Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'Alternate Universe'.
-
So much for the story. Apparently large blocks of text turn people off.Have some image-links and folder-links instead.Leaders of Varsai NuiMata Nui.*sigh* Right-o, sorry. Edit: This topic survived? Weird - the BBC only lists 3 pages available, so I thought it had purged after the servers were restored.Please only use the spoiler tags for spoilers. -Tufi
-
There are many things I could have done to enjoy my last few hours of Premier Membership perks... but none of them like a good old Contest! This time, the contest is subdivided in three separate categories. The winners will be featured in the following stories of the Fractures Universe. To make a long story short, in this alternate universe Teridax never existed, but the Brotherhood carried on their plans of contest, leaving Metru Nui as the only free land remaining. Now the City of Legends has become a multicultural society, much like in The Kingdom. A new faction, the Cult of Darkness, has appeared and is planning to terrorize the city. Most importantly, you have the chance to design some of their servants/troublemakers! NOTE: The Fractures Universe and all the characters mentioned don't belong to me. Matoro1 is the creator of the Fractures Universe, and he wrote the contest rules. I'm just helping him to get some more entries. Category 1: Convict In the opening chapters of Judgement Day, the following story in the Fractures Alternate Universe, I'm going to have the Toa battling two previously-captured convicts, who have been released from the dungeons beneath the Coliseum for the Toa to train against. One of these characters is a mutated Fe-Matoran Brotherhood Servant who I have already created, but the second convict fighting for a reduced sentence is unknown. If you choose to enter this category, you will have to build said convict, give him/her a brief backstory explaining what crime they commited, which Toa captured them, and what abilities they possess. Please note that I don't want anything overkill, not a massive, huge, bulky, complex titan. I'm looking for something about as complex as a Glatorian or a Toa with a consistant color scheme. This character will only play a minor role in Judgement Day. Additionaly, and only if requested, Matoro1 may revamp a creation of the winner. Category 2: Matoran Crafter Recently, the Cult of Darkness has been forced to make use of Matoran labour. They've used a suicide bomber Matoran to destroy one of Metru Nui's dams, they're going to use another to keep their servants in check, and now they've hired some Matoran builders to construct a base for them, which will appear in Judgement Day. However, to check that the containment cell in this new base in escape-proof, Mudro (the leader of the Cult of Darkness) kidnapped one of the builders and locked him in it, to see if he'd been conned. Unfortunately, he had not been and the unfortunate Matoran was left to die in the cell. In this option, you have the task of building that Matoran. It has to be male but it has to be one of the stronger types of Matoran; such as a Po-Matoran, Onu-Matoran, Fe-Matoran, Matoran of Magnetism, or a Ba-Matoran. Obviously the Matoran has to stay true to his respective color scheme (so no blue Po-Matoran) except in the case of a Ba-Matoran or Fe-Matoran. The winner of this contest will have their Matoran crafter feature inJudgement Day, where the crafter will have a chapter written from his perspective, and their creator will have BobTheDoctor27 write a chapter for their fan-fiction story or can have a free MOC request built by him, if asked. Category 3: Characters As the final option of the contest, in the final chapter of Over Your Shoulder (the current epic of the Fractures Universe), I'm going to set the story in a bar, where Tollubo, the main protagonist, is getting wasted and I need another male character for him to pick a fight with. Now, this option does not require you to build anything, but I would like anyone who wishes to enter this section to decide on the character's: Species Name Basic Personality Immediate History The winner of this contest will have their described character appear in the final chapter of Over Your Shoulder. --- Remember that you can enter as much or as few categories as you wish. Please enter, and have fun MOCcing! Fins aviat, The First Speaker.
