tarix knew that. But there were far worse habits to have, and he could work on giving it up now that Tajun would truly be relying on him. Tonight, though, he needed a little stress relief, and nothing calmed the nerves like a balcony view of his hometown rooftops and a hit of tobacco. Something tugged at Kirbraz, the same primal instinct that had won him his few arena victories, and he ducked beneath a shop tarp that had been left unfurled, backing up until he was hugging the wall. He turned his eyes to the sky, to the stars and the sickly green moon. His would-be killer was up there, somewhere; the alleys themselves were too empty, too silent, for the assassin to be on the ground with him. Already, he feared he had stalled for too long; he looked from side to side, weighing his options. He could keep running directly towards the Arena Hotel, but the fastest route was far too exposed. His every step would be bathed in moonlight. He set off again, a running start into a sprint so hard that he almost gave himself whiplash. He would take the long way around; the shadows could be his ally, too. (recommended listening: Uno (Alex Goose Instrumental Remix) (youtube.com)) Though nothing could betray it, Vitrum was right behind him, having crossed buildings in an instant. Something in the dark folded back into each of her legs as she dove into a quiet roll from a leap, and then entered into pursuit via the buildings above him. Kirbraz, concerned about his assassin’s line of sight, was being betrayed by every sound he made. Vitrum’s ears pricked upward inside her helmet as she lagged behind ever so slightly, turning her head along with her crossbow to the passageways below. Her red eyes narrowed for a quick shot. Kirbraz stumbled – and for one precious moment, his pursuer and her aim overtook him. The Lords themselves must have been on Kirbraz’s side as the bolt struck not him, but the ground just in front of him, the very spot where he should have been. Instinctively, he looked up to catch a glimpse of his assailant. Without hesitation Vitrum fired again, the crossbow’s oiled clockwork machinations dropping another bolt effortlessly. By the time the bolt took Kirbraz in the shoulder, he was already running. Any other night, it would have been agonising; tonight, he barely noticed. Pain didn’t matter, not to the adrenaline coursing through his system, not when he was so close. Kirbraz would not die tonight. Tick. Vitrum’s chase slowed even as Kirbraz’ flight quickened. Even with his eyes wide and lungs in overdrive his muscles weren’t reacting like they should - his gait was shrinking into a staggered sprint. The exhaustion was setting in, perhaps even faster than it should have been. No, it wasn’t exhaustion. His head was swimming. Something was wrong. And Vitrum knew it. Tock. Then it came to his head, like a tobacco head rush but fatal. His vision swayed from side to side across the alleyway, something was glaring up from the roof at him. Poison. Being forced into slow-motion made Kirbraz see one thing more clearly: somehow, the assassin had been following him, attacking with incredible accuracy, even when he should have been out of sight. They were working with cybernetics. What, then? Very likely visual – highly sensitive to movement, or tracking body heat or somesuch. The poison made the situation into even more of a race against time; if he didn't get help, he could be dead in a matter of minutes. He needed to lose his tail, and he had an idea. As Kirbraz stumbled and shambled along, he went crashing through a doorway. He was fairly confident the building would be empty – most places in Tajun were, especially at night. You didn't get real estate prices like these by selling to people who needed homes, after all. The clumsiness – some of it, at least – was an act; Kirbraz’s ability to hold his drink and play drunk simultaneously had always been useful in backroom dealings. Right now, he would use that skillset to keep his assailant confident and complacent. Once he was inside, his next priority was finding a hiding place, and there he finally had an advantage: he knew this place. It was one of Berix’s safehouses, and being the incompetent that he was, they all had nearly identical layouts, including places for stashing both people and drugs. He had seconds to choose a spot; beneath the floor was too risky. He’d be penned in, and worse, the assassin’s enhancements might be able to spot his movement through the gaps between the floorboards. That left the wall. Escape routes could be just as important as hiding spots, and Berix’s paranoia meant he kept plenty. Secret tunnels were a favourite; in this case, a false wall with a narrow passage leading into the next building. Kirbraz could lose his pursuer and get closer to the hotel in the process. The quiet patter of footsteps as the assassin advanced inside the breached building soon stopped. In fact, Vitrum had stopped moving entirely. Her eyes blinked behind the mask. Moments passed, and as far as Kirbraz could hear, it seemed as if she’d been stumped. Tick. If Kirbraz could have seen through walls, he would have seen his assassin staring directly at him from the other room. He breathed ragged and clumsy and although Vitrum couldn’t literally smell blood, she could certainly hear every tick of the clock towards the moment of Kirbraz’ death. Every snort, every intermittent groan and every inhale and exhale. If she was close enough, she could probably have heard his heart desperately trying to pump the alcoholic poison in his veins away from in his chest. Her wrapped feet carried her near silently towards the wall. Tock. She pushed at the wall forcibly with her leg. Kirbraz was practically crawling at this point, and he heard the wall crumple behind him just as he scrambled through the exit. She wasn't following by sight. It must have been sound. Trying to be quiet was pointless – it might even have been detrimental. With all the force he could muster, Kirbraz bellowed a veritable war-cry as he made a mad dash for the door, barreling clumsily through it. He would not die tonight. Not too far above, something gave Tarix pause. Someone, somewhere below, was shouting – no, practically screaming. He searched out the source, and saw a drunk Agori shambling out into the open street. He didn't know why, but something felt off, his well-honed combat instincts picking up on something his conscious mind couldn't identify. It might have been nothing, but he couldn't let it be; he turned from the balcony and walked to his hotel door, ready to make his way downstairs. Instead, he was met with a familiar face, his hand still raised to knock the open door. “Tarix,” the veteran Glatorian said with an easy smile. “I wasn't sure you’d be up.” Vitrum’s own blood pressure finally spiked as the Agori screamed and shambled outside, as she peered out. Not because of the risk of identification but because he was beginning to draw eyes to him. She could hear two people talking in the building nearby although she couldn’t make a word of what they were saying. A drunk Agori in Tajun is hardly a story but a drunk Agori with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder certainly is. The problem with the concoction smeared on the bolts was that they were ultimately meant to slow, not kill. That isn’t to say the poison never killed anyone but its main purpose was of utility, to make a target unable to resist capture or death. Thus it had effectively failed this task. The cybernetics in Vitrum’s legs folded outwards as the silent thrusters boosted her ever so slightly onto a nearby ledge, pulling herself up with little effort. She was back on the rooftops again, looking down at her injured mark. Kirbraz would suddenly hear a whistle from above. It took him a second to even process the sound; the poison had made his limbs and his head so heavy that he could barely even move, but it was already too late for his would-be killer. As he made it out into the street, he saw a light on in a room far above, and a figure silhouetted on the balcony. Already, the figure was gone, but the shutters on the balcony were still open, and Kirbraz knew whoever it was had recognised his plight. His war-cry, intended to deafen his hyper-sensitive opponent, had instead brought the attention of a saviour upon him. Somewhere, the Lords were looking out for Kirbraz, and a dozen prayers went through his mind at once as he struggled to comprehend why. In his short life, Kirbraz had been obsessed with ego and greed, inflicting uncountable evils upon the Wastelands in his attempts to claim power. No more – he had seen the light. He knew at last just how precious life could be! Kirbraz was a man reborn, and he would dedicate every living moment to helping- Suddenly, he remembered the whistle, and looked up. In front of the moon and the deep green sky, his pursuer had the look of a ruby-eyed shadow; still, something about her posture, and those eyes, felt oddly familiar. “Don't I… know you?” “Ackar! Don't tell me you have pre-match jitters?” “You should know by now that I never compete in exhibition matches. Can’t be giving all my moves away before the main event.” He smiled and winked, but the sadness in his eyes betrayed the lie. Once upon a time, he really hadn't wanted to reveal his strategies too early; but now, after a decade representing Vulcanus without a Second Glatorian to succeed him, Ackar had begun to feel his years. That he had won last year's Tournament was a total shock, and he would have to conserve his energy if there was to be any chance of a repeat performance. “No, I came to check on you. Mind if I come in?” “Actually…” Just as Tarix was about to tell Ackar what he had witnessed, he paused. Was whatever he had seen really that serious? Ackar didn't need his years of hard-earned fluency in body language to know something was wrong. “Tell me.” Vitrum’s stance was static, but something about the familiarity in Kirbraz’ voice pierced through her hard boiled veneer. She froze. Thoughts of his new lease on life, even thoughts of survival, found themselves set aside as Kirbraz stared up at the assassin. The way she froze – it meant something, he knew it. If it weren't for this damned poison, he could have- The poison. Reality came crashing back down on Kirbraz, and with it a fresh burst of adrenaline. Even in his compromised state, he began backing away from Vitrum, shuffling across the street. No doubt his hands would be bruised and cut up like no one’s business come morning, but if he wasted any time thinking about that there wouldn't be a morning. Not for him, at least. “It was probably nothing – just a drunk, stumbling through the streets.” “But?” “But it didn't feel right.” Every instinct in Vitrum’s body wanted her to squeeze the trigger mechanism and kill him as he backed away like a cornered dog. And then, suddenly, she put down the crossbow. Her hands grasped around the bottom of her helmet, removing it from her face. One hand grasping the discarded helmet, the other picked up her weapon again, holding it in one hand. Her ruby eyes stared at him, the rest of her face now bare. “You tell me. Do you know me?” Her voice came like a hiss, not having moved from her position. Kirbraz kept crawling back, back into the shadow of the building. He didn't know what to say, didn't know whether to nod or shake his head – she was so familiar, and still he couldn't place her. “Show me where you saw him,” Ackar said, nodding to the balcony. Tarix stepped back to let him in. “No, you don’t. You’re just drunk, and dying.” Vitrum murmured. Her hearing implants had been deactivated in her moment of distraction, her focus broken. She dropped down onto the street, the moonlight catching her face for a moment. With one hand she placed her helmet-mask back on her head, securing the clasps as she approached him and slinging her crossbow over her shoulder again. No more running, no more risks. Kirbraz shook his head. “No- No, I know, I know I’ve seen you before…” He felt the wall of the hotel press against his back. There was nowhere left to run. And then she lunged forward, easily grabbing him by his shoulder and pulling him towards her. Something metal and sharp burst through his insides and poked out of his back with little but a quick whirr. Grunting, she then pushed the man off her sword with difficulty, before the sword collapsed into itself and folded into her hand and back into her belt as she turned to leave, quickly. Kirbraz was dying. He felt cold. Had Tajun nights always been this cold? His head swam with poison and pain, and he struggled to keep his eyes open as the blurry figure began her retreat. It couldn't end like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He’d had a plan. It was Scodonius. It was always Scodonius. He just had to ruin everything. “Think of it as an opportunity.” “You think I want to profit from a man’s death?” And there he went again, running his mouth. Ruining everything. Kirbraz resisted the urge to sigh, and calmed himself with fantasies of beating his arena partner to death. Keep it together, Kirby. “No, we don't. I think what Scodonius meant to say is that this is our only chance to stand up for what’s right. If we as a people decide that this is okay, we won't be able to take that back – and doing nothing can only be interpreted as tacit approval. You knew the victim, didn't you?” Neptum nodded. “Gorum. He was a good kid. Could've had a long career ahead of him.” “Stygia allowed his killer to go free, with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Doesn't that make you angry?” “I’m sure it was more complex than that-” “It wasn't.” It was. Or, at least, it had been, before he and Scodonius had set the wheels of the rumour mill in motion. The most beautiful thing about a lie was that it was easy. ‘Hard truths’ were hard in more ways than one; a proper investigation and tribunal took weeks, weeks of impatience and gossip and attention-seeking. For every person who was actually there in the Arena Vulcanus that day, there were a dozen more ‘witnesses’ who were all too eager to tell their stories. That was another wonderful thing about lies: they were so much louder. Kirbraz had been in on the ground floor – he and Scodonius had a match scheduled for later that day, which meant they had front-row seats to the tragedy. They were the first to see what no one else could: a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This was the situation: During an exhibition match in the city of Vulcanus, a young Water Tribe up-and-comer had gone toe-to-toe with the home team’s Second Glatorian. So far, so standard; the kid would probably lose, but if he didn't he would be a shoo-in for Tajun’s own Second. Bouts like these were a denarius a dozen, which only made it more shocking when the fight turned fatal. The opportunity came in the aftermath. What Kirbraz and Scodonius knew, from their ideal vantage points, was that Tueris was unlikely to suffer any real repercussions. And what Kirbraz realised before anyone else was that there was a very convenient narrative that he could encourage to emerge: namely, that the reason Tueris got off easy was his position as Second Glatorian, and Tajun’s failure of leadership on the part of Stygia. And the best part was that their new narrative would be unfalsifiable – the arena had been utter chaos that day, and a sufficiently relentless disinformation campaign could sow doubt in the mind of even the staunchest eye-witness. As for Stygia’s part in the tribunal, any attempt to set the record straight would be coming from the exact people who would benefit most from a cover-up; no one else was in the room where it happened. Better yet, people wanted to believe Kirbraz's version of events. Everyone in Tajun was desperate to make sense of a senseless tragedy, and conspiracy was always more comprehensible than coincidence. Truth was as hard to swallow as it was to establish; lies were beautifully easy. “The people of Tajun are protesting as we speak, but Stygia won't bow to political pressure. Not while she still believes she has your support. You're our First Glatorian; if you come out against her, she’ll have to listen.” Neptum stroked his chin, thoughtfully. “You have an ulterior motive.” “I do,” Kirbraz admitted. Scodonius’ jaw fell open, no doubt thinking of all the times Kirbraz had scolded him for showing his hand; still, Neptum was the type to respond to honesty (or, at least, the appearance of it). Kirbraz knew how to work an audience. “If Stygia steps down, I’m going to stand for election. I don't expect your support, and I won't be the only candidate.” This was also technically true; Scodonius would also be on the ballot. Everyone else they would bribe or threaten into dropping out of the running, and then whoever won – which would be Kirbraz – would co-operate with the other, who would get more leeway than any crime lord had ever had before. That was the pitch, anyway; in reality, Kirbraz knew Scodonius would only get greedy and fuck it all up, like he always did. Instead, Berix would be his puppet kingpin, and Scodonius would be assigned as the Tajunian representative to the Atero City Council, a position that was technically a political office, but would also keep him powerless and far away from Tajun (and, by extension, from Kirbraz). It was the perfect plan. Until it wasn't. Kirbraz had heard before that one’s life would flash in front of their eyes in the moments before their death, but why that memory? Why now? What did Neptum or Stygia have to do with this? Was that the moment when his fate was sealed? Surely that would have been earlier, or later, not- Not Neptum or Stygia. Not even Scodonius. Tueris? No, not him – but close. Another place, another time, another death in the arena. It was so close, on the tip of his tongue- “Filia.” As the realisation dawned, even as Kirbraz finally accepted the inescapability of his death, he couldn't help but laugh. “Of course… of course he would send you. I should've… known. Exile was too… easy.” Lies were easy. Conspiracy was always more comprehensible than coincidence. “Tell him… Tell your boss, that I…” “I don't see him.” Tarix took a step forward, looking out over the balcony railing himself. Ackar could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't satisfied, but the younger Glatorian just shook his head and sighed. “I guess it was nothing. I must be more anxious than I thought.” As Ackar lay a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder and began dispensing sage advice, Kirbraz was drawing his final breath not too far below, hidden from sight by the shadow of the balcony. Scodonius had a few questions aimed his way. OOC: A massive thank you to @Jesse Pinkman, without whom I could never have given my best material to this subplot. It's been one of the best collaborations I've ever done, in no small part because he's always bringing his A-game. And can you believe I nearly began this whole plotline after the murder? @BULiK gets the credit for convincing me not to, because again, @Jesse Pinkman made this so much better than it would have been if I were working alone. Anyway, that's a wrap on Kirbraz, and a tantalising mystery for any interested PCs to investigate during these cold Tajun nights.

