Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'Prequel'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

  • Announcements & Administration
    • Reference Desk
    • BZPower Q&A
    • BZPower.com News Discussion
  • LEGO Discussion
    • Bionicle Discussion
    • Bionicle Storyline & Theories
    • Ninjago Discussion
    • Hero Factory Discussion
    • LEGO Discussion
  • Creative Outlet
    • LEGO-Based Creations
    • Library
    • Artwork
    • Games & More
  • BZPower Discussion
    • General Discussion
    • Convention & Event Planning
    • BioniLUG Discussion
    • Buy/Sell/Trade
  • Affiliates
    • BS01/HS01
  • Non-LEGO Forums
    • Completely Off Topic
    • Off Topic Culture

Calendars

  • Community Calendar
  • BioniLUG Calendar

Blogs

  • blogs_blog_1
  • blogs_blog_2
  • blogs_blog_3
  • blogs_blog_4
  • blogs_blog_5
  • blogs_blog_6
  • What You Want Is Now
  • blogs_blog_8
  • blogs_blog_9
  • blogs_blog_10
  • blogs_blog_11
  • blogs_blog_12
  • blogs_blog_13
  • blogs_blog_14
  • blogs_blog_15
  • blogs_blog_1841
  • blogs_blog_1842
  • blogs_blog_1843
  • blogs_blog_17
  • blogs_blog_18
  • blogs_blog_19
  • blogs_blog_20
  • blogs_blog_21
  • blogs_blog_22
  • blogs_blog_23
  • blogs_blog_529
  • Akano's Blog
  • blogs_blog_25
  • blogs_blog_26
  • blogs_blog_27
  • blogs_blog_28
  • blogs_blog_29
  • Wind's Weblog
  • blogs_blog_553
  • blogs_blog_31
  • blogs_blog_503
  • blogs_blog_32
  • blogs_blog_621
  • blogs_blog_33
  • blogs_blog_34
  • blogs_blog_35
  • blogs_blog_36
  • blogs_blog_37
  • blogs_blog_38
  • blogs_blog_1590
  • blogs_blog_568
  • blogs_blog_39
  • blogs_blog_40
  • blogs_blog_41
  • blogs_blog_42
  • blogs_blog_43
  • blogs_blog_44
  • Star Blogging across the universe
  • blogs_blog_46
  • blogs_blog_47
  • Time Capsule of Teenage Musings
  • blogs_blog_49
  • blogs_blog_576
  • blogs_blog_1407
  • blogs_blog_135
  • blogs_blog_50
  • blogs_blog_1019
  • Mount Coronet
  • blogs_blog_80
  • blogs_blog_51
  • blogs_blog_52
  • blogs_blog_53
  • blogs_blog_54
  • blogs_blog_55
  • blogs_blog_504
  • blogs_blog_515
  • blogs_blog_56
  • blogs_blog_626
  • blogs_blog_57
  • blogs_blog_138
  • blogs_blog_58
  • blogs_blog_59
  • blogs_blog_60
  • why is this blog so wide
  • blogs_blog_62
  • blogs_blog_72
  • J.A.F. Team
  • blogs_blog_64
  • blogs_blog_65
  • blogs_blog_66
  • Bloghaku
  • blogs_blog_68
  • blogs_blog_69
  • blogs_blog_70
  • blogs_blog_71
  • blogs_blog_73
  • blogs_blog_876
  • blogs_blog_74
  • blogs_blog_75
  • blogs_blog_76
  • blogs_blog_518
  • blogs_blog_84
  • blogs_blog_78
  • blogs_blog_79
  • blogs_blog_81
  • blogs_blog_82
  • blogs_blog_83
  • blogs_blog_85
  • blogs_blog_86
  • blogs_blog_1397
  • blogs_blog_96
  • blogs_blog_499
  • blogs_blog_87
  • blogs_blog_88
  • blogs_blog_89
  • blogs_blog_91
  • blogs_blog_92
  • blogs_blog_578
  • blogs_blog_579
  • blogs_blog_93
  • blogs_blog_94
  • blogs_blog_95
  • blogs_blog_97
  • blogs_blog_497
  • blogs_blog_98
  • blogs_blog_113
  • blogs_blog_99
  • blogs_blog_103
  • blogs_blog_100
  • blogs_blog_101
  • blogs_blog_102
  • blogs_blog_104
  • blogs_blog_105
  • blogs_blog_106
  • blogs_blog_107
  • blogs_blog_108
  • blogs_blog_109
  • blogs_blog_545
  • blogs_blog_110
  • blogs_blog_111
  • blogs_blog_112
  • blogs_blog_115
  • blogs_blog_114
  • blogs_blog_116
  • blogs_blog_117
  • blogs_blog_118
  • blogs_blog_119
  • blogs_blog_120
  • blogs_blog_121
  • blogs_blog_122
  • blogs_blog_123
  • blogs_blog_124
  • blogs_blog_125
  • blogs_blog_126
  • stuff
  • blogs_blog_128
  • Blogs Blags Blogs 42
  • blogs_blog_1604
  • blogs_blog_130
  • blogs_blog_131
  • blogs_blog_597
  • blogs_blog_620
  • blogs_blog_132
  • blogs_blog_1445
  • blogs_blog_133
  • blogs_blog_134
  • blogs_blog_136
  • blogs_blog_137
  • blogs_blog_139
  • blogs_blog_140
  • blogs_blog_141
  • blogs_blog_142
  • blogs_blog_143
  • blogs_blog_144
  • blogs_blog_145
  • blogs_blog_146
  • blogs_blog_147
  • blogs_blog_153
  • blogs_blog_148
  • blogs_blog_149
  • blogs_blog_150
  • blogs_blog_617
  • blogs_blog_151
  • blogs_blog_152
  • blogs_blog_154
  • blogs_blog_612
  • blogs_blog_155
  • blogs_blog_156
  • blogs_blog_157
  • blogs_blog_233
  • blogs_blog_158
  • blogs_blog_1585
  • blogs_blog_272
  • blogs_blog_159
  • blogs_blog_160
  • blogs_blog_161
  • blogs_blog_162
  • blogs_blog_163
  • blogs_blog_164
  • blogs_blog_165
  • blogs_blog_166
  • blogs_blog_167
  • blogs_blog_168
  • blogs_blog_169
  • blogs_blog_170
  • blogs_blog_171
  • blogs_blog_172
  • blogs_blog_173
  • blogs_blog_174
  • blogs_blog_175
  • blogs_blog_176
  • blogs_blog_177
  • blogs_blog_178
  • blogs_blog_179
  • blogs_blog_180
  • blogs_blog_181
  • blogs_blog_182
  • blogs_blog_183
  • blogs_blog_184
  • blogs_blog_185
  • blogs_blog_186
  • blogs_blog_1794
  • blogs_blog_188
  • blogs_blog_189
  • blogs_blog_190
  • blogs_blog_389
  • blogs_blog_191
  • blogs_blog_192
  • blogs_blog_193
  • blogs_blog_194
  • blogs_blog_195
  • blogs_blog_196
  • blogs_blog_197
  • blogs_blog_198
  • blogs_blog_199
  • blogs_blog_200
  • blogs_blog_201
  • blogs_blog_202
  • blogs_blog_203
  • blogs_blog_204
  • blogs_blog_205
  • blogs_blog_206
  • blogs_blog_207
  • blogs_blog_208
  • blogs_blog_209
  • blogs_blog_210
  • blogs_blog_211
  • blogs_blog_212
  • blogs_blog_213
  • blogs_blog_214
  • blogs_blog_215
  • blogs_blog_216
  • blogs_blog_217
  • blogs_blog_218
  • blogs_blog_219
  • blogs_blog_220
  • blogs_blog_221
  • blogs_blog_222
  • The Minimalist
  • blogs_blog_1605
  • blogs_blog_224
  • blogs_blog_225
  • blogs_blog_226
  • blogs_blog_227
  • blogs_blog_228
  • blogs_blog_229
  • blogs_blog_230
  • blogs_blog_231
  • blogs_blog_232
  • blogs_blog_234
  • blogs_blog_235
  • blogs_blog_236
  • blogs_blog_237
  • blogs_blog_238
  • blogs_blog_239
  • blogs_blog_240
  • blogs_blog_241
  • blogs_blog_242
  • blogs_blog_243
  • blogs_blog_244
  • blogs_blog_245
  • blogs_blog_246
  • blogs_blog_247
  • blogs_blog_248
  • blogs_blog_249
  • Tales of Arizona Blue
  • blogs_blog_251
  • blogs_blog_252
  • blogs_blog_253
  • blogs_blog_254
  • blogs_blog_255
  • blogs_blog_256
  • blogs_blog_257
  • blogs_blog_258
  • blogs_blog_259
  • blogs_blog_260
  • blogs_blog_261
  • blogs_blog_262
  • Blog. BLOG! BLOOOOOOG!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • blogs_blog_264
  • blogs_blog_265
  • blogs_blog_266
  • blogs_blog_267
  • blogs_blog_268
  • blogs_blog_269
  • blogs_blog_270
  • blogs_blog_271
  • blogs_blog_273
  • blogs_blog_274
  • blogs_blog_878
  • blogs_blog_275
  • blogs_blog_276
  • blogs_blog_277
  • blogs_blog_278
  • blogs_blog_279
  • blogs_blog_280
  • blogs_blog_281
  • blogs_blog_282
  • blogs_blog_283
  • blogs_blog_284
  • blogs_blog_285
  • blogs_blog_286
  • blogs_blog_287
  • blogs_blog_288
  • blogs_blog_637
  • blogs_blog_289
  • blogs_blog_290
  • blogs_blog_291
  • blogs_blog_292
  • blogs_blog_293
  • blogs_blog_325
  • blogs_blog_1844
  • blogs_blog_1464
  • blogs_blog_294
  • blogs_blog_295
  • blogs_blog_296
  • blogs_blog_297
  • blogs_blog_298
  • blogs_blog_299
  • blogs_blog_300
  • blogs_blog_1501
  • blogs_blog_317
  • blogs_blog_302
  • blogs_blog_303
  • blogs_blog_304
  • blogs_blog_305
  • blogs_blog_306
  • blogs_blog_307
  • The Serpent's Den
  • blogs_blog_853
  • blogs_blog_309
  • blogs_blog_310
  • blogs_blog_311
  • blogs_blog_986
  • blogs_blog_611
  • blogs_blog_562
  • blogs_blog_312
  • blogs_blog_313
  • blogs_blog_314
  • blogs_blog_315
  • blogs_blog_319
  • blogs_blog_316
  • blogs_blog_318
  • blogs_blog_320
  • blogs_blog_321
  • blogs_blog_322
  • blogs_blog_323
  • blogs_blog_358
  • blogs_blog_324
  • blogs_blog_326
  • blogs_blog_327
  • blogs_blog_328
  • blogs_blog_329
  • blogs_blog_330
  • blogs_blog_331
  • blogs_blog_332
  • blogs_blog_333
  • blogs_blog_334
  • blogs_blog_335
  • blogs_blog_336
  • blogs_blog_337
  • blogs_blog_613
  • blogs_blog_338
  • blogs_blog_339
  • blogs_blog_340
  • blogs_blog_533
  • blogs_blog_341
  • blogs_blog_342
  • blogs_blog_343
  • blogs_blog_344
  • blogs_blog_345
  • blogs_blog_346
  • blogs_blog_347
  • blogs_blog_348
  • blogs_blog_349
  • blogs_blog_352
  • blogs_blog_351
  • blogs_blog_353
  • blogs_blog_354
  • blogs_blog_355
  • blogs_blog_356
  • blogs_blog_357
  • blogs_blog_359
  • blogs_blog_360
  • Kathisma Library
  • blogs_blog_362
  • blogs_blog_1436
  • blogs_blog_363
  • blogs_blog_364
  • blogs_blog_365
  • blogs_blog_366
  • blogs_blog_367
  • blogs_blog_368
  • blogs_blog_369
  • blogs_blog_370
  • blogs_blog_371
  • blogs_blog_372
  • blogs_blog_373
  • blogs_blog_374
  • blogs_blog_375
  • blogs_blog_376
  • blogs_blog_377
  • blogs_blog_378
  • blogs_blog_379
  • blogs_blog_380
  • blogs_blog_381
  • blogs_blog_382
  • blogs_blog_384
  • blogs_blog_385
  • blogs_blog_386
  • blogs_blog_387
  • blogs_blog_388
  • blogs_blog_390
  • blogs_blog_391
  • blogs_blog_651
  • blogs_blog_392
  • blogs_blog_393
  • blogs_blog_394
  • blogs_blog_395
  • blogs_blog_396
  • blogs_blog_397
  • blogs_blog_398
  • blogs_blog_399
  • blogs_blog_400
  • blogs_blog_401
  • blogs_blog_402
  • blogs_blog_403
  • blogs_blog_412
  • blogs_blog_404
  • blogs_blog_405
  • blogs_blog_406
  • blogs_blog_407
  • blogs_blog_408
  • blogs_blog_950
  • blogs_blog_409
  • blogs_blog_410
  • blogs_blog_411
  • blogs_blog_413
  • blogs_blog_414
  • blogs_blog_415
  • blogs_blog_416
  • blogs_blog_417
  • blogs_blog_418
  • blogs_blog_419
  • blogs_blog_420
  • blogs_blog_421
  • blogs_blog_422
  • blogs_blog_423
  • blogs_blog_424
  • blogs_blog_425
  • blogs_blog_426
  • blogs_blog_427
  • blogs_blog_428
  • blogs_blog_429
  • blogs_blog_662
  • blogs_blog_430
  • blogs_blog_431
  • blogs_blog_432
  • blogs_blog_433
  • blogs_blog_434
  • blogs_blog_472
  • blogs_blog_435
  • blogs_blog_436
  • blogs_blog_437
  • blogs_blog_438
  • blogs_blog_439
  • blogs_blog_440
  • Disty's old surgery
  • blogs_blog_442
  • blogs_blog_443
  • blogs_blog_565
  • blogs_blog_556
  • Moon in the Water
  • blogs_blog_629
  • blogs_blog_444
  • blogs_blog_445
  • blogs_blog_446
  • blogs_blog_447
  • V1P2's Blog
  • blogs_blog_449
  • blogs_blog_450
  • blogs_blog_451
  • blogs_blog_452
  • blogs_blog_453
  • blogs_blog_580
  • blogs_blog_454
  • blogs_blog_455
  • blogs_blog_456
  • blogs_blog_457
  • blogs_blog_458
  • blogs_blog_459
  • blogs_blog_460
  • blogs_blog_461
  • blogs_blog_462
  • blogs_blog_463
  • blogs_blog_464
  • blogs_blog_465
  • blogs_blog_466
  • blogs_blog_467
  • blogs_blog_468
  • blogs_blog_469
  • blogs_blog_470
  • blogs_blog_471
  • blogs_blog_473
  • blogs_blog_474
  • blogs_blog_475
  • blogs_blog_476
  • blogs_blog_477
  • blogs_blog_478
  • blogs_blog_479
  • blogs_blog_480
  • blogs_blog_1105
  • blogs_blog_1013
  • blogs_blog_481
  • blogs_blog_482
  • blogs_blog_483
  • blogs_blog_484
  • blogs_blog_486
  • blogs_blog_485
  • blogs_blog_487
  • blogs_blog_488
  • blogs_blog_489
  • blogs_blog_490
  • blogs_blog_491
  • blogs_blog_1032
  • blogs_blog_492
  • blogs_blog_493
  • blogs_blog_494
  • blogs_blog_495
  • blogs_blog_496
  • blogs_blog_498
  • blogs_blog_501
  • blogs_blog_500
  • I'm Me
  • blogs_blog_1888
  • blogs_blog_505
  • blogs_blog_506
  • blogs_blog_507
  • blogs_blog_508
  • blogs_blog_509
  • blogs_blog_510
  • blogs_blog_514
  • blogs_blog_511
  • blogs_blog_512
  • blogs_blog_513
  • blogs_blog_516
  • blogs_blog_517
  • blogs_blog_558
  • blogs_blog_520
  • blogs_blog_522
  • blogs_blog_521
  • blogs_blog_523
  • blogs_blog_524
  • blogs_blog_525
  • blogs_blog_526
  • garbage water alien chill sesh
  • blogs_blog_528
  • Blogarithm
  • blogs_blog_531
  • blogs_blog_532
  • blogs_blog_606
  • The Blog Below
  • blogs_blog_535
  • blogs_blog_536
  • blogs_blog_537
  • blogs_blog_538
  • blogs_blog_539
  • blogs_blog_540
  • blogs_blog_541
  • blogs_blog_559
  • blogs_blog_542
  • blogs_blog_543
  • blogs_blog_544
  • blogs_blog_546
  • blogs_blog_547
  • blogs_blog_548
  • blogs_blog_552
  • blogs_blog_549
  • blogs_blog_551
  • blogs_blog_550
  • blogs_blog_554
  • blogs_blog_555
  • blogs_blog_560
  • blogs_blog_561
  • blogs_blog_563
  • blogs_blog_564
  • blogs_blog_566
  • blogs_blog_567
  • blogs_blog_569
  • blogs_blog_570
  • blogs_blog_571
  • blogs_blog_572
  • blogs_blog_573
  • blogs_blog_574
  • blogs_blog_575
  • blogs_blog_577
  • SeiclonatorZ (the blog about nothing)
  • blogs_blog_581
  • blogs_blog_1036
  • blogs_blog_1023
  • blogs_blog_582
  • blogs_blog_583
  • blogs_blog_590
  • blogs_blog_584
  • blogs_blog_585
  • blogs_blog_586
