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  1. Ok as I'm getting ready to work on some Bionicle pixel art and sprites projects in the near future I have found myself with a puzzle, in MNOG 1 and 2 most Matoran homes are dome shaped and even in Mask of Light the Ta-Matoran in the attack on Ta-Koro were huddled up inside a dome hut. This got me thinking on is this common throughout the Matoran Universe as I can't recall Metru Nui having dome shaped buildings besides the Moto Hub and the Great Temple where the Toa Suva is. Anyone else know of examples of Matoran homes? I think in MNOG 1 Vakama's chamber was within a building built out of the wall and was more boxy due to this with a classic "Stone Door Frame" like you'd see in the Flintstones. I think that they might move in another direction of Architecture on Sphereus Magna but really what are some good examples of nondome homes?
  2. I see them as Matoran buddies and as Takua becomes Takanuva, and then a year later (not counting the flashbacks years, because thats what they are, flashbacks)Jaller becomes a Toa Inika, and then a Toa Mahri. And Takanuv returns in 2008 as the "Shadow Takanuva" Imagine how cute it would be if they both met eachother, now both as Toa.
  3. Meet Fehu, Matoran of Fire and proud warrior! More to see here: https://twitter.com/Nahunicle/status/1124702441403047936
  4. Chef is a Ko-Matoran who dedicated his existence to cooking the fauna and plant-life of Spherus Magna after the Re-Formation. No one is really sure why, considering the Matoran don't really eat things, but he's really passionate about it. Other Matoran have tried to understand his art, but eventually ended failing at both getting the concept and executing it right. They usually just get yelled at and go home with nothing but questions about the grumpy guy. Chef carries a sharpening stick around as well as at least always one electro-blade, which he likes to sharpen whenever he has time. He wears a black powerless Ruru. On top of his regular Matoran pieces, Chef added-up an extra bit of armor to cover him a little more, especially when cooking. Unlike most Ko-Matoran, Chef absolutely dislikes cold environments, saying he hates everything that is frozen. He prefers to wander around the planet to try and create more food-related creations. "It's burnt! You burnt the bloody thing!" -Chef to Macku The build of this Matoran is fairly simple, with very basic articulations and limbs. The top is obviously based on the 2003 Matoran Sets. The bottom is custom but still very basic. The color scheme is White for the most, with touches of Black, to emulate Gordon Ramsay's general look in a kitchen: White jacket, black pants, and with an extra piece of armor on the front to replace the apron. More pictures of this little guy here: (I'm not familiar with Bzpower's gallery thing so uhhh here have this funny link) https://twitter.com/Nahunicle/status/1122493173375410176
  5. Hello, everyone. Up until recently I was under the impression that the Voya Nui Matoran sets all came with pearl light gray weapons instead of flat silver ones, but after looking closely at my own sets and sets my friends have owned, the colors appear to be a bit irregular. For one thing, one Balta set has flat silver weapons and one Garan set appears to have come with one weapon in each color. Can anyone (preferably in Europe) check their original sets to see if there are any such irregularities? Thanks!
  6. Created a CCBS version of Matoran Jaller with Digital Designer. His design is based on that of the 2015 Protectors, but with a shield on the back instead of a gearbox. (I'm sorry if the picture is a bit pixelated).
  7. Ganto

    The Story of Lakai

    Lakai is a term created by myself to describe the feeling of "Love" in the BIONICLE universe. This story takes place in an alternate Mata Nui where the events, such as the Bohrok, the fall of Ta-Koro, it has a lot of space in between. Also some Matoran are gender swapped, and some extra characters are introduced such as Ganto and Vika. This specific story is in between the Bohrok, and the Bohrok-Kal. It uses a bit of lore from my own comics and some old BIONICLE community lingo like "Karz" and such. I hope you enjoy. The Story of Lakai This story is updated regularly, but I will not be posting the notifications of updates here. Please join my discord server for updates to all my content such as MOCs, Comics and more. This is a discussion topic as the actual story is in a Google Document, so comments are welcome.