If Lego made Bionicle minifigures like that, I'd definitely be after buying some! Honestly I think it's pretty cool to see some of Lego's non-minifigure characters as minifigs ^^ Emily in particular takes the transition really well here (as, of course, does Tahu!), but they're all very clever designs. I like the style you've used for them, especially the way their outfits are actual clothes over the minifigure frame, rather than just the prints they are in real life, it's a really nice touch

G3 Confirmed! They're very cute, well done!

A very important update. We had another pic of Tahu, Olivia from Friends, Jack Stone, Nick Bluetooth from Galidor, Emily from Elves, and Furno from Hero Factory. :3 (ignore that this is at least an hour late for April Fools depending on where you live lol)

IC: Jeizmel, arriving in Tajun Her eyes widened every so slightly. First-name basis with the honoured Glatorian? Jeiz supposed that after journeying together to reach this place it made sense; but it still felt uncomfortable to her. So few in high positions in Iconox were worthy of her respect these days that she wanted to make sure to show it to one of the only ones who was. But respect was better expressed by honouring her wishes than continuing to address her with titles, wasn't it...? "As you ask... Vraek." It felt as foreign on her tongue as she had expected to not at least preface the warrior's name with a title, like she'd said something incredibly disrespectful. Still, she had asked, so Jeizmel tried hard not to let her discomfort show. At least the Glatorian's following words gave her a distraction from that feeling. "Of course I..." She hesitated, the instinctive response faltering on her tongue. Given her reputation back home, she felt like Vraek was entirely right to ask. "Yeah, I will. I know I'm a loud-mouth back in Iconox, but that's because I care about our tribe so much. Anywhere else, though, I've got no reason to go looking for trouble." Famous last words, perhaps. But she did mean them in the moment; even if her principles may couple with her recklessness to demand otherwise of her in the future. She smiled, genuinely, at the warrior. "Maybe I'll see you again before the tournament is over. Thank you for everything." @Toru Nui