  • blogs_blog_587
  • blogs_blog_588
  • the transgender adventure
  • blogs_blog_592
  • blogs_blog_593
  • blogs_blog_596
  • blogs_blog_862
  • blogs_blog_594
  • blogs_blog_595
  • blogs_blog_598
  • blogs_blog_603
  • blogs_blog_599
  • blogs_blog_600
  • blogs_blog_601
  • blogs_blog_602
  • blogs_blog_875
  • blogs_blog_604
  • blogs_blog_605
  • blogs_blog_607
  • blogs_blog_608
  • blogs_blog_609
  • blogs_blog_610
  • blogs_blog_614
  • blogs_blog_615
  • blogs_blog_616
  • blogs_blog_630
  • blogs_blog_618
  • blogs_blog_619
  • blogs_blog_622
  • blogs_blog_623
  • city burials
  • blogs_blog_1435
  • blogs_blog_1058
  • blogs_blog_625
  • blogs_blog_627
  • blogs_blog_1793
  • blogs_blog_631
  • blogs_blog_632
  • blogs_blog_635
  • blogs_blog_636
  • blogs_blog_638
  • The Observatory
  • blogs_blog_1391
  • blogs_blog_640
  • blogs_blog_641
  • The Phylog 3.0
  • blogs_blog_643
  • blogs_blog_644
  • blogs_blog_645
  • blogs_blog_646
  • blogs_blog_647
  • blogs_blog_648
  • blogs_blog_649
  • blogs_blog_650
  • blogs_blog_652
  • blogs_blog_653
  • blogs_blog_654
  • blogs_blog_655
  • blogs_blog_1207
  • blogs_blog_656
  • blogs_blog_657
  • blogs_blog_658
  • blogs_blog_659
  • blogs_blog_660
  • blogs_blog_661
  • blogs_blog_663
  • blogs_blog_664
  • blogs_blog_665
  • blogs_blog_666
  • blogs_blog_667
  • blogs_blog_668
  • blogs_blog_669
  • blogs_blog_670
  • blogs_blog_671
  • blogs_blog_672
  • blogs_blog_673
  • blogs_blog_674
  • blogs_blog_675
  • blogs_blog_676
  • blogs_blog_677
  • blogs_blog_678
  • blogs_blog_679
  • blogs_blog_680
  • blogs_blog_681
  • blogs_blog_682
  • blogs_blog_683
  • blogs_blog_684
  • blogs_blog_685
  • blogs_blog_700
  • blogs_blog_686
  • blogs_blog_687
  • blogs_blog_688
  • blogs_blog_689
  • blogs_blog_690
  • blogs_blog_691
  • blogs_blog_692
  • blogs_blog_693
  • blogs_blog_694
  • blogs_blog_695
  • blogs_blog_696
  • blogs_blog_697
  • blogs_blog_698
  • blogs_blog_699
  • blogs_blog_701
  • blogs_blog_702
  • blogs_blog_703
  • blogs_blog_704
  • blogs_blog_705
  • blogs_blog_706
  • blogs_blog_707
  • blogs_blog_708
  • blogs_blog_709
  • blogs_blog_710
  • blogs_blog_711
  • blogs_blog_712
  • blogs_blog_713
  • blogs_blog_714
  • blogs_blog_715
  • blogs_blog_716
  • blogs_blog_717
  • blogs_blog_718
  • blogs_blog_719
  • blogs_blog_720
  • blogs_blog_721
  • blogs_blog_734
  • blogs_blog_722
  • blogs_blog_723
  • blogs_blog_724
  • blogs_blog_725
  • blogs_blog_726
  • blogs_blog_727
  • blogs_blog_728
  • blogs_blog_729
  • blogs_blog_730
  • blogs_blog_731
  • in a hole in the ground, there lived a blog
  • blogs_blog_733
  • blogs_blog_735
  • blogs_blog_736
  • blogs_blog_737
  • blogs_blog_738
  • blogs_blog_739
  • blogs_blog_740
  • blogs_blog_741
  • blogs_blog_742
  • blogs_blog_743
  • blogs_blog_744
  • blogs_blog_745
  • blogs_blog_746
  • blogs_blog_747
  • blogs_blog_748
  • blogs_blog_749
  • blogs_blog_1182
  • blogs_blog_750
  • blogs_blog_751
  • blogs_blog_752
  • blogs_blog_753
  • blogs_blog_754
  • blogs_blog_755
  • blogs_blog_756
  • blogs_blog_757
  • blogs_blog_758
  • blogs_blog_759
  • blogs_blog_760
  • blogs_blog_761
  • blogs_blog_762
  • blogs_blog_763
  • blogs_blog_764
  • blogs_blog_1532
  • blogs_blog_765
  • blogs_blog_766
  • blogs_blog_767
  • blogs_blog_768
  • blogs_blog_841
  • blogs_blog_769
  • blogs_blog_770
  • blogs_blog_771
  • blogs_blog_772
  • blogs_blog_773
  • blogs_blog_774
  • blogs_blog_775
  • blogs_blog_921
  • blogs_blog_776
  • blogs_blog_777
  • blogs_blog_778
  • blogs_blog_779
  • blogs_blog_780
  • blogs_blog_781
  • blogs_blog_782
  • blogs_blog_1592
  • blogs_blog_1284
  • blogs_blog_783
  • blogs_blog_784
  • blogs_blog_785
  • blogs_blog_786
  • blogs_blog_787
  • blogs_blog_1485
  • blogs_blog_788
  • blogs_blog_789
  • blogs_blog_790
  • blogs_blog_791
  • blogs_blog_792
  • blogs_blog_793
  • blogs_blog_794
  • blogs_blog_795
  • blogs_blog_796
  • blogs_blog_797
  • blogs_blog_798
  • blogs_blog_799
  • blogs_blog_800
  • blogs_blog_1682
  • blogs_blog_801
  • blogs_blog_802
  • blogs_blog_803
  • blogs_blog_804
  • blogs_blog_805
  • blogs_blog_806
  • blogs_blog_807
  • blogs_blog_808
  • blogs_blog_809
  • blogs_blog_810
  • blogs_blog_811
  • blogs_blog_812
  • blogs_blog_813
  • blogs_blog_814
  • blogs_blog_815
  • blogs_blog_816
  • blogs_blog_817
  • blogs_blog_851
  • blogs_blog_818
  • blogs_blog_819
  • blogs_blog_820
  • blogs_blog_821
  • blogs_blog_822
  • blogs_blog_823
  • blogs_blog_824
  • blogs_blog_825
  • blogs_blog_826
  • blogs_blog_827
  • blogs_blog_828
  • blogs_blog_829
  • blogs_blog_830
  • blogs_blog_831
  • blogs_blog_832
  • blogs_blog_833
  • blogs_blog_834
  • blogs_blog_835
  • blogs_blog_836
  • blogs_blog_837
  • blogs_blog_838
  • blogs_blog_839
  • blogs_blog_840
  • blogs_blog_842
  • blogs_blog_843
  • blogs_blog_844
  • blogs_blog_845
  • blogs_blog_1559
  • blogs_blog_846
  • blogs_blog_847
  • blogs_blog_848
  • blogs_blog_849
  • blogs_blog_850
  • blogs_blog_852
  • blogs_blog_863
  • blogs_blog_854
  • blogs_blog_855
  • blogs_blog_856
  • blogs_blog_857
  • blogs_blog_1713
  • blogs_blog_858
  • blogs_blog_859
  • blogs_blog_860
  • blogs_blog_861
  • blogs_blog_864
  • blogs_blog_865
  • blogs_blog_866
  • blogs_blog_867
  • blogs_blog_868
  • blogs_blog_869
  • blogs_blog_870
  • blogs_blog_886
  • blogs_blog_871
  • blogs_blog_1408
  • blogs_blog_874
  • blogs_blog_872
  • blogs_blog_873
  • blogs_blog_877
  • blogs_blog_879
  • blogs_blog_880
  • blogs_blog_881
  • blogs_blog_882
  • blogs_blog_883
  • blogs_blog_884
  • blogs_blog_885
  • blogs_blog_887
  • blogs_blog_888
  • blogs_blog_889
  • blogs_blog_890
  • blogs_blog_891
  • blogs_blog_892
  • blogs_blog_893
  • blogs_blog_894
  • blogs_blog_895
  • blogs_blog_896
  • blogs_blog_897
  • blogs_blog_898
  • blogs_blog_899
  • blogs_blog_900
  • blogs_blog_901
  • blogs_blog_902
  • blogs_blog_903
  • blogs_blog_904
  • blogs_blog_905
  • blogs_blog_906
  • blogs_blog_907
  • blogs_blog_908
  • blogs_blog_909
  • blogs_blog_910
  • blogs_blog_911
  • blogs_blog_912
  • blogs_blog_913
  • blogs_blog_914
  • blogs_blog_915
  • blogs_blog_916
  • blogs_blog_917
  • blogs_blog_918
  • blogs_blog_919
  • blogs_blog_920
  • blogs_blog_922
  • blogs_blog_923
  • blogs_blog_924
  • blogs_blog_925
  • blogs_blog_926
  • blogs_blog_927
  • blogs_blog_928
  • blogs_blog_929
  • blogs_blog_930
  • blogs_blog_931
  • blogs_blog_932
  • blogs_blog_933
  • blogs_blog_934
  • blogs_blog_935
  • blogs_blog_936
  • blogs_blog_937
  • blogs_blog_938
  • blogs_blog_939
  • blogs_blog_940
  • blogs_blog_941
  • blogs_blog_942
  • blogs_blog_943
  • blogs_blog_944
  • blogs_blog_945
  • blogs_blog_946
  • blogs_blog_947
  • blogs_blog_948
  • blogs_blog_949
  • blogs_blog_966
  • blogs_blog_951
  • blogs_blog_952
  • blogs_blog_953
  • blogs_blog_954
  • blogs_blog_955
  • blogs_blog_956
  • blogs_blog_957
  • blogs_blog_958
  • blogs_blog_959
  • blogs_blog_960
  • blogs_blog_961
  • blogs_blog_962
  • blogs_blog_963
  • blogs_blog_964
  • blogs_blog_965
  • blogs_blog_967
  • blogs_blog_968
  • blogs_blog_969
  • blogs_blog_970
  • blogs_blog_971
  • blogs_blog_972
  • blogs_blog_973
  • blogs_blog_974
  • blogs_blog_975
  • blogs_blog_976
  • blogs_blog_977
  • blogs_blog_978
  • blogs_blog_979
  • blogs_blog_980
  • blogs_blog_981
  • blogs_blog_982
  • blogs_blog_983
  • blogs_blog_984
  • blogs_blog_985
  • blogs_blog_987
  • blogs_blog_988
  • blogs_blog_989
  • blogs_blog_990
  • blogs_blog_991
  • blogs_blog_992
  • blogs_blog_993
  • blogs_blog_994
  • blogs_blog_995
  • blogs_blog_996
  • Dr. Gerlicky's Miracle Diet
  • blogs_blog_998
  • blogs_blog_999
  • blogs_blog_1000
  • blogs_blog_1001
  • blogs_blog_1002
  • blogs_blog_1003
  • blogs_blog_1004
  • blogs_blog_1005
  • blogs_blog_1560
  • blogs_blog_1006
  • blogs_blog_1007
  • blogs_blog_1008
  • blogs_blog_1009
  • blogs_blog_1010
  • blogs_blog_1011
  • blogs_blog_1012
  • blogs_blog_1016
  • blogs_blog_1014
  • blogs_blog_1015
  • blogs_blog_1022
  • blogs_blog_1017
  • blogs_blog_1390
  • blogs_blog_1020
  • blogs_blog_1018
  • blogs_blog_1021
  • blogs_blog_1024
  • blogs_blog_1025
  • blogs_blog_1026
  • blogs_blog_1027
  • blogs_blog_1028
  • blogs_blog_1029
  • blogs_blog_1030
  • blogs_blog_1031
  • blogs_blog_1033
  • blogs_blog_1034
  • blogs_blog_1035
  • blogs_blog_1039
  • blogs_blog_1037
  • blogs_blog_1038
  • blogs_blog_1040
  • blogs_blog_1041
  • blogs_blog_1042
  • blogs_blog_1043
  • blogs_blog_1044
  • blogs_blog_1045
  • blogs_blog_1418
  • blogs_blog_1046
  • You're attacked by a Repair Nektann
  • blogs_blog_1048
  • blogs_blog_1845
  • blogs_blog_1846
  • blogs_blog_1050
  • blogs_blog_1051
  • blogs_blog_1052
  • blogs_blog_1053
  • blogs_blog_1054
  • blogs_blog_1055
  • blogs_blog_1056
  • blogs_blog_1057
  • blogs_blog_1059
  • blogs_blog_1060
  • blogs_blog_1061
  • blogs_blog_1063
  • blogs_blog_1062
  • blogs_blog_1064
  • blogs_blog_1065
  • blogs_blog_1066
  • The Fikou Web
  • blogs_blog_1068
  • blogs_blog_1069
  • blogs_blog_1099
  • blogs_blog_1070
  • blogs_blog_1071
  • blogs_blog_1072
  • blogs_blog_1075
  • blogs_blog_1073
  • blogs_blog_1074
  • blogs_blog_1079
  • blogs_blog_1089
  • blogs_blog_1078
  • blogs_blog_1076
  • blogs_blog_1077
  • blogs_blog_1080
  • blogs_blog_1081
  • blogs_blog_1084
  • blogs_blog_1082
  • blogs_blog_1083
  • blogs_blog_1086
  • blogs_blog_1087
  • blogs_blog_1088
  • blogs_blog_1090
  • blogs_blog_1091
  • blogs_blog_1686
  • blogs_blog_1681
  • blogs_blog_1092
  • blogs_blog_1356
  • blogs_blog_1093
  • blogs_blog_1094
  • blogs_blog_1362
  • Icecrown Citadel
  • blogs_blog_1096
  • Obligatory Volcano Lair
  • blogs_blog_1098
  • blogs_blog_1100
  • blogs_blog_1298
  • blogs_blog_1101
  • blogs_blog_1102
  • blogs_blog_1103
  • blogs_blog_1104
  • blogs_blog_1106
  • blogs_blog_1107
  • blogs_blog_1108
  • blogs_blog_1109
  • blogs_blog_1110
  • blogs_blog_1111
  • blogs_blog_1112
  • blogs_blog_1113
  • blogs_blog_1114
  • blogs_blog_1115
  • blogs_blog_1116
  • blogs_blog_1117
  • blogs_blog_1118
  • blogs_blog_1119
  • blogs_blog_1120
  • A Nerd's Corner
  • blogs_blog_1122
  • blogs_blog_1123
  • blogs_blog_1124
  • blogs_blog_1125
  • blogs_blog_1126
  • blogs_blog_1127
  • blogs_blog_1128
  • blogs_blog_1129
  • blogs_blog_1130
  • blogs_blog_1132
  • blogs_blog_1131
  • blogs_blog_1133
  • blogs_blog_1134
  • blogs_blog_1135
  • blogs_blog_1136
  • blogs_blog_1137
  • blogs_blog_1138
  • blogs_blog_1139
  • blogs_blog_1140
  • blogs_blog_1388
  • blogs_blog_1695
  • blogs_blog_1141
  • blogs_blog_1142
  • blogs_blog_1143
  • blogs_blog_1144
  • blogs_blog_1145
  • blogs_blog_1146
  • Zahaki's Lair
  • blogs_blog_1148
  • blogs_blog_1149
  • blogs_blog_1150
  • blogs_blog_1151
  • blogs_blog_1152
  • blogs_blog_1212
  • blogs_blog_1153
  • blogs_blog_1154
  • blogs_blog_1155
  • blogs_blog_1156
  • blogs_blog_1642
  • blogs_blog_1285
  • blogs_blog_1157
  • blogs_blog_1158
  • blogs_blog_1194
  • blogs_blog_1159
  • blogs_blog_1160
  • blogs_blog_1161
  • blogs_blog_1162
  • blogs_blog_1163
  • blogs_blog_1164
  • oh god blog titles
  • blogs_blog_1165
  • blogs_blog_1166
  • blogs_blog_1167
  • blogs_blog_1168
  • blogs_blog_1169
  • blogs_blog_1170
  • blogs_blog_1171
  • blogs_blog_1172
  • blogs_blog_1174
  • blogs_blog_1175
  • blogs_blog_1176
  • blogs_blog_1177
  • blogs_blog_1178
  • blogs_blog_1179
  • blogs_blog_1180
  • Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum
  • blogs_blog_1183
  • blogs_blog_1184
  • blogs_blog_1185
  • blogs_blog_1186
  • blogs_blog_1187
  • blogs_blog_1188
  • blogs_blog_1189
  • blogs_blog_1190
  • blogs_blog_1191
  • blogs_blog_1192
  • blogs_blog_1193
  • blogs_blog_1195
  • blogs_blog_1196
  • blogs_blog_1197
  • blogs_blog_1198
  • blogs_blog_1199
  • blogs_blog_1200
  • blogs_blog_1201
  • blogs_blog_1202
  • blogs_blog_1203
  • blogs_blog_1317
  • blogs_blog_1204
  • blogs_blog_1205
  • blogs_blog_1206
  • Keratu's Blog
  • blogs_blog_1209
  • blogs_blog_1210
  • blogs_blog_1211
  • blogs_blog_1213
  • blogs_blog_1214
  • blogs_blog_1215
  • blogs_blog_1216
  • blogs_blog_1217
  • blogs_blog_1218
  • blogs_blog_1219
  • blogs_blog_1220
  • blogs_blog_1221
  • blogs_blog_1222
  • blogs_blog_1223
  • blogs_blog_1224
  • blogs_blog_1225
  • blogs_blog_1226
  • blogs_blog_1227
  • blogs_blog_1228
  • blogs_blog_1229
  • blogs_blog_1230
  • blogs_blog_1231
  • blogs_blog_1232
  • blogs_blog_1345
  • blogs_blog_1307
  • blogs_blog_1233
  • blogs_blog_1234
