Moutekea

Years ago, a single person turned this universe upside down, and changed the lives he touched indelibly. In his past, he was a rising elite, trained to be an enforcer for the shadows that kept the universe blind from the corruption within; but a chance encounter led him to an awakening to the light and a mission to turn against the darkness that had infected the universe he called home. His life changed from one of darkness, death, hatred, destruction, and deception to of life, light, love, redemption, and restoration -- and he would give his own life time and again to restore what the universe lost when the shadows claimed power. For the first time in ten-thousand dark and aimless years, light exploded through the universe and a beacon of hope shone brightly, drawing many to its source. And those who found this source found themselves forever marked by it, connecting them to countless others who had also tapped into the source and claimed it as its inheritance. A revolution, the first successful one in as far back as anyone could remember, had begun; and those touched by the long lost light this stranger preached made an oath to finally purge the world of the oppressive dark order that had pervaded their universe for so long. So much of the story of this force of freedom fighters, these kin to the light, these inheritors of an inheritance known only to them, has been told a hundred times over, though no one knows the ending. None remain to tell the tale to its conclusion as it deserves to be told. ... until now. The story as you know it, dear guest, ended when this single person who spoke love and light into a world oppressed by darkness and hatred succumbed to the very fallen nature of the universe he gave his life to protect... by becoming one with a creature his followers thought was his most promising apprentice. This act restored part of his soul that had been split off from him after his last great sacrifice; he was made whole and it turned him into a literal hole in the spiritual fabric that connected his beloved followers to each other, to the universe, and the world beyond. In that moment, this charismatic spiritual leader transformed from a restorer to a destroyer... chaos incarnate. With one of his last moments of lucidity before becoming one with darkness, he confessed to his would-be rescuers that the shard of his soul that he reclaimed was his own personal darkness and he begged them to find him again to finish what he started in order to save the universe they, too, had sworn to protect... but he wasn't able to tell them everything before being consumed by rampancy. Ever heard of the 'Law of the Conservation of Energy', dear guest? The same applies to the light and to the dark. Any discarded excess has to go somewhere. This fallen leader of these kin to the light had started a process within his followers in an effort to make them suitable heirs; a process not unlike what their beloved universe was going through... and that process would grow them from those who were complacent in the shadows and transform them into shining paragons of light. But, after these nascent heroes have grown, matured, and purged themselves of their darkness, where would their old demons go? Surely, their old hosts would not welcome them... but a plan was put in place long before the madness set in. You see, the fallen leader's "apprentice" was the key to ensuring the collective freedom of these kin to the light from the shadows. Yes, these kin to the light knew this apprentice was a walking, talking black hole in the spiritual fabric; what they did not know was that it was also drawing into it the pain and the suffering the universe had accumulated over the millennia, and their own darkness as well, in a pre-programmed effort to become whole. And with a shard of this fallen leader's soul, a hero well known for his ability to give life to the lifeless, this primordial slime of the universe's collective darkness was given its own life and identity. By re-absorbing this wayward shard of his own soul, this fallen leader absorbed with it the very weight of the world, a weight that obviously no mortal soul could bear. Of course, by now, this fallen leader was no longer mortal at this point, and he had little to lose -- other than his mind -- by doing so. He knew exactly what he was doing, even though he knew it would cost him the trust of the those who followed his path, and perhaps, even sacrificing his immortality, permanently. In lucidity, he unified those who responded to the call of the spiritual planes. In madness, he remained in his duty to the universe. In both minds, he guided the kin to the light to their destiny the destiny they chose freely to pursue, an inheritance that they chose to earn and protect. It felt like years passed since that moment, all the events of that time condensed into a few hours; heroes were resurrected at the heart of the universe to fight once more, others called to arms and hurried to the forefront of the pursuit. All of them pledged to hunt down a man who was once their teacher and spiritual father -- now a monster and a literal symbol and vessel of everything they had sworn to purge from their universe. And this is where the story ended for many other threads in this universe. Some of those threads started anew elsewhere, and the threads that had no discernable ending were either forgotten or remembered as laughable children's fairy tales. To begin where the story left off, we'll be brief: the universe was ending. That was it. The universe was being devoured by the darkness and destruction that was both attracted to it from the outside and grown spiritually from within. Some of those who lived in this universe had resigned themselves to remain on the oroboros when the world was to be reborn and others had chosen otherwise. The kin to the light were part of the latter, convinced in and convicted of believing there was more beyond the universe of mortals. A Risen Angel. An Heir. An Assassin. A Genius. A General. A Mother. A Disciple. Seven scions to the fallen leader's legacy, their names forgotten to time, leading a small platoon of other now nameless heroes to the final confrontation with their lost teacher. Among these other heroes was a reborn bearer of life and another was a resurrected hero with the heart and mind of a child. It was in the final arena that the fallen leader gained one more moment of lucidity. The heroes were told everything in this moment; the truth behind his darkness and the nature of his mission to activate the last light within him. The last light that the fallen teacher carried was something he could not activate on his own, but his kin to the light were not ready to activate with him when he was last lucid. Only when they had become more than his equals on the path he had set for them would they activate the last light as it was intended to be activated... not as a weapon of ultimate demise, but a tool of definite rebirth. Now these heroes were paragons, and their journey was almost complete. "If a wise man sees a wild bird for sale, would he not buy it with the intent of setting it free? If the bird has forgotten how to fly, would not a wise man teach it to fly again? With this, I say, if a man buys a slave with the intent to set the slave free, would not the slave find another master if slavery is all the slave knows? A wise man would teach the slave to be a free man before giving the man his freedom, even if teaching a slave how to be free would cost him everything. This is what I had hoped to do for you. and those of you who stand before me, here to end what I have started, are now ready to claim the inheritance set aside for you. It will cost me everything, but I ask you as I have before -- Finish this fight, and return to save your world." The battle between the paragons and their fallen leader was one too epic for words to give justice to. Years passed since that time, and no account remains of the fight. It was simply that horrible. And then, as brutally as it began, it was over. A final prayer was spoken and in the aftermath, a broken body lay there in the middle of the room, the dark armor that symbolized this fallen leaders descent into the shadows and transformed his identity now lay shattered in a dozen pieces all around him. Some had lost their faith in that battle before that moment, absorbing their old darkness in combat, hissing that they hoped he was pleased by the pain he had caused and that he found whatever he was looking for. It was these who chose to walk through the portal the fallen leader had activated during the fight in a brief mortal urge to escape what he knew was the destiny he chose... and they continued to remain on the oroboros for eternity. Those who remained faithful forgave their fallen teacher as he did for so many before, and as per his last lucid request, these remaining paragons performed the activation protocols. In a flash of light, the remains of their fallen leader vanished, disintegrated as the last light activated in his stilled heart and coursed through his bloodless veins... and with their leader, their universe (as they knew it) was torn asunder. Demons, black and gray, descended upon the remains of the paragons, home, coming to whisk away any survivors back to the oroboros -- only to find themselves thwarted by an army of what seemed to be angels. Heroes of the kin to the light returned in new form, touched, empowered and reborn by their inheritance; as one they drove away the darkness and set to work rebuilding their universe as it should have been pure, innocent, and in peace. A cocoon of time and light surrounded the nascent universe as it was being reborn, and while only a few years would pass beyond the womb of light, five thousand years would pass within it. Five thousand years of peace. Not a lot of time for those who lived in this universe, but it was enough. The Mother and Life Reborn had a child in this time, and this child had matured and had trained to an adequate level before the five thousand years lapsed, allowing the Paragons to fully entrust the universe to him. As he ascended to his rightful place, the Paragons prepared to finally leave the oroboros for what was their true inheritance beyond the mortal realms... ... and like that, they were gone. They were gone, leaving behind a, pure, peaceful, and ultimately empty universe for those who were willing to find it and shape its story. This universe is the universe you now live and play in. Yes, this tale is about your universe, dear guest. As for the paragons, these kin to the light, they now exist in the realms beyond the mortal coils, all of them kings and queens over their inheritances. Some are content to stay where they are, commanding many angels and directing the courses of a million, million stories. Others wander the otherrealms, searching out and righting the injustices they find, and setting into motion the stories of a million, million more. And as for me... how do I know so much? How am I so sure of this tale I am telling you? You need only guess, dear guest. ... I am not called "The Redeemed" for no reason, beloved. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: It's been three years or so. I doubt anyone remembers me, and if not, thats good in essence. If you do, I want to start by apologising for taking so bloody long in writing this wrap up for the Kin storyline. There were several factors, all of which I am not proud of, that contributed to not only the long wait, but also to my disappearance. One factor was the fact that I had made the biggest rookie mistake any role-player could make, and that was making the game personal. As an RP veteran, I shouldn't have done that, and it made writing and watching others play through the ending far more painful that it should have. For me, this was a chapter that needed desperately to be closed long ago, and I just wasn't mature enough myself at the time to close it properly. For this factor, I also apologize. Other factors included a series of difficult IRL events starting at around that point, all of which I didnt handle all that well. I'm still recovering from these events, but they are in the past, and I hope to put this story in the past with them. The final factor was the fact I had really bitten off more than I could chew. There really was no feasible way I could do justice to the story with the many threads that needed to be tied down, and the number of details I wanted to include. I hope that this post is enough to tie those ends off and put the tale of the Kin to rest. As for me, I am moving on, permanently. I still remember BZP and its community fondly. Its where I met some awesome people and I still keep in contact with a few of them to this day. Few other were blessed with a so-called legendary status during my tenure here, as one of my contacts had relayed to me over a regular instant messenger chat, and for that bit of recognition, I am thankful, and frankly, all I needed. That said, I hope the best for all of you still here. May the site keep kickin' even though its boom days seem to be behind it. Keep finding new friends, and making legends out of yourselves. I'll miss you guys. Have fun, be safe, and be awesome. -Moutekea