-
I can't remember, did I posted this model on previous BZP Forums, so I am asking moderators not to close or delete this topic untill we will talk via PM.Grey, the Toa of Iron, is a character of my epic called 'Technorelam' and so-called forum RPG.He is a frontier garrison commander of Matoran Federation in a rank of captain. His profession line is Guardsman/Officer.In past, before the military career, he was a scientist and studied mentality of 'mask bearers' under influence of transformations from Matoran to Toa and then to Turaga.He is bad at both Alchemy and Technomagic, but excellent fencer, dancer and cook.He's romantic, dreamer, idealist. Pretty sensitive guy despite the fact that Toa of Iron are always were hard-natured and solid-principled.His Mask allows him to open and close a rift between Material Universe and Astral Subspace.His right arm was replaced with an implant. The main feature of this limb is piston.In this MOC Grey's Mask is represented by noble Komau, because a friend of mine has drew Grey and in her notion Grey's Mask was looking like a skull.His weaponry - shield and sword.Here's some pics with hand-made coat:Edit: Images thumbnailed. Please keep posted images in BBC to 640x640 pixels and 100 kB.Click on the thumbnails to view the original image.-Wind-
-
Masses of forgotten, derelict masks piled high into the sky of Ta-Metru, into a sky still laden with the barest wisps of smoke. Seeing the city dead was a hard fact to face, even after facing it was something that was, had been, and still would continue to be necessary. But there was no time to feel the emotions of loss and sadness for their former native land – not now. The only mourning that would come would come later, while building anew on a new land.On any other day of his life, Vakama would have contemplated all of this. On any other day, he would have been overwhelmed and devastated over the sheer magnitude of their Armageddon – but not today.Today, he was running for his life.He swerved, darting between mask piles and pushing them over where he could. He melted a few into molten slag, in a fruitless attempt to slow down his pursuer.Fence. Dead end.In his path lay a halted conveyor belt of powerless masks, then an unscalable fence beyond. Sure, there was something that he could possibly do, something that he might be able to accomplish with the powers that he had. But what could a mere Toa – without even the ounce of help a Toa tool would bring – do against the might of Makuta?An alleyway.Without much thought, Vakama darted into the dark alley, peering out to see where Makuta was. He was not disappointed, for the Master of Shadows emerged from underground, looking confidently about the Protodermis Reclamation Yard. He was visibly weakened; antidermis leaked from his thick armor – though he was not weakened enough to be defeated.“Show yourself, Toa! Give me the Mask, and I’ll let you on your way. I’m sure your fellow so-called ‘heroes’ are missing you.”Vakama was enraged. Here was the being who imprisoned the population of a great city and hijacked an entire universe for his own amusement. No life in the universe was left unchanged by his despicable deeds.Yet he still found the innate willpower in the deepest sanctum of his core to repress his words, words that were bubbling within him, so anxious to be released.“Why do you even bother? It’s not like you’ll gain anything here, in this ruin. No one’s going to mourn you – in fact, no one’s even going to care! You’re not going to die a hero, Vakama, like your hero Lhikan. You’re just a pathetic excuse for a Matoran playing a role never meant for you in the first place. Why do you insist on this useless charade?”Now was the time to move. Vakama strode boldly out into the yard, one arm behind him. “You’re a monster. I fight monsters.”Makuta sauntered in, smirking evilly. “I’m not a monster, Vakama. I gave my brother a much-needed nap, after all. I ran the city, and saved it from Nidhiki and Krekka.” He began to lazily circle Vakama, acting as nonchalant as possible. Vakama still had control of the Vahi, and as long as he did, he would take no chances.“Sure,” Vakama spat back. “You brought those two here only to absorb them. You murdered Lhikan. You put everyone who lived here to sleep. Calling you a monster might very well be the best compliment I can muster.”Makuta repressed a startled gasp. He noticed the Mask of Time trying to hide amongst the powerless masks upon the conveyor belt. What, then, was Vakama hiding behind his back? Did he really believe that such a puerile ruse could fool him? “You amuse me, Vakama, but your words are meaningless, like the power you hold. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take that mask.”“Not yet.” Vakama whirled his hand around, crushing a useless noble Ruru to smithereens with a maskmaker’s hammer. Makuta eyed him, startled enough to stop in his tracks. “How much do you really know about the Vahi?” He obliterated a Kaukau with a brisk and powerful stroke. “I found out that it even works when damaged, unlike normal masks. It was just laying there, on the ocean floor, the barest of cracks visible. The power of Time leaked out, though, and everything was affected. Fascinating.”He smashed yet another mask, not ever moving his gaze from Makuta.Makuta regained some confidence. “No maskmaker would dare destroy their greatest creation.”“It might be hard to live with, Makuta,” Vakama conceded. “But if I destroy the Vahi, neither of us would even be alive.”Makuta took one step. Vakama flinched, though nearly imperceptibly. “Care to explain?”The Toa of Fire adopted an air of condescension. “It’s all very basic,” he began. “Time is contained within the mask. Should the Vahi ever be broken, all of that power will be released, and then the very laws holding Time in check are let loose like a Kane-Ra in a Kanoka shop. Anything and everything will exist, all at once. Everything will be discord and chaos.”“That sounds … wonderful.”