  • blogs_blog_1238
  • blogs_blog_1235
  • blogs_blog_1236
  • blogs_blog_1237
  • blogs_blog_1474
  • blogs_blog_1239
  • blogs_blog_1240
  • blogs_blog_1305
  • blogs_blog_1241
  • blogs_blog_1242
  • blogs_blog_1364
  • blogs_blog_1243
  • blogs_blog_1244
  • blogs_blog_1245
  • blogs_blog_1246
  • blogs_blog_1247
  • blogs_blog_1250
  • blogs_blog_1248
  • blogs_blog_1249
  • blogs_blog_1254
  • blogs_blog_1251
  • blogs_blog_1252
  • blogs_blog_1253
  • blogs_blog_1255
  • blogs_blog_1256
  • blogs_blog_1257
  • blogs_blog_1258
  • blogs_blog_1259
  • blogs_blog_1613
  • blogs_blog_1260
  • blogs_blog_1300
  • blogs_blog_1261
  • blogs_blog_1262
  • blogs_blog_1263
  • blogs_blog_1264
  • blogs_blog_1265
  • blogs_blog_1266
  • blogs_blog_1267
  • blogs_blog_1268
  • blogs_blog_1269
  • blogs_blog_1270
  • blogs_blog_1271
  • blogs_blog_1272
  • blogs_blog_1273
  • blogs_blog_1274
  • blogs_blog_1275
  • blogs_blog_1276
  • blogs_blog_1351
  • blogs_blog_1277
  • blogs_blog_1278
  • blogs_blog_1279
  • blogs_blog_1280
  • blogs_blog_1281
  • blogs_blog_1282
  • blogs_blog_1283
  • blogs_blog_1308
  • blogs_blog_1286
  • ArtBLOGed
  • blogs_blog_1288
  • blogs_blog_1289
  • blogs_blog_1290
  • blogs_blog_1291
  • blogs_blog_1297
  • blogs_blog_1292
  • blogs_blog_1293
  • blogs_blog_1294
  • blogs_blog_1368
  • blogs_blog_1295
  • blogs_blog_1628
  • blogs_blog_1296
  • blogs_blog_1299
  • blogs_blog_1301
  • blogs_blog_1302
  • blogs_blog_1303
  • blogs_blog_1304
  • blogs_blog_1306
  • blogs_blog_1309
  • blogs_blog_1310
  • blogs_blog_1311
  • blogs_blog_1312
  • blogs_blog_1422
  • blogs_blog_1313
  • blogs_blog_1314
  • blogs_blog_1315
  • blogs_blog_1316
  • blogs_blog_1318
  • blogs_blog_1319
  • blogs_blog_1320
  • blogs_blog_1321
  • blogs_blog_1322
  • blogs_blog_1323
  • blogs_blog_1324
  • blogs_blog_1325
  • blogs_blog_1326
  • blogs_blog_1327
  • blogs_blog_1328
  • blogs_blog_1329
  • blogs_blog_1330
  • blogs_blog_1331
  • blogs_blog_1384
  • blogs_blog_1332
  • blogs_blog_1333
  • blogs_blog_1334
  • blogs_blog_1335
  • blogs_blog_1336
  • blogs_blog_1337
  • blogs_blog_1353
  • blogs_blog_1338
  • blogs_blog_1339
  • blogs_blog_1340
  • blogs_blog_1341
  • blogs_blog_1355
  • blogs_blog_1342
  • blogs_blog_1343
  • blogs_blog_1344
  • blogs_blog_1348
  • blogs_blog_1346
  • blogs_blog_1347
  • blogs_blog_1349
  • blogs_blog_1350
  • blogs_blog_1352
  • blogs_blog_1354
  • blogs_blog_1358
  • blogs_blog_1357
  • blogs_blog_1359
  • blogs_blog_1360
  • blogs_blog_1361
  • blogs_blog_1363
  • blogs_blog_1365
  • blogs_blog_1367
  • blogs_blog_1366
  • blogs_blog_1369
  • blogs_blog_1370
  • blogs_blog_1371
  • blogs_blog_1374
  • blogs_blog_1372
  • blogs_blog_1373
  • blogs_blog_1375
  • blogs_blog_1376
  • blogs_blog_1377
  • blogs_blog_1378
  • blogs_blog_1379
  • blogs_blog_1380
  • blogs_blog_1381
  • blogs_blog_1386
  • blogs_blog_1382
  • blogs_blog_1383
  • blogs_blog_1385
  • blogs_blog_1387
  • blogs_blog_1389
  • blogs_blog_1392
  • blogs_blog_1393
  • blogs_blog_1394
  • blogs_blog_1395
  • blogs_blog_1396
  • Koth Blog
  • blogs_blog_1399
  • blogs_blog_1400
  • blogs_blog_1404
  • blogs_blog_1401
  • blogs_blog_1402
  • blogs_blog_1403
  • blogs_blog_1405
  • blogs_blog_1406
  • blogs_blog_1413
  • blogs_blog_1409
  • blogs_blog_1410
  • blogs_blog_1411
  • blogs_blog_1412
  • blogs_blog_1414
  • blogs_blog_1415
  • blogs_blog_1416
  • blogs_blog_1417
  • blogs_blog_1419
  • blogs_blog_1420
  • The Lair 1421
  • blogs_blog_1423
  • blogs_blog_1424
  • blogs_blog_1425
  • blogs_blog_1428
  • blogs_blog_1426
  • blogs_blog_1427
  • blogs_blog_1429
  • blogs_blog_1430
  • blogs_blog_1442
  • Mishaps and Bubblewrap
  • blogs_blog_1432
  • blogs_blog_1433
  • blogs_blog_1434
  • blogs_blog_1437
  • blogs_blog_1438
  • blogs_blog_1510
  • blogs_blog_1439
  • blogs_blog_1440
  • blogs_blog_1905
  • blogs_blog_1718
  • blogs_blog_1441
  • blogs_blog_1443
  • blogs_blog_1446
  • blogs_blog_1447
  • blogs_blog_1448
  • blogs_blog_1449
  • blogs_blog_1450
  • blogs_blog_1451
  • blogs_blog_1452
  • blogs_blog_1453
  • blogs_blog_1454
  • blogs_blog_1455
  • blogs_blog_1456
  • blogs_blog_1457
  • blogs_blog_1458
  • blogs_blog_1459
  • blogs_blog_1460
  • blogs_blog_1461
  • blogs_blog_1462
  • blogs_blog_1463
  • blogs_blog_1612
  • blogs_blog_1465
  • blogs_blog_1466
  • blogs_blog_1467
  • blogs_blog_1468
  • blogs_blog_1619
  • blogs_blog_1469
  • blogs_blog_1470
  • blogs_blog_1471
  • blogs_blog_1472
  • blogs_blog_1473
  • blogs_blog_1475
  • blogs_blog_1476
  • blogs_blog_1477
  • blogs_blog_1478
  • blogs_blog_1479
  • blogs_blog_1480
  • blogs_blog_1481
  • blogs_blog_1482
  • blogs_blog_1483
  • blogs_blog_1484
  • blogs_blog_1486
  • blogs_blog_1487
  • blogs_blog_1488
  • blogs_blog_1489
  • blogs_blog_1490
  • blogs_blog_1491
  • blogs_blog_1492
  • blogs_blog_1493
  • blogs_blog_1496
  • blogs_blog_1494
  • The Blog which may or may not exist.
  • blogs_blog_1670
  • blogs_blog_1497
  • blogs_blog_1903
  • blogs_blog_1498
  • blogs_blog_1499
  • blogs_blog_1500
  • blogs_blog_1502
  • blogs_blog_1503
  • blogs_blog_1504
  • blogs_blog_1505
  • blogs_blog_1506
  • blogs_blog_1507
  • blogs_blog_1508
  • blogs_blog_1509
  • blogs_blog_1511
  • blogs_blog_1512
  • blogs_blog_1513
  • blogs_blog_1514
  • blogs_blog_1515
  • blogs_blog_1516
  • blogs_blog_1517
  • blogs_blog_1518
  • blogs_blog_1519
  • blogs_blog_1815
  • blogs_blog_1520
  • blogs_blog_1521
  • blogs_blog_1522
  • blogs_blog_1523
  • blogs_blog_1524
  • blogs_blog_1525
  • blogs_blog_1526
  • blogs_blog_1527
  • blogs_blog_1528
  • blogs_blog_1529
  • blogs_blog_1530
  • blogs_blog_1531
  • blogs_blog_1533
  • blogs_blog_1534
  • blogs_blog_1535
  • blogs_blog_1536
  • blogs_blog_1537
  • blogs_blog_1538
  • blogs_blog_1539
  • blogs_blog_1540
  • blogs_blog_1546
  • blogs_blog_1541
  • blogs_blog_1542
  • blogs_blog_1543
  • blogs_blog_1544
  • blogs_blog_1553
  • blogs_blog_1545
  • blogs_blog_1547
  • blogs_blog_1548
  • blogs_blog_1549
  • blogs_blog_1550
  • blogs_blog_1551
  • blogs_blog_1552
  • blogs_blog_1554
  • blogs_blog_1555
  • blogs_blog_1556
  • blogs_blog_1557
  • blogs_blog_1558
  • blogs_blog_1570
  • blogs_blog_1563
  • blogs_blog_1561
  • blogs_blog_1562
  • blogs_blog_1564
  • blogs_blog_1565
  • blogs_blog_1566
  • blogs_blog_1567
  • blogs_blog_1568
  • blogs_blog_1569
  • blogs_blog_1571
  • blogs_blog_1572
  • blogs_blog_1573
  • blogs_blog_1581
  • blogs_blog_1574
  • blogs_blog_1575
  • blogs_blog_1576
  • blogs_blog_1582
  • blogs_blog_1577
  • blogs_blog_1578
  • blogs_blog_1583
  • blogs_blog_1580
  • blogs_blog_1579
  • blogs_blog_1586
  • blogs_blog_1584
  • blogs_blog_1587
  • blogs_blog_1588
  • blogs_blog_1589
  • blogs_blog_1591
  • JMSOG's Strange Blog
  • blogs_blog_1596
  • blogs_blog_1594
  • blogs_blog_1595
  • blogs_blog_1864
  • blogs_blog_1597
  • blogs_blog_1598
  • blogs_blog_1599
  • Space
  • blogs_blog_1601
  • blogs_blog_1603
  • blogs_blog_1602
  • A Blog in Oblivion
  • blogs_blog_1606
  • blogs_blog_1607
  • blogs_blog_1634
  • blogs_blog_1608
  • blogs_blog_1708
  • blogs_blog_1609
  • blogs_blog_1610
  • blogs_blog_1611
  • blogs_blog_1614
  • blogs_blog_1881
  • blogs_blog_1615
  • blogs_blog_1662
  • blogs_blog_1616
  • blogs_blog_1617
  • blogs_blog_1618
  • blogs_blog_1620
  • blogs_blog_1621
  • blogs_blog_1622
  • blogs_blog_1623
  • blogs_blog_1624
  • blogs_blog_1625
  • blogs_blog_1626
  • blogs_blog_1627
  • blogs_blog_1630
  • blogs_blog_1631
  • blogs_blog_1632
  • blogs_blog_1633
  • blogs_blog_1635
  • blogs_blog_1636
  • blogs_blog_1637
  • blogs_blog_1638
  • blogs_blog_1639
  • blogs_blog_1640
  • blogs_blog_1641
  • Garreg Mach
  • blogs_blog_1904
  • blogs_blog_1643
  • blogs_blog_1645
  • blogs_blog_1646
  • blogs_blog_1651
  • blogs_blog_1647
  • blogs_blog_1648
  • blogs_blog_1649
  • Unspoken Words
  • blogs_blog_1907
  • blogs_blog_1871
  • blogs_blog_1652
  • blogs_blog_1653
  • blogs_blog_1654
  • blogs_blog_1655
  • blogs_blog_1656
  • blogs_blog_1657
  • blogs_blog_1658
  • blogs_blog_1659
  • The Island
  • blogs_blog_1667
  • blogs_blog_1661
  • blogs_blog_1663
  • blogs_blog_1664
  • blogs_blog_1665
  • blogs_blog_1668
  • blogs_blog_1666
  • blogs_blog_1669
  • blogs_blog_1671
  • blogs_blog_1672
  • blogs_blog_1673
  • blogs_blog_1674
  • blogs_blog_1675
  • blogs_blog_1676
  • blogs_blog_1677
  • blogs_blog_1678
  • blogs_blog_1679
  • blogs_blog_1680
  • blogs_blog_1683
  • blogs_blog_1684
  • blogs_blog_1685
  • blogs_blog_1687
  • blogs_blog_1688
  • blogs_blog_1689
  • blogs_blog_1690
  • blogs_blog_1691
  • blogs_blog_1692
  • Onaku's Blog Thingie
  • blogs_blog_1694
  • blogs_blog_1696
  • blogs_blog_1706
  • Between the Bookends
  • blogs_blog_1698
  • blogs_blog_1699
  • blogs_blog_1700
  • blogs_blog_1701
  • blogs_blog_1702
  • blogs_blog_1866
  • blogs_blog_1703
  • blogs_blog_1704
  • blogs_blog_1705
  • blogs_blog_1707
  • blogs_blog_1709
  • blogs_blog_1710
  • blogs_blog_1711
  • blogs_blog_1712
  • blogs_blog_1714
  • blogs_blog_1715
  • blogs_blog_1716
  • blogs_blog_1717
  • blogs_blog_1720
  • blogs_blog_1719
  • blogs_blog_1721
  • blogs_blog_1722
  • blogs_blog_1725
  • blogs_blog_1726
  • blogs_blog_1727
  • blogs_blog_1728
  • blogs_blog_1729
  • blogs_blog_1730
  • blogs_blog_1731
  • blogs_blog_1732
  • blogs_blog_1733
  • blogs_blog_1734
  • blogs_blog_1735
  • blogs_blog_1736
  • blogs_blog_1737
  • blogs_blog_1738
  • blogs_blog_1739
  • blogs_blog_1740
  • blogs_blog_1768
  • blogs_blog_1741
  • blogs_blog_1742
  • blogs_blog_1743
  • blogs_blog_1744
  • blogs_blog_1749
  • blogs_blog_1745
  • blogs_blog_1746
  • blogs_blog_1747
  • blogs_blog_1748
  • blogs_blog_1750
  • blogs_blog_1751
  • blogs_blog_1752
  • blog ehks
  • blogs_blog_1798
  • blogs_blog_1755
  • blogs_blog_1756
  • blogs_blog_1757
  • blogs_blog_1765
  • blogs_blog_1758
  • blogs_blog_1759
  • blogs_blog_1760
  • blogs_blog_1761
  • blogs_blog_1762
  • blogs_blog_1763
  • blogs_blog_1764
  • blogs_blog_1767
  • blogs_blog_1766
  • blogs_blog_1772
  • blogs_blog_1769
  • blogs_blog_1770
  • blogs_blog_1771
  • blogs_blog_1773
  • blogs_blog_1774
  • blogs_blog_1775
  • blogs_blog_1776
  • blogs_blog_1777
  • Generic Blog Name
  • blogs_blog_1779
  • blogs_blog_1780
  • blogs_blog_1781
  • blogs_blog_1782
  • blogs_blog_1783
  • blogs_blog_1784
  • blogs_blog_1785
  • blogs_blog_1786
  • blogs_blog_1787
  • blogs_blog_1788
  • blogs_blog_1789
  • blogs_blog_1790
  • blogs_blog_1791
  • blogs_blog_1792
  • blogs_blog_1795
  • blogs_blog_1796
  • blogs_blog_1797
  • blogs_blog_1799
  • blogs_blog_1800
  • blogs_blog_1801
  • blogs_blog_1802
  • Blog Name Here
  • blogs_blog_1804
  • blogs_blog_1805
  • blogs_blog_1806
  • blogs_blog_1807
  • blogs_blog_1808
  • blogs_blog_1809
  • blogs_blog_1810
  • blogs_blog_1811
  • blogs_blog_1812
  • blogs_blog_1813
  • blogs_blog_1814
  • blogs_blog_1816
  • blogs_blog_1817
  • blogs_blog_1818
  • blogs_blog_1819
  • blogs_blog_1820
  • blogs_blog_1821
  • blogs_blog_1822
  • blogs_blog_1823
  • blogs_blog_1824
  • blogs_blog_1825
  • blogs_blog_1826
  • blogs_blog_1827
  • blogs_blog_1828
  • blogs_blog_1834
  • blogs_blog_1829
  • blogs_blog_1830
  • blogs_blog_1831
  • Sybre's Log
  • blogs_blog_1833
  • blogs_blog_1859
  • blogs_blog_1835
  • blogs_blog_1836
  • blogs_blog_1837
  • blogs_blog_1838
  • blogs_blog_1839
  • blogs_blog_1847
  • blogs_blog_1840
  • Diary of A Forgotten Man
  • blogs_blog_1849
  • blogs_blog_1850
  • blogs_blog_1851
  • blogs_blog_1852
  • blogs_blog_1870
  • Valendale's Reflections
  • blogs_blog_1854
  • blogs_blog_1855
  • blogs_blog_1856
  • blogs_blog_1857
  • blogs_blog_1858
  • blogs_blog_1860
  • Kranan's Floating Isle
  • blogs_blog_1862
  • blogs_blog_1863
  • blogs_blog_1865
  • blogs_blog_1867
  • Time to put on a show...
  • blogs_blog_1869
  • blogs_blog_1886
  • blogs_blog_1872
  • blogs_blog_1873
  • blogs_blog_1874
  • blogs_blog_1875
  • blogs_blog_1876
  • blogs_blog_1877
  • blogs_blog_1878
  • blogs_blog_1899
  • blogs_blog_1879
  • blogs_blog_1880
  • blogs_blog_1893
  • blogs_blog_1882
  • blogs_blog_1887
  • blogs_blog_1883
  • blogs_blog_1884
  • blogs_blog_1885
  • blogs_blog_1889
  • blogs_blog_1898
  • blogs_blog_1890
  • Inverted Moon
  • blogs_blog_1892
  • blogs_blog_1894
  • blogs_blog_1895
  • blogs_blog_1896
  • blogs_blog_1897
  • blogs_blog_1900
  • blogs_blog_1901
  • Blognle
  • it's summer and we're running out of ice
  • blogs_blog_1908
  • blogs_blog_1909
  • blogs_blog_1910
  • blogs_blog_1911