IC/ Skrall/ Bonehunter Stronghold/ Markets/ “May enough of them think that logically.” she commented. The scout was right - but so were skrall and skrall. Just because Roxtus and the tower had made a deal that wasn’t an absolute guarantee. Despite the intertwined history and rock tribe origin - the bone hunters weren’t a monolith. And come to think of it…neither were skrall. This group alone was proof, including herself. She glanced around at her companions. Cynics, true believers, outsiders…revolutionaries? The sudden thought caused the usually stoic fighter’s mouth to drop open a fraction. There was an angle to this mission she hadn’t considered before - even though they had all openly guessed at its purpose already. Revolutionary? No, not in a political sense. Perhaps…evolutionary, then? Yes, it made sense. And explained why Tirveus would send a group of volunteers like them. Maybe the tournament was merely a crucible to burn away the slag. This wasn’t about glory in battle and a name for the legends. Winning against the other tribes wasn’t the objective - or at least not the primary one. So even the possible outcome of Skrall facing each other was logical. This was about finding out what kind of Skrall could prevail in the South. Maybe Tirveus was planning to conquer it all. Maybe not. But he still would need to know what kind of soldiers he would need to ensure skrall superiority. She needed a moment to let that sink in. But standing around flabbergasted at her revelation wasn’t a good look, so she made her way over to where their Spikit wagons were being loaded, hoping her change in demeanor hadn’t been too obvious. She returned with a handful of rations and water that she started distributing among her peers. “Here. Stay hydrated. Keep up your energy.” OOC: Hope this doesn't read too much like her jumping to a conclusion. Debated making this much longer and more detailed, but in the interest of time and keeping up posting momentum I opted for the more direct version. @a goose@BULiK@Nato G@Burnmad@Mel@Toru Nui@oncertainty

IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - That Two Minute Training Match Lasted Almost One Year “That is correct. I don’t believe we’ve wasted any serious amount of time. Although…” Lutenus’ cybernetic eye whirred around, as if taking stock of the position of the sun and clouds in the sky. “I believe it would be prudent to leave as soon as possible.” The eye then snapped to face Mard and Ahmoa, his face following after a short delay. “Thank you for your service, gentlemen.” He then trudged over to them to hand back the dulled axe to Ahmoa. OOC: I realized upon re-reading earlier posts that Lutenus asked earlier what the price was for an hour, and Mard pointed towards a sign with the prices, but at no point did Lutenus actually give them any money, though he did fetch some coin out of his pocket when he asked. I’d like to say he did give them the money, I just forgot to mention it. @oncertainty @Techn0geist IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - The Old Country “You’re looking for something in the canyons.” She said aloud, looking over the map. “You believe that there might be remnants of the old civilization out there?” Was he really only assuming control of the Gatherers just to search for answers? What happened to his people, and if he’s the only one left? What would he do if he wasn’t the last of his race, and found more of them out there? Would he abandon his position among the Gatherers to join them? No, no, anyone with his intelligence would never give up power that easily. But what if his fellow Great Beings didn’t care much for the Gatherers? After all, their very name implied that Agori were lesser beings. Taldrix couldn’t blame the Ghost for disliking that epithet. But at least it wasn’t sanctimonious slander like ‘Bone Hunter’ was. If it were bones she was interested in, she’d have stayed in Roxtus. In any case, she couldn’t trust that whatever the Ghost was spending precious manpower and resources to find existed, and that it wouldn’t be bad for her if it did. ‘Answers to the questions that plagued them both?’ Well. They’d see, wouldn’t they? @a goose

IC: Zha'ar - The Crossroads Zha'ar's embarrassment over almost insulting such a famed individual two seconds after meeting him evaporated when Crucius asked his question. Rare was the day when someone could make Zha'ar shut up once she'd started babbling, but Crucius had just managed it. She blinked blankly at him for several seconds, jaw hanging open, before finally finding her voice again. "You've heard of me?" @a goose

IC: Karak - Celrys' Workshop I am unable to catch his last sentence. Too quick, too nervously sputtered out. I fear I will never learn anything at this rate - even as I assume my understanding of the language has grown, I am humbled immediately. The tournament is my only other lead. And so I leave Del and Skyra to their flesh-meddling heretic God. I smirk to myself, remembering my own and Skyra's clash as we first met. If all Southerners fight that way, perhaps the arena would be amusing if not informative. OOC: @a goose

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) Lords above. She was a comedian. “Crucius,” he growled. Then again… Zha’ar. Where had he heard that name before? No. Not heard. Read. She was on the list. It all started to come back to him – the lone wanderer with the lame leg, and a truly impressive suite of skills to compensate. “You're the nomad who doesn't kill, aren't you?” His voice was surprisingly free of judgement. OOC: @Nato G

IC: Zha'ar - The Crossroads She brought Solis to a stop a few metres short of the stopped bike, lowering her hand. The Agori's choice to greet her with words instead of weapons was promising, though it was clear he was still wary of her. "I am Zha'ar, conqueror of the crossed paths, taker of treasures, and, uh... scourge of... this general area," she proclaimed, wishing she'd taken the time to make up some fake titles before engaging in conversation. "Who are-" a gasp escaped her as her eyes settled on the mechanical arm gripping the vehicle's controls. “Wait, you’re him! The one they’re always whispering about. With the painful sounding name. What was it? Excruciating… Excremen-no, no, definitely not that. Sorry, what is it?” @a goose

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) Crucius chuckled mirthlessly. There was a grim, all-too-predictable irony to it; of course he would be ambushed. On his own, he looked like any other traveller. Still, his would-be assailant appeared to be one of his own, if their decision to wave to him before they began shooting was any indication. He pulled his Cendox into a sharp turn, its front blades kicking up sand as it ground to a halt. He did not return the stranger’s gesture; his exsidian hand remained exactly where it was, ready to rev up the engine should the situation turn hostile. “What's your name, Gatherer?” OOC: @Nato G

IC: Zha’ar – The Crossroads Like most predators that prowled the desert, Zha’ar relied on sound as much as sight. She was currently positioned on the West side of the crossroads, her gaze aimed in the direction of Atero, watching for the metallic shimmer or dusty plume that would indicate the presence of another incoming traveller. But her ears were listening out for sounds that were closer still, the echo of engines or baying of beasts that would signal the arrival of travellers coming from the direction of Vulcanus. There were more direct routes from Vulcanus to Tajun, for those brave or foolish enough to take them, so Zha’ar hadn’t seen as much traffic coming from that direction in recent days. But she wasn’t one to let opportunity pass her by, and it sounded like one was on approach right now. At the sound of a distant vehicle she turned her head, her eyes alighting on the sight of a lone Cendox creeping along the road from Vulcanus. As it drew closer, she was surprised to see the bike continue Northwards, instead of turning towards Tajun like most travellers had been in recent days. Caution and curiosity were two instincts that so often came into conflict for Zha’ar. But today, she saw no reason not to indulge in the latter. It was just one Cendox, nothing to be overly concerned about. She whistled sharply and pointed to the Cendox, prompting Solis to rise to his feet and break into a steady sprint across the sands, moving on an intercept course. As she drew close enough to make out more details, her curiosity only grew. This was no ordinary traveller. The driver wore the dark, archaic armour of a rock Agori, which meant they were likely a Skrall villager, or a fellow Gatherer. Either way, they were a lone traveller, like her, which meant they might be more willing to trade supplies or information. She left her bow stowed at her side as she closed in, instead waving her hand to wave at the other driver, hoping to attract their attention. @a goose

IC: Kirbraz (Staff NPC; The Shadiest Spot on Bara Magna) Is this guy screwing with me? For just a moment, blind panic was overwhelmed by sheer, all-consuming confusion. A moment was long enough; his terrified trance broken, Kirbraz could think again. Keep it together, Kirby. Kirbraz may not have been smart – he was relieved of such illusions when he got himself into this situation – but he wasn't stupid, either. If he took a second to breathe, he could break this down. What on Bara Magna is this guy’s deal? The more he thought about it, the more obvious the answer became; his jaw hung aloft with dawning horror. Good Lords above... The man's an idiot. It all made sense: his basic vocabulary, his gruff affect. Maybe he was brain-damaged; perhaps he was just born half-cooked. No matter the means, it was quite apparent that Kirbraz was dealing with some manner of simpleton. He really was fucked. There was no telling how long Skyra might be in there – for all he knew, she could be under heavy anaesthetic, receiving some new implant. She might not even be able to drive him when she came to (or, at least, being her passenger would be even more ill-advised than usual, and Kirbraz already had one death-sentence too many to deal with right now). There was no way Kirbraz could get out of Tajun. He needed a new plan. And he had an idea. “Uh… you know what, sir, I think I’ll just, uh, I think I'll be fine on my own. Just forget you ever saw me.” With that, he turned on his heels. There was still one place in Tajun where he might be safe – the Arena Hotel. Every village leader, bar Scodonius and Raanu, would be staying there ahead of the opening ceremony tomorrow. He wouldn't dare touch Kirbraz in there, and Kirbraz himself might be able to appeal to Ackar for help as Vulcanus' representative. He could still survive this. Probably. OOC: @Jesse Pinkman IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) It had been far too long since Crucius had last travelled alone. For the better part of a year, he had been the Ghost’s envoy and his emissary, spreading his message of change and unity to the disparate Gatherer clans. Naturally, change and unity being anathema to his people, that message was not always well-received. Despite being a formidable fighter, Crucius was not quite equipped to take on a whole clan by himself, and so diplomatic journeys were always undertaken with back-up. Most recently, he had travelled with Metus, perhaps the single most aggravating man he had ever met. If the Ghost allowed it, Crucius would happily have picked him up by the head and pulverised his smug, puny little overly-talkative skull. Unfortunately, he was the useful variety of idiot, and thus his cranium had to remain tragically and inconveniently convex. Thankfully, the two of them had parted ways in Vulcanus so that the Ice Agori could journey onward to Tajun for the Exhibition Matches, and although this left Crucius without a means of transportation, it was also doing wonders for his headache. With his Rock Steed back in the Stronghold, he had instead acquired a Cendox from a very cooperative dealership and set off on his journey home. His only hope was that Taldrix had not yet allowed Fero to burn the entire settlement to the ground in his absence. In the meantime, it was just Crucius, the sands and the desert sun. Simple, blessed peace, at long last. OOC: @Nato G IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; Valley of Death) Tueris looked to his fellow Vulcanusian and gave him the nod. “You go with him. Your cave, your call. Watch each other’s backs and the rest of us will keep a watch out here.” OOC: @oncertainty @Burnmad and all the other Ferrum folks