  8. This fanfiction is for VBBN, I'm sorry I didn't have it out in time, but I'm out of practice with writing and my life was a bit hectic as I finished my Internship and started a new job. ________________________________________________________________________________ ‘A united land under a Red Star, Gold and White, Bronze and Blue, The Hunted must finish their hunt, To the Hero’s lair on the Mountain of Monsters, Lest a Maker become a Destroyer, As the Poisoners became poisoned’ Danu looked over the text on the scroll handed to her by Aode. She thought about the agori’s advice about claiming her own fate, and not ending up like Yxaaz. Danu could remember his former lucidity only as a distant memory. Danu was the jewel of his eye, before it was filled with mad visions from the Great Beings. She rolled up the scroll and put it into it’s case, now was not the time to figure out a future bogged down in the past, but plan it. The young glatoran looked over the canopy of jungle; Danu stood over a ridge that defined the end of the local Sand tribe city’s territory and beginning of the Earth tribe’s realm. She figured that Poisoners probably meant the Vorox, or maybe whatever the source of the Dreaming Plague was. But Danu guessed that the recent spy reports of an unknown engineer amongst them suggested the builder that Yxaaz’s prophecy. She sighed as she thought of her summons to court the previous day to exam the prophecy after wrecking the training arena (again) an yet still she couldn’t believe that she had been summoned by order of the Elemental Lord, and she thought of the throne the warlord sat upon; black basalt placed on top a crop covered barrow in the depths of the royal vault of the Earth tribe. Danu’s mother had told her that the Great Being responsible for Yxaaz’s condition was buried beneath it, and Danu wasn’t sure she doubted it. Danu prepared herself, looking up the last star that now hung in the final shadows of the night sky. She had never known Spherus Magna, only Bota Magna. But she didn’t care about that, the prophecy said great danger would occur if the Hunted did not finish their hunt, whatever that meant; and the Vorox liked to have things to hunt. She took in a deep breath, the Elemental Lord had order that her tribe to only spy and gather information, not to directly interfere with the affairs of the other glatoran, skrall or vorox. But Danu had listened to Aode, who had told her of tales of heroism and honour before the war, especially those of Danu’s parents. She knew she would be in trouble at least, but she knew she had to fallow Yxaaz’s prophecy. It was then that the blast of lightning blasting in the forest, and Danu knew she had to go. She pulled out her twin kama and waved them at the least steep slope of the ridge. The glatoran focused her will through them like she had done so many times before; the slope burst forth a new ridge along it’s dorsal edge, wide enough for her to walk down and shallow enough for her to get down safely. She rushed over and started to run down it; all the times she had wrecked the arena had been worth it. At least they were until her third footstep, she felt the ridge collapse; Danu knew she hadn’t compacted it enough as it turned to dust under her feet, and later head, an she now started to tumble down hill. She really didn’t want the Element Lord to find her now, both for punishment for disobedience, and the shame of mucking up like that after all of her training. But Danu knew not of the wisdom far above her, hidden in the last star of night, one of sanguine light; The Red Star. ________________________________________________________________________________ In the depths of the Red Star two matoran ran from Krestora, and some of their victims. One was green with secondary brown colouration and a rose red mask, the other was a horrid mixture of lime green and bright saffron. “Fanua is going to panic when we don’t come back with Mavrah.” Complained the more horrid of the two matoran, his armour dented and scratched from lost aeons, and his mask a foul tusked thing with no equal. His companion stopped for a second to think. “That might be good thing Lerun,” Replied the red mask matoran “He might not worry about us.” Lerun looked back at him for a second and shook his head. “Ruaun, I don’t understand you at times.” Lerun retorted before stopping himself and letting his companion overshoot as Ruaun restarted his run. Then latter matter yelp in surprise as Lerun started fiddling with the wall “Where is that fault?” “I know it might be fun to mess around, but even I think this is a bad time” Exclaimed Ruaun, Lerun waved his concern away. “There’s an old fault that was supposed to be used by a creation of the Great Beings” Explained Lerun, “A failsafe, some sort of proto-toa or something. If the Krestora went mad, which they have, it would awaken and take them out and repair them.” Ruaun snorted, “Good strategy, let ‘em muck up the place and then deal with the Krestora.” “Who do you think their first victim was?” Replied Lerun, “They knew the guardian would ‘deal with’ them, so those buggers dealt with him” Ruaun made a small disappointed sound, “You’ve seen it actually, it’s the one with the two giant scissors for arms and twenty tentacles for a head.” Ruaun than mad a small excited sound, and that worried Lerun. “You mean Sergeant Snippety-Snips?” Exclaimed the Bo-Matoran, Lerun could only sigh in confirmation. “With the blue and silver? And the fire breathing? And the –“ *CLICK* “Oh, you unlocked the door?” Ruaun inquired, Lerun shook his head. “That wasn’t m-“ *Click* Both matoran looked back the way they had come from; Standing at the end of the corridor was a tall silver and blue figure, its hands now distorted into an over sized set of spiderish legs and the original pair of legs twisted and shrunk to serve as arms. The two matoran looked at each for a second before dashing; even Ruaun knew that Sergeant Snippety-Snips was not safe to be around. They ran down several corridors, zigging and zagging along them as the monster chased them with the constant click of it’s unnatural gait. It was slower than them, but every slip and crash in their haste cost the duo some time. But as Lerun and Ruaun started to loop on themselves they gained some distance from it. Their minds were in a rush, that the sound of panicking voices was completely missed. *Crash* Lerun crashed into a grey matoran with a mask of healing and Ruaun into a blue matoran with a Kanohi Arthon. Behind those two still stood their last Matoran companion, a stark white individual glaring with shock at the four matoran. “First our base was taken and the Turaga kidnapped, now you two are just fooling around!” whispered the