“Oh, really, now?” Another mask flew off the conveyor belt in a mass of shards. “Your body could age and regress simultaneously, trapped in every time and in none at all. Your beloved schemes and plans would come to a grinding halt.”Now his hammer was over the Vahi itself, poised to crush it like so much useless junk.Makuta did not have to be trapped in a state of eternal agonizing temporal limbo to be torn over the complexities of this situation. Vakama could just as easily be lying as telling the truth. There was no way to know …“Believe me, Makuta,” Vakama uttered gravely, as if he knew Makuta’s very cogitations. “If the only way to save those I have sworn to protect is to destroy everything, I will do it.”Makuta stared deeply into the eyes of the Toa. Neither of them moved, for a long and tense moment.“Alright. What do you want?”“Safety, for myself, the mask, and the rest of my team. I also want no harm to befall Keetongu, Dume, the Rahaga, or the Matoran.”Makuta could not believe that Vakama was manipulating him so. In anger, he propelled himself forward, stopping after two steps when he saw Vakama swinging his hammer. “You can’t ask me to do nothing, to sit idly by. I refuse to be sentenced – especially by you – to a living death! Destroy the mask, Vakama, if you so dare – and we will watch time end together!”He had given this possibility enough thought in the moments that he had had to work it out. He believed what he had said to the Master of Shadows, down to every last word – and he was truly prepared to obliterate the entirety of temporal normalcy if it meant saving all that he cared about from this evil, evil being. With only the barest hint of hesitation, his hammer descended.“W-” Makuta began. But he had not time to finish his word, or even his thought, for he had begun both past the point of no return.In the last few milliseconds of normality, all Makuta could do was watch, his mind steeped in the throes of utter horror.The hammer made contact with the Vahi, a Visorak’s web of cracks appearing across the face. Orange and white and gold and red and yellow light burst forth from its fractured face, pure liquid ribbons of Time streaming out of the cracks, obliterating and reshaping the function of Time in an eternal instant.This beautiful, horrible, contained mosaic of Time could not last for more than the brief moment that it had appeared. The last moment of the old was the beginning of the new, if the beginning of the new could ever be pinpointed. As the Vahi shattered into bits, a wave of pure Time pulsed out of its remains.Everything changed.Vakama still retained a modicum of his consciousness, though it was awash with bits of his own life story melding into one. How long he could retain the memories of the old Time, he could not say. How long had he even been here … a second, or a millennium?Cautiously, he glanced down at his hands. One was old and decrepit, while the other was shiny, polished and new. Looking back up, he saw a Matoran, frozen in time, delivering a bag of old masks that he’d slung over his shoulder to the furnaces of the Reclamation Yard. I wore that mask as a Matoran, something in Vakama’s deep consciousness echoed. Funny how the mind and soul focused on tiny idiosyncrasies when there was nothing else to do, when all hope was lost forever …Then, he realized, he was not looking at a mere coincidence that the Vahi’s unleashed energies had so released onto the new reality a Matoran who wore a powerless Huna. He was, in fact, looking at himself, when he was an amateur maskmaker – and as soon as he realized that he was gazing upon the visage of himself, he was overcome with an eternity of new and yet old memories, staring up as a Matoran to a motionless and unrecognized Toa.His Matoran form would be standing there forever, and after forever. After that, who could say?Walking away, into another time, he was surprised to find Makuta standing there, motionless. Vakama wondered briefly if Makuta was trapped in the folds and creases of the unpredictable flow and ebb of Time, but that thought was dispelled, for Makuta turned towards him.“You fool,” the Master of Shadows uttered. He raised his arm and blasted pure shadow energy towards the Toa, unheeding of Vakama’s prior warnings … then again, his warnings of what would happen might come to pass a century from now.The shadows never reached him, flowing away and around the Toa – through the ages into oblivion. Vakama could see the delineations and ripples of Time as the shadows roiled around him, him protected in his sphere, composed of the random fluctuations in temporal energy.Presently, his own body was changing. Phantom memories hounded his head, gnawing voraciously at his painfully retained consciousness and his very sense of self. Was this bubble speeding him up, or regressing him? Or both?He was acutely aware at that very moment of a simple and undeniable fact – that what he was experiencing was what is was like to die, and to die a hundred thousand million ways at once, all at once, and at the same time not to ever die at all. His own head screamed of nothing and everything, as his thoughts over his entire life merged into a cacophony of sensation and utter silence, beyond the true domains of feeling into the realm of the purely impossible.For the rest of the pathetic and horrible sentence of life and death that he had been forced to judge upon him and the rest of his beloved world, he alone would carry the feeling of doubt, a feeling so powerful as to transcend whatever state he was in.Now and never, he would have both all and none, in a future that was in the past and a present that would never again exist.He never got a chance to mourn the end of his world, and now he didn’t even have to. -- I've had the idea for this story pretty much ever since I read Time Trap, but only a few days ago did I decide to write it out. As per my usual writing style, I stayed up until 1:00 in the morning finishing it off, using the dialogue from the book as a base. Comments, as always, are appreciated.