Product Groups

  • Premier Membership
  • BioniLUG
  • BrickFair Events
    • BrickFair Party Campaign (In-Person)
    • BrickFair Party Campaign (Online)
  • Parts Drafts
  • Merchandise

Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


Twitter


Instagram


Facebook


Discord


YouTube


Flickr


Skype


Website URL


LEGO.com Account


AIM


Location


Interests


Previous Username

Found 8 results

  1. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "She thinks she is deep-hiding, but what she does not realize is that she will perish like the rest of us!" "You seem to believe that we will perish." "And you do not?" _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Bionicle: Moirai: Review Topic By Alex Palm Chapter Select _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Before Le-Koro knew how to train and fly Gukkos, and before Kongu was the Captain of the Force, the village struggled heavily to defend itself against Makuta's forces, primarily against the Nui-Rama swarms: A powerful and merciless enemy characterized by vast numbers and sharp claws. Le-Koro - unable to properly combat the Nui-Rama - has built various squads to seek out and destroy Rama hives in order to drive back the enemy. These guerrilla forces live an incredibly dangerous life, full of doubts and deaths. But their job is too important to be left to nobody at all: They must protect their home. Hidden away in the trees, Le-Koro is hardly a village. It is at war, and it is losing. Hardly able to fight back on the front lines, Le-Koro is losing hope. With more and more casualties, their numbers are dwindling. They cannot hope to defend themselves from extinction unless a solution is found. Bionicle: Moirai follows some of the original defenders of Le-Koro during their war with Makuta, including Kongu. Kongu is the newest addition to one of the oldest teams of Le-Koro. who's made a name for himself as a capable warrior and Le-Koro's fastest leaf-runner. Struggling with ideological battles and the constant threat of death by the Swarm, Kongu's friend and fellow soldier Karata is searching for a last-ditch solution to the problem on everybody's minds: They cannot survive much longer. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Notably, in canon, we have never seen a full explanation for what occurred between the time that the villages were being built, and the time that the Toa Mata arrived to the island, leaving me with plenty of breathing space. That being said, I do not claim to not contradict canon. This particular story is meant to be a precursor to my iteration of Kongu that I play in the BZPRPG. This includes the implementation of certain aspects of the Gukko Force that I've built while playing Kongu there: Characters that existed but are never explored in canon, and original characters. I want to tell what the BZPRPG's Gukko Force's history is. And this is it. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Lies are as relentless as the storm, and as treacherous as the Rama-swarms. Do not take comfort in them." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
  2. Palm