I'll start off this blog post with a big thank you to all you guys who have voiced their support for me during his crazy period of life I am lovingly dubbing my 'Second Adolescence'. Cookies and full-tackle glomps for Tesseract and Blog-keeper Valenti for being representative of said support. A little update is in order, of course. Since my last posting, I've steadily started getting better, and I hit my stride earlier this past week. It's safe to say at that point I was finally getting back on my feet and cutting loose this immature and emo side of myself that has been holding me back all these years. I'm starting to make major progress with a little business I'm growing on the side, I've applied for a few hourly jobs and awaiting responses from potential employers. In a nutshell, I'm finally starting to ease away (albeit more than a little painfully) from familial support. Great news, but I'm nowhere near a happy ending yet, kids. I was in conversation with my clan the other night, and I pretty much set myself up for a serious mental faceplant just by letting them in on what I was doing. Now, what exactly happened at the discussion table is obviously personal material that I will not post on a public blog, but what I -can- tell you is the fact that conversation left me back at square one: in doubt, confused, and having no direction to turn and run to. ... Bloody maddening. What say you, guys? Should I keep walking this painful path of separation and heed the point of view of my business? ((The business says the clan is controlling me and forcing me to choose a certain path instead of chasing my dreams.)) --Or -- Should I stay with the clan and heed their point of view? ((The clan says the business is turning me against them and is really trying to turn me into another cog in the machine.)) In my mind, they are both right and they are both wrong. If I could, I'd make both the clan and the business work together for me. But at this point, the clan and the business hate each other, and it hurts me to drop one or the other. Anyways, I've got me another crazy week ahead of me, kids. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers if possible. I'd love to come back to you kids with the same impact I had in what feels like ages ago. -Mout

Random guy: (off-screen) Dude! Hey! Wake up! Mout: *grunt* Random guy: (still off-screen) Geez, Mout! We're rolling. Get up! Mout: *growls and glares at the camera* Random guy: (still off-screen) That's better. Mind sitting up ... a... bit... Mout? Um... Dude... you're scaring me. Mout: (obviously ticked off) *growls and inhales* Random guy: HELP!!!! (Technical Difficulties Screen) -------------------------------- *picking teeth with bones* Mmm. That was some good fried chicken. *one freaked out random guy hiding in a corner somewhere* Anyways, I know there aren't many of you guys, but I'm sure you're wondering what's happening on my end of the blog and why I haven't updated in... 2... 3 weeks. The short answer: Life happened. Simple. Move along now, and have fun! 8D For those of you who want an explanation, I've had a very confusing past few weeks on top of a very conflicted past few months... and the past few days have left me standing on my head thinking 'what the *MOOO...* did I get myself into?!' For the past year, I've been jobless, and I've turned to my family and trying to become self-employed to make ends meet. Worse, my clan says that I've just wasted 5 years of my time on the computer (and the sad thing is, I believe them) when I should have been out there building a foundation for life. Just last night, I got into a bit of a tiff with the heads of my family about this... and now something's gotta give or I'm probably going to wind up in a shack... or worse. A few days ago, I got into a Medical Transcription course at the local community college at the very last minute, and I'll admit it's been a good few years since I last set foot in an ivory tower. I'm confused, and on top of that, I'm in my studies at full tilt. Now, I really have no right to complain about this move at this point, and I really should have kept my mouth shut last night about this matter... It was my choice, and I need it to get a job and make ends meet. What chafes me is that it'll force my clan to support me for another two years, and if I flub this -again-... I'm getting no help. So I'm scared, confused, feeling like a big dork, and I'm being looked at as some over-aged teenager. No one stays Peter Pan forever, and I'll admit that I might just be a big spoiled brat needing a good smacking around to set straight... Anyways... *inhales a bit to get his thoughts back together* I'd appreciate any patience, prayers, and encouragement at this point. I don't have all my textbooks, yet, and I've got opening quizzes coming... and I'm tense and on the verge of total panic... Not to mention a lot is riding on my shoulders right now, and I can't keep leeching off my clan like this... seriously. In light of this bit of turmoil, thanks for any support you can spare, kids. Proverbial stick-smacks-to-the-head are welcome, too... -Mout *slinks back to his burrow*