still standing matoran, although his tone and style it sounded more like a shout. “You were supposed to find supplies! And where is Mavrah! You sold him out didn’t you!” Still quiet but an increased desperation was on the voice, as the four matoran got up and tried to silence their companion. And then the white matoran stopped, his eyes aghast. The monsterous form that had been chasing his compatriots overshadow all of them. They stood still for a second before they tried to run away, but the monstrosity slammed one of it’s spiderous hands down, trapping them all. Most of the matoran tried to squirm free, expect the blue one who had flicked out a wrist mounted blade and was furiously trying to stab the abomination. It didn’t seem to notice, only letting down some tentacles the smoulder from the ooze they secreted, a drop landed on Lerun’s armour, stinging him. “I always thought the monster that would kill me would be of my own design” droned the grey matoran as a tentacle slithered towards him, “Don’t worry Ketsa, just because it happened once doesn’t mean I’ll let you go down again.” Declared the blue matoran, as she jabbed her blade harder than before. The only reaction was the gigantic hand pressing down harded, crushing the matoran. “No” Said Lerun, “I won’t die!” Yelled the Blue Matoran, “So this was their plan?” Moan the white matoran, Ruaun gave a desperate laugh, “So it is” declared Ketsa. ________________________________________________________________________________ Elsewhere, a sole Skrall stood on a field of sand, surrounded by grinning fiends. He thought of surviving the Core War, escaping the Baterra, the glory of Roxtos and the Victory at Atero. How the Stone Tribe had fallen, how he had fallen. Tuma was gone, the greatest tribe scattered and world now infested with foul invaders. He looked down at the peg-leg he had been given by these ‘Skakdi’, their leader had thought it would be funny to give a cripple an experimental micro-lance for a prosthesis, better than the flail he had also been entrusted with. “Now, I, Thasikann, the magnificent” Boasted the leader of these savages, his brass-like armour a poor simulacrum of actually gold with his asymmetric and broken horn hanging a garland of withering flowers and the remains of small animals. “Declare that to celebrate my ascension to being the most powerful Skakdi of All Time, my grand games will be finish with a battle-royale between our greatest enemies to earn the honour of battling my champion, Ziskann!” The Skrall smirked as the arena stands filled with the cheers of Thasikann’s followers towards their favourite, tall and in the colours of the setting sun upon winter snow, she made a dashing figure, especially with those menacing ruby eyes. As she scanned the competitors; the skrall, a small beige and black Agori like being with vibrant blue eyes, a dark green warrior with sharp claws and a sharp gaze, a fish monster of some sort (which seemed to speak in obscenities), and an individual who was either a tiny Vorox or an overgrown Zesk. When her gaze reached the skrall, the intensity increased and he stared back; at least in his mind their rivalry was set. Everything he had been thrown against today was easy compared to what the gazed promised. “From the deserts of Spherus Magna,” Continued Thasikann “A scorpion horror and a basalt Skrall!” The cheers turned to jeers directed at him and the sand tribe competitor “From the depths of the nightmares and Irnakk’s caverns, a Zyglak!” The boos became focused on the fish monster, and while the Skrall couldn’t understand it, this Zyglak was clearly using even fouler language, “To the foot hills of the dreaded Mountain, Suufiji of Xia!” Suufiji merely made a hand gesture towards the crowd, the increased passion in their insults indicated that is wasn’t a friendly gesture. “And finally, from the heights of Metru Nui: Akhmou, the treacherous!” The crowd went silent for a second, confused by the this individual’s seeming importance. Thasikann took a breath in, “a servant of the recently deceased Makuta!” The crowd quickly roared with their rage at that name, with a visceral passion. The Skrall wondered if any of these beings were of any real threat to Thasikann or his skakdi horde; more likely political theatre that was either orchestrated by arrogant leader or manipulating fools. The Skrall assumed both were true. “And now, let the Games begin!” _________________________________________________________ I would like to thank VBBN for giving me his prompt, Tufi Piyufi for arranging the contest and Tolkien for some help with the names.
  9. Mazak is a travelling trader. Everything he carries is up for sale or trade. He prefers trading objects instead of selling them, as his goal isn't to get rich, but to experience as many interesting and unique items as possible before swapping them for something else that's new and exciting. He lives by the motto "everything is for sale and everything has a price". A small tablescrap Matoran that grew out of me fiddling with parts to solve an issue that I ultimately didn't, but ended up making a compact custom torso that fit a Matoran build well. Further images on Flickr. Comments and criticism appreciated.
  10. A trio of Matoran MOCs I built recently. Pudu is an ever-cheerful Po-Matoran Kohlii champion. The only thing that can ever darken his mood is when he is reminded of the fact that as an athlete, he will be forever stuck in Huki's shadow. Kovi is by far the most efficient miner in all of Onu-Koro. This quality is his saving grace, as it is the only reason why the other Matoran tolerate his constant grumbling and mean demeanor. Lawi is a Le-Koroan musician who keeps running late for performances because he's always out vine-swinging in the deep jungles of Le-Wahi instead. Flickr Albums: Pudu Kovi Lawi
  11. Xenia by Artemiy Karpinskiy, on Flickr Xenia here is an albino matoran OC belonging to my good friend Zippy​. She’s in charge of a small island in the Southern Chains known as Woomera, where one of rare Energized Protodermis pools is situated. As such, the island was target for many powerful groups and individuals in the past. The Woomerans are the toughest, most hard-boiled Matoran in the universe, and fight off these threats without need of a Toa or any of the taller races. When Makuta Miserix was assigning his brothers and sisters to different regions of the Matoran Universe, he have sent Makuta Andrax, literally the worst candidate for the job, to oversee the Woomera island. At first Xenia stuck with him to protect from the dangers of the island, reasoning that if this guy accidentally dies the Woomera will get razed by Brotherhood’s armies, but in time she grew attached to the big oaf.