    Bionicle: Moirai

    _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "She thinks she is deep-hiding, but what she does not realize is that she will perish like the rest of us!" "You seem to believe that we will perish." "And you do not?" _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Bionicle: Moirai By Alex Palm Review Topic Chapter Select . Prelude . Silence . First Time . The Knot . Drop and Go . - _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Before Le-Koro knew how to train and fly Gukkos, and before Kongu was the Captain of the Force, the village struggled heavily to defend itself against Makuta's forces, primarily against the Nui-Rama swarms: A powerful and merciless enemy characterized by vast numbers and sharp claws. Le-Koro - unable to properly combat the Nui-Rama - has built various squads to seek out and destroy Rama hives in order to drive back the enemy. These guerrilla forces live an incredibly dangerous life, full of doubts and deaths. But their job is too important to be left to nobody at all: They must protect their home. Hidden away in the trees, Le-Koro is hardly a village. It is at war, and it is losing. Hardly able to fight back on the front lines, Le-Koro is losing hope. With more and more casualties, their numbers are dwindling. They cannot hope to defend themselves from extinction unless a solution is found. Bionicle: Moirai follows some of the original defenders of Le-Koro during their war with Makuta, including Kongu. Kongu is the newest addition to one of the oldest teams of Le-Koro. who's made a name for himself as a capable warrior and Le-Koro's fastest leaf-runner. Struggling with ideological battles and the constant threat of death by the Swarm, Kongu's friend and fellow soldier Karata is searching for a last-ditch solution to the problem on everybody's minds: They cannot survive much longer. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Notably, in canon, we have never seen a full explanation for what occurred between the time that the villages were being built, and the time that the Toa Mata arrived to the island, leaving me with plenty of breathing space. That being said, I do not claim to not contradict canon. This particular story is meant to be a precursor to my iteration of Kongu that I play in the BZPRPG. This includes the implementation of certain aspects of the Gukko Force that I've built while playing Kongu there: Characters that existed but are never explored in canon, and original characters. I want to tell what the BZPRPG's Gukko Force's history is. And this is it. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Lies are as relentless as the storm, and as treacherous as the Rama-swarms. Do not take comfort in them." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ . Prelude Chapter Select Review Topic Hidden in the shadows, a figure was crouched quietly. Perched upon the strong thick branch, the figure's soft yellow eyes watched the darkness with great intent. Above his obscured head, one hand held onto a wet branch, the fingers wrapped tightly around it as if his life depended on it. In his other hand was a long spear knife, gripped just as tightly. Just under the stone edge was an assortment of beads and feathers. On his back he wore a heavy bamboo disk, covered in a dark ornate pattern, adding to the weight he had upon his perch. Additionally, around his waist the figure wore a long slender knife. Made of bone, it was clear that the blade had seen plenty of use. It had been discolored over time; stained by the insides of his enemy. The handle of the blade had been messily painted. The bright yellows, reds, and blues had begun to fade away as well, an indicator of its age. The figure readjusted his handle on the tree-branch, shifting his weight to his other hip. It had not stopped raining for over three days now. The Matoran glanced upwards, trying to see through the assorted leaves, his eyes blinking unintentionally as each drop struck his face. Through the heavy foliage and the falling droplets, the yellow eyes gazed upwards, longing for the stars to come out again. He had not forgotten that the clouds still covered them, but it didn't stop him from trying to see anyways. He breathed in, letting out a heavy sigh as he closed his eyes. He could feel the wet drops of rain roll down his face and his shoulders, cooling him off. Kongu wished to see the stars again almost as much as he wished for the war to be over. The Matoran of Air turned his gaze back to the darkness, letting his hand leave the first branch to grip onto another one. He moved forward away from the branch, closer to the darkness, Kongu's yellow eyes regained their attentiveness, just as a low whistle sounded behind and below him. Kongu did not remove his eyes from the deeper jungle, but he did return the whistle. After a moment, Kongu - under the sounds of the heavy rain - could hear the slight scuffing of foot on branch directly behind him. He turned his head to see the newcomer. She, like Kongu, had many dark complex tattoos along her body, wrapping mostly around her torso, but some extended to the forearms and lower legs. Her face was slim and serious, her muscular body pulling herself closer to Kongu. She whispered a simple greeting to her fellow Matoran of Air, "Kongu." Kongu gives her a small soft smile, "Kana." "How is your watch?" She asks, rather simply, stepping over to an adjacent branch. The wood bends slightly, and water falls from the leaves. Kana vanishes behind a veil of black-greens. "It is well." Kongu responds, "I have not heard nor seen any sign of trouble-danger since this morning." He says, pausing for quite a while, "I do wish the rain-fall would stop though." "I thought you liked the rain-fall," the faceless voice spoke from her position next to Kongu. "Rain-fall, yes. Crazy-storm, not so much. Not ones that last this long at least," Kongu sighs before suddenly speaking with a slightly more pleased tone, as if remembering something important to him, "The jungle-song is drowned out, and I cannot see the sun or the moon." "At least it slows them down." Kana says flatly. Neither say anything, the mere mention of the creatures they fight bringing the conversation to a sudden sullen stop. They sit for a long time, not speaking, totally silent. Kongu's gripping his spear somewhat nervously while Kana continues to look on; still invisible to even Kongu's eyes. After at least five or six minutes Kana looks over to Kongu, trying to spot an outline in his muscular form against the night. She's unable to as a result of the darkness. She changes the subject, "Do you think Karata has found her solution Kongu?" Kongu mulls this over for a minute, chewing down on his lip as he changes his position to a seated one, "I do not know," he says slowly, turning his head over to where he knows Kana is crouched, "What do you think?" "With respect," Kana starts, also sitting, "Nobody has ever ridden a Gukko before. I think that wind-flying is impossible, and Karata is wasting her time trying," the Leaf-runner says with a clear sense of disdain. Kongu's eyes remain affixed on the darkness ahead, having shifted away from his friend who continues, "It is nothing more than a foolish dream, and Karata is nothing more than a slow-thinking fool if she wishes to chase that dream while the rest of us are fighting. Some of us dying," Kongu doesn't say anything, remaining rather quiet, "I think she is simply afraid of the fate that awaits her out here in the jungle, and has constructed a lie to allow her to stay behind without consequence. She has tricked Turaga Matau in an effort to stay alive, when we all know very well-" He has heard a similar spiel before. Not just from Kana either. Kongu interrupts calmly, "That she will suffer the same fate we will?" already knowing the end of her sentence before she could've spoken it. "Yes! She thinks she is deep-hiding, but what she does not realize is that she will perish like the rest of us!" "You seem to believe that we will perish," The Matoran of Air says with a sense of defiance, finally looking away from the jungle depths and back at Kana. "And you do not?" Kana says with some volume of venom in her tone, "Kongu, you know better than I, the Rama-swarm is too great an enemy for us." Kongu falls silent. Time passes as quickly as the rain falls. Kongu now feeling the water not as a coolant, but as a heavy weight; bogging him down and making him feel weary. Kana looks down with a softened look on her face, hidden by the shadow. Her voice is slightly shaken and low, "The Captain said you can go back to the camp now." Kongu nods and pulls himself back up into a seated position, not saying anything, "And Kongu?" He stops, turning again to Kana, "Yes Kana? "Lies are as relentless as the storm, and as treacherous as the Rama-swarms," She looks to him, "Do not take comfort in them." Kongu doesn't say anything, and instead slips silently to a lower branch next to the trunk, leaving Kana to watch the darkness alone.
  3. Hello, folks. As you probably guessed, this is the review topic for the FTL prequel story "Red Skies", Discussion of the story itself should be done here, rather than cluttering the game topic. As an author's note; As you've probably guessed if you're reading this, this story is the prequel to the RPG currently running. It details the story of the Invasion of Terra, as told largely from the viewpoint of then-Captain Daniels, along with cameo appearances of other characters from the RPG. All of the broad events and details in this story have been provided by the ever-patient Humva, and he has fact-checked anything I have come up with. There will likely be eight installments, each one at least as long as the first. Cameo appearances will start a little later, and if you want one for a character, let me know and I'll try to slip it in. Enjoy. Story Topic
  4. The First Day "Red sky at morning, sailors take warning." -Nautical proverb Year 94 ALT (After Light Travel) Earth Orbit, Sol System 19:34 Hours Laughter filtered through the air of the Officer’s Lounge, emanating largely from the cluster of men and women seated around a small card’s table. Those that hadn’t been laughing gave exaggerated sighs, and in a few cases, muttered, awestruck profanity. A dark-haired woman in her late twenties, rank insignia identifying her as a Captain, drew a mound of poker chips from the center towards her, grinning widely. “And that, friends, is why you never, ever bet against me.” “Geez, Izumi, remind us all why you’re here, and not at some poker championship somewhere?” The speaker, himself a Captain, was a dirty blonde man with a wry grin, looking to be in his early thirties. He shook his head, looking across the table at another of the officers. “Stein, you’re a commanding officer; Aren’t you supposed to be inscrutable or something?” “Talk to me when I’m not on my third drink, Layton.” The other man quipped, raising his glass as if in salute only to take a long sip from it. Izumi, meanwhile, just grinned smugly at the other Captain, taking a sip from her own drink. “Besides, I don’t think it’d do me any good. This crowd, you’re all luckier than God, and I don’t understand it.” “I’ll personally settle for being as lucky as God.” A brown-haired man remarked from the seat to Layton’s immediate left, chin in his hand. “I swear, if I were any less careful you’d play me for all I had.” “Wouldn’t be hard!” Stein remarked, prompting another round of laughter. The brown-haired man rolled his eyes, turning around to signal for a drink. “That said, Daniels, I hear your movie collection’s probably worth more than my entire salary, and I outrank you.” “That might be a bit of an exaggeration. How much do you make?” “Ssh, sssh, Will, don’t remind him; He works on a cruiser, it’s a touchy subject for him.” Layton commented mischievously, only laughing when the Lieutenant Colonel, in the midst of taking a drink, simply glared at him over the rim of his glass. Izumi chuckled under her breath, attention momentarily diverted from the stacks of chips she’d been in the process of organizing. “Don’t get too smug, Captain. You’re not likely to get lucky enough to stay on a ship like this when you get to where I am. If I get the chance, I’ll see to it that you get assigned to the smallest ship in the fleet!” Layton gave a look of mock fright, before returning to his grin and shaking his head. “I don’t know, sir. You heard the shipboard whisperings?” “About the Colonel?” Izumi asked, looking up from her cards, eyes fixing on her colleague curiously. “I’ve heard a few of those. Reid tells me that he’s had more transmissions from Munich than usual lately.” “Yeah, about the Colonel.” Layton confirmed, leaning back in his seat. “People’ve been thinking that he might be getting promoted. Can’t say it’d surprise me, either. He’s practically a legend, and he’s been at his rank about the right time.” “I don’t think he’d leave the Archangel.” Will commented, sipping at his drink thoughtfully. “He’s been serving on this ship what, almost forty years? He’s never been away from it long. It’s more home for him than Earth, I’d be willing to bet. Besides, does anyone here really see Bryant as a General? He’d hate the bureaucracy.” “Well, regardless, ladies and gentlemen,” The Lieutenant Colonel began, setting his glass down and his cards with it. “It’s been a blast, but Colonel O’Reilly will be expecting me back on the Defiant soon. And I’m on duty in the morning, and she’ll skin me if I have a hangover.” As he stood to depart, the dark haired woman stood with him, pushing in her chair. No one was particularly surprised; She was the Security Chief, it was her job to see that visiting officers were escorted wherever they were headed. The Lt. Colonel paused long enough to gather his things and nod to his fellows before walking to the door, flanked by the Captain. William sighed, setting his own cards down and gathering them up, while Layton gathered the various glasses from around the table. “Hey, Mark,” The Captain said, getting his friend’s attention while he shuffled the cards idly. “Do you think the Colonel’s going to get promoted?” “I don’t see how he won’t.” The other officer replied, organizing the glasses on a tray and tossing the assorted bits of trash into a nearby receptacle. “He’s been in the Forces for forty, fifty years, right? Records show he did more than a few tours out in the colonies, and some rough ones at that. A clear pick, if I ever saw one.” Will tapped the cards against the table, the sound easily audible in the now quiet lounge. He looked thoughtful, sliding the deck back into its sleeve without really looking at it. After a few moments he shrugged, slipping the cards into a pocket. “Well, I suppose we’ll find out after the main fleet gets back.” “Yeah. How long’s that going to be, anyway? They’ve been gone over a week.” “About another week, most likely.” The Captain responded, sliding his chair out to stand, and glancing about to make sure that a mess hadn’t been left behind. “The trip to the Engi homeworld takes quite a while. Til then, we’re one of the thirty ships left guarding Earth.” “And isn’t that the most boring job ever.” His counterpart commented, rolling his eyes. The duo moved for the door after raising a hand in farewell to the staff of the lounge, never ceasing their conversation. “I mean really. Thirty ships doesn’t seem like much, but nothing ever gets through to Earth. I hate patrolling so close to home, it’s just too easy. Not what a ship like this should be doing, either. I want to be back out in the colonies, near the edge of our turf. Back out where the pirates are, where all the universe’s odd-” “No, you want to be a hero.” The brown-haired man interrupted in amusement, raising an eyebrow at his friend’s look of mock indignation. “Don’t give me that look, Mark. You and I both know it’s true. You want to climb the ladder, want to make a difference. And maybe get into the history books while you’re at it. You never shut up about it back at the Academy.” “Alright, fine, you win.” The Navigations Officer replied good-naturedly, slipping his hands into his pockets casually. “Besides, everyone wants to do something cool. Climbing the ranks is just a bonus. A bonus with a bigger paycheck, admittedly.” Will chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as their path took them to an intersection in the hallway. Both men turned left, greeting familiar faces as they passed. The hallways weren’t very crowded, not at this time of night, but they were made to accommodate plenty of movement. Their footsteps made little sound as they turned the corner, continuing on their way without breaking stride. The ship’s hallways were a maze to those not familiar with them, but for the ship’s crew, they were almost like home. A very large home, admittedly, but home for the crew of five thousand. That said, most of the crew never really went through the passages the two officers currently walked; The officer’s lounge was off the beaten path, and with only ten percent of the crew at most composed of officers, there wasn’t much of a point for them to be traveled. “Besides, Will,” Mark began again, looking over at his friend as he broke the silence. “Don’t you want to move up in the world? Maybe even be a hero?” “Never really been a concern for