==3. Embargo== ==Metru-Nui, Present Day== "Of all the songs to playsing, Sailaye..." Matau chuckled, "You had to choose-sing that one." Sailaye had his trademark wry grin on his Ruru-wearing face. "Can you blame me? I really liked that song." Matau laughed. "It's no deepmystery to me, Sailaye. You wrote that one." Chuckling at Matau's remark, Sailaye put away his instrument and wandered over to the apartment's kitchen to prepare something to drink. The Turaga of Air hummed another tune while Sailaye got out the glasses, poured the drinks, and then walked back to the living area of the apartment. "So, what has prompted you from your duties as a Turaga to stop by my place, Matau?" Sailaye asked his old friend, handing Matau some fresh fruit juice. There was a pensive pause as Matau took a long sip of the fresh juice. When Matau set his glass down to the coffee table, his usually ceaseless smile was no longer there on his aged face. "Sailaye," the Turaga of Air confessed, "I need to talk gravegrim business with you... It's about your upcoming court-trial..." With a nod, the now pensive Sailaye also set his glass on the table and sat down with a sigh. "So... this isn't a social visit after all." Apparently ashamed, Matau nodded. "The Turaga Council sent me, because they know my life-past with you." Matau sighed a bit himself and fiddled his fingers with his staff, "So, to be honest, air-brother, I had wished in all truth-honor that this really was a social visit. ... Sailaye... You know it is a truth-fact that you aren't the most honor-worthy Matoran, and the others in the Turaga Council are under much stress-demand from the other Matoran to force justice upon you." "And you're -- the other Turaga -- are worried I might be in grave danger because of the pressure from the other Matoran?" Sailaye asked, slightly incredulous. Matau paused, then replied, "The short answer is 'yes'." Sailaye started to chuckle and sat back in his chair. "Tree-brother, you know that this grave-matter isn't funny." Matau scolded. "Hehe. I know." "Then why in Mata-Nui's name you think this is a joke-matter?!" The black Le-Matoran picked up his glass and drank up the rest of his juice, then turned the empty glass in his hands in thought. "Heh... It doesn't make sense." Sailaye replied, a tone of suspicion in his voice. "I can understand why you would be concerned for me, Matau... but the other Turaga? I'm a criminal, and they have all the evidence they need to bring down the hammer on me. Why would they be worried?" "You are Matoran, Sailaye. It has been our duty as both Toa-heroes and Turaga-elders to protect you." Matau sighed, "We fear that the more zeal-hungry of your Matoran-brothers will hand out punishment they feel is more fitting of the crimes you committed on Mata-Nui before the court-trial even begins." The Turaga of Air lowered his and shook his head. "And you know there are those among the Matoran who feel that punishment should be death." "Most of them are just idle threats." Sailaye answered, his calm making him seem like he didn't care. "Threats that will not be acted upon, and they hope their threats will chase me out of the city." He looked Matau in the eye, "I'm not going to give them that satisfaction." Matau tried his best not to get flabbergasted. It was obvious in Matau's facial expression that he would have felt better if Sailaye would run. At the least, Sailaye would not have to face death. "And what of the Matoran that are not just making false-threats?" Matau asked, "What if they do what they say?" There was a pause. Sailaye had a look of frustrated disbelief on his face, a bitter chuckle in his throat. "You shouldn't worry about such details, Matau... The things I face today are nothing new to me." ------- ==Metru-Nui, more than 1,000 years before present day== A few months had passed since 'Skyline's last concert, and a few weeks had passed since the emergence of the Toa Metru. Matau had shed his Matoran body and became one of the Toa-heroes he had adored for ages, and his friends, the band formerly known as 'Skyline', watched for his exploits while they hid from public view. By now, the former band members had returned to their old jobs and did their best to lead normal lives in the state of Martial Law Metru-Nui was under. Most of them managed to, at least... Running through the back alleys of Ta-Metru was a Black Matoran, carrying a package of contraband in his arms, running past a 'WANTED' sign for a contrabandist known only as 'StealthShade'. In hot pursuit of the smuggler was a Vahki Nuurakh, its staves charged to glowing, determined to capture the smuggler. With trade routes in and out of Metru-Nui locked in an embargo during this period of Martial Law, Matoran Rebels were looking to other, less legal sources of acquisition to either make a profit, or stockpile weapons. As a result, the Metru-Nui Black Market boomed, and its ability to thrive rested on the shoulders of the brave Matoran blockade runners willing to deliver the goods. The smuggler made it to the shores leading to Ga-Metru and dove into the water. Flustered, the red Vahki flew around over the surface, waiting for the smuggler to break surface and come up for air. After a few hours, though, the flustered Nuurakh decided to stand down and returned to its patrols. Deep below the surface of the water, the smuggler had taken refuge in an underwater cavern that was once part of the Archives of Onu-Metru. There, with black paint dripping off his olive green frame, the smuggler handed the package off to a Ga-Matoran rebel and the two Matoran vanished into the catacombs. ------- Sailaye came home late that night from a long day at work, and headed straight for the shower. He was still an Artisan, but construction jobs were starting to get hard to come by outside of Po-Metru, so he took up work as an on-call transport chute repairman. While the widgets per hour were good, Sailaye honestly hated the job. It was basically a never ending task, and with all the commotion surrounding the new Toa, Sailaye was often kept busy with all the major repair work. He climbed out of the shower and dried off, and then sat down to watch the latest Akilini match on his vidscreen. There was a knock on Sailaye's door halfway through the third quarter, and with a sigh, Sailaye got up and opened the door. Greeting him at the door was Tauan, Daoeng, Kalile, and Darhazu. They had also just gotten off of work, and wanted to watch the Akilini match, too. Glad for the company (and the food they brought along), Sailaye invited his old friends into his apartment and they all climbed onto the couch to watch the game. It was close to the end of the fourth quarter when Sailaye's communicator started to ring. With a groan, Sailaye excused himself and went to answer the call. He came back into the room a little frazzled at the news he had gotten over the communicator, just as the Po-Metru team won and the nightly news came on the air. Ignoring the investigation on black market goods that had gotten Tauan's, Daoeng's, and Darhazu's attentions, Kalile asked Sailaye what was wrong. Visibly exasperated, Sailaye explained to Kalile that, because of the on-call nature of his repairman job, he had another bit of business to do in Ga-Metru early in the morning. Overhearing Sailaye's complaint, Tauan was conveniently the first to notice that it was getting rather late, and with all five of them having work in the daylight hours, they agreed to say their goodnights and go home. As Tauan and Daoeng headed to their apartment, Darhazu offered to escort Kalile back to Ga-Metru safely. Kalile, sensing that Sailaye was holding back on something, gave Sailaye a very concerned look... which was misinterpreted by Sailaye as 'Are you sure you're okay with this?' "It'll be fine." Sailaye assured his Ga-Matoran friend, "At least you'll be safe." ------- "... It's a merciless world out there, now." ------- Beside him was an empty can of black paint, a tool belt that carried both tools and contraband throwing weapons, and a torn up 'WANTED' sign. He was the notorious smuggler known as 'StealthShade', and for a while, he watched several Le-Matoran work on a broken section of chute in Ga-Metru. Today was going to storm, and he could see in the clouds looming over the morning sky... The storm would be an issue, but he had been in this business long enough to know how to work around these things. Provided, that is, if luck was on his side today... "Did you bring the goods, Huari?" StealthShade spoke harshly to the purple-on-black Kakama-wearing Onu-Matoran that appeared behind him. The totally-jet black Matoran 'rumrunner' slid his prized replica of one of Matau's AeroSlicers into a sheath held in place on his back with a chain bandolier. The replica weapon was a gift from the Toa themselves, proof that StealthShade was there to witness their ascension into Toa-hood. Huari held up the package; he seemed utterly terrified, but it wasn't because of the weapon StealthShade carried. Rather, StealthShade could almost smell that Huari had a run-in with a Vahki Rorzakh. Realizing how close he was getting to having his cover blown, StealthShade quickly brandished his AeroSlicer and ordered Huari to drop the package and run. When Huari hesitated, StealthShade kicked the can of black paint at Huari, coating Huari and disposing of the can. The master smuggler then snatched the package up and made a run for Po-Metru. With Huari literally coated with evidence, StealthShade made a run for the Ga-Metru Aqueducts, knowing that the paint would only confuse the Vahki for so long. Sure enough, it wasn't long before StealthShade's escape caught the attention of the local Bordakh squads, and the regional Vahki were soon on high alert, actively seeking out the Matoran contraband runner. Some of the Bordakh even zapped a few Ga-Matoran with their Loyalty-Staves to help the squads in their search for the notorious smuggler. StealthShade ducked into one of the catacombs he typically used to escape