  12. The Matoran variant of my self-MOC, Poraru. Poraru was a craftsman in a small village on one of the many unnamed islands dotting the Southern Isles. Though kind-hearted and witty, Poraru was more introverted than most Po-Matoran. While for those Matoran leading less dangerous, more comfortable lives in the lands to the North avoided adventure and peril, those living in the Southern lands more frequently struck out to explore, thus Poraru had many adventures before eventually becoming a Toa. Flickr album All comments appreciated!
  13. Those two are twins, indistinguishable from each other on the first glance. You can discern them by their eyes and heartlights, as well as their polar opposite demeanors, with one being collected and serious, and the other jovial and playful. They both serve Makuta Phobrahk. Adhara, Isida and Phobrak are the OCs of my good friend Gunmetalgold.
  14. Hoi, the Ga-Matoran fisherwoman, takes her pet Moke for a fishing trip in the early evening. It is the warm season on Mata Nui, and fish are bountiful. Fortune smiles upon Hoi, as she encounters an elusive and dangerous Tawa fish. She will not let this opportunity pass her by, and with her well-trained Moke, the Tawa soon falls. It was a good day.
  15. Here are my current and long-term wants. Sections near the top are more desired. Rahkshi Kraata: 6x Trans-Orange Kraata, Stage 1 Ussanui Kraata: 1x Shadow Kraata, Stage 1 1x Shadow Kraata, Stage 2 1x Shadow Kraata, Stage 3 1x Shadow Kraata, Stage 4 1x Shadow Kraata, Stage 5 1x Shadow Kraata, Stage 6 Toa Mata: 1x Gold Pakari 1x Gold Hau 1x Gold Kakama 1x Gold Miru 1x Gold Akaku 1x Gold Kaukua Toa Nuva: 1x Protodermic Pakari Nuva 1x Protodermic Hau Nuva 1x Protodermic Kakama Nuva 1x Protodermic Miru Nuva 1x Protodermic Akaku Nuva 1x Protodermic Kaukua Nuva Materials for Buildable Tohunga/Matoran Project: Head = 32579 Foot = 32576 Chest = 32577 Left Arm = 32578 Right Arm = 40507 Torso = 44810 Back = 44137 Socket = 32174 Bohrok Arm = 41670 Thigh = 44809 Shared Parts: Color Total Count Head Light Grey 12 Head Dark Grey 13 Feet Yellow 2 Feet Red 12 Feet Dark Blue 2 Feet Blue 2 Feet Black 30 Feet White 2 Chest Red 4 Chest Medium Blue 2 Chest Tan 2 Chest Black 3 Chest White 2 Left Arm Red 4 Left Arm Medium Blue 2 Left Arm Tan 2 Left Arm Black 3 Left Arm White 2 Right Arm Red 4 Right Arm Medium Blue 2 Right Arm Tan 2 Right Arm Black 3 Right Arm White 2 Torso Tan 3 Torso White 3 Torso Red 6 Back Tan 3 Back White 3 Back Red 6 Socket Tan 6 Socket White 8 Socket Red 18 Socket Black 16 Bohrok Arm Tan 6 Bohrok Arm White 6 Bohrok Arm Red 12 Thigh Black 16 Thigh White 2 Thigh Red 6 Pakari Medium Blue 1 Pakari Red 1 Pakari Black 3 Miru Red 2 Kakama Red 2 Kakama Black 2 Kaukau Trans-blue 1 Kaukau Trans-black 1 Matatu Blue 1 Matatu Black 2 Matatu White 1 Ruru Black 1 Ruru Red 1 Hau Black 1 Huna Black 3 Komau Orange 1 Mahiki Orange 1 Exo-Toa Armor: 6x Exo-Toa sets, complete Boxor: 2x Boxor, complete
  16. Whetu and Onupi are two very different, yet very similar Matoran. Whetu is a miner, a grunt worker toiling in the vast mines of Onu-Wahi, digging for Lightstones, protodermis and other valuable minerals. He's down-to-earth with the heart and mind of a worker, much like the countless other miners he works with. Onupi, on the other hand, has more in common in terms of personality with Ko-Matoran than his Onu-Matoran comrades. Not much of a speaker, Onupi is Onu-Koro's most skilled surveyor, and his name is known across Mata Nui for never making a mistake and always finding the best veins. Not he, nor the other Matoran, and not even Turaga Whenua know that this isn't talent, but rather a glitch that allows him to minimally utilize his Kanohi Akaku, a feat no other Matoran is capable of. Despite being so different, Whetu and Onupi are bound by a friendship unlike any on the island of Mata Nui. For outsiders, it might often seem like they hate each other, as constant insults aimed at their different positions fly between them, but it's all in good fun and their way of communicating. They would be willing to die for one another, their friendship more like brotherhood. --- This theme of "similar yet different" continues in their builds. They have similar body shapes and sizes, however Whetu's torso is Slizer-based, Onupi's is fully custom using small Technic doodads. Whetu's drill has a working gear function, and his security frame still allows minimal head motion, and he can actually see out of it too. Onupi, when carrying his tablet "wears" his thumb on his back, concealed by the cape. Flickr album: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmbUEzt6 As always, comments and criticisms much appreciated!