IC: Lorqua - Training Ground, Outskirts of Atero Lorqua opened her mouth to answer Lutenus, then flicked her eyes over to Mard as he asked after their destination. "Tajun, of course," she says. The words came out quickly. Almost automatic, her thoughts already elsewhere. Followed quickly by her eyes, which give Lutenus a pointed look. She still remember why they were here. Lorqua wouldn't let standing on ceremony keep her from what she wanted to know. She didn't have any animus for the Agori, but she had to know. "Tajun is where every Glatorian as upstanding as Lutenus is going, I'm told. And rather a few not so upstanding, like yours truly. Lutenus, is that the plan?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Techn0geist IC: Skrall - Markets, the Bone Hunter Stronghold Skrall had been listening idly to his fellows. He strayed, but not far. The Bone Hunters' stalls were not entirely different from the casemates of supplies in Roxtus, but the shopkeepers kept catching his gaze. Renegades, the most of them, although the occasional genuine southerner in their unbelievably garish armour passed under his moving eye. Other than their eyes, however, his surroundings were a blur. He kept meeting their eyes. They stared out towards him. Some curiously neutral and dead, like a beast of burden, meeting his own gaze but not following it. Others looked hungry, leering towards him, gesturing to their wares. He—briefly—flattered himself that only the former knew what he was. But, they all did. They could all see that, Skrall or not, he was very far from what he knew. With a shudder, Skrall rejoins his fellows. "The way this market operates, looks like all they see is value. Value that can be... exchanged. But, it seems they know us at least as well as we know them. Enough reason for us to move cautiously. For now." OOC: @a goose@BULiK@Nato G@Burnmad@Mel@Toru Nui@Vezok's Friend IC: Escus - The Valley of Death "Good eye..." Escus intones, his gaze following Selamat's point towards the mouth of the cave. One hand shadowed his eyeline, the Water Glatorian's eyes less well-used to the high sun than most. He felt a bead of sweat on the corner of his mouth, and pursed his lips to stop the moisture from escaping. He hefts the axe in both hands. "Ensure it's not already occupied, hmm? Well. If it helps, I volunteer. These eyes are used to the shade." It's bravado, of course. But Escus' tone is sober. He sounds resigned. OOC: @a goose @Nato G @Burnmad @Toru Nui @~Xemnas~

Aaand many weeks later, here we are. First off, Scott is on the list of characters to do! Have I ever mentioned that it's like, 2-300 characters? Been a minute since I last looked at the list tbh lol. Now, far as this little round, we got: Dareth, Skylor, Ronin, Beatrix (all from Ninjago), Azure Lion (Monkie Kid), Mr. Oz (Dreamzzz), Good/bad/scribble Cop, President Business, Rex Dangervest, and a redrawn Emmet (all The Lego Movie), and finally, Mata Nui should need no introduction on this forum lol. I'd like to think my Mata Nui interpretation looks a lot like his toa form but at GSR scale. I've done it! I've drawn 100 of these! I'm taking suggestions on the next character. I admit I haven't been great with getting to in-demand characters, but since 101 is like a new cycle, I'm taking major input from others on this one. I think it should be a theme I haven't covered yet. Hero Factory? Friends? City? Oh also one last pic since now these make a nice 10x10 layout Thank you all for the support ❤️

IC: Skrall (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Marketplace) - He Is Not Immune to Propaganda Skrall didn’t seem convinced by the ‘quicksand’ explanation. Depravity was weakness. His comrades did not seem to believe in the Black Legion’s invincibility and infallibility - not to the same extent as their superiors did. Perhaps that was why they were their superiors - this lack of confidence was potentially holding them back from elevation to what would otherwise be their proper place. As opposed to himself, of course, whom he was fairly certain was always going to die as one of the Warrior-class - preferably in combat, though that should go without saying. Once more, he looked with sadness at those who were once his brothers, enslaved to the will of the vile Renegades, who now would most likely perish ingloriously in forced servitude. Not that Skrall had a choice in servitude anyway. But servitude to the Black Legion was superior and vastly preferable, being to the benefit of all Skrall - and eventually, all people - and not the Renegades. There was an obvious, clear difference. And it was obvious. There was no doubt. It was obvious… What were they talking about? The possibility of the Renegades ambushing them as they left for the south? He decided to focus on that. If he thought too much about what he knew to be true, he started to foolishly question it. @Vezok's Friend @a goose @BULiK @Burnmad @Nato G @oncertainty IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - Happy Endling Not the last survivor, then - the last descendant. Did he kill any others that might have lived? He seemed a little too happy at the prospect that he might be an endling - the last of his race. It was possible that he was right to do so, if the Great Beings were as powerful as the myths claim, that power would inevitably be used to lord over the Agori. Specifically, the Agori known as Taldrix. But then, here he was, leading the Gatherers. So it was likely that no one in this scenario was an innocent party. Except the Agori known as Taldrix. That Agori examined the table before her… @a goose IC: Xyde (Iron Canyon) - On the Menu Xyde had been expecting some snide comparison between their people and the carrion birds perched above them, but it didn’t seem to be coming. At least, not for now. Perhaps later. Or if anyone was thinking it, it was being kept to themselves. Perhaps that was a little harsh, but then, so was the environs. They wondered if this was how livestock felt, surrounded by creatures that only saw you as a potential future meal. If they could understand their situation at all, of course. They felt the need to glare defiantly at the scavengers above for a few moments, before trudging along, following the others. @a goose @Nato G @~Xemnas~ @Burnmad @oncertainty

It's been almost five years since I did one of these and the last time I did one I opened it with a cringey joke. Either way, I want to post here (before my ten year anniversary next month) and this is all I could come up with so ask away. Or don't, it's a free website. But I hope you do because it's kind of the point.

Alright, small update time! It's been a while! I haven't done many of these since my previous post. I usually take a small hiatus around October, drop everything else I'm doing to do some Halloween stuff. That didn't really happen because then I had a massive irl commission to take care of for a family friend, so this in conjunction with college and retail work left me with minimal time to work on my art (and I fear it shows in some of these lol). What was supposed to be the annual October hiatus ended up lasting until the week after Christmas. Finally getting back on the horse though! Got 10 left before the big 100! Gonna do a lot of highly requested characters, characters I should've maybe done sooner, etc. We have: Clouse and Yang, probably some of the most requested Ninjago characters so far. Sweet Mayhem from TLM2. Ava, Robin, and Merlok from Nexo Knights. Aaand I've almost finished up the main Dreamzzz roster with Night Hunter and Zoey, just need to do Mr. Oz soon!