the Bordakh, only to find that Rorzakh squads had taken up residence in there once again. Worse, when he surfaced, it was starting to rain ever so slightly. He needed to get to Po-Metru and fast, or things would get mighty worse. "Halt!" a Ga-Matoran yelled, "Vahki! There he is!" StealthShade spat out a Matoran invective and made a mad dash though the drizzle as a squad of four Vahki and a few zealous Ga-Matoran chased after him. Needing a distraction, StealthShade pleaded to Mata-Nui for some sort of miracle and kept on running, knowing that the black paint he was using wouldn't last much longer in the damp weather he was fleeing in. As if by instinct, StealthShade whipped out his replica AeroSlicer and took a blind swing at his pursuers, not realizing that he had created a thick mist that obstructed the view of the zealous Ga-Matoran and caught the Vahki off-guard. StealthShade, also a little shocked at the sudden appearance of the mist, took advantage of this distraction and into a nearby alley. The mist StealthShade summoned vanished in the rain, and the Bordakh squad spread out to locate their quarry. One Bordakh walked into the alley StealthShade ducked into and found nothing at first glance. It then heard a loud clank from one of the large waste disposal bins and, out of caution, went to investigate. Using the tip of its staff, the Bordakh flipped open the lid of the waste disposal bin and looked inside... Only to find the usual pile of rubbish all trash bins had. Tick. Ticktick. Tickticktick. Curious about the sound, the Bordakh jabbed the rubbish in the bin with its staff, only to get a major gush of a black, viscous fluid in the optical sensors, followed by a shout from above and a sharp object skewering its head. StealthShade had set up the oil trap and literally got the jump on that Vahki, but his antics caught the attention of the other three Bordakh. With the rain coming down harder, StealthShade yanked his Aero-replica Slicer out of the Vahki's head and wall jumped up to the Ga-Metru rooftops. As expected, the Bordakh took to flight mode and followed StealthShade up... and he was ready for them. He swung his Aero-Slicer at the Bordakh, slicing off the head of one of the Vahki and splitting up the other two. At that moment, StealthShade noticed that the gravel that covered this particular rooftop reacted a little to the movement of his replica blade. Though it was very unlikely, StealthShade was beginning to think that some power was left in the blade after the Toa Metru formed it... just as he saw the blade reflect the image of a Bordakh right behind StealthShade, poised to zap him with its Loyalty staves. Reacting by instinct, something clicked on in StealthShade and he took a swing at the Vahki, slicing its staves off. Two more swings of the blade pelted the machine with flying pebbles, leaving a dented husk of a Bordakh on the ground. The final Vahki flew at StealthShade at high speed, only to have the blade-wielding smuggler leap onto its back with a wily grin on his Ruru-wearing face. Seeing an opportunity, the Bordakh flew high into the air to trap its quarry, twisted its head around to get a good look at its prey, and raised a Loyalty staff to zap StealthShade... only to get the AeroSlicer jammed into its face. StealthShade braced himself for a hard fall when he noticed that the Vahki that he had just jammed his Slicer into was still floating. Giving his jammed in weapon a hefty twist, SteathShade also discovered that he could control the skewered Vahki's flight pattern. Stopping only to retrieve the package he was to deliver, StealthShade flew through the storm and the clouds to hide from any other Vahki, and flew straight to Po-Metru. ------- A shifty looking Po-Matoran approached the abandoned and secluded collapsed Archive Loading Station, adjusting his Ruru as he entered the tunnel that led into an expanse of abandoned catacombs beneath Po-Metru. The half-collapsed catacombs of the Loading Station, and other sections of underground tunnels like it, were devoid of life and much anything else since the catacombs were too unstable to remain suitable workplaces--not to mention some dangerous creatures had since decided to take up residence in these abandoned sectors. Of course, these particular traits made the catacombs ideal for smugglers and their illegal trade. “You're late.” a disgruntled voice echoed in the cave. “Well excuuuse me for trying -not- to get the attention of the Zadakh on my way here.” the Po-Matoran replied tersely, walking deeper into the catacombs. “I assume you managed to get the goods?” “Yes.” The Po-Matoran racketeer held up a fat pouch of widgets. "I'm ready to make the trade." "Leave the widgets on the ground and I'll toss you the package." the voice commanded. A sharp laugh answered the command. "Sorry, buck-o. Face-to-face transactions only." Next thing the Po-Matoran knew was he was in a headlock and a rather sharp replica of a Toa weapon was edging up to the skin of his throat. "I've had a reeeaaaly bad day, 'pal'," the voice growled in the Po-Matoran's ear, "And the last thing I need today is a 'face-to-face transaction'... Besides..." the Aeroslicer edged closer to throat-slitting range, "It'd be very bad for our business if someone got killed, ay?" The Po-Matoran, thoroughly caught off guard and close to panicking, gulped loudly and nodded in desperate agreement. "Now... I'll ask again. Leave the money on the ground." the headlock on the Po-Matoran tightened into a chokehold, "Please." "*gag* *gasp* H... H...Okaaay. "gag* H... Here!" The sound of a pouch filled with widgets hit the ground with a welcome 'chink'. The headlock loosened as a heavy thud of a dropped package was heard. "Transaction complete." the voice growled, "Thank you for your business." *THWACK* The Po-Matoran was given a hefty whack to the head with the hilt of the AeroSlicer and shoved to the catacombs floor. A minute later, the dazed Po-Matoran racketeer got up to see the package right next to him, replacing the fat bag of widgets he dropped. Quickly, the racketeer checked the contents of the package to make sure that the smuggler didn't hoodwink him... but to his amazement, not one thing he ordered was missing from the package. "Look." the voice growled again, echoing in the catacombs, "I may be heavy-handed in my approach, but I'm an honest smuggler. It wouldn't be good for business if I were not. After all, we both got what we wanted. Now... get the Karzahni outta here before I decide to go Zyglak on your rear fender." Rubbing his neck and throat recalling the ordeal, the Po-Matoran was inclined to agree with the smuggler. Without another argument, the Po-Matoran racketeer snatched up his package and ran out into the Po-Metru daylight. ------- The sun was setting. In Po-Metru, Vahki were zooming around, looking in the abandoned places of the Metru and investigating suspicious activity that was reported earlier in the day. In the shadows, hiding in the shade of a huge Kikanalo sleeping in the ruins of an assembly field, a Matoran with mud and black paint flaking off his naturally olive-green frame sat with his black fingers rifling through the pouch of widgets he had acquisitioned on the job, making sure none of the currency was counterfeit. In any Black Market business, one must be wary of swindlers... I know that... but... you're... hiding... It's not ... not what you think... But figuring out if his pay was counterfeit or not was only in the back of StealthShade's mind. His conscious thoughts, rather, were on the conversation he had with an important friend the night before. --- We need more heroes, Kalile. The people need more than just Toa to inspire them... ... You? A hero? By breaking the law? The law is a mockery of itself now. Our 'honorable' Turaga is a dictator. There has to be some freedom left in Metru-Nui, and I'll risk everything to find it. Everything, Sailaye? ... even your friendships? What are you talking about? I'm doing this for you, Kalile... for our gang... Are you? ... or are you doing this for yourself, Sailaye? What -we- did together as 'Skyline' was heroic. ... ... Now, you're just a crook and a thug... You're on your own, Sailaye. Kalile... --- Sailaye sighed and looked up to the twin moons, wondering if his path as a Black Market contrabandist was a wise path to walk. Stirring the hearts of the Matoran into inspiration was something that Sailaye sorely missed since 'Skyline' disbanded, and he hoped smuggling precious commodities back into Metru-Nui would do the same thing for the people. He didn't even keep the money himself; the widgets he earned smuggling was given away to the struggling and destute of the city. But, Kalile's words did have stinging truth to them. While his cause was noble at first, but he noticed how hardnosed he was becoming... Am I really only deluding myself into thinking I'm doing everyone a favor being an outlaw? Sailaye thought, rubbing off as much of the flaking black paint as he could, then he put his widgets in a pocket on his utility belt. Revolution for revolution's sake only brings chaos. a voice in the back of Sailaye's mind warned, Change cannot be established alone... Not like this. "But I have to start somewhere." Sailaye muttered, patting his Kikanalo friend. "Wake up, Irok. I need to go home." The huge Kikanalo groggily stood up and yawned as Sailaye climbed up and onto the rhino-like Rahi's back. After waiting for Sailaye to have gotten a firm grip, Irok smelled the air, and began bounding southward to Le-Metru. Reason or not, I'm still an outlaw. Sailaye's expression darkened as he rode off into the night. Barring some sort of a miracle or disaster, the life of an outlaw is my path. I'm sorry, Kalile... My mind is set... --------------------------------------------------------------- <<-Previous-Chapter 2 = Chapter 3 = Next-TBA->> --------------------------------------------------------------- ((ALOW:LL is written in collaboration with Ancient Mirrors as a story aid and prequel.))