me.” The Weapons Officer replied, shrugging slightly. “I mean, I wouldn’t turn down a promotion. But I’m the primary Weapons Officer on board a Dominion-class battleship, already a Captain, and I’m barely thirty. Not too bad, all things considered, and my paycheck’s pretty nice as is.” “Well, to each their own, I suppose. Hey, you’re still supplying the movies for tomorrow night, right?” The event in question was a well known one, among the crew members of the Archangel at least. Organized by the officers of the ship, there was a night once a month where the ship’s crew could gather to watch a movie on a larger screen, or take part in any number of related activities. The event ran a full twenty four hour day to ensure that everyone would have a chance to attend, regardless of shift, and it was custom for the crew members to supply films from their own collections. Daniels was a frequent participant, hence why so many of the features tended to be of the science fiction genre. Not that the crew tended to mind; Old science fiction tended to be more like reality for them, what with how technology had advanced. “A few of them, yeah. “ “Science fiction again?” “... Perhaps.” The Weapons Officer said evasively, though judging by his friend’s laughter, it wasn’t in the slightest bit convincing. Daniels rolled his eyes, glancing at his watch. “Oh, be quiet. I think I’m going to get some water and turn in earlier. We’ve got the first shift in the morning.” “Probably wise. I’ll stop by Reid’s quarters, see if she needs anything for tomorrow. I’ll come back after that and get some sleep.” The pair paused at the next intersection, Daniels nodding to the Navigation Officer and raising a hand in goodbye, before taking the right hand corridor. The walk wasn’t as long as one would have expected; Despite the battleship’s large size, it was set up with practicality and purpose. The officers’ quarters were situated not far from the Officers’ Lounge, and neither one was set very far from the ship’s bridge. The quarters for the enlisted were further away, closer to the maintenance rooms and the armory, allowing them to reach the rooms related to their duties more easily. There wasn’t much of a difference between the two types of rooms, bar location and accommodations. As William keyed the access code to his quarters, he took a moment to look about, taking in the familiar sights. His quarters were divided to accommodate two occupants, whereas the enlisted rooms held more. In this case, the occupants were himself and Captain Layton, and it was easy to see which side of the room was which. Where Daniel’s side was tidy and well-organized, Layton’s had more surface clutter. Their personal effects were an easy indicator, as well; Where William had cases for data drives labeled with the list of fiction contained within and printouts of the public copies of new weapons research, his roommate had games and the evidence of his pastimes, including a deck of cards perched precariously on his desk. A battered and off-used coffee maker sat next to the personal computer, the catalyst for significant productivity. Not that the Weapons Officer paid these things much mind; He took only the time to change out of his uniform, check for announcements on the ship’s main network, and then sink into his bunk. The past few days had been boring as far as duties went, but the crew had used the easy assignments to make time for more recreation than usual. Time at the pool, games in the recreation room, movies, and of course, cards in the Lounge. Between it all, he was more than ready to sleep. His thoughts as he drifted off to sleep were of plans for enjoyment, lists of the duties he would attend to in the morning, and little more than his daily routine. Blissfully unaware that nothing would ever be routine again. *************************** Outer Lunar Sensory Array 22:17 Hours In the space, even so close to the Moon, nothing ever happened. Little moved outside of scheduled flights or military patrols. The latter were particularly thin; Though the colonies maintained their own defenses, the vast majority of the Confederate fleet had been gone for quite some time on their trip to the Engi homeworld. The sensor station’s duties were simple, and monotonous. It watched for FTL travel, and kept a watchful eye for any threats. Raiders, usually, raiders and pirates. There hadn’t been many insurgencies for quite some time, though rebellious colonists had been a significant issue a few years back. Nevertheless, it rarely had need to perform any duties beyond simple monitoring of its sector of space. The stillness was rarely broken, the drudgery of idle work seldom disturbed. Perhaps that is why, when the station did detect something and sent the data back, the initial reaction was disbelief. Operators, unsure of what they were seeing, checked their equipment for malfunctions. That was the most likely explanation, after all; No matter how hardily built their devices were, unmanned stations would inevitably suffer from errors. In this case, it simply had to be an error. There was no way it could be correct. Nervous operators nevertheless passed the information on through the chain of command, all the way to the commander of the forces in orbit around Earth. They worked quickly, analysts woken and brought to their stations to verify what the sensory array was reporting. Precious minutes passed until, after the reports had been analyzed and the array’s systems checked for malfunction, the operators were forced to accept that their readings were correct. The knowledge set off a frenzy of motion and activity, weariness instantly forgotten. General Pauls, stationed at Proxima Base, received word nine minutes after the sensor’s initial notification, and the commanding crews of the ships in orbit around Earth received word seven minutes after. The ships guarding the colonies had less warning; Word reached them a few minutes after the others, depending on where they were stationed. The information was spread as fast as it could be, but as the estimated arrival time carried with it indicated, their warning came only just before the storm. ******************** TCV Archangel Earth Orbit 22:24 Hours The blissful rest of sleep was interrupted by the clamor of alarms, piercing sounds that tore their way into the consciousness of even the deepest sleeper. Daniels woke almost instantly, the significance of the alarms registering mere seconds after he awoke. The Weapons Officer all but leaped out of his bunk, pulling on his uniform in seconds even as his roommate did the same. Few words were exchanged, and their initial communication consisted of only a glance to ensure that the other was awake. The Captains rushed out of their quarters accompanied by the sounds of hundreds of pairs of boots rushing through the halls, hurrying towards their ready stations. Any grogginess had vanished instantly, pushed from their minds and muscles by a rush of adrenaline. Their senses were crisp and sharp as the officers took a hard left from the quarters, all but running towards the bridge. “Layton, what the helI is going on?” William said to his colleague, glancing over at him briefly. That glance alone was enough to know that the Navigations Officer had no more idea than he did, though he hadn’t really expected him to. The alarm wasn’t scheduled, nor was the next drill due for a few weeks. Something had happened, something that could raise the alarm in Earth’s orbit. The thought left a sinking feeling in his stomach, a tight knot of worry that he forced himself to push aside. Neither officer spoke another word in the time that it took them to reach the bridge. As the doors opened to allow them entrance, they noted that most of the command staff was already present. The brunette-haired woman at the far right, pulling a headset on over her head and adjusting the microphone, was Lieutenant Reid, the ship’s Sensory and Communications Officer. The men to either side of the bridge’s entrance were present in the event either of forced entry to the room, or in the event that one of the bridge crew was injured and needed to be brought to medbay. And sitting in the center seat, a row back from the control panels that wrapped around the room, was their commanding officer. Colonel Bryant was a tall man, even seated, with steel gray hair kept at maximum regulation length and a carefully trimmed beard of the same. Piercing, analytical blue eyes were fixed on the tactical readouts flowing across his screens, taking only the briefest of moments to note the entry of his crew. The Colonel was pushing his late fifties, a veteran of the conflicts on the frontier, and he radiated experience, as befit one of his almost legendary status. Few officers had commanded a battleship as long as him. Daniels and Layton slipped into their seats with practiced ease, adjusting the comm units in their ears and bringing their respective stations to active status with a few presses of the keys. Reports rang through the commlines as personnel reported in from across the ship, signifying their readiness for action. “Daniels, bring weapons to standby. Lieutenant Reid, get the battlegroup on the comm.” Bryant’s voice rang through the air, firm and clear. A few key presses, and he had opened a line to the fighter bays. “Toselli, are our fighters ready?” “Aye, sir.” A lightly accented voice replied promptly, carrying the characteristic tones of a native Italian speaker. “Lt. Colonel Rosaria Toselli reporting. All pilots accounted for, on standby status in their craft. We can launch on a moment’s notice.” “Good. Reid, open a shipwide communication.” The woman nodded, fingers flying across her keyboard. An acknowledgement light winked on the arm of the Colonel’s chair, and a moment later, he cleared his throat and spoke. “This is Colonel Bryant. Eleven minutes ago, the Outer Lunar Sensory Array reported incoming FTL signatures of unknown origin. They are estimated to arrive on the frontier in three minutes, and here, in Earth orbit, in six. Their numbers are unknown; Their numbers are too high for the array to estimate. We are now on red alert.” In the moment following the Colonel’s words, silence reigned. Significant looks were exchanged across the bridge, Layton’s eyes uncharacterictically wide, and Reid’d face draining of color in moments. Daniels pivoted in his seat to stare at the Colonel, expression one of unmitigated shock. The announcement was ended by a gesture from Bryant, just in time for several faces to appear on the main viewscreen, audible over the command comm line. “Archangel battlegroup reporting in. Colonel O’Reilly, of the cruiser Defiant, representing.” The speaker, a woman roughly the same age as Bryant with fading red hair, was visibly accompanied by her second, Lt. Colonel Stein, who was hunched over his own console. “Bryant, are you getting the same reports I am?” “I am.” “Then you’re fully aware that we don’t have the numbers to deal with this. There are thirty ships currently in Earth orbit, and only fifty in the system. Even with the Tokyo, we’re outgunned.” “Acknowledged.” Was the only reply, as the Colonel nodded almost imperceptibly. “You all know the tactics. We’ve done this before; This is no different.” A wave of acknowledgements rippled forth from the commanders of the other ships in the battlegroup, their communications going silent as they issued orders to their own crews. As was standard procedure, the vessles took their places around the Archangel. Several Heinlein-class missile destroyers were the closest to the larger battleship; Arranged around it, they provided support while making use of the ship’s superior firepower to act as a defense. Just beyond them were the cruisers, mostly Constellation-class, were stationed to guard against incoming threats. Their duty was to protect the inner ships, intercepting threats that would otherwise strike through towards the destroyers, meant for blanket fire, and the battleships, which were too large a target to defend against all attackers. All around the planet other battlegroups did likewise, forming up around the five battleships in orbit. Over the Northwest hemisphere was the Seraph battlegroup, centered around the other Dominion-class ship in orbit, while the Southeast was defended by a pair of State-class battleships. High over the Southwestern hemisphere was the Tokyo battlegroup, arranged around one of only two Capital-class battleships in the solar system. The space forces, thirty strong, waited in silence, weapons ready. Across the viewscreens of the fleet a synchronized timer counted down, bridge crews watching with tense anticipation. By the time all of the preparations were done, only forty seconds remained. On board the Archangel, those seconds seemed like an eternity. Daniels checked and rechecked the ship’s armament while Layton checked their bearings, and Reid orchestrated communications between the ships. Bryant stared in stoic silence. Though he couldn’t tell for sure who it was, the Weapons Officer was sure that he could hear quiet prayer from somewhere on the bridge. As the timer passed the ten second mark, the world seemed to hold its breath. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, and everything was still. The silence was almost oppressive, pressing against their chests like a thing alive, aggravating the tension in the air. The timer ticked inexorably downwards, each second seeming longer than the last, until finally, with an understated beep, it struck zero. The silence continued a moment longer. Then the world went mad. As one, the contacts appeared. A horde of vessels appeared like a plague of locusts, choking the sky with their sheer numbers. The ships were all alien in design; Crudely insectile, with jutting protrusions and harsh, predatory angles, they descended as one. They were innumerable, untold in scope and scale, a vastly superior force arrayed against a mere thirty ships. The nearer ships were smaller; They appeared to be equivalent to the Confederacy’s cruisers and destroyers, but looming behind them were much, much larger vessels. Their battlships numbered in the dozens, and by a look alone, their other ships in the hundreds. Their make was unmistakable; The Mantis had come, and they had come in all their might. “Sir,” Reid spoke up, voice cutting through the air, even as quiet as it was. “Sensors are unable to estimate their number. Best guess is several hundred in total.” Almost as if waiting for that cue, the ships opened up, spewing veritable armies of fighters, craft small and nimble that surged towards the Confederate forces, their larger compatriots hot on their tails. Seconds after their arrival, with not a word spoken in warning or explanation, they opened fire, beams and lasers cutting through the reaches of space to impact with shields. The Confederate ships returned fire, spewing hot metal that lanced outwards, bypassing shields to slam into hulls. The routine had become the chaotic, the monotonous the cataclysmic, and the easy, normalcy of life the harrowing, unknown of war. It had been fifteen minutes, from warning to battle, and those minutes had ensured that nothing would ever be the same again. Review Topic