Hi, guys. When you research Hero Factory’s canon, you may notice some weird things that kind of don’t make sense: 1. These weird-looking combo models. Some of them seem to be canon when you are read their descriptions in Lego Magazines while others are not canon. The ones with the Lego Magazine description never appeared in the main story, though. Here’s the list: 1.1. Lucas Valor - He is a Hero who is technically canon because of a story about his mission in the Hero Factory website, but his combo model looks like a freak-ish monster with a Hero chest armor for a head. I mean, no 1.0 Hero looks like that, right? Plus, since he is a combo model of 1.0 Stormer, 1.0 Furno, and 1.0 Breez, where’s a combo model for 1.0 Stringer, 1.0 Bulk, and 1.0 Surge? 1.2. That monster called Makuro-X1 - This guy is a combination of all six 2.0 Heroes. It is said that he is a creation of Akiyama Makuro who went rogue and tried to attack the Hero Factory. The Alpha 1 Team went to fight him. However, that is not resolved. This monster looked like a mutated Hero, similar to Gaardus from Bionicle G1. The monster only appeared in a Lego Magazine. 1.3. That Alpha 1 rookie in 2012 - He never appeared in any other media, as he never shows along with the Alpha 1 Team. No one from the team talked about him, either. Plus, he doesn’t look right. He looks messed up, like not having a Breakout 1.0 chest. Since he is made of Evo, Surge, and Furno, what about two more models for the other six Heroes? This guy only appeared in a Lego Magazine. 1.4. The Alpha 1 rookie’s Breakout villain in 2012 - Same problems as the Hero. It is said that he also hates Black Phantom, but he is not shown doing that. Since he is made of Toxic Reapa, Splitface, and Thornraxx, what about two more models for the other six Breakout villains? 1.5. The Hero-and-villain combos in 2012 and 2013 - They’re non-canon because they never appeared in the canon. Totally understandable because they look weird. 1.6. The combo models in Invasion From Below - They’re also non-canon because they never appeared in the canon. 2. The differences between the episodes and Secret Mission books - In SM3 and 4, the Heroes kind of act like they never met the Brains before, and they kind of don’t know how to detach the Brains from their hosts. In Episode 10: Brain Attack, which takes place before the events of the SM3 and 4, the Heroes first met the Brains there and learned how to detach the Brains from their hosts. That’s a bit confusing. Plus, the episode has an unresolved cliffhanger, and the Hero Factory to have survived an invasion from a swarm of Brains in their storage bay when the events of SM3 happened. Note 1: In SM4, Mission: Catch ‘Em and Cuff ‘Em, from the 2012 story arc, ended when all of the escapees are recaptured. In SM1, Core Hunter disappeared after using the Doom Box’s energy. Sure, it looked like the energy killed him by making his body fold onto itself and disappear. However, according to SM5 and that guidebook called Face Off: Makuro’s Secret Guidebook, Core Hunter is still alive, all other non-swarm villains (and no one should be when you think about the episodes). I don’t think Greg Farshtey, the guy who wrote the SM books and the guidebook, was completely pay attention to the episodes. 3. Invasion From Below in 2014 - That story arc is totally unnecessary. It’s off-topic. The Heroes never talked about the events of past episodes. Felt like a hard reboot. Plus, Stringer and Nex disappeared (they also never had their Brain Attack foes. I also would wonder if there are more Makuhero Planet dragons got possessed by the Brains, like Dragon Bolt since Dragon Bolt was the only Brain-possessed dragon to appear in the canon). 4. Bulk’s and Breez’s 2.0 forms in the Brain Attack episode in 2013 - shouldn’t they be in their Breakout forms? I get that they never appeared in the Breakout episodes in 2012 for some reason (they, Nex, and their Breakout foes should have been or there should have been more Breakout episodes), but still. That’s lazy animation. Think about it. I look at the Breakout forms as the true 3.0 forms for the Heroes because the 3.0 forms in the Savage Planet story arc are basically animal-based armor for the Heroes, not truly an upgrade, and the armor was just used to adapt to a jungle (though Stormer got slightly shorter in his 3.0 form than his 2.0 form for some reason. Some Heroes are slightly taller in their 2.0 and 3.0 forms than others). Plus, the Breakout forms are permanent, like the 2.0 forms, right? I wouldn’t call the Brain Attack or Invasion From Below true 4.0 forms. They are just armor for the Heroes used to adapt to certain things, like the Toa Nuva’s Adaptive Armor. I don’t think they’re permanent, either. 5. Is the Makuhero Planet a planet or a planetoid? In the early media, it is said to be a planetoid, or an asteroid, but in the Brain Attack episode, Zib called it a planet. It’s understand because that place is surely habitable. 6. Bulk’s armor from the Bulk vs. Vapour set in 2010, Furno’s motorcycle armor in 2010, and Rocka’s Jet form in 2013 never appeared in the episodes, neither did Vapor, that Drop Ship set in 2019, and its pilot (these three are canon, surely, but they didn’t appear much). Furno can fit fine with his original armor on his motorcycle called the Furno Bike. Rocka can fit fine with his normal Brain Attack form in his jet-pack (In the Jet Rocka set, Jet Rocka is almost as tall as Furno XL, but taller than Furno, Rocka, Breez, and Bulk’s Breakout forms. Some Heroes in their Breakout and Brain Attack forms are taller than the others. Plus, I think the Heroes in their 2.0, 3.0, Breakout, and Brain Attack forms could change heights, depending on their missions. Apparently, the 1.0 Heroes are as tall as an average human man, and the tall Breakout Heroes look like they are as tall as Toa, who are about 7.2 feet tall) I would like to think that Stormer had a normal Breakout form and Furno a normal Brain Attack form because you have to start with a normal form before you get an XL form. Ask Rocka 3.0 about it. 7. The episodes and the comics that were based on their scripts. The comics don’t follow the episodes completely, so some things in the comics are apparently non-canon. 8. The names of two Heroes, Omega and Rocka. The end credits of most episodes where Rocka appeared in is where he is called “Daniel Rocka”. It is apparently canon, but “Daniel” is not featured in the episodes themselves and other media where Rocka appeared in. There’s this guy named Omega, who leads a group of Hero Recon Team Heroes called “Recon Team Omega”. He never actually stated his name. He may have used his group’s name as his own codename, so I think his true name is unknown. Also, most media do not use the Heroes’ full names in general for some reason. I get that Bionicle characters do not have first and last names, and the HF characters are treated as such most of the time, but still. 9. The online games - their stories are not canon, but they did feature some things in various locations that were mentioned in the main story. 10. That mini-comic story called “Stuck in a Problem!” in 2010 - It is about Furno 1.0 and Stormer 1.0 fighting a Bionicle-looking bug on a swamp planet. It doesn’t look like it would contradict the main story, but it is called “non-canon” by HeroSector01 for some reason. 11. According to the main Hero Factory website, Furno, Breez, and Surge became veteran Heroes after they defeated Von Nebula and his gang in the 2010 story arc and when they were fighting the Fire Villains in the early 2011 story arc. Furno also once said to Evo in Episode 8: Breakout Part 1 to "stick with a veteran like Furno" before Furno accidentally hit a door. However, in the DK Readers books in 2012 and 2013, SM1, SM2, the guidebook’s chapters about the 2010-2011 story arcs, and ITunes' description of the Savage Planet movie, Furno, Breez, and Surge are still called rookies. In the Brain Attack and the guidebook’s chapter about the 2013 story arc, it could be implied that the Heroes became veteran Heroes, as Furno was leading many Hero teams. In SM5, Breez stated that she and Furno are no longer rookies. So, there. I originally wanted to include Hero Factory FM because most of the stuff in there is not featured in the main story, but many people praised it as a way to expand on the story, as it is technically canon, like how you look at the Mata Nui Online Games. If Greg Farshtey and ElJay from YouTube were here, they would tell us if any of this is canon because these tiny details are not featured in the main story. What do you think is canon in the list?

Alright, update time! We're at 82 finished lego men! I was holding off on posting these here until I had more done but then I paused and went "wait...there's already 17 I haven't posted." I guess next time you hear from me it'll be for #100! On that note, who should be number 100? I'm thinking Mata Nui, if not, President Business maybe. Anyways, we got Takanuva, Makuta Teridax, Metalbeard, Vitruvius, Ninjago's new characters (+some old characters I neglected at the start of the project), most of the main Dreamzzz cast, Cragger, Iron Fan + DBK, and one of my favorites here, Monstrox! Where I get to pretend Nexo Knights actually had a s5!

Name: Akrianos Tribe: Unknown Species: Glatorian Gender: Male Appearance: Tall and lean. Akrianos wears old, unpainted silver armour; long dulled and marred by the elements, and covered by a sun-bleached and sand-stained surcoat of black and white, which appears to have once been something of great esteem. His helmet if of the same material and colour as his armour; handcrafted in a simple shape, but with many hand-carved details of unknown origin, and banded with a cross-shaped and rivet studded strip of metal, with holes for his pale yellow eyes in the horizontal band, and vertical vents near his mouth. Akrianos carried a massive sword and a morning star, but both have been seized by his captors. Cybernetics: Sword Link: With the sword in hand, Akrianos can use his cybernetics in his arm to activate a function on his sword which electro-mechanically converts it to a large tower shield. Stimulant Pump: Over the years, Akrianos has continually tweaked this cybernetic, providing him with an on-demand cocktail of various stimulants, granting him enhanced strength, speed and endurance in combat for brief periods. The stimulants aren't regenerative though, and are limited to four uses before needing to be topped up at the nearest location with traders. Personality & Traits: Akrianos is calculating, driven, and adaptable; capable of striking out solo or working with allies, as the situation suits. He prefers diplomacy when possible, but remains alert, prepared, and calm, even in the most insufferable situations. A cybernetic craftsman and ronin by trade, Akrianos spends most of his time exploring Spherus Magna, stopping in cities for work both as a warrior and to upgrade cybernetics of the lucky few. Weaknesses: Akrianos refuses to give up, to a fault. His tendency to wander off the beaten path can wind him up in trouble, as well. Background: A warrior and craftsman of no renown, Akrianos makes his living as a wandering mercenary and cybernetic repairman across Spherus Magna. His age is unkown, although he looks as though he's seen many battles, and even more miles. Although the few who know him see his wandering as aimless, Akrianos has dedicated his life to a search, which he keeps to himself. On his latest journey between Roxtus and Atero, however, he encountered Bone Hunters, and has spent the past several months in servitude at their Stronghold, awaiting the right moment to escape.