  17. Yet another pair of Matoran. Tarn is a brash and hot-headed lava surfer even by Ta-Matoran standards. He has an insatiable need to perform, achieve and be the absolute best. At everything. Lava surfing is his passion, and he has become obsessed with the myth and legend of Lhii that Turaga Vakama occasionally tells the villagers. His fixation has grown to such a level that his goal is to surpass the fabled skill of Lhii, and to scour the lava falls of Ta-Wahi to find any remnant of the legendary all-yellow surfer, such as his mask. The Turaga has tried time and again to dissuade him, however Tarn often disregards the "ramblings of that old coot". Hoi is a much less rebellious Matoran. In fact, she is a completely everyday Ga-Matoran fisherwoman who shares most of her kin's traits in calmness and wisdom. She'd be mostly of no interest, save for her intense (and mutual) dislike of Macku. Such rivalries are rare among the Matoran of Water, but when the affections of a particularly handsome Po-Matoran Kohlii champion are at stake... well, we've all seen what the sea is like during a storm. --- Having built this pair just a day after my Onu-Matoran due, Whetu and Onupi, a bunch of similarities have arisen in their bodies. Hoi is, again, a Slizer-based build, using a lot of parts from Scuba, Her body is less gappy and better proportioned than Whetu's, the previous Slizer-based Matoran. I'm quite happy with her functional (!) fishing rod. Tarn's body is custom, based primarily on orange Bohrok inner-head pieces (found in the Boxor set). His proportions are a tad off, but I really wanted to incorporate the mata red Pahrak-Kal shield into his torso. His lava surfboard is mainly based on the MNOG appearance, with color changes and some creative liberty. Flickr Album for more images: https://flic.kr/s/aHsmeA5gRt I welcome all comments and criticism!
  18. While taking photos of various Bionicle things, I thought it would be cool to try to take some iconic pictures of Matoran on Mata Nui. After some cleaning up and editing, here are the results: High-resolution album here Wind-sprint through Le-Wahi Hunting in the Drifts Inventing the Boxor Koli Practice Exploring Naho Bay Patrol in the Charred Forest
  19. So here's a question that's been on my mind. Story goes that after the Bohrok-Kal, the Turaga impart the knowledge of rebuilding the matoran to counter the effects of the sphere's Makuta put them into during the events of the Great Cataclysm. Here's a question though, why did they wait 1000 years to do so? We find out in the book "time trap" that Makuta agreed to give the Matoran one year of peace, why didn't the Turaga use the time then to rebuild the Matoran? Why wait for 1000 years til when the Toa show up, and after a whole bunch of dangers show up? It's been stated that the Rahaga taught the Turaga how to do it, so they had the knowledge since day one. Aside from the obvious reason I mean *coughsellmoretoyscough* Anyways, what do you guys think?
  20. So far most of my creations shared here or on my Flickr were characters and mainly humanoid with very few exceptions. I wanted to do something different for a while now and this idea was floating in my head for some time, so I went ahead and built it. The Matoran with the pipe were added at the very end of the process. While the large hand doesn't correspond with any species in the Bionicle lore, I do intend it as an actual hand of an actual being, not as a statue. This would be located somewhere among the reformed Spherus Magna's mountainous regions. The dead hunk from rock reaches ever to the heavens.Does it grab, believing it has a right to the stars,Or does it plead and hope eternally?It matters not no longer, as today all the hand provides,Is respite for a weary traveler restingIn the shadow of the ancients As always, more pictures are found in the Flickr album and all comments and criticisms are welcome.
  21. ---*NOTE: THE MATORAN ENCODING HAS BEEN UPDATED, PLEASE RE-INSTALL THE SOFTWARE*--- For the past few days, I've been working on encoding the Matoran alphabet into the Unicode Private use area. I've encoded letters "A" through "Z", as well as two versions of "Å", the letters "Ä", "Æ", "Ö", and "Ø". I've also encoded numbers "0" through "9" and a Period, Hyphen, and Three Virtues Symbol. Below are all of the encoded characters, they will appear as boxes until you installed the font.                    The files include 3 keyboard layouts in a .bundle file and a font, called Matoran Elliptical with 3 weights: Regular, Light, & Bold, as well as oblique (italic) and a style in which the characters are tilted to the left, called tilt. You can see a type specimen here. The file contains instructions for macOS, I have no idea if a .bundle file will work on Windows and, furthermore, no method of making a Windows keyboard layout as all I have is a Mac, sorry Windows users! The files for macOS can be downloaded here. Just the font and .bundle keyboard layout can be downloaded here. To see the characters on your browser you need to change your browser's default font to the one included with the above file. If you want to make a font that subscribes to this encoding you can find an encoding chart in the macOS files under 'reference'. If you do make such a font then post it in the comments and I'll add it to this post. Also, if anyone makes a keyboard layout for Windows then post a link, I'll add it to the post. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this encoding of the Matoran alphabet!