  5. March 15th 83 Years After Light Travel Major's Office on Puerto de Extensión The Captain's desk was littered with all sorts of memorabilia; a small plant from the far reaches of Zoltan space, several old Terran coins, a Engi's eye sensor suspended in some sort of blueish goo, even a few pirate sabers hanging behind her on the wall. Major Palmira Ojeda wasn't the tidy sort, not after twenty years on the frontier. She gave herself a start; twenty years out here, and she had just signed a contract for one more tour of duty. She must hate civilization, staying so far away from it as she was. The planet below was little more than a smuggler colony, littered with undesirables who were seeking a better life from the crowded Terra. Maybe that's why she was still out here; going back to the Inner Worlds reminded her too much of home. She knew she couldn't stay away forever, it was an irrational fear of old surroundings. Couldn't stay locked in the past forever. Had to go and say hi to her parents, see what her brothers were doing... “Major,” her staff Sargent opened the door, the grizzled woman surprisingly clean for once. “Your transfer is here.” “Transfer? I didn't ask for any transfer.” “Higher ups don't seem to think so.” “Give me a few seconds to clean up.” With the Sargent's snickering to give her comfort, the Major closed her desk monitor quickly, attempting to clear the table of the papers and tablets piled on it. Opting for the strategy of shoving everything in a draw, it was done quickly, and her new underling was shown in. The woman was young, barely looking twenty, dark skin that looked more like leather, a combination of hardwork and sun. Her hands in particular looked like those of a factory worker, burn marks and cuts littering them. Obviously had been in a dangerous business before, or at very least, a painful one. Her hair flowed down, nearly reaching the shoulders and giving the Major a pause for concern. Other than that, her uniform seemed in good shape, freshly pressed, and her insignias were on right. She was First Lieutenant Chastain, young and sporting a look that had a combination of boredom, impatience, and some amount of respect all rolled into one. “First Lieutenant Sophie Chastain, reporting for duty ma'am.” Her salute was sharp, respectable if a bit mechanical. “I guess they wanted to replace Horatio.” The Major dug around behind her desk, finding a tablet and flipping it on. Of course, they send her the information packet right as the recruit walks into her office. “You know what happened to Horatio, Lieutenant?” “Never heard of him, ma'am.” “Pirates got him. He was out patrolling on the boundaries of the system and bam, just like that, they got him.” The Lieutenant stared at her with an ambiguous expression. “You know what they send us? His finger. It's standard pirate procedure. Intimidation, they cut off fingers and just ship 'em over in little pods. Too bad for them that they used an ion-powered pod. Traced it back, I got Horatio, and then I nuked the asteroid they were hiding on. Poor boy though, he's back on Terra right now, getting his fingers and a few other bits replaced.” “I'll be sure to keep a careful eye on what bits I got, then... ma'am.” “I'm sure you will.” The info was pretty bleak on this recruit; highschool dropout, got in via the Academy's “no really we aren't desperate” program, had a decent standing in the Academy but got into fights. Sort of person they'd be willing to send out to the frontier. She didn't seem to be easily intimidated, though admittedly, the Horatio story wasn't that good. “Says here you requested to be out here; takes a special kind of person to want to be out on the frontier. Why?” “I want some adventure ma'am.” “Did they tell you anything about me?” “Your Staff Sargent said you like poker ma'am.” “Not the answer I wanted.” The Major was fighting an overwhelming urge to just call it a night. She didn't really feel like giving this recruit a hard time, but it was the treatment all under her command had to face at some point. “Let me help you; I'm Major Palmira Ojeda. I've been out on the frontier for twenty years. My most recent assignment is this rickety station we're on; two hundred soldiers, watching over our little smuggler city on the ground. We keep the Mantis raiders at bay and in exchange the good people of Terra give us their tax money. If you want adventure, I guess you're going find it here, but it's not going last. You're going be sick of it before your tour's over.” “If I may, ma'am, then why are you still here after five?” The Major gave the barest hint of a smile. “They won't let me go back home Lieutenant. Follow me, I'll introduce you to your co-workers. Sarah!” The door slid open the Sargent poking her head in. “Get the rest of the officers into the conference room, I have an introduction to make.” April 2nd 83 Years After Light Travel Recreation room on Puerto de Extensión “Major told her about her finger yet, Chastain?” It was a jovial atmosphere, a walk-in closet that had been recommissioned as a poker room. The rest of the crew didn't like the smoking, it being Space Force policy to keep smoking a private affair, so here the officers were. The closet was four by four meters, the lot of them crammed around a little table that was currently piled high with iridium credits. The officer asking Chastain was a certain Captain Isaac Mayera, a well dressed and sharp looking man who Ojeda had long ago deduced asked for the frontier just for the exotic women that came through. “Never did.” The woman tossed out a fifty credit coin, a string of curses and chair creaking following. “Tell her and I'll try you for mutiny,” Ojeda murmured, taking a long inhale of a nearby cigar. She tossed out a couple tens. “Charmer, isn't she?” The Captain gave a laugh. “Ties into the story actually. So here we are, young Ojeda's -yes soldiers, she was once young like you- out on the frontier. Finds the man of her dreams, marries him. Turns out he was a smuggler and everything he told her was a lie. What's more? The ring he gave her was actually a secret shipment of high-grade supermetal, supermetal like you lot have never seen, the sort so good they don't even make more than a few grams at a time. Couldn't get the ring off though, so in his haste, took her finger too.” The rest of the officers had a good laugh, Ojeda sitting at her end of the table and just taking another drink of her scotch. “Well Major? You gonna confirm or deny it to the rookie?” The Sargent handed her a new cigar, a smirk on her face. “Go **** yourselves.” The Colonel laid down her cards, four queens. Everyone gave a quick glance at their cards, Mayera keeping a cocky look on his face. The Major gave him a look, the Captain returning it, the two seeing who'd snap first. Finally, he sighed, putting down his cards and admitting defeat. The Major gave a smile, collecting her hoard of credits. Chastain found the Major half an hour later, sitting on the observation deck in the dark and generally looking broody. The Major herself wasn't actually brooding, it took a lot more than Mayera to get under her skin, it was more that continued exposure to quon leaves left the eyes pretty sore. The subordinates didn't need to know that, though. “Major,” Chastain began. “I'd like an assignment to the next patrol.” “Granted.” The Major had her head reclined back and feet on the coffee table, looking up at the roof and the stars beyond. “I heard about the incident on Deck 3.” There was a stiffening in the room. “Punched out a spaceman. Came to me, blood drizzling out of his nose and a sob story. Told me you and him had a disagreement.” “He insulted New Orleans, ma'am. Said it'd be more helpful as a lake.” “Yeah, I know, I had him scrubbing floors for a week after he made a comment about my beloved Mexico.” The Major didn't really leave her prone state. “That's the thing though Chastain, we aren't barbarians, as much as the folks back home might like to think. Feels good to break someone's face open, but it's not an officer's place. Leave that dirty work to his sargent. You, you're there to be better than that. You tell him to go scrub your quarters and invite his mates to watch. Humiliation is your tool now, lieutenant. Out here, on the frontier, you don't need to prove how strong you are or that you can beat up the biggest kid on the block. Surviving is enough for that.” She took a long drink, then leaned forward, gently setting the glass down and looked Chastain in the eyes. “Do I make myself clear?” “Yes ma'am.” “Get ready for the patrol.” March 15th 84 Years After Light Travel In orbit over Clark 8 “Bit of a pickle, I'd say.” The Major had her gun in one hand and sword in the other, evaluating the situation quickly. On her back was Chastain, who was armed with a rifle, and surrounding them were the angriest Mantis she'd seen in her life. There was something about the expression of a Mantis that so desperately wanted to eat your internal organs, but was being held back by its master. It was this pained look, all of its rage and hate directed right at its meal. In this situation, the Mantis' master was some sort of Mantis captain, a female that had risen through the raider's ranks. Ojeda remembered enough from the Academy to know that Mantis females were the nastious creatures you could meet out here; relegated to little more than breeders back in the Mantis core worlds, they had to prove themselves to get in a position of power. Combine that with the indomitable will Mantis gained as they matured and rose in command... very bad. “I don't think she appreciated the gumbo,” Chastain commented. “Did you put any poison in it?” “No, I was just expecting it to do its magic.” “Goddammit Chastain.” The Mantis female crept closer, long teeth revealed as she sneered. There was something that gave the scientists back home a run for their money; how insects had teeth. Then again, the Mantis weren't really insects, they defied enough boundaries that they were just lumped in a whole new biological class. “[You refused to stop encroaching on my feeding grounds human!]” The Major's Mantis was pretty rough but she got most of what the bug was saying. “[My hunters want food, and you will return our livestock or become it yourself!]” “My translation might be a bit off but... I think she just said she wants food and we're food.” The Major tapped her sword, a signal being sent to the assault party. Any moment now... “Chastain, you want to take over diplomacy on this one?” “You've got this one boss.” “Right. Mantis captain, we appreciate the fact that you need to eat but you have your little slug pets for that. When you start stealing our cattle we nuke you from orbit.” “[Return our livestock!]” “Don't say I didn't at least try.” Hearing a crunch of metal overhead, the two took the moment to dive out of the way, a pod coming down right on their location. Crashing into the floor and sending the Mantis into disarray, the pod broke open to reveal four Planetary Force spec ops, clad in dark armor and picking Mantis off one by one. Soon, the room was cleared, Ojeda and Chastain standing a bit stunned as one of the men walked up, saluting her. “Corporal Harken, sir.” The man's face was obscured behind his helmet, and absent-mindedly he crushed the skull of a nearby squirming Mantis. “We talked on the comms. Can I ask why you were down here ma'am? Seems a bit dangerous to have two officers doing the talking.” “I have to keep active, it's the latest strategy for living longer, living an active lifestyle. Say you can get to a hundred and fifty that way.” “Whatever you say ma'am. My men will clean up the rest of the Mantis on this ship; the cattle are being returned to your station.” The man gave another salute and walked off to supervise some killing, leaving Ojeda to stand over the corpse of the Mantis captain and ponder it for a moment. “You've never seen Mantis killing up front, have you Lieutenant?” The Major kicked the body over to reveal the face. “Don't think so ma'am.” The Lieutenant shrugged. “Anniversary of your transfer, you know that?” The Major took out a knife, carefully cutting out a long protrusion on the Mantis' skull. It had the appearance of hardened cartilage, the same stuff the Mantis exo-skeletons were made out of, but it was very hard. Holding it up, the Major examined it, then tossed it to Chastain. “See that? It's something the females develop. Mantis are funny creatures like that, they almost have built-in ranks. Older they get, the more distinctive their head-plates become. Mantis females though, they tend to be so doped up on one of those breeding worlds, or frozen, they never grow them. Pretty distinctive when they do, though. Keep it on your shelf and tell the new transfers about it. Should be amusing.” With those words of wisdom, the two walked off, heading to the nearest airlock so they could get back to the station and, hopefully, avoid near-death experiences for a little while longer.
  6. Orbit of Asimov 2 May 19th, 87 ATL Day 1 19:15 "When I get lonely and I'm sure I've had enough She sends her comfort, coming in from above We don't need no letter at all--!" "Easy, Chastain," said Sergeant Calvin, rubbing at one his temples. They were hidden under long, wavy hair, such an ashy color that it was more snow than sunlight; he kept it unruly to hide the scars down the sides of his face from a melee on the frontier. Ojeda looked up from her holobriefing at the Creole howl. "WEEE'VE GOT A THING THAT'S A-CALLED RADAR LOVE--" The break room groaned, and Sophie Chastain grinned and kicked up her feet on the table heedlessly, even though Sergeant Calvin was sitting just on the other side and more likely than not did not relish the prospect of Sophie's boots in his face. Chastain's look turned wolfish at his discomfort, and she began to belt the final chorus that much louder. That drew the Lt. Colonel's ire. For once, Palmira Ojeda never spoke a word - she drew her finger across her throat and grimly pressed her comm further into her ear. The grin began to trickle off Chastain's face, but she did as commanded. Leto would have sang along, she thought sullenly, but that was nothing to say to Ojeda. She was, comparatively, a young gun, and the Lt. Colonel was nearly fifty. Lieutenant Colonel Palmira Ojeda, bane of pirates and legend of the Mantis frontier, was not a handsome woman. She looked like she'd been carved from flint, dark eyed with dark hair that framed a scarred and spare face. She had been married and promptly divorced - an outing that was so costly Chastain had heard it said that her ex-husband had taken the ring and the ring finger. Whatever the truth, she now had a cybernetic replacement fitted to her hand. It didn't do much to add to any external charm, but Chastain loved the old woman as fiercely as she loved Jane-Anne back home. They had saved each other's lives multiple times on the Mantis frontier, and Chastain was as loyal to her commanding officer as she was to the sister she'd left, back in the food truck in New Orleans. She'd gotten to know Ojeda's looks, and this one meant either 'I will have you thrust out of the airlock for listening to that old retro ###### of yours, Chastain' or 'I will have you thrust out of the airlock for interrupting my briefing, Chastain.' Ojeda had started to grow fond of Chastain's company and quirks on the frontier, but it hadn't always been that way - Sophie had been twenty, fresh out of Academy with no high school diploma and a tendency to spout off the way that only someone who had spent her childhood brawling with tourists could spout off. For the first two or three years of her command, Chastain didn't think she'd ever gotten a look that didn't say 'I will have you thrust out of the airlock for [...], Chastain.' She'd learned to just smile at them and accept them. Over time, the looks had become less hostile and more begrudgingly amused, almost playful. This was different. This was worried. Lieutenant Colonel Palmira Ojeda, bane of pirates and legend of the Mantis frontier, was scared of farmers. "Don't know what she has to be worried about," confided Captain Leto during one of the crew poker games, scoffing as only he could. "Asmiov 2 is a farm world. Chances are it'll be like one of those old Dark Ages fights we read about in the Academy with the levies. They'll raise their farm tools, maybe a few pirated guns, and when they see us coming they'll back down. They can't provide much of a fight if we start driving them towards the cities. Hand me some of those pretzels? Stealing your pension's got me famished." Chastain had nodded dumbly along - that was how she always felt she nodded in front of him, dumbly - and laughed at his easy confidence once or twice; she had more pressing things to focus on than Leto's confidence. Ojeda's voice snapped her out of it, but she was not speaking to Chastain; rather, she had switched frequencies on her comm and was now speaking to the crew at large. "All combat personnel of the Heron, report to the conference room. Make it snappy - planetfall in forty-five minutes." Ojeda looked up at Chastain with narrow eyes. Maybe she'd sensed something Sophie was too young and green to notice, or maybe she was just hoping to steal Chastain's undivided attention for once. Either way, she got it; the captain had heard the Lt. Colonel's orders both from across the room and in her comm, and the declaration echoed slightly in her ear. "Chastain," Ojeda called out, "look sharp. Get your feet off the table. Set an example." Chastain smiled. ***** She had such a stupid smile. The more people that filed into the conference room, the fewer people there were until he arrived; the more people that filed into the conference room, the more aware Sophie became acutely aware of her flaws and her quirks. Balboa, the cheerful Rockman weapons officer, waved at her when she walked by and went in for a high five. Polite, quiet Major Brigham greeted her and Ojeda courteously, but his smile did not reach his pale eyes and faded as quickly as it could. Harken, around Ojeda's age and a combat legend in the making, was just as courteous, but with a hint of awkwardness that made his amiability appear more genuine. Her best friend amongst the crew, Sergeant Watson, located her and hugged her tightly when the thickets of people became too dense to see, and she returned the pilot's hug nervously. She had known and loved Clara since the sergeant had been Carl, and had never hidden anything from her but this; Clara must have sensed it, because she pulled away and her lips pursed in a pout. She was about to ask what was bothering Sophie-- And there he was. Chastain stood up straight, and held Clara's hand to keep from fidgeting. The other captain always made her fidget. Was she too plain looking for him? Clara insisted she was pretty, and she got hit on as much as any other girl when the Heron docked, but around Leto she always felt plain - brown eyes, brown hair, tan skin, whoop dee doo. To Sophie Chastain, half the girls in New Orleans had looked like her, except when she did something with her hair. She hadn't today - normally she straightened it to keep it out of her eyes, but it was wavy and poofed along her neck and shoulders. It made the cocoa tips at their edges stick out. She probably looked like a slob. Captain Christian Leto never looked like a slob, and he probably never had to worry about his hair. It was always black and long, with