-
The cost of freedom is always high – any who say differently are fools.Some might argue that one should not have to fight for his freedom, instead believing that freedom is a right, to be given away to everyone. Others would argue it is merely an ideal, which can be neither given nor earned – that freedom exists only in the mind of the dreamer.I know for a fact that freedom is neither. It is not a thing to give or take, nor is it a state of mind – it’s a state of being. Of knowing deep inside you that your actions are your own and that every breath you take is yours to breathe. And yet – is it possible to believe you are free, with every fibre of your being. To know deep within your soul that your actions are your own... but not have any control over them at all?The cost of freedom is always high.For we are never truly free.-Skierós Seven Lives... Two Faces A Novel by Kini Hawkeye Summary: Skierós is a Toa of Two Faces – always the victim, always the villain, never just one or the other. His curse will never break, but is it possible for him, when faced with the greatest decision of his life, to break a cycle so much different, but so very entwined with his own? Chapter 1 The clouds drifted slowly over the mountains, their wispy trails white over the expanse of grey that covered the sky – forerunners to the great storm behind them. The last dwindling traces of snow were almost nonexistent toward the lower reaches of the mountains, but near the peaks vast expanses of white still laid dormant.Skierós made his way along the rugged path before him, boots slipping on the mud covered ground with each step, before finding purchase and restarting the process. He grunted as the awkward slope of the road threw off his balance and nearly sent him off the cliff to his left. It probably wasn’t the best path to be on, but it was the quickest. He was headed into a storm... that much he knew, but it was impossible to tell if it would be snow or rain that hit him – one of the greatest difficulties of weather during the spring months.As he walked, his pace grew slower as he struggled against the wind that now threatened to send him off the edge of the road and down the not-exactly-gradual slope of the mountain. He wasn’t necessarily the strongest Toa, more average than anything. He’d never been one for the intense “workouts” that some other Toa seemed to enjoy – in his life he simply acted as another civilian. His one great skill lay in swordplay and his control of Elemental Energy, and they were skills he'd put to use as both a Mercenary and Guard in various cities and villages around the continent.The snow began to fall, slowly at first, but over time the flakes sped up, until they bit at his face and skin. He let out a snarl as one particular flake managed to cut deep into his face – far enough to sting. Lifting a hand out from the depths of his black travellers’ cloak, he held it palm out towards the snow, and watched with a savagely amused grin as fire leapt from his fingertips and formed a semi-transparent screen of fire in front of him.The fire lent a small glow to the area around him, now darkened by clouds and the haze of falling snow. His black armour glinted with tones of red and yellow. His mask, a wolf-like, black Hau, shadowed further despite the new source of light.His feet were weighed down by weariness, but he pressed on. Somewhere over the next mountains peak laid his target – a small town where he could rest and restock on supplies. He scowled slightly as he increased the power of his “fire screen,” to the point where he could properly see a few feet ahead of him. His efforts aided him only a little, but it was enough to help him see exactly where he was. The peak of the mountain, the highest point on the "hill" he’d been climbing for almost a week, and all he could see in any direction was white. And after all this hard work, he thought, this is what I’m rewarded with? That just won’t do... With a grim smile, he raised both hands, snuffing the life out of his “fire screen” with a single thought. He cupped his hands, almost as though they were holding water, and summoned the flames. Two red orbs of fire burst into life, one in each of his palms. They floated an inch or two above the skin, but with the absence of the flames keeping the snow at bay, they may as well not have existed – all light and heat was swallowed up by the raging storm around him. Skierós willed more and more of his power into the flames, urging them to grow bigger, brighter – hotter. He continued this until the heat began melting the snow around his feet. Immune to heat as he was, even he felt the warmth that the fire lent to his surroundings. Skierós lifted his