  22. Ohyan: A wizened Ko-Matoran warrior whose sole wish is to preserve his brothers and sisters from the countless invaders that come from across the sea, even if it should require the surrender of his own life and his now desolate homeland. Izah: A pious Ga-Matoran General who is intent on defending her once-verdant homeland against the countless threats that seek to destroy them, even at the price of her and her soldier's lives.
  23. This is the second part of my 2006 Scenery Images series. I was inspired by the supporting comments from my last post to make the 2006 Scenery Images a Series. He are some more pictures. Enjoy! ​ Balta watches from a high cliff in the Green Belt. Velika and Garan discuss their next move against the Piraka. Vezok rests on a small ledge overlooking a stormy Voya Nui Bay. Reidak emerges from a small pond after a devastating battle with the Toa Inika. ​The Kardas Dragon has escaped the Volcano and begun it's journey.
  24. Okay click bait title aside. The Matoran were designed not to be a perment species. Since all Matoran can have a Destiny which allows them to become a Toa then Turaga. In theory eventually all Matoran would become Turagas and Toas. What do you think?
  25. ALVIS

    Last Destiny

    I was struck by inspiration yesterday and had to sit down and write this story. Special thanks to BZPower member Tolkien for the song written in Matoran language, which you can find on his tumblr blog. Please read, enjoy, and comment below! ~~~~~ The sky was bright, and the day was radiant. As Admoneira made her way through the crowded street, people of all colors, shapes and sizes hustled and bustled around her. Today was as busy a day as ever in Agens, but Admoneira had no time or interest for any of it. After all, it wasn’t every day that one received a summons from the oldest being on the planet. It had been twenty or thirty years since she had last heard the call: a high, thin ringing, at a frequency beyond most people’s ability to detect. She had taken several moments to notice the pitch, and longer to remember what it meant -- but when she had, she had dropped her satchel and nearly been struck by a hasty carriage. Stopping only to gather her things, not to apologize, she had immediately changed course and struck off to the eastern edge of town. From there, she did some bargaining with a carriage-owner, who was understandably reluctant to lend her a vehicle to traverse a road that hadn’t been touched in years. The sight of her dusty seal made a potent argument, though, and if that wasn’t enough, she also had the official papers, signed by the Parliament, marking her as a government-sanctioned chronicler. The owner, a patriotic sort, was more than happy to comply with her request, and soon she was driving off towards the eastern forest. Throughout it all, above the grumbling and snorting of the carriage and the trundling of its wheels on the ground, Admoneira could still hear the ringing, echoing through the air. The trip through the woods should have taken two hours, and it would have -- if the road hadn’t been blocked two-thirds of the way in. As she once again stepped out of the carriage to hack at an overgrown creeper, only to see the road blocked ahead by a tree growing through the middle, she gave a heavy sigh. Couldn’t he at least hire a gardener, or a hundred, to keep the road clean? Then she remembered his response to that query last time she had spoken to him. Your modern garden tools make such an unbearable clamor, he had said. The trees and the vines, on the other hand, are silent until struck down. If I am going to continue living on this earth, I would rather do it with my hearing intact. Wouldn’t you? At dusk, Admoneira stumbled over a twisted root, staggered past an enormous tree, and pushed aside a curtain of leaves to finally reveal her destination. Perched on a steep hill above her, surrounded for miles and miles in all directions by undisturbed forest, was a weathered dome: an ancient monastery, with a population of one. Emanating from above, the ringing was sharper than it had ever been, but Admoneira barely heard it. With a rejuvenated effort, she dragged herself up the hill, anxious to once again speak with him. The stone door had no handle. Instead, it was inscribed with an esoteric symbol: three circles, bordered by two dented curves. Admoneira smiled and recalled the secret combination. First the topmost circle... the bottom circle... and finally, the circle in the center. Smoothly and almost silently, the door slid away before her. Inside, the walls of the vast dome were filled with circular symbols; not an inch left untouched. Towering over Admoneira were tall stacks of stone tablets, each carved with the same symbols. A fine layer of dust covered everything in the chamber. Admoneira breathed in the dry, dusty air and let out an amazed sigh. In this room, the great history of her world felt tangible and real. The dust stirred. Just barely, she could make out a whisper: “There’s no need to make such a ruckus, my dear." The quiet voice came from the stairs spiraling around the walls. Admoneira looked up, beyond the stacked tablets, to see a hunched figure with a grey cloak slowly descending each stair, his joints clicking with each step. “I could hear your approach a mile away,” he continued. “Turaga!” Admoneira gasped. “Ach!” With gears whirring and joints clicking, the wizened old figure brought his hands to the sides of his head. “What did I say about making such noise?” Admoneira paused, then spoke in a low whisper. “I’m sorry, Turaga. I’m just... so excited to see you again.” “As am I, Admoneira,” whispered the Turaga. He stepped onto the floor, supporting himself with a wooden staff, and slowly hobbled towards a table where an empty tablet lay. “Come. Sit, and tell the old Turaga your tales.” The table stood in the center of the building, directly beneath a glass pane in