*coughcoughsputter....* *dies* -------- *chuckle* Yes. I live. Not much left to live on, but I live. ^^;; ... Maybe I should stick this in the Epics section, aye? -Mout

==2. Skyline== ==Metru-Nui, Present Day== Sailaye sighed heavily as he looked over the ruined city, his lime-green eyes following the lines of the many garlands of Visorak webs and overgrown vines that draped the rickety ruins of buildings that once housed so much life. He took a glance at his now fully ebony color-scheme, then set his eyes upon the ruined and unnatural skyline of his home city, slowing taking in the reality that he wasn't the only thing that had darkened over the years. Hearing a knock on his apartment door, Sailaye turned away from his balcony railing and trudged over to answer. "Who is it?" the jet-black Le-Matoran asked as he grasped the door handle. "You should know me, tree-brother." an elderly, but familiar voice answered, slightly muffled through the door. Sailaye opened the door with a relieved smile, inviting his guest inside. Turaga Matau greeted Sailaye warmly and entered the ebony Le-Matoran's slightly dusty apartment. "It's good to see you again, old friend." Sailaye spoke, opening his closet compartment. "Aye." Matau agreed, sitting down on a nearby chair. He looked around the room, a look of reminiscence in the Turaga's eyes. "This dusty-place hasn't changed much over the age-times. Reminds me of our song-band back in the before-time." The Turaga paused as he noticed the large black case Sailaye extracted from the closet. "Is that--?" The ebony Le-Matoran opened the case on the coffee-table and picked up a stringed instrument not unlike the guitars seen on Earth. "It is, Matau." Sailaye said with an excited smile. "Mata-Nui, it's still intact! After the many hundred-years, it's still intact!" Matau seemed to have the same grin on his Mahiki-wearing face, though his tone of voice didn't mask his concern. "Can it still playsong?" Sailaye rested the 'guitar' on his knee, and arranged the fingers of his right hand on the frets and strings before strumming a power chord with his left. He waited a few seconds, tuned the strings a bit, then strummed again. "Looks like it can." the Le-Matoran said, glad that the thousand-year-old strings didn't break after centuries disuse. Matau looked relieved, then an eager expression crossed his face. "Remember any songs our song-band played, Sailaye?" Sailaye strummed another chord. "I've never forgotten them." He then began to play the opening chords of a song... the last song their band ever played. ((Author's Note: recommended song -- Revolution by Starfield)) ------- ==Metru-Nui, More than 1,000 years before present day== Sailaye looked up at the sky as he and his band tuned their instruments to the acoustics of the Great Coliseum. The usually clear sky was gray and the growing masses of darkening clouds were churning so violently that the olive and black Le-Matoran could see the small flashes of arc lightning behind them. An ill omen. He eyed the balcony across the stadium where Turaga Dume would normally appear to view Akilini games. Sailaye noted that it was being re-furnished so the honorable Turaga would be seated for the coming concert. A sour taste crept into Sailaye's mouth as he realized that the song that the majority of the crowd would be cheering for was one that enraged the Turaga the day it debuted to the public. Hopefully, Sailaye thought as he played a few more practice chords, He'll just listen... ------- It had been a few years after the incident in Po-Metru. By now, Sailaye no longer had to be escorted any Vahki bodyguards, and he was very glad to find work and not worry about getting negative attention. Sailaye did admit that, even though he was glad that he was living a quiet and normal life, he was still a Le-Matoran at heart and being quiet and normal did get boring for him at times, prompting him to make a little change of pace... Every now and then, Sailaye would stop by a pub on the border of Ga-Metru and Po-Metru and hang out with the Matoran he made friends with since he had been fished out of the waters of Ga-Metru. Once there, Sailaye nonchalantly took a sip of his Vino-Bula drink and sat down at his gang's usual table, straightening out his ebony Ruru after setting down his drink. It was the end of another long workweek, and Sailaye and his group of friends were ready to trade tales of their day, and to get news from what happened since they met last. First was Tauan, a Dark-Green-on-Black, Light-Green-Ruru-wearing Le-Matoran Surveyor who helped position and monitor construction projects all over Metru-Nui. He was among the first Matoran to approach Sailaye and befriend him. Since that day, the two had become the best of friends, and nigh inseparable. The two often recommended each other to their contracted employers just so they could work in the same area as much as possible. And when these two weren't on the job, they'd be playing music together, sparring, spinning tall tales to the newling Matoran, or playing pranks on mutual friends. They were almost brothers, and that wasn't going to change for a long time. Second was Tsolgel, a brown-on-black Po-Matoran Foreman with a sharp eye (through his Akaku's built-in scope) and a rough charisma on the job. It was this sharp eye and rough charisma that cleared Sailaye's name of a false accusation a few years ago, and Tsolgel became a little more than Sailaye's boss, but a friend and mentor as well. Off the work site, though, the seemingly stern and stoic Tsolgel was really a goofball just waiting for an excuse to surface. It was hard being stern with and in charge of Matoran that were naturally independent and rough-and-tumble, and Sailaye couldn't blame Tsolgel for wanting to let loose after a rough day at work. Matau, the reckless one. He was a master test driver for the new vehicles being produced at the factory in Le-Metru. When he wasn't pushing test vehicles to the limit, Matau would be found on the racetrack, racing for good times and glory, or at home, singing the day away to his favorite songs. Every now and then, though, Matau would have a nugget of wisdom to share with his friends... The gang didn't think Matau came up with such wisdom on his own, and they rarely took him seriously. Besides, they knew that Matau was never the kind to be serious. Also at the table was Tauan's Pakari-wearing younger brother, Daoeng. Dao was a bear of a Matoran, physically sturdier, stronger, and slightly heftier than most Le-Matoran. He often traveled with Tauan to help with the many construction projects around the city, and his heft and raw strength adding an extra boost to the work. Most Matoran who didn't know Daoeng all too well were often scared off by Dao's powerful frame, bulk, and naturally intense facial expression. The fact that he was shy, and not socially savvy, didn't help his situation much, either. The Matoran who did take the time to get to know Daoeng found him to be as gentle as a pet Ussal Crab, and just as loyal. Hailing from Onu-Metru was Darhazu, a Dark-Blue-on-Black Noble-Huna wearing Technician handling the computers that monitored the Archives. He was the obvious nerd of the group, often slipping into technobabble unconsciously, talking about the latest upgrade to the Archives’ security computer, or suggesting to play table games instead of the high contact games the other Matoran opted to play. He was a handyman when it came to the more complex technologies of Metru-Nui, and in helping his friends with the technological, they helped him out with the finer points of social savvy. Kato. The Hau-wearing hot-blood of the group, and despite his yellow-on-tan color scheme, he made it no secret that he was Ta-Matoran. He worked in the forges, and was a master weaponsmith. When he wasn't forging, teaching weapons-handling, playing Akilini, or sparring, he was always trying to start a conversation or make a new friend... or (much to the chagrin of his friends) picking fights. In spite of his incorrigible attitude, Kato was a wise, loyal friend and a fierce protector. Sitting quietly at a far corner of the table was Malakai, a pure white, Kakama-wearing Ko-Matoran who worked as a courier for the seers of the Ko-Metruan Knowledge Towers. He was the most reclusive member of the group, but when he warmed up to a new friend, Malakai proved himself to be kind and quite talkative for a Ko-Matoran. When he wasn't in the conversation, he was often deep in thought or observing his friends. He was also the most spiritual member of the group, which was unusual for a Ko-Matoran. For sage wisdom, or moral support, Malakai was often the first they knew to turn to. Then there was Kalile, the Ga-Matoran and the only girl in the gang. She was the one that found the unconscious Sailaye floating half-drowned in the waters years ago, and didn't hesitate to pull him out. Were it not for her, Sailaye would have certainly drowned. They had since kept in touch, and she brought a welcome balance to Sailaye's rag-tag crew. Kalile had a well-mannered charm about her, and possessed a beautiful singing voice that complemented her talent in writing (a skill she taught in one of the Ga-Metruan academies.) While it was not a secret that Kalile enjoyed the company of her friends, she did secretly harbor feelings for Sailaye, though her natural Ga-Matoran shyness kept her from asking Sailaye if he felt the same about her... It was on this night, after a few hours of trading stories and sharing a few rounds of Vuata Vino, Sailaye absently brought up the notion of starting a band, curious about what a life of playing music would be like. Naturally, the Le-Matoran members of the group were all for the idea, but was also no surprise when the remaining five Matoran