Name: Selamat Species: Glatorian Tribe: Fire/Vulcanus Age & Gender: 22, Male Description: A notably fit individual of roughly average height, Selamat's impressive muscle mass and tone is easy to see through the numerous gaps in his salvaged scraps of armor. The sparse bits of plating, which cover little more than the vitals, are nonetheless well-maintained, demonstrating the Glatorian's relative lack of means as well as his dedication to his trade. His somewhat youthful features contrast sharply with the piercing gaze that peers out at the world from beneath his brow, promising wordlessly to all who meet it that its owner will become a champion to his people. Equipment: Selamat owns few worldly possessions, most of them related to his occupation. Aside from his mismatched set of armor, he owns an epee, which is his weapon of choice in the arenas of Bara Magna. When traveling through the wastes he has instead been seen wielding an 8-foot combat spear, which occasionally makes an appearance in his arena bouts. Lastly, he also carries a well-maintained thornax launcher, and has been known to hold a buckler in his offhand during duels. Cybernetics: Endocrine Modulator: This device, connected to the various organs of the endocrine system, controls the release, binding, and reuptake of hormones like adrenaline and cortisol in high-stress situations. Leads to marginally but noticeably enhanced response time, physical performance and cognition. Also releases endorphins in response to injury. Both effects have drawbacks in and outside of combat situations. Ocular Enhancement: Optical implants replace the lenses of the eyes, allowing for a greater breadth of peripheral vision to be observed with greater clarity, without causing significant warping in the central component of the image perceived by the user. Weakness: 0. The Fool: Selamat's weakness is his youth. Beyond simply being inexperienced, he also tends to be rash and impulsive, to act without tempering his emotions with reason. He is also slow to correlate information which contradicts his preconceptions. ~~~ Name: Skrall Species: Glatorian (Skrall) Tribe: Rock/Roxtus (Skrall) Age & Gender: 37, Male Description: Cutting a lithe and fit figure, Skrall nonetheless stands a head shorter than an average example of his species. Typically outfitted in light armor and a cloak that blends in with the sandy dunes, it is clear at first sight that Skrall is not meant for the front lines. One should not take this to mean that he lacks martial prowess, though many have-- and those who have tried to act on this presumption bear the scars of such attempts. Nonetheless, Skrall is viewed contemptuously by many of his peers, seen as cowardly and unreliable to have at one's side in a pitched combat. These perceptions are only heightened by Skrall's age; it is uncommon for a Skrall to live to the ripe old age of 37 without having been 'separated from the chaff,' that is, without having been entitled. But Skrall is content with this. His comrades need only to do their jobs, and he will do his own. Equipment: Skrall typically wears a light covering of dull armor, readily concealed beneath a drab, sandy brown cloak of burlap. He is, however, trained to fight as skillfully in more traditional armor, and readily equips himself with such when circumstances call for it. At his hips, several weapons can typically be found. The first, on his left, is a smaller version of the typical Skrall blade, albeit without the built-in thornax launcher. Beside it is a simple dirk, more of a utility knife than a proper weapon, but more than capable of killing in a pinch. On his right is a standalone thornax launcher, a small, single-shot one designed and very well-maintained to be deadly accurate at short to middling ranges. Concealed on Skrall's person are no fewer than 3 additional blades: A main-gauche inside the cloak; a stiletto sheathed at his right shoulder; a push dagger in a concealed ankle holster. Beside all these weapons, Skrall often carries a rucksack filled with rations and supplies to facilitate survival on solo missions that take him out upon the dunes, as well as reconnaissance gear such as a spyglass. Cybernetics: Respiratory Overhaul: Replacing the clumsy operation of a normal being's lungs, this enhancement allows its bearer to achieve a state of constant respiratory airflow via the introduction of numerous redundant ventilation points across the torso. This makes it incredibly difficult for the bearer to become winded or be manually suffocated. These benefits last for as long as the bearer avoids repeated direct damage to ventilation points, as well as total submergence in liquid - or, more common on Bara Magna, sand. It also allows the bearer to speak constantly without pausing for breath, a feature of dubious benefit. Noteworthy is that this system replaces rather than augments the normal function of the lungs; the enhancement itself obstructs diaphragmatic breathing and, if function ceases, the bearer will be effectively disabled at best and will soon expire at worst. Weakness: I. The Magician: Skrall's unique qualities cause him to be isolated and alienated from the larger Skrall cohort. This has led him to become accustomed to working on his own and being self-reliant compared to other Skrall, but it has also ruined his ability to work with or meaningfully form bonds with others. He views other people as tools to be utilized for his own ends, a tyrant made all the more petty for his lack of a kingdom to rule over.

????? Species: Glatorian Tribe: Iron Gender: Indeterminate Appearance: Agile, lean-muscular build. Yellow-orange with faint green eyes. Equipment: Basic gladiatorial armour with larger left pauldron and mismatched helmet made of a shinier alloy. Club equipped for Thornax-slinging, buckler, right-hand cestus. No apparent external cybernetics. Biography: …saw the mirage of a training outpost, should be close. Weakness: You’ll be like a babe out there. Post-Red Star Inn Mard & Ahmoa Species: Agori Tribe: Jungle and Fire respectively Gender: Both Male Appearance: Mard: A little shorter than Ahmoa, lanky and agile build. Green-teal with orange eyes. Ahmoa: A little taller than Mard, solid pugilist build. Red-orange with green eyes. Equipment: Both wield basic guardsman spears, satchels and water flasks. Biography: A package deal, Mard and Ahmoa met as part of a travelling theatre troupe and immediately bonded over their shared fascination for the lost musical In Some Other Sky. After the troupe broke up, the couple tried their hand at dramatic duologue to warm review but middling financial success. Strapped for cash, the two Agori have taken up the role of guardsmen for a training ground on the outskirts of Atero while the proprietor sees to business out of town. Weakness: Their background in theatre has given them a little experience with fight choreography, but actual combat remains well out of their grasp. Thankfully, their role as guards has been largely performative so far, and thus perfectly in their wheelhouse.