the top of the dome. Admoneira took her seat and glanced up at the darkening sky, looking for words. So much had happened in the past several decades. Where to begin? “I suppose I’ll start with Agens,” she said. “Ah, yes. How is that lovely little town doing?” the Turaga asked, chuckling. “It’s hardly ‘little’ anymore, Turaga. Now that the water stone industry has recovered, people have been coming to Agens in droves. It’s one of the fastest-growing cities in any of the civilized nations,” she explained. “Good. I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “I always told little Carus that his town would do well.” He paused. “How is the little boy, anyway?” Admoneira hesitated. “Well... Carus is not really a little boy any longer, Turaga,” she said. “He was born before me, you know...” There was a glint of light off of the Turaga’s mask. Then he shook his head slowly. “I am sad to learn of his passing,” he said. “But he died knowing his destiny was achieved.” The Turaga always did that -- extrapolate the truth, even when one tried not to tell him. Admoneira hated when he did that. The Turaga chuckled. “Hate it or not, Admoneira, I will keep doing it. You must allow an old man some of his tricks.” He turned to the side, his head downcast. “Forgive me for asking so foolishly about Carus. In my old age, I sometimes forget that your lifespans are so much shorter than ours.” Admoneira had always marveled at the Turaga’s physiology. He was made of metal and flesh, seamlessly joined by wondrous engineering -- all of this, accomplished several millennia prior to the invention of the motorized carriage! Many a time, she had wondered how it was that he and the other biomechs lived for so long: whether it was the quality of their organic parts, or a self-repairing function like the immortality devices of old. She had been meaning to ask for years. “Then I might as well tell you what I know,” said the Turaga. “I was never an anatomist. But I know this much. Most of our ‘organic’ tissues are used as muscles or bindings, and they, like the rest of us, are artificial; made by the Great Beings. When the Great Beings made things, they made them to last.” For a long moment, he let this information sink in, then added, “Unlike your craftspeople nowadays, that is.” Admoneira had to laugh at that. “Tell me about it. I took a carriage part of the way here. I got it good as new, but by the time I was done with it, the tires were shot and the engine was halfway killed.” “No, they don’t make them like they used to,” the Turaga said softly. As Admoneira continued her tales, the stars began to shine through the glass from above. By midnight, she had nearly talked herself hoarse, and had run down to the stream for water several times. Throughout it all, the Turaga sat and listened. Half the time, he stared off into space and didn’t move from his position, but Admoneira knew he could hear her. In any case, he could just about read her mind. It was a pity she couldn’t read his. What did an ancient biomech ponder? “You’ve stopped talking,” said the Turaga after a time. “Is that it, then?” Admoneira gave a start. “Oh, no, not at all. I was just thinking, Turaga.” The Turaga blinked behind his mask. “You want to know how old I am.” Admoneira’s face blanched. The Turaga chuckled in response. “Don’t worry, dear, I won’t be offended. A biomech stays beautiful no matter his age.” He tapped his staff on the floor. “You said this was... what year, again?” Admoneira told him. The Turaga nodded and let out a slow whistle. “Well, well. It has been some time, hasn’t it? And yet, to me, it seems like the Fall was just a century past.” He hemmed and hawed for several seconds. “Ah! That’s it, that’s it. I have lived through 150,000 seasonal units -- Matoran time, that is,” he said. “In your years, that would be... hmm... about 12,000 years old, give or take.” The time span was too much for Admoneira to process. She blinked and put a hand to her forehead. “I might get a migraine if I think about that for too long,” she said. “Try thinking about it for 12,000 years,” replied the Turaga. “Did Matoran -- normally -- live that long?” Admoneira sensed the Turaga stiffen. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “But since so few of us remain, I would say... no.” An awful realization struck Admoneira: He doesn’t know. There was silence at the table for a long, long moment. “Now he does,” said the Turaga. Admoneira clasped his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know when to tell you -- ” “It’s all right,” he said, setting her hand aside. He sat back, gears clicking, and breathed in heavily. “Tell me, when did the others pass?” Admoneira could feel his heart breaking as she listed the names. “...announced his death twenty-four years ago. The Vortixx of Vulcanus passed quietly three years after.” She took a deep breath. “Barraki Pridak died on his throne ten years ago. Somehow, he lived through every assassination effort over the past four millennia. His empire has already fractured into warring states. And Kopeke -- ” She felt something choke in her throat. “Two years ago, Kopeke walked out of Iconox and into the Drifts. He gave clear orders that he was not to be followed.” She finished her story. She and the Turaga sat at the table, hands folded, in utter silence. The stars turned slightly overhead, and a chill began to creep at the edges of Admoneira’s flesh. After many minutes, Admoneira thought she heard a whispered word flit into her ear. She dismissed it as her imagination, but another came, and another. Suddenly, she realized that the words were coming from the Turaga, but they were not any words that she knew. “lahaya lhikayi, wahata rodui...” The pitch of the Turaga’s voice varied. Admoneira realized that he was singing. His incredibly soft voice hovered over the notes with a trembling sincerity. “lahaya lhikayi, wahata rodui, lahaya ro’ai, ki