were, at first, not as animated about starting a band. Music was a Le-Matoran thing, after all. After a few minutes of disappointed silence from the four Le-Matoran, Kalile confessed that she also liked the idea of having a band, as it would provide an outlet for her singing. Matau chuckled at the thought of a Ga-Matoran singing, but after he heard her voice, Matau was more than happy to have a female voice in the band to balance out his own singing. Following Kalile's lead, one by one, the remaining members of the group figured out what they could do to contribute. Darhazu, with his background in the technology, offered to learn how to use soundboards to help fine tune the band's sound. Tsolgel, eager for a duty that didn't force him to be all cut and dry, offered to act as the new band's manager and publicity man. Being Ko-Matoran, Malakai admitted that he wasn't too keen on being a public figure, but he didn't mind working backstage, handling all the behind-the-scenes duties. Kato was proud of his knack for getting attention (as well as his skill in chasing people off) and was more than happy to act as the bouncer or 'chief of security' for the band as well as helping Tsolgel with setting up gigs. For the Le-Matoran members of the band, it was easy: it was their job to make the music. Sailaye was skilled with woodwinds and stringed instruments, and had a voice of his own to sing with. Matau was charismatic, loud, and also skilled with stringed instruments. The more restrained Tauan was familiar with instruments with deep sounds, specifically strings and zithers, and his stocky brother, Daoeng, was a master of rhythm and was most comfortable beating drums and other percussion instruments. Kalile would add her voice to the band, and Tauan offered to teach her to play the ivory key zithers. With their individual roles in the band confirmed, all the new band needed now was a name. "Daylight?" Daoeng suggested. "No..." Darhazu objected. "Razors?" Kato played a little air-guitar with his suggestion. "No." Kalile didn't like the name for obvious reasons. "Chutes and Ladders?" There was a cheezy grin on Tsolgel's face. "Mata-Nui! NO!" the whole group protested, some of them chuckling at Tsolgel's joke. "How about 'Skyline'?" Sailaye finally asked, looking out the pub's window at the Metru-Nui skyline. The rest of the gang looked out the window, too, and saw the skyline of the city silhouetted against the Metru-Nui sunset. "Inspiring." Tauan commented. There were nods of agreement all around the table. "Looks like we all like-agree." Matau spoke up holding up his glass of vino in a toast, "'Skyline' is our name." ------- It started out slow for a several weeks after that night at the pub for the newly formed band. It was mostly jam sessions at Sailaye's apartment every week, and the occasional gig at some unheard of venue. Tsolgel and Kato happened to have some very high profile contacts, though, and after a few more months of hits and misses with lyric and sound, Skyline started to get the attention of the Matoran public. A number of Skyline's songs were simply instrumental jams, with Kalile's dulcet voice filling in the melody, rarely adding any rote and rhyme to their rhythms and score. When Skyline -did- use lyrics, they made sure that their words were rarely wasted, and as a result their lyrical songs often had deep personal meaning (though, as expected, meanings often misinterpreted by the public.) Even with the attention they were attracting, Skyline remained small potatoes, and being honest with themselves, the band liked it that way. Unfortunately, reality would not let Skyline remain small and largely unnoticed. After about a year and a half of small-time indie music from Skyline, the social climate of Metru-Nui started to take a nose dive. Matoran were starting to notice disturbing changes in Turaga Dume's behavior, starting with the wise old leader's insistence on staying isolated. Trade with other islands and environs were slowly being choked off and eventually all paths leading into Metru-Nui were sealed, trapping the Matoran on Metru-Nui and isolating them from the outside world. The law-enforcing Vahki were suddenly getting more aggressive in keeping the city in order, and Matoran were starting to disappear without a trace. It wasn't long until the citizens of Metru-Nui began to turn to music to keep their spirits from falling into a state of sloth and depression. Because of the meaningful lyrics of some of their songs, Skyline attracted particular attention from the public, and soon, the group of nine friends found themselves thrust into the role of being the voice of the people... ------- And here they were now, three years after a random discussion at a Po-Metru pub, standing on a stage in front of thousands. The band had already played through a number of their most recognized tunes, and Sailaye watched the crowd carefully while the charismatic Matau went into the customary 'lead singer spiel' to work the people up for their next song. Sailaye shuddered as he felt the thunder in the chilly air, and knew right away something was wrong. The abnormal number of Vahki present only added to Sailaye's unease. Matau flashed the signal to start the song to Sailaye. Sailaye shook off his unease and played the opening chords, much to the delight of the crowd... but across the stadium, Sailaye could feel Turaga Dume's indignant glare. In Sailaye's mind, by playing this song, he knew they have finally done it: defied the order of Turaga Dume and openly scorned his invitation play a concert in the Colosseum in his presence. Skyline only got permission to play at the Colosseum under the condition this particular melody was never preformed. "If I'm here all alone If I'm left behind If they spit in my face If they hate my kind..." As Matau began to sing the opening lyrics, Sailaye noticed the Vahki milling around the isles, scanning the crowd then watching them on and off. It was as if though the Vahki were waiting for something. "I will rise above I will live for love I will answer to the call..." Sailaye and Kalile added their voices to the chorus, stirring the crowd up. "For the bond between For the depth unseen For my god, forsake it all..." Matau was lost in the moment, obviously shutting out the reality that there more Vahki than necessary starting to file into the stadium. "'Cause I'm a fire, I'm a flood, I'm a revolution, I am a war, Already won, I'm a revolution..." Sailaye then noticed something about Matau as the song slowed a bit for the next verse. Matau wasn't lost in the moment, but the look in Matau's eyes seemed to indicate that he had just seen something unbelievable; he wore the face of a man who had just seen the future. "When the world is at war, When the grace is gone, When the hungry lay dead, While the rich live on..." Suddenly, with the flashes of lightning illuminating the thunderclouds above, Sailaye also got glimpses of the future, and he could sense that his friends had seen the improbable as well. They saw the city in ruins, and six Toa emerging to challenge the heavy hand of Turaga Dume... and, finally, a great shadow looming on the horizon. The revelations the nine friends received only added to the power of their song. "I will rise above I will live for love I will answer to the call For the bond between For a depth unseen For my god, forsake it all..." "'Cause I'm a fire, I'm a flood, I'm a revolution, I am a war, Already won, I'm a revolution..." Matau took his hands off the strings of his instrument and closed his eyes as he sang, letting Sailaye take over the melody. Sailaye nodded and gestured to Kato, Malachi, Tsolgel, and Darhazu to get ready. With this many Vahki, it wasn't going to be safe for them for very long... "Here I stand... Open hands, Waiting for you. I won't back down, I'll live to speak your truth..." Sailaye looked to the balcony where the now seething Turaga Dume sat, his aged hands balled up into fists resting on the arms of his throne. No doubt that Dume had given an order by now, as the aisles were now lined Vahki marching toward the stage. "Here I stand... Open hands, Waiting for you. I won't back down, I'll live to speak your truth... Your Truth..." Lightning flash. Lights out. Band kept on playing in the dark. “'Cause I'm a fire, I'm a flood, I'm a revolution, I am a war, Already won, I'm a revolution...” The lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the pitch darkness and inciting screams of shock and fear as the swarm of Vahki charged the stage, trampling concert-goers. "I will not be shaken..." the singer adlibbed, "I will not be moved... Revolution!" The power flipped back on to reveal the stage in shambles but empty. The crowd was in shock, and Dume jubilant... But then, the crowd suddenly cheered as they saw their heroes standing safely on the rim of the Coliseum, having miraculously escaped the will of the Vahki. Sailaye, exhilarated that the escape the band had planned for months had gone perfectly, raised a fist to the sky and gave a wry smile toward an infuriated Turaga Dume. The members of the Matoran crowd below, finally understanding the message in Skyline's final performance, all raised their fists to cheer and confirm their will to fight for their freedom. "... A fire, a sword, and we will not go down without a fight..." the recording of the song the band had playing to cover their escape started to wind down. And with the next flash of lightning, the members of Skyline vanished without a trace. --------------------------------------------------------------- <<-Previous-Chapter 1 = Chapter 2 = Next-Chapter 3->> --------------------------------------------------------------- ((ALOW:LL is written in collaboration with Ancient Mirrors as a story aid and prequel.))