The Ash Tribe History A distant offshoot of the Fire Tribe, the Ash Tribe were driven out by their kinsmen many generations ago, following an irreconcilable disagreement around funerary rites and treatment of the deceased. With metal and exsidian being scarce across much of Bara Magna, some families in the Fire Tribe took to “recycling” these resources from the remains of their dead – removing their implants, reforging their armour, even using their bones to make simple weapons and tools – a practice they saw as the ultimate way to honour one’s ancestors. Fallen friends and family could “live on”, in a sense, continuing to serve their communities and defend their descendants well into the future. When the rest of the Fire Tribe discovered this practice, however, many of them saw it as nothing more than the disgraceful desecration of the dead. The families who followed this tradition were exiled, and went on to found their own fledgling tribe. Although their practice of taking bones and belongings from the dead is performed only on deceased blood relatives (or on fallen friends, with permission), this hasn’t stopped the spread of reprehensible rumours about them mutilating the remains of their enemies, or robbing the graves of other tribes. Such acts are deemed as vile by members of the Ash Tribe, and anyone caught actually conducting such defilement would meet with exile, or worse. Village The Ash Tribe reside in the village of Precipere, located East of Vulcanus, on the opposite side of the volcano. Their village is perched atop the cliffs, overlooking Iron Canyon, with the village accessible only via a sturdy staircase carved into the canyon wall, and a small makeshift elevator – a simple wooden platform connected to a system of ropes and pulleys – being used to carry larger cargo to-and-from the canyon floor. A treacherous network of trails and tunnels also lead directly West, back to Vulcanus, though the volcanic terrain and bitter enmity between the two villages means these are rarely used. Precipere’s architecture is simple and utilitarian, with basic structures constructed using the abundant stone of the surrounding region. Deep trenches have been dug around the base of the volcano over the years, to redirect the occasional lava flows safely away from the village, while subterranean shelters exist in which the villagers can hide in the event of gas or ash being released from the mountain. Ancestral arms and armour with no remaining family members to forge them anew or carry them into battle are housed in the Hall Of The Honoured, a catacomb cavern beneath the village. Though the village of the Ash Tribe rarely play host to Glatorian battles, with their warriors usually travelling to other villages to fight, Precipere does still house an arena. Known simply as the Maw, this simple round arena has a coarse dirt floor, and is filled with stone slabs and columns of varying sizes, ringed by a rim of jutting, jagged obsidian. Culture The Ash Tribe have a profound appreciation for history, and a passion for art. Their entire village is a monument to their past, with families adorning the exteriors of their homes with history through sculptures, carvings, or paintings. The tribe’s official colour is a smoky grey, though most of its members express their artistic natures by decoratively adorning their dull armour with other hues. The people of the Ash Tribe have a highly-developed understanding of Agori and Glatorian anatomy, making them adept surgeons and doctors, though the distrust directed towards their tribe means their skills are rarely sought. Among their more common “customers” are scavengers who’ve stolen cybernetics from slain foes and seek to have them installed by someone who won’t ask any questions. Many members of the tribe are also artisans of some kind, specialising in sculpture, smithing, jewellery, or painting, though the market for these goods is also limited in the wasteland. Outside of their artistic crafts, the tribe’s primary trade material is obsidian. Though less durable than metals, this volcanic glass is sharp and strong enough to serve in the making of certain kinds of weaponry, being especially sought-after for making fine blades such as scalpels, knives, and arrowheads. Present The Ash Tribe’s relative isolation, lack of resources, and the grim stigma that surrounds them, have meant the group have in the past gone relatively unscathed by raiders, and unbothered in conflicts between the villages. Small arable tracts in the nutrient-rich volcanic soil and well-trained hunting parties allow the villagers to grow and scrounge enough food to support their small population most years, with water being the main resource they fight and trade for, along with exsidian and metal. Their current leader is an aged, ailing Agori known as Somok, though many expect he won’t last more than another year or two in the role. With the recent troubles in Iron Canyon leaving them even more cut off than usual from the other villages, and their new prime Glatorian Kehla currently away, the people of the Ash Tribe are at the most isolated and vulnerable they have been in many years. Though they have faced adversity before, there is a sense of apprehension in the air, as many find themselves fearful of what the future may bring. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Somok Species: Agori. Description: A soft-spoken Agori with green eyes and grey armour, Somok has led the Ash Tribe for five of his seven decades of life. While time has taken its toll on his body, his mind remains sharp, and his devotion to his people remains as true as it was the day he first took up the mantle of leader. Weaknesses: Somok is physically frail, and tires easily even from everyday activities. With his best years well behind him, Somok is terrified at the prospect of fading into obscurity if he were to retire, and clings desperately to power to the point of paranoia. Where he once wisely considered the counsel of others, he now views even simple suggestions as attempts to undermine his authority. Equipment: Somok’s constant companion is a crooked crimson staff, as much a badge of office as it is a necessary walking aid. The staff is by far the oldest item in the village, hailing back to before the Ash Tribe split off from Fire. He also carries a simple bone knife, fashioned from the remains of one of his ancestors. Background: A career politician, Somok earned his position by campaigning on a policy of conservative values, clinging to historical traditions and practices, and only dealing with outsiders when necessary. The Ash Tribe have remained safe and stable throughout his rule, but also stagnant and isolated, with innovations and pleas for greater diplomatic ties with other villages being routinely opposed under his leadership. In the face of new generations of villagers and a drastically changing world, Somok has struggled to retain relevancy, with many believing that he will soon be usurped by one of the tribe’s emerging younger, more progressive leaders. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Kehla Species: Glatorian. Description: A lean, limber Glatorian clad in grey, Kehla is in her early-twenties, but carries herself with the youthful exuberance of a teen. Her armour is somewhat evocative of the style used by the Fire Tribe, though grey in colour, decorated in hues of soft purple and adorned with symbols from her tribe’s history. Weaknesses: Though capable enough in training, Kehla has never travelled beyond her village or been tested in real combat, rendering her naïve and overconfident in the face of the true dangers of the wastelands. Despite her outward confidence, internally Kehla is still coming to grips with the newfound responsibilities that have been thrust upon her, struggling with the burden of suddenly having her village’s entire future resting on her success in the arena. Equipment: Kehla’s weapon of choice is Heritage, a kusarigama passed down through multiple generations of her family. The metal used in each component and link in its chain is sourced from the armour or weapon of a different ancestor. The main part of the weapon consists of a modified scythe with two points rather than one, to make it more effective for catching an opponent’s weapon. A length of chain is attached to the bottom of the haft, with a heavy weight at the end. She also carries a basic knife hewn from the bones of her deceased older brother Behjen. Simple and sturdy, this tool is meant more for utility than combat. It’s true purpose is to serve as a reminder of the legacy she’s trying to live up to. Her cybernetics are a paired set of augmentations nicknamed the “leapers”. Integrated into her lower legs and feet, these implants allow her to jump great distances even without a run-up, and double as shock absorbers, allowing her to survive the subsequent landings without harm. Much like her weapon, these implants have been handed down through several generations of her family, a testament to their durable design. Her other equipment includes standard supplies such as a waterskin, bedroll, rations, a basic medical kit, and a battered leatherbound notebook with charcoal for sketching. Background: Kehla’s upbringing was equal parts sheltered and pampered. Her line had long been the tribe’s most prominent warrior family, and as such she was afforded the best training and education. But from the moment she was born Kehla lived in the shadow of her older brother Behjen, owing to her family’s designs to elevate him to the position of Prime Glatorian. As the two siblings grew older, the divide in their treatment and training grew ever wider. While Behjen was out hunting in the Iron Canyon or visiting other villages, Kehla was at home studying her tribe’s other specialties of medicine and surgical techniques. When Behjen’s combat training was advanced to facing captured beasts and Vorox, Kehla was still permitted only to spar with other warriors (and she was usually the one made to tend their wounds afterwards). When Behjen finally got appointed to Prime Glatorian, the role of Second went to one of his friends, leaving Kehla sidelined once more. Then came the day when Behjen, his Second, and several other senior warriors set out on a hunt in the canyon… a simple task, not without its dangers, but one they’d performed on countless occasions… but this time they didn’t return. Their remains were found days later, so ravaged by animals that there was no telling how they’d actually died. And with the sudden loss of the tribe’s most experienced warriors, Kehla went from being her family’s unappreciated spare to the tribe’s new Prime Glatorian, despite no real-world experience in the role. With the Atero tournament fast approaching, Kehla was sent to take her brother’s place in the listings, to see the world and gain the experience she so desperately needed. It was only after crossing paths with other travellers that Kehla learned of the troubles surrounding the Iron Tribe, and realised that her brother’s demise may have been part of a far larger problem brewing in the confines of the Iron Canyon. But with home now far behind her, all she can do is continue her journey, and hope she still has a home to return to when the tournament is over. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Skrall Species: Glatorian. Description: A standard soldier-class Skrall, this warrior wears the customary red-and-black armour of his caste. He has a more wiry physique than most of his kin, having adopted a combat style that favours speed and agility over strength. Weaknesses: Skrall is eager and ambitious, dreaming of the day he can bear a name of his own, wishing for the status and station that would grant him command over his kin in crimson.This desire for individuality and recognition manifests in a stubborn refusal to back down from confrontations, and reckless, glory-seeking behaviour. Equipment: Skrall carries the traditional saw-edged shield utilised by most Skrall warriors, but has forgone the usual sword in favour of the additional reach offered by a spear. Both of these tools are made wholly of metal, to be more easily utilised in combination with his cybernetics. His implants are electromagnetic devices integrated into the palm of each hand, capable of swiftly repelling or attracting metal objects. Skrall most often uses these to throw his spear or shield with horrific force, then retrieve them just as swiftly. Background: Skrall is a Skrall. A nameless nobody, destined to do his duty then die as one more forgotten face among thousands of others. But Skrall is determined to defy this fate, to do something meaningful and become someone who will be remembered forever more. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Gayle Species: Agori. Description: A brawny Agori clad in green and teal, Gayle approaches life with a boisterous, happy-go-lucky demeanour. Over her storied life, Gayle has seen and experienced much of what Bara Magna has to offer, and is always eager to see something new, regardless of the danger, openly stating that she’d rather perish in the jaws of some beast than die a dull death in old age. Weaknesses: Gayle is perhaps a little too carefree, not stopping to consider that a situation might be beyond her capabilities until she’s already in over her head. She’s also suffers from an anxious, almost phobic reaction to her former tribe, refusing to go anywhere near Tesara, and being nervous and uncomfortable in the presence of other Jungle Tribe members. Equipment: Gayle’s weapon of choice is a simple hand axe, perfectly good for hacking apart enemies and obstacles alike. Her vehicle is a standard Cendox model, coloured green and black, its only noteworthy feature being a launcher and motorised winch mounted on the front rather than the traditional Thornax weapon. This launcher can be loaded with a harpoon or net, depending on what prey Gayle is pursuing, with the winch allowing her to reel in the projectile. Background: A decade ago, Gayle was a simple explorer, until one of her expeditions landed her in the nets of Bone Hunter slavers. After two years in captivity, every miserable day spent hoping and praying that her Jungle Tribe kin would save her, she was able to escape on her own. But, wracked with resentment towards her tribe for abandoning her, she could never bring herself to return home. Utilising skills learned from observing her captors, she now lives as a hunter of a different kind, taking contracts all across Bara Magna to track down criminals, animals, or treasure. The only contracts she won’t take are for recapturing escaped slaves, for obvious reasons. Similarly, she won’t have any dealings with Bone Hunters. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Avinus Species: Glatorian. Description: A veteran Glatorian of Tajun, Avinus is a woman strangely absent of ambitions or aspirations, believing she already has everything she needs in life. She spends her mornings sleeping, her afternoons training, and her evenings drinking, before starting the cycle again the next day. Although dour and withdrawn in the mornings, her unflappable, frivolous personality usually emerges by midday, and she’s earned a reputation for partying long into the night. Weaknesses: Avinus fights with agility in mind, dressing in lightweight armour that only partially covers her torso, upper thighs, and left arm. The armour is sparse, with the gaps between covered only by simple clothing, while her lower legs and right arm are entirely unprotected. Psychologically, Avinus is a more lonely and aimless soul than she lets on, already having everything she thought she ever wanted, yet still feeling unfulfilled. Equipment: Avinus fights in the retiarius style, wielding a trident in one hand and a sturdy rope net in the other, large enough to fully entangle a grown Glatorian. Like many in Tajun she’s also taken to using some of Celrys’ more creative cybernetic technologies, being equipped with the following implants: Auditory Amplifier – an implant integrated into Avinus’ throat which can amplify her voice in a manner akin to a loudspeaker. Useful for being heard over a crowd, or for disorienting an unsuspecting opponent with a sudden shout. Pocket Sand Dispenser – a small compartment in the palm of her right hand, capable of being filled with a small amount of a liquid or granular substance, which can then be swiftly and violently expelled by a powerful blast of pressurised air. Although the compartment can be refilled by hand, the air used for the blast function is siphoned off from the user’s respiratory system, requiring around 20 seconds to refill and making breathing more difficult in the interim. Depending on the circumstances, Avinus fills this compartment with confetti, metal filings, or sand snatched up off the arena floor in the midst of a fight. Background: Avinus has lived for forty years, twenty of which have been spent as a fighter in the arenas. She entered into service as a Glatorian with a vain, youthful craving for fame and glory, and found exactly that, rising to prominence as something of a crowd favourite. She lives what equates to a celebrity lifestyle, publicly partying several times a week and frivolously throwing her earnings away on drink and merriment. But in recent years, fears have begun burrow into the back of her mind. She’s seen fellow veteran Glatorian age out of the arena, or suffer debilitating injuries that left them unable to fight, or be upstaged by younger fighters, and a few close calls of her own have left her dreading what might befall her if she were to suffer such a fate. She has fame and popularity, but few true friends and no prospects beyond the arena. What life awaits a Glatorian who can no longer fight? Avinus is in no rush to find out. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Zha’ar Species: Agori Description: Zha’ar has the traditional appearance of an Agori of the Rock Tribe, save for the splotchy smears of orange clay warpaint marring her ebony armour. Zha’ar is known for being more honourable and merciful than most Gatherers, taking no slaves, and always giving her prey fair warning and a chance to peacefully surrender their goods. Unless forced to fight, she always leaves her victims with their lives, and enough food and water to get to the nearest settlement. Though some of her comrades see her as soft for these behaviours, she asserts it to be a sensible survival strategy; a bandit who butchers or enslaves everyone they come across is a threat to be destroyed, whereas one who takes only a little and lets their victims live is a tolerable nuisance. Zha’ar is almost never seen far from the saddle of her Rock Steed, Solis, named for the sun whose path through the sky is her guide across the Wasteland. His scaly hide is a mottled tan in colour, helping him blend in more easily while traversing the sandy terrain. Weaknesses: Zha’ar suffers from longsightedness, which makes her both a perfect scout, and a terrible one. Though she can identify prey and landmarks from afar as capably as a counterpart using telescopic lenses or a spyglass, she’s unable to read maps or messages, nor appraise most goods, and so tends to stick to familiar areas and steal only items of obvious value. When travelling, she must navigate by landmarks alone, and can easily become disoriented when terrain is changed, such as after a sandstorm or stampede. Physically, Zha’ar suffers from a severe limp in her left leg due to her knee being severely injured years ago, reduced to a hobble while on foot. As such, she stays to the saddle most of the time. Lonely from her lengthy periods of isolation, she has a habit of talking a little too much when she has the opportunity to do so, whether her conversation partner is a fellow Gatherer she’s seeking to trade with, or an unfortunate traveller she’s intending to rob. Equipment: Zha’ar’s weapon of choice is a hand-crafted shortbow suited to her stature and strength, allowing for fast and accurate fire at mid-to-close range. Her preferred arrows use obsidian broadheads, being ideal for inflicting horrific flesh wounds, but near-useless against armour. Due to the fragility of obsidian, these arrows often break apart on impact or within a wound, so can’t be reused. As such, she carries a hefty supply of these arrows in her saddlebags. For armoured targets she also owns a much smaller number of metal-tipped bodkin arrows, though these are harder to source and replace, so she uses them sparingly. With easy access to the paralytic poison of her Rock Steed, she often coats her arrows in this substance to more easily subdue her victims. For foes foolish enough to close within melee range, Zha’ar also has a simple metal catchpole, useful for parrying the weapons of attackers and ensnaring their limbs. The pole is connected by a secondary rope to Zha’ar’s saddle, allowing her mount’s strength to supplement her own in a struggle against a stronger opponent. Background: In her younger years, Zha’ar was much like any other Bone Hunter. She trained in Gatherer traditions, learning the ways of the blade, listening to the stories of her kin, and shadowing more experienced warriors on hunts and raids. But then came the day for her to battle a Rock Steed and become its rider. Though she succeeded, it came at a cost, with her left leg being crushed and broken at the knee in the battle. The limb never recovered, leaving her lame and useless, unable to stand beside her brothers and sisters in battle. She was ultimately abandoned by her tribe, left to fend for herself in the unforgiving wasteland. She nearly died, many times over, in the years that followed. But slowly she learned new skills and strategies to help her scrape out a modest living in the wilderness. She became skilled at archery to engage enemies from a distance, learned how to safely harvest her steed’s venom to make her arrows more effective at disabling victims, and developed hands-free techniques for guiding her mount so she could fire while riding. She learned how to avoid attracting too much attention, leaving her victims with their lives, and never lingering in the same place for too long. Nowadays, Zha’ar continues to wander, lacking any ambition beyond stealing or scrounging enough to make it through the next few weeks. She remains on good terms with other Gatherer clans, maintaining small stashes of stolen treasures which she trades to other clans when she crosses paths with them. Though she’s done her best not to draw too much attention to herself, the story of the merciful, clan-less Gatherer has nonetheless spread over the years. But where that story will go next remains a mystery, even to Zha’ar herself.