arms higher bringing the two flames closer and closer together. Like two magnets, wisps of flame were drawn out of each flame and in between the two. The two flames merged into a single, larger flame, which Skierós slammed into the ground with force rivalling even the legendary Onua. The entire world – sky, ground, the very air around Skierós – burst into flame. In the aftermath of the explosion, nothing was left of the massive snow storm that had obscured Skierós’ view, only clear, blue skies and that big yellow ball that had been strangely absent during the trek through the mountains. And in the valley before him, stood a small town – the entire reason for his detour through the mountains – Ceneta. Considering the size of the town, this was probably the single most useless detour ever... of all time. He thought sarcastically. Shoulders heaving with a heavy sigh, Skierós began the long trek back down the mountain, grunting as his boot crushed snow with each footfall, forcing him to bring his knees to his chest just to continue moving. It was going to be a long trip back down.*** This town is a lot bigger down here than it was from up there, Skierós mused. Of course, he should’ve realized that anything would look much smaller than it really was from so much higher an elevation, but he’d passed it off as something that was just a little too small to be worth the trouble he’d gone through to get there. In reality, it was quite the opposite – Ceneta was, or at least seemed to be, a fairly modernized village – despite its location so far north. Skierós couldn’t help but recall, with a slight chuckle, a conversation he’d overheard in a bar just before leaving for this isolated “city.” “Those Cenetans, thinkin’ they’re so great with their Rahi sleds and houses made of ice – they’re annoying – saying ‘eh’ at the end of every sentence!” The last was met with applause and cheers of agreement from the stranger’s companions. Skierós couldn’t agree with all that was said, the few Cenetans that drifted south were a lot more civil than his own kind – and they were usually more formal - unless drunk. He just hoped they wouldn’t all say eh – and besides, Rahi sleds were a good idea in this climate. Skierós neared the main gate of the town, but even though he was hoping for barely a second glance, he knew there was no way his peak-side fireworks would’ve gone unnoticed. So when he walked through the front gate, only to be welcomed by a group of five or six spearmen with their weapons levelled at his face, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised his hands calmly, showing that he had no weapons and dropped to his knees – he’d been through procedure before. One of the Cenetans, obviously the leader of the guards, stepped forward, spear now held in only one hand at his side. Skierós had the time to observe the weapon as the guard captain neared. It was of similar design to many of the “superior” southern craftsmen, albeit a bit more intricate. A small ribbon hung off of the spearhead, alternating red and white – the colors that represented the county. “Sir, what is your name and business in Ceneta?” the captain said, authority creeping into his wary voice. Skierós chuckled – that’s one myth about Ceneta busted. “My name is Skierós, and my business is my own.” He said calmly, “I am simply here to restock on supplies and continue my journey.” The guard captain looked uncertain, though he nodded all the same. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the recent fireworks display up on the peak of Mount Aeyan, would you? We’ve been on high alert ever since – an explosion that big hasn’t been seen since the days of the dragons.” Skierós swallowed uncertainly before answering. “In truth sir, I caused the fireworks – though I assure you I mean no harm. The snow was very... annoying, shall we say?” The guard looked at him with wonder, and a hint of fear, before smiling. “Well sir, I’m not going to hinder your stay here – however I’d like to ask that you remain in the city for a night or two before leaving – if you turn out to be a dangerous character, I would hate to allow you to slip through my fingers and cause trouble in some other town.” Skierós just smiled. “Of course captain, I understand completely. Will lodging be arranged or will I have to find my own?” “Just down the street – the Kanohi Dragon Inn – should have a room for you for a small fee.” Skierós stood, “Thank you captain. I shall make my way there, if there is no other business at this moment?” The captain nodded dismissively, returning to his post, as Skierós simply stood and walked away, towards the Inn.~~~~~~End Chapter OneRemember everyone, review are welcome Review Topic