akuya-kaui. lehaya matoran, noka khino rho luhaya turaga zahni’o kyabo. lohaya toa ki kravahi zaya, ki aizi voyakorhu akuyata...” The Turaga trailed off. “You wouldn’t recognize the song,” he said, in response to her unspoken thoughts. “It is from... before your time.” Slowly, with jerking and hesitant motions, the Turaga began to stir. Gears clicking, he rose from his seat and took hold of his staff. “Come. Walk with me, Admoneira,” he said. “And bring the tablet. It is time.” The woman took his hand and helped him move, haltingly, across the dusty floor and out of the building. The two stood together on the hilltop, under the waning stars, looking out at the peaceful treetops. “In an hour, Solis Magna will rise from the horizon, in all its crimson glory,” said the Turaga. “Then will come the time. Until then, Admoneira... sit with me.” She had a thought, but he shook his head. “No. I do not need any more stories. I need only companionship.” Admoneira helped him into a sitting position on the grass. The Turaga set down his staff and replaced it with a stone stylus. “I am sure your paper records are quicker and more efficient,” he said, “but consider me old-fashioned -- I never could get used to the idea of them.” He carved the first words on the tablet. Admoneira knew enough of the Matoran language to translate them, and her heart sank as her worst fears were confirmed. “You can’t know this,” she sobbed. “Oh, but I do,” said the Turaga. Now it was his turn to clasp a friend’s hand in comfort. “It was revealed to me by another Turaga many, many years ago. This was his final vision. It is the final destiny of my kind.” “No,” Admoneira mouthed. She knew that the Turaga was impossibly old; she knew that he was the last of his kind; she knew that all things eventually came to an end -- but she refused to believe that it would happen today. “Be still,” the Turaga whispered. “I will be with you for another hour. I must carve this tablet, but when I am done, I will stay with you. We will watch the sunrise together.” Admoneira sat with the Turaga as he carved his words. She did not read them. She would read them later, when she was ready to accept the end. She vowed not to let this history be forgotten. “It already has been, my dear,” said the Turaga, etching a Matoran ‘A’ into the stone. “By all except the two on this hilltop. But that is not so dreadful, in the end. All things in this world are only temporary.” He finished his work, and set down the stylus. The stars had vanished, and the sky was lightening. Admoneira turned to the Turaga with tears in her eyes. “Please. Don’t go. You’re all that we have left.” “None of us choose our destiny, my dear. And none of us can defy it,” said the Turaga, staring into the pink light of the sky. Admoneira began to openly sob as the light grew brighter. No words could communicate her feelings. “They do not need to,” said the Turaga. “I know your heart.” Slowly, he raised his hands to his head. When he lowered them, they held the archaic features of his mask. “Take this,” he whispered. “It is our custom. I will go soon, to be with the Great Spirit. But the mask will remain.” Admoneira took the mask into her shaking hands. “I... I can’t...” she stammered. “You can,” said the Turaga. “Have faith.” Admoneira hugged the Turaga tight, setting her face against his weathered cloak. Slowly, gently, he set his metallic hand on her shoulder. Staring into the growing light, the Turaga bore an unreadable expression on his face. Quietly, he resumed his singing. “lahaya lhikayi, omahaui nu lahaya wahata, ki nokhanu-ngu lehaya matoran, i’azai uzya luhaya turaga, kravahi’ai na lahaya toa ki boi royatanu hau’o rak-rhui boya hayaganu. ke, lahaya lhikai, omahaui rhu lihaya rohi nga-kaui ki zyanu. lehaya puku’o, alai’o, roi’o luhaya rohi ki avo myatambo. lahaya wahata, keeto, kofo-ngu lohaya toa ki ako karyanu.” The sun rose, and the radiant fingers of the dawn crept across the trees, reaching up to the domed monastery atop the hill. As the light grew and the air warmed, Admoneira held the Turaga close, and he held her as well. Admoneira opened her eyes. The sky was alight with the scarlet fire of the sun. The Turaga’s fingers rested on her shoulder, warmed by the touch of the sunlight. But his singing had stopped. Admoneira hugged the Turaga’s body close and cried as the sun rose over her. She would cry for many a day to come. When her tears had dried, she would read the Turaga’s tablet. For now, however, the words sat unread in the rising sun. I carve these words as I await my death, and with it the death of the Matoran race. As prophesied, I am the last one left. When the morning comes and I pass from this world, I will join the entirety of my kind as one with the Great Spirit. I have no regrets. I have lived a long and fulfilling life. I have seen and done so many things. I fought on Bara Magna and saw Makuta’s Fall firsthand. I defended the Prison Island from the Siege of the Dreamkeeper’s armies. I saw the Barraki Wars and the return of the Shadowed One. I have seen two worlds united, and I have seen them divided again so many times. More than that, though, I have seen the flourishing of the Agori. Despite their physiology, they are an enduring and ingenious people. They listened to the ideas of the Matoran, and they built on what we brought to them to make things far greater. I know now that they are a people truly deserving of the Great Spirit’s paradise. We have had our history. Let the Matoran race now take its leave from Spherus Magna. With unity, we have done our duty, and in doing so, we have achieved our final destiny. The Agori have learned all that we can teach them, and they will grow and flourish beyond anything we could ever imagine. The Great Spirit will be proud of us, indeed. These are the last words of the Matoran race. These are the words of Turaga Krakua.
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