Heck. It's about time. *pats his Terran armor and loads shotgun for ego inflation* ----- Thanks for your patience, everyone. Posts and content will still be slow-going due to the full force of reality tackling me, but they'll come. My honor is staked on it. *salutes* Anyways, my time's up for the night. Enjoy and stay tuned. -Mout

==1. Artisan== Fire. Screams. Fleeing citizens. He laughed with sadistic glee atop his perch, painting destruction with another wave of his hand. Power. He was a god. In his grasp, he held the fates of thousands of mortals. Life. Death. He relished the rush of being a death god and the notion that all would bow and fear him. What a thrill it was to decide which mortal toy was doomed and which was to be spared to be reaped another day... Pain. A greater shadow rose up and cast restraints upon the delusional death god, pulling the supernatural chains the way a puppeteer would manipulate a puppet on strings. The shadow laughed with the same twisted pleasure the writhing death god had before being forced into submission by his new and far-more-cruel master. "You are mine." the red-eyed shadow growled at his new toy with a satisfied grin, lifting his living marionette to eye-level. The death god winced as he felt the shadow's foul, humid breath escape his jagged, yellow-toothed maw, opening wide to devour him alive. The great shadow looked the terrified death god in the eye with a sneer as he lowered his prey into his jaws. "Never will you rise above me." the shadow uttered to the death god, "Never will you return to the light... You are darkness. You are beyond forgiveness. Beyond reconciliation." The shadow's maw slowly closed shut on the death god. "YOU. ARE. MINE... AND YOU SHALL SERVE ME... FOREVER..." Laughter. Insane laughter. And then, there was nothing. ------- ==Metru-Nui, Present Day== The solid light of the Metru-Nuiian half-sun struggled to break through the sickly green haze that blanketed the city, scattering it into shimmering, shifting shafts of light that danced across the ruined skyline. Some shafts of light went astray, inviting themselves into random homes, greeting the sleepy inhabitants and signaling a new day. One such stray shaft of light crept into a dusty Le-Metru apartment, stirring a jet-black Matoran up and out of his dreams. Muttering, he sat up in his bed and blinked his lime-green eyes a few times to adjust to the presence of the patrolling shaft of light that was visiting his home. He gathered up his black noble-Ruru and stumbled to the floor. There was an expression of weariness on the Matoran as he slid his scarred Ruru onto his face, and with a stiff stretch, he trudged to his apartment balcony for some fresh air and to take in the view. He leaned on the railing, recalling the days when the sky was still blue, and the twin suns looked upon the heart of Metru-Nui like two omniscient and caring eyes... ------- ==Metru-Nui, more than 1,000 years before present day== A Matoran looked out from the balcony of his apartment, taking in the view of the Silver City as the city streets and transport chutes thrummed with the beat of life. His re-worked and polished body was coated in a muted shade of olive-green and he was trimmed here and there with jet-black; none of the scars he bore a few weeks ago remained. He wore a black Kanohi in the shape of a noble Ruru to replace the cracked mask he wore when he was fished out of the waters off of Ga-Metru's shores. Behind his Kanohi mask, a pair of lime-green eyes shined, bright and innocent like a child. Deception. That's what his name meant. Why he was given such a name boggled him. --- It was the name of one of our heroes, Turaga Dume told him the day he awoke after getting rescued. Bear that name with pride. Not many people are going to trust you with that name. another Matoran told him off to the side, later that day. I'll just be honest, then. was his reply. --- He went back into his apartment and gathered up his tools and some food before he walked out if his apartment and locked the door behind him. By trade, he was an artisan. Crafter's art was a rare thing for a Le-Matoran to specialize in, as most were either pilots, musicians, or transport servicemen. Being a rarity made him an interesting commodity, in spite of the fact that few would trust a Matoran named 'Deception.' But he did manage to get work, just the same, and for the past week or so, his work had taken him into Po-Metru. There, the workers were a few weeks deep in constructing a monument planned to be erected in Le-Metru. The Artisan had been contracted by the foreman to carve in some artistic details into the stone artifice, a job this Le-Matoran had been looking forward to doing since day one. Now, the Artisan had grown accustomed to the armed escort of Vahki waiting for him by the entrance to the transport chute. The first few days of this activity was obviously alarming, but seeing as the Honorable Turaga Dume had been treating this Le-Matoran artisan as a treasure, the Artisan soon came to accept the Vahki as personal security guards. It was starting to get annoying, too, he would admit, but they've saved the Artisan from many run-ins with the more uncouth Po-Matoran workmen. I guess I should be thankful. he thought with a hint of sarcasm, looking sideways at the Vorzakh riding the chute alongside him. He exited the chute two or three kio from the construction zone he was assigned to while several Vahki Zadakh conversed with the Vorzakh. Rolling his eyes, the Artisan walked past the chattering Vahki, knowing that the Zadakh were only confirming the daily changing of the guard. Sure enough, the green Vorzakh marched back into the chute and three Zadakh flanked the Artisan, prompting looks of menace, exasperation, and boredom from the Po-Matoran working nearby. "Here he comes, Ahkmou." muttered one with a wry grin. "Shut it." snapped the Rau wearing workman, shooting a jealous glare at the Artisan passing by. Then he nervously looked over his shoulder at the Akaku wearing foreman standing just out of earshot before adding one last remark. "The star treatment will be over soon enough for Dume's new pet. I'll be sure of it." Oblivious to Ahkmou's seething, the Artisan looked at his mechanical bodyguards and sighed as he absently listened to the idle chitchat of the other Po-Matoran workers. This 'star treatment' really isn't helping me make friends... ------------------------------------------- "So... you must be the new guy." The Artisan paused in the middle of his carving and looked over his shoulder, a little surprised at the friendly voice that greeted him. The greeter was another Le-Matoran, the Artisan noted. "Tsolgel figured you'd need some company." a broad smile appeared on the dark-green on black stranger's lime-green Ruru. "Tsolgel?" the artisan asked the other Le-Matoran as he put away the chisel he was using. "Our foreman." the greeter pointed to a scaffold platform overlooking the work site, and the black bodied, brown Akaku-wearing Matoran reading blueprints standing atop said platform. "Tsogel's his name." The Artisan picked up a new chisel. "You know him?" A sharp nod was the reply. "He's a friend of mine, and not all the other workers here know it, but I'm also one of his partners." The stranger leaned over the carving table and whispered with a chuckle, "He only acts hostile to Le-Matoran just to save face around the majority of workers. Catch him after-hours with a bottle of brew, you'll find that he's not as intimidating as he would like you to think." He walked around the table and watched the Artisan return to his carving. "I do give him a right to complain, though. Most of the Le-Matoran that work for us are chute-speaking danger-magnets, always causing trouble for the sake of having fun." "Glad we're not like those guys." the Artisan chuckled, placing the tip of his chisel on the uncut stone. The visitor chuckled in agreement, then held out his closed fist to the Artisan. "Name's Tauan." Smiling, the Artisan clanked his knuckles of his own fist with Tauan's. "I'm--" The panicked shout of a Po-Matoran Surveyor interrupted the Artisan's sentence. "STAMPEDE!!" ------- It was bedlam. Reacting to the stampede, all the on-duty Zadakh (including the ones assigned guard the Artisan) scrambled to pacify the raging herd of Kikanalo in earnest. Tauan and the Artisan ducked under a loading ramp and out of sight just before an angry Kikanalo smashed into the nearby carving tables. Taking care not to attract more unnecessary attention, the two Le-Matoran made a mad dash for one of the paths that led out of the assembly fields and hid behind a boulder to watch and survey the mayhem. Tauan muttered an invective under his breath when he noted the slow progress the Vahki were having against the stampede. "Do... Do Kikanalo just trample things on a whim like this?" the Artisan asked naïvely. "No." was Tauan's exasperated reply. Tauan then remembered that the Artisan was new and changed his tone. "No... Kikanalo need to be provoked to get this destructive." The Artisan paused before asking his next question. "If they were provoked... Who set them off?" Tauan shook his head, sighed, and sat down with his back to the rock. "I don't know. ... but I know two things: We're Le-Matoran, and we're gonna get blamed for this." Infuriated at the prospect of unjust persecution, the Artisan exhaled a sigh of exasperation of his own... then felt the hot breath of something huge on the back of his neck. "T-Tauan?" the Artisan whispered, "Is there a..." Tauan sat petrified for a second as he noticed the massive shadow looming above the Artisan. "Kikanalo? Yes..." Tauan whispered in reply. "Now... Don't make any sudden moves. Just... shuffle away from him... very... slooowwly...." *GWWWOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR!!!!* "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUGH!!" ------- The next few minutes baffled even the Artisan. The last thing he remembered was that he was clinging to the prominent horn of a bull Kikanalo twice the size of the ones in the herd as it rampaged around the Assembly Field. Apparently, the very presence of the bull Kikanalo was enough to chase off the stampede... but that act left the Assembly Field in an irreparable mess. All the Artisan knew was that he had just woken up after passing out from his ride on the Kikanalo, and that same Kikanalo was standing over him like a faithful Ussal Crab, wagging his thick tail in happiness. "That proves it!" an angry voice shouted over the sound of a murmuring crowd, "I knew that new Le-Matoran was a troublemaker! He's no different from all those other green monkeys that buzz by here!" Several shouts of agreement rose up from the mob of Po-Matoran gathering around. Confused and disoriented, the Artisan sat up, his body still stiff from the shock of his rodeo ride. "You okay?" Tauan's concerned voice whispered, "I tried to help you, but the Kikanalo scooped you up too fast... I thought you were going to get trampled when I saw you fall off." "I'm fine... I think." the Artisan blinked to get the dust out of his eyes. At the moment, the big Kikanalo nudged the Artisan with his horn in concern. "What happened?" the bewildered Le-Matoran sputtered, nervously patting the Kikanalo on the nose. Tauan put on a nervous grin. "I think the Kikanalo made you his friend." Meanwhile, the Po-Matoran mob started getting louder, not just from pointing fingers at the Artisan, but also from arguing with each other over what they just saw. "Did you see that?" "Yeah. It's his fault! He screwed over several weeks of hard work!" "Forget the project! He saved our lives!" "I say we ship him to Karzahni!" "Yeah! Le-Metru's too good for him!" "But he tamed a Kikanalo! It could have been much worse!" "I've watched the guy! He's really not bad for a Le-Matoran. Let's give him a chance!" "Chance?! Fhah! I'd rather make friends with a pack of Kavinika!" Sensing a two way riot about to boil over, the remaining functioning Zadakh worked their way into the crowd and separated the two sides. "Alright gentlemen, calm down." a voice boomed from the (miraculously still standing) platform scaffold. It was the voice of Tsolgel, the brown Akaku-wearing Foreman for that assembly field. "What seems to be the problem?" Almost immediately, the whole crowd pointed at the Artisan. "Him?" Tsolgel asked the crowd. "Just him? ... Who's leading this protest against him?" There was an indecisive pause as the crowd talked amongst themselves, then they all unanimously pointed at Ahkmou. Ahkmou cursed under his breath. At the same time, Tsolgel nodded pensively, as if though he had just discovered the answer to a riddle. Then, with the help of a nearby Vahki, Tsolgel was helped off the platform and he walked toward the Artisan. "I'll have the lot of you know that I've kept an eye on this particular Le-Matoran for past week or so now." Tsolgel announced, pointing at the three lenses of his Akaku. He put an assuring hand on the Artisan's shoulder before turning back to face the crowd, "I'll honestly say that he doesn't cause any trouble. It's only the fact that he's a Le-Matoran that attracts trouble to him." The Foreman crossed his arms. "So my advice to the lot of you in regards to him is -lay off-." The Artisan breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that his foreman's eyewitness was enough to clear his name somewhat. "Tsolgel. It's great that he's off the hook for starting the stampede," Tauan spoke up, gesturing to the Artisan, "But it doesn't answer the question of who set off the Kikanalo..." All eyes fell on Ahkmou. After a long, awkward silence in the dusty assembly field, Ahkmou cracked. "I did it! By the Mask of Karzahni! -I- did it!" The restless crowd started to get raucous in response to Ahkmou's confession, only to quiet down when the Zadakh squads began to charge their staves and when the big bull Kikanalo took up a defensive posture. Disturbed and curious, the Artisan stood up and faced Ahkmou with one question: "Why?" "Don't you know who I am, you green monkey?!" Ahkmou jabbed his thumb into his own chest, "I'm Ahkmou, one of the three best carvers in Metru-Nui, and I intend to be Number One!" He threw an indignant finger point towards the Artisan, "And I don't need some Zyglak-spawn Le-Matoran who thinks he's a carver competing with -me- on MY turf!" The crowd was in an uproar, and the Vahki prepared their staves to quell the simmering riot when a desperate shout silenced the mob. "I don't WANT to compete with you!" The sound of a tumbleweed was all that was heard as all eyes fell on the now slightly vexed Artisan, his facial expression indicating mixture of disgust, disbelief, and distress. Even Ahkmou was a little shocked. "Say that again?" "I never wanted to compete with -anyone-!" the Artisan blurted, looking like a toddler on the verge of throwing a tantrum. "If you weren't so wrapped up in your prejudice and personal goals, you would have learned that I'm just here to make an honest living! Ranks, skills, and status are (and should be) the -last- thing on my mind when I clock in!" The crowd murmured amongst themselves, sensing the wisdom and sincerity of the Artisan's declaration. Noting that there wasn't going to be a riot, the Zadakh squads seemed to sigh in disappointment and started to leave, while a large number of Po-Matoran workers started to trickle towards the Artisan. A flabbergasted Ahkmou was slowly being left behind in the process. "You really don't believe what that green monkey said, do you?!" Ahkmou protested. "He's really not that different from us." a Kakama wearing Matoran replied, walking away. "Yeah!" added another, Ruru-wearing Matoran passing Ahkmou, "I think we're not giving him a decent chance." "Losers..." Ahkmou muttered under his breath. He then shouted, "You're all lo--" The shadow of a Vahki Zadakh interrupted him. "--sers...." Standing astride the Zadakh was Tsolgel, an amused (and slightly disappointed) expression was on the Po-Matoran Foreman's face. "Ahkmou. You're being reassigned." Meanwhile, oblivious to the zapping Ahkmou received, the bulk of the Po-Matoran were dispersing to their posts and cleaning up as much as they could of the mess the Kikanalo stampede left behind, while a few bold Matoran were taking the time to get to know the Artisan. The huge bull Kikanalo, sensing that all the drama was calming down, provided his massive bulk as shade from the setting twin suns for the Artisan and his new friends. "I'm Hewkii." the Kakama-wearing Matoran introduced himself, holding out his closed fist in greeting. He nodded his head to the Ruru-wearing Po-Matoran carver next to him, "That's Hafu." "Yo." Hafu acknowledged, holding out his fist, too. "You know, you really aren't all that bad for a Le-Matoran." The Artisan chuckled, and clanked his fist with the two Po-Matoran. "See, I told you! He's a nice guy!" another Po-Matoran chimed in with a sing-song 'I-told-ya-so' tone. The group of friendly Po-Matoran laughed, and nodded in agreement. "I never got your name," Tauan confessed after some friendly conversation was traded, "... No thanks to that stampede earlier." "Yeah, we need a name!" blurted another Po-Matoran. "Something better than 'Hey, you! New guy!'" Hafu joked. Chuckles rippled through the group. "Hehe... So, what -do- they call you back in Le-Metru, new guy?" Hewkii asked. The Artisan smiled. "Sailaye." he spoke, "My name is Sailaye." --------------------------------------------------------------- <<-Previous-None = Chapter 1 = Next-Chapter 2->> --------------------------------------------------------------- ((ALOW:LL is written in collaboration with Ancient Mirrors as a story aid and prequel.))