Profiles Topic | IC Topic | OOC Topic | Game Rules The Premise Ghosts of Bara Magna is an open sandbox TBRPG, designed to encourage player freedom and agency. Though there are plot threads, they’re just that: threads, for you to pull on as you see fit. I have as little an idea of what the future has in store as you do, and I can’t wait to see what becomes of this world, how you grow it and improve it far beyond what my imagination could ever conjure. Players are also encouraged to create their own quests or plots, whether based on an established element of the world or something entirely new – I would recommend seeking out mod approval for these, so that we can provide access to elements of our own toolbox. In an ideal world you should be driving the story of the RPG at least as much as me, if not even moreso, and I want to make sure the tools to accomplish just that will be at your disposal. It's important to note that this is not necessarily Bara Magna as you know it; though I've aimed to stay true to the spirit of 2009, and what I believe to be the untapped potential of Bara Magna as a setting, this is not the canon Bara Magna. What does that mean in practice? Well, Agori and Glatorian have roughly human lifespans, leaning slightly longer than our own. This means that far more of the events of centuries past are long-forgotten; similarly, The Shattering as we know it cannot be assumed to have occurred. Not only is no one old enough to recall the cataclysmic event that left Bara Magna a wasteland, but Bara Magna should be assumed to be its own planet with its own history, not a fragment of a larger Spherus Magna. If the planets of the Solis Magna system were once connected, it was so long ago now that it hardly matters. Bota Magna and Aqua Magna do exist, but little is known about them beyond their clearly observable ocean and jungle coverage. This has implications closer to ground level, too: things you may recognise from canon, such as the Great Beings or the Dreaming Plague, are not necessarily the same as you remember them. All this to say, don't assume that you know what you're in for – after all, I hardly created this RPG just to rehash what we've already seen. The mysteries of Bara Magna are mysteries once more, with answers that may yet surprise you. The GMs At present, the GMs are a goose and Bulik. Bulik can field any approval I can, apart from requests for Sand or Iron Tribe characters. Not much more to say on that, really. The Rules If you’re familiar with the absolutely iconic work that is Tuck’s Guide to Common Sense, the majority of rules (and plenty of other handy hints!) are helpfully outlined there. However, for convenience: Every player must make one (and only one) post in the profiles topic, and update this with the profiles of each of their characters. PCs are to be original characters. This doesn’t mean you can’t copy your favourite Ryan Gosling silent stare role, but rather, that you can’t play characters from canon. When writing out of character in a post, you should preface what you say with ‘OOC:’. When writing in character, you should preface with ‘IC:’, the name of your character, and their current location. Furthermore, when possible, out of character discussions should be kept within the Discussion Topic or the RPG Discord server (link). Given that PvP will play an important role in tournaments, I want to remind everyone that ‘autohits’ (see Tuck's guide for more info on this) are illegal, and to play your characters realistically. It’s okay to take a hit in a fight – in fact, having to apply creative thinking and improvisation due to injuries you sustain in a combat encounter often makes it more fun to write, and more fun to read. And combat, like everything else in the game, is about having fun; should issues arise, the GMs are prepared to referee, but we would prefer not to interfere. Finally, most importantly of all, be nice to each other! As I said before, we’re all here to have fun – and though we all get emotionally involved in our characters and their experiences, it’s important not to let IC tensions bleed into OOC interactions. If you feel things are getting a bit too heated, be sure to take a step back, and if you need a hand in resolving things privately the GMs are of course here to help. That said, intentionally abusive or bigoted behaviour will not be tolerated. If you muck around, you will find out. Accidentally hurting someone’s feelings is something we’ll try to resolve as sensitively as possible; after all, these things happen. But there is a zero tolerance policy on racism, homophobia, transphobia, and bullying. Basically: just don’t be a prat.