Typing Start - 10:22 PM I'll be honest... The word 'echo' has been driving me crazy these past few weeks. I find myself whispering the word to myself every five minutes, and repeating it in my mind for hours afterward. It's turned into my mantra, and I have no idea what it means. A new character? Maybe. In my desperation to stop my obsession with 'echo', I tried to create characters based on the word last night: I now have a robin-hood-esque mercenary, a shaman, a government experiment, and a crazed combination of all three previous ideas in my books. No dice. The word still haunts me. I googled 'echo'. Got some software. Got some hardware. Got some gardening supplies. Nothing. Wiki'd 'echo'. Newspapers. Submarines. Looked up the science of acoustics. Studied Greek and Roman history. Nil. Maybe it's connected to something philosophical? Maybe I'm referring to the fact that I'm just an echo of who I used to be? An echo of the power I once wielded? An echo of my fame? An echo of -- ? Nah. Can't be philosophical. Maybe I just like the sound and how it feels when I say it. Too primitive. Maybe I'm just insane. Sounds logical. Echo. It still echoes in my mind... Why this fixation? It seems that I am doomed to pursue the answer until I go totally and truly mad. End Typing - 10:42

Looks like it might be next Wednesday or the week after. I'm still writing chapter one and planning a few more chapters for a buffer... Anyway, I'm planning this novel to span several thousand years. Now's the best time for input, so I can plan writing the chapters accordingly... Should I write this novel linearly, like a traditional novel? Or do I take a page from Asimov (I, Robot) or Kipling (The Jungle Book) and write non-linearly with a series of short stories? -Mout EDIT: Oh. Thanks for the approval pics, guys. Thanks. ^^

"Even in ruins, the view is still beautiful." he spoke to his she-matoran companion, his lime green eyes locked on the horizon in a distant expression of reminiscence. The Noble Ruru-wearing, Dark-blue-on-sky Ga-Matoran glanced at the jet-black, Ruru-wearing Matoran sitting on the roof to her left, sharing in his memories. Sensing her gaze, he laid his back on the roof's ledge, propped himself up on his elbows, and responded to his companion a wry grin. "But not as beautiful as you, love." She blushed bashfully at the black Matoran's complement, and the two companions looked out over the once-silver city that was Metru-Nui. The city's jumbled, juxtaposed, and jungle-riddled skyline was still draped in a garland of Visorak webs and broken cables. An unnatural olive-avocado green haze rose up from the ground levels of the city into the dark, half-lit sky; obscuring the details of the ruined skyline, and blotting out the true horizon beyond. Construction floodlights around the base of the ravaged Colosseum created an artificial and almost eternal sunset in an expanding gradient of white and green. For a long, meditative moment, the pair of Matoran enjoyed the ethereal and almost mysterious view of the city from their rooftop perch. The Ga-Matoran stole another quick glance at her companion, noticing right away that the wry and reminiscent look on his face had melted into a heavy and wearied expression. It was as if a dark memory had surfaced among all his bright ones... She knew if she didn't break her silence, her companion would soon spiral. "Honey..." she spoke, trying not to sound concerned. "It's good to have you back." The black matoran blinked and nodded, looking at his she-matoran companion out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah." After a long pause, her concern for her friend finally won out over her fear of making the situation worse. "I know you're going to have to explain yourself to the Turaga Council soon, love... but..." "It's okay." he spoke, sitting up and folding his arms over his knees. "It's fine. Really." "I... I don't think you are." She tried to put a hand on her companion's shoulder. "You haven't been the same since --" The darker Matoran just covered his face with his left hand, shrugging off his companion's comfort. "I know I haven't been the same..." he replied with a growl. "Who would be after what I've seen? What I've done?" he tried to sound angry in an attempt to mask his despair. "... I failed on so many levels, love. Destroyed more than I've built. No matter how clean, my hands are still stained with the blood of the countless lives I've ruined and destroyed," He placed a hand on his chest, and ran his fingers over the jagged, pronounced scar running down the left side of his mask. "So many... Including my own." The Ga-Matoran saw the color in her companion's eyes flicker back and forth from lime green to bright red, a focused grimace on his face exposed between his fingers. "... and the worst part is that did it all willingly. I partook and enjoyed it all..." And before she could stop him, the dark Matoran vaulted off the ledge and into the haze below. Shocked, the Ga-Matoran looked over the ledge and into the murky green ether below as the form of her friend vanished into the haze. She knew, though, that her friend would not hit the ground... And sure enough, after a moment of tense waiting, she could see the silhouette of a great winged beast fly aimlessly through the mist, his wearied lime-green eyes looking up at the Ga-Matoran. He let out a forlorn cry before flying deeper into the mists and vanishing from view. I'm a monster, love. That's all I will be remembered being... the Ga-Matoran heard in the whispering air. The whisper of wind then started to pick up into steady gusts, signaling a storm brewing beyond the haze. "You're no monster..." she whispered, standing up on the ledge with her hands clasped over her heart. "How many times do I have to tell you that...?" Witness to this scene, a cloaked stalker peered out of a broken window below the rooftop. He drew an arrow from his quiver and aimed his bow into the haze where the beast vanished. Sorry, dear... the Hunter mused to himself, loading the arrow and pulling back on the bowstring. But he is a monster to me. ------- Updating every Wednesday, A Life of Open Wounds - a novel by Moutekea Learn the origins of legends lost to infinity and the redemption of an icon. Coming Soon (Sooner than K&M: AVATAR, that's for sure. XD)

He stood atop a windswept ridge as he looked down into the city below, reminiscing of days gone by. With a sigh, his great silver tail flicked with a feline attitude as his electric green eyes were faded and distant, lost in the sight of old memories. "I remember..." he whispered to the wind, flexing his talons, as his hooded robe fluttered in the breeze. I remember the days when we had heroes... Role-Models whom we could look up to and wish we could be like. There was a time when we could count our protectors to show up and silence the darkness without fail... He raised his eyes to the sky with an honored grin in his eyes. Days I live and fight for still. The being's countenance darkened and his gaze lowered to the bustling city filled with people up to mischief or being the victims of that mischief. Another deep sigh escaped the being's lungs as he recalled when the dull, slum-like sections of the city were bright and vibrant. He also recalled the battles and the glory that took place on the streets and the rooftops... and a dark shadow that spoiled it all... The being threw off his cloak and spread his bony wings, a membrane of glowing green energy catching the wind as the dark blue pupils of his eyes faded back into their electric green sclera. He was an unmistakable sight; eight-feet tall and dragon-like, his neck long and lithe like his tail, and his body splotched with a chaotic selection of orange and green colors. All of this was crowned with a dark black ruru emblazoned on his chest and a bold scar over his left eye. ... But in those days, I also remember a trying time when we lost our faith in our heroes. The wounds from that fiasco still scar us today, veteran and newbie alike... He leaped off the cliff and glided toward the city. ... For we still live under the shadow of A.V.A.T.A.R. ... ---- Coming Saturdays to 'Crash and Burn' .... K&M: A.V.A.T.A.R. (A Graphic Novel)

Typing Start - 4:08 AM PST Yeah. I haven't slept. Sometimes wishing for the good old days isn't he smartest thing. *chuckle* Anyways, I'm considering just how regularly I'll be updating this blog. Right now, the only thing fitting into my schedule is once or twice a week, or when I feel like it. Any suggestions, kids? While you're at it, what would you like to see in this blog aside from random events that occur in everyday life? It'll really help me get an agenda set up (and give me a little more structure.) Thanks for your considerations. -Mout (san) Typing End - 4:14 AM PST

I'm alive? Whoa! New armor! Sweet! *notices his Premier badge* Dude. Woah. ======= Before there are posts (which I doubt) I want to answer a few questions in anticipation: Yes, I've been aware of my Premiership for about a couple weeks now. I just didn't believe it up until now. ... and I've been plenty content with being a normal member, and shirking the attention one so dubious could get. No, I didn't become Premier on my own. I'll flat out say that this honor was a gift from my friends in the OACP (Tesseract, Swert, Kanta the Dogdemon, Jemina... *there's a lot of us*) and forum member Aoran. They pulled together to get this old man a great gift. To you guys, I bless and give my gratitude. Yes. I was one of the several members who have been having forums issues. Kudos to the staff for their tireless work getting things in order. *thumbs up* Blessings, guys. You rock. No, I will not be blogging on a regular basis. *gasp* ... You know I was kidding. *grin* I'll see what I can do in terms of content and keep you guys posted on random happenings. I know this post is not much more than your cliche acceptance speech, but it's not everyday when people decide to kick things up a level for one's sake. Thanks, you guys. Thanks for the support though all there years and keeping my ego in check. (better shoot it now before it gets too big.) -Mout (the Resurrected)

Typing start -- 11:25 PM PST So... it was only two posts this year. *shrug* Not a problem. I do have other outlets. *grin* Anyways, some news before this blog locks up for another year. Once again, my family and I are moving house. This means another hiatus for who knows how long until my internet connection is stable... again. These next few days are going to be a holy mess. Cross your fingers and hope the changeover goes smoothly. Anyways, it has been a pleasure to live like a king on BZP for a week this year. Thanks for stopping by. -Mout End typing -- 11:55 PM PST

Yo ho, Lyger-san! Yeah, I'm still hanging around, just like I pledged EONS ago. 8D... I'm just in another land for the time being. I may just rear my head back in the BZPRPG one of these days. -Mout

Yes, kids, it's that time of year again... and that means this old dragonling has access to the blogs for one week. *grins* I expect to take full advantage of the opportunity, provided things match up, kree. *looks at watch* Gotta cut this short, kids. Time for work. -Mout

Typing Start-- 12:00 AM PST Status -- ... It's midnight, kree. What do I know? You know... this is the first time I've actually kept a consistent update schedule. Hehe. Fun fun. Seeing as this was just a trial run, there might be little chance you guys might heard more from me in the future. Ah well. Twas good while I had it. ^^ .... I can't think of anything to write. TT;; Bye, kids. -Mout