layered bangs along his eyebrows. It made it hard to discern what color his eyes were - sometimes she looked, and they seemed a chocolate brown, or sometimes they looked dark ocean blue. Sometimes, they were somewhere in between, black and huge and reckless. They would have chilled her spine, if she didn't love his recklessness. It came out in his grin, his strong jaw, the way his unblemished skin (another plus; she and Leto were amongst the few veterans who had no scars, though she was reaching her mid twenties and he his mid thirties) would flush when something drew his attention. Every time Sophie drew it, she would flush herself. She had always been anything but subtle. Clara could see it plain as day, and she was just a sergeant, a pilot at that. Leto's eyes had seen conflicts Chastain never dreamed of on planets she would never see, and he had escaped unscathed. He could surely see her stupid crush. She'd had four years to practice her game face on Ojeda. They felt like four years down the drain when she saw Leto. Nevertheless, the subordinates saluted him, and Chastain did too out of habit. He grinned - her stomach ached - and saluted back before turning on his foot to acknowledge Ojeda. Chastain followed him, helpless in his wake, and stood at Ojeda's left shoulder. Christian took the perch at her right. As the seconds ticked by and the Lt. Colonel's briefing began, the older captain looked at Sophie and smiled, to assure her. Was it even at her? When he looked at her, did he see Sophie Chastain? Or just a new kid on board the Heron, one among dozens? Was this a conflict that he saw himself being hurt in, dying in? Did he see Chastain dying? He'd read her record - and whenever Sophie was in his presence, Christian could recite even more of it than she could. It's a farm world, she reminded herself. You survived the Mantis frontier. A farm world has nothing that could hurt you. Her stomach ached again, and it must have showed when she returned his smile. ***** "Six weeks ago," she heard as she rejoined the rest of the world, "one of our governors in the colonies received an unusually strongly worded message from the overseers of Asmiov 2. As some of you may know, Asmiov is a farm world with enough resources to supply Terra and entire fleets for generations to come. Not exactly a prim and proper bunch, definitely no stand up citizens, but nothing to be overly concerned about - until we started getting troop movements instead of strong words. Now, the plains of Asmiov aren't exactly war-torn, but they're starting to run a little ragged. Every ration we lose is a ration too many. That said, factoring in the terrain and the fighting forces, the people on this ship should be more than enough to handle any combat scenarios. Leto will handle those. Captain?" Christian snapped to attention; clearly he'd been as disinterested as Sophie felt, only she hadn't shown it the way he had. Ojeda wouldn't speak up about him, though. Leto was dangerous. Everyone knew that. And beautiful. Everyone probably knew that, too. "The rebels aren't sticking to the cities. There's about a dozen of them or so on the rebelling continent, but the rebellion's epicenter is in a series of plains known as the Four Corners, where the borders of four cities all meet. Most of the grain is produced here, and it's imperative that we risk as little environmental damage as possible. No air strikes here. Every force so far has moved on foot - that's why we keep sending troops, and they keep not reporting back. Ever again." She knew the Captain - at least, hoped she did - well enough to hear the contempt in his voice for the people who had kept attempting the same strategy over and over again, even on farmhands; though hot-tempered and reckless, Christian had survived multiple tours throughout the galaxy, and was anything but stupid. "They've moved through five commandants already. The fifth promises to be more accommodating, and assures us that any resources or manpower we need are ours. Chances are we won't need them. Just in case, we're giving the leader of every squad - you know who you are, the information's in your comms - the frequency to the Asimov military forces. We'll stay in constant contact with the loyalist forces on the ground, and with any luck we should be out before the month. Louie, patch through the contact frequencies to the squad leaders." Chastain watched as Ojeda's hand went to her comm, as well as Leto's and Harken's. The distinct ping that came with a comm update rang in every squad leader's ears. She heard no such ring. She wasn't sure what was more obvious, the confusion or the frustration, but Leto must have seen both. The captain leaned over with his grin. "Turn that frown upside down, Sophie," Leto whispered. "I've read your file, remember? Think I'm gonna let you hunt all the hicks down before I even leave the ship?" ***** Touchdown couldn't have come soon enough. She played poker with Clara and talked to Ojeda about assignment - she confirmed that Leto had asked for her personally, against Ojeda's better judgement, which would have made it even more dangerous if she hadn't been able to keep a straight face - and avoided Christian as best as she could, like a kid who sees the presents getting laid under the tree when she wakes up and has to try to go back to sleep. The only time she'd come into contact with him in the half hour or so before they landed was when the two of them had conferred with the Lieutenant Colonel and Harken about strategy, and even then all he'd done was casually spill his strategy and grin at her. Was he doing this on purpose? She knew Leto had never been married, but had plenty of near-marriages in his belt. After the latest one, he'd bought a ring with a stone as dark and implacable as the color of his eyes. No woman's gonna get it off my finger, he would vow over his beer, until she says I do. Sometimes, Sophie would dream about it. Finally, the time came and their squad assembled. Leto's squad was comprised of himself, Chastain, Balboa the Rockman, Sergeant Palmer, and an Engi simply nicknamed Fidget, for the hyperactive spasms he would always send out when he tried to fix something. She tried to get Clara to come too, but the pilot refused to part with the ship. "We'll meet up again when you reach Kubrick City!" she promised, and Clara Watson had hugged her and kissed her cheek and promised not to steal all the cute guys - if Chastain hadn't stolen the captain first. She hugged and kissed back, loving her for her good vibes and hating her for saying it loudly enough that Christian Leto could have heard. Whenever her stomach or chest started to flutter too much, she thought of Clara's face and decided that the sooner they reached Kubrick City, the better. She looked up from checking her sniper rifle and probe; Leto was looking at her again, with that dangerous smile of his. This time, there was no doubt about it. She could feel herself flush. Or not. When Leto's point squad was geared up and ready for landfall, the airlock opened up before them. Leto went out first, turning with a cursory salute while he jumped and being caught in the air currents, hundreds of feet above the ground. Then went Balboa, to clear up room, and then Palmer, and then Fidget. Chastain, as the other captain, went last. She took a quick peek around at the other squadrons. Harken was nearly geared up, and waiting on her, but Ojeda had stopped with a helmet in her hands and was looking at Chastain. Sophie smiled and saluted, the same way Leto had. Ojeda's eyes had disapproval in them, but she smiled despite herself and saluted back. It lifted Sophie's heart a little. I may not have my own squad yet, but Ojeda's proud of me. And I'm Christian's wingman. She jumped after her squad. Sophie lanced through Asimov 2's sky like a bullet, preparing all the necessary switches and jettisoning all the necessary chutes to keep herself from being sucked too far off course or dashed against the ground when she landed. As her descent slowed, she found the time to admire the wide dashes of color through the sky of the backwoods colony world; pinks and oranges and scarlet reds cushioned Sophie Chastain, rocking her to the ground softly. Christian Leto was forty yards out - she made her way to him in seconds. The rest of the squad was making their way towards Captain Leto, too, but doing so much more slowly; their weapons were trained and ready through the blades of tall wheat. The crop made its way up to Sophie's hip. Too late, she realized she hadn't even bothered to secure their landing zone, and tried to play it off. Christian just smiled. "I didn't check, either," he said, patting her on the shoulder once and pulling out his pistol. "Alright, boys and girl, Harken's squad makes landfall in--" There was a whoosh!, a faraway sound like the opening of the airlock. Sophie thought at first that Harken's squad was starting to deploy, that the ship's bay had opened up. No, that can't be right, they're too far away she realized, too late once again, as Fidget pointed up and yelled frantically. The Heron, a huge black blot in the sky above them, weaved as quick as she could to avoid the artillery blast. A cool, iridescent blue, the projectile had hardly even come into their field of vision when a second whoosh! followed. The Heron dodged the first with ease (Sophie felt a sudden surge of pride for Clara up above them) but the second barely danced along the ship's nose. "Huh," she heard Christian say, and Palmer cursed, but it was Sophie who voiced what they were all thinking. "They're not just farmhands..." -Tyler
  7. Hello everyone! This is my first time posting here in the short stories area. So I tried my hand at writing shorter fiction, and I'm actually enjoying it a lot, I might do this more often rather than always doing full-length epics. This is a Short Story I wrote called the Last Memories, a short narrative by Toa Mata Onua. I'm going to stop babbling now about why I wrote this, so you can actually read it for yourself, enjoy! And pleeeeease give me some feedback, I want to know how well I did at writing my first short story. The Last Memories Onua silently listened for the fifth click that would indicate the rest of his team had entered stasis within the Toa Canisters. He had made sure to close his only half way so the stasis would not activate.Tahu, the leader of the team, and Kopaka, the self-proclaimed deputy, had brought them here and ordered them to get inside these strange ‘Toa Transports.’He trusted that the Toa of Fire would not lie, but the big question that had come to Onua’s mind when he had been told to get inside was; What if Tahu and Kopaka had made a mistake?” He sat there in his canister pondering this; What if we’re never released from our sleep within the transports? What if we’re needed, but nobody can call us for help? The world might crumble to dust around us, and we might never even know; or worse, what if we die here? What if something comes while we sleep and slays us? Who would be left to protect the Matoran and the Great Spirit?Onua’s thoughts were interrupted by something unexpected; a voice that said, “Onua, Toa Mata of Earth.”Onua froze, and then after a moment of silence he said, “What? W-who said that?”The voice replied, “It was I.”Onua looked around, and even though he didn’t see anyone, he whispered, “Mata Nui?”He wasn’t sure how he knew, but somehow he did; the voice that had spoken to him had been the Great Spirit.The voice spoke again, “Onua, wise Toa Mata of Earth. You seek answers to your questions, do you not?”Onua stammered a little, and then replied, “Y-yes.”The voice said, “You are very wise to consider these things before you simply obey orders.”Onua smiled a little and thought; So I am right! Tahu and Kopaka were wrong!The voice continued, “But you are losing sight of something. The reasons you were brought into being; Unity, Duty, and Destiny.”Onua had heard these three things said many times. They were the three virtues that the Matoran lived by. He too had tried to live by them, but Onua had never fully understood what they meant or what their significance was.The voice continued, “You are so concerned with accomplishing your duty as a Toa, that you have forgotten your destiny.”Onua thought for a moment and replied, “Which is...?”The voice replied, “Only by following all three of the virtues can you accomplish your purpose. Your brothers and sister will stay in stasis until they are needed. In order to follow the virtues, you must go with them so you can achieve unity, to accomplish your duty and-”As Onua understood what this was leading up to, he finished, “…and to fulfill my destiny.”The voice replied, “Yes, now you begin to see. As I have said before, you are very wise Onua. Through that wisdom you will save your brothers from doom many a time in the future.”Onua listened in surprise, he had always seen himself as one of the less important members of the team, not a good leader like Tahu and Kopaka, or as good at keeping the peace like Gali.The voice spoke up again, “Being humble is a great strength Onua, even stronger than your Kanohi Pakari, but never let that humbleness cause you to look upon yourself as unimportant. Evil will triumph when the good do nothing. And to answer another question that you are certainly thinking, you will not remember anything when you arrive at your destination, except your name.”Onua was saddened by this, but the voice continued, “But one day you shall return here, and your memories will be restored. And now Onua, you must seal your canister, and wait to fulfill your destiny, and I must go.”Onua quickly said, “Wait, I have another question. When you first spoke to me, you called me a Toa ‘Mata.’ Why?”The voice replied, “It is an ancient word, few know its meaning, or even understand it. Loosely translated, it means ‘Spirit.’ Think of it as the opposite of Piraka.”Onua full well knew what Piraka meant; it was a great insult meaning, ‘a thief and a murderer.’ To be referred to as the opposite of it was a great honor.The voice spoke again, “And now Toa, I must go.”Onua said, “Wait, don’t go yet! I have so many more questions to ask!”But the voice did not reply. If Onua had worn the Kanohi Elda, the mask of Detection, he would have realized that Mata Nui’s presence was still there, but he was simply not answering.Onua sighed, and then held up a razor-sharp claw, “Perhaps I won’t remember anything,” said the Toa of Earth, “but this canister can remember for me.”He began to etch a sentence into the wall, and if Mata Nui could have smiled in his current form, he would have done so. The sentence read, “Evil triumphs when the good do nothing.”Mata Nui silently thought to himself; Wise Onua. He did not choose to remember his past, nor his meeting with me, or even the pride of knowing he would fill an important role in the future. He instead chose to remember his destiny.Onua etched one last pair of words underneath that read, “Mata: 'Spirit'."And with that, he placed his weapons in a compartment and twisted the handle above his head, sealing his canister. He felt dizzy for a moment, and then fell into a deep sleep as the Great Spirit watched over him…
  8. My inspiration for this comedy was during my CCC review of TAoT. The reviewer asked many questions, asking how this happened and that occurred...Well, I'm very happy to answer all of your questions about what happened before TAoT, which is why I created this prequel comedy to TAoT (I also made Ackar and the Hot Hand, which as crazy as it seems, is canon).Presenting The Adventures of Tahu: How it All Began (or TAoT: HAB for short): The Adventures of Tahu: How it All BeganPrologue: Intention In the beginning of the world, there was nothing... Yeah, I know. It sounds cliché, doesn’t it? Sorry, but I had to start this comedy with something. Oh, that’s right, I never introduced myself! I’m Transition Guy, the guy who writes all the titles, transitions, and stuff similar to that in my boss’ (Tahu Nuva: Toa of Silver’s) comedies at NAME AND ADDRESS WITHHELD.I basically look like a silver Onua Nuva. All the other members of the Toa Nuva work at NAME AND ADDRESS WITHHELD too, except they’re silver and more powerful versions of them:Censoring Sister (silver Gali Nuva) censors uncool (to say the least) words and information that is not supposed to be known (whether at that time or ever); Narrator (Lewa Nuva) narrates the comedies; the Po-Police (bronze versions of Pohatu Nuva except for the Chief, who is silver) take away people that are not doing their jobs (in work or in the comedy); and the Guards (Kopaka Nuva) protect TN:TS. Well, now that that’s over with, let’s go back to the story now. So, in the beginning of the world, there was nothing. No BIONICLE, no lamps, no pie, and certainly no comedies. That was before the Great Beings came to the world of Spherus Magna. They created multiple beings, beautiful lands, jungles, and such. But we know about that already, don’t we?That was millions of years ago, though…way before the true reason everything existed came along and made this and other comedies. His name was Toa Tahu Mata, who later turned into the great and powerful Tahu Nuva: Toa of Silver.But what happened before TAoT? How and why did Helryx take over the Matoran Universe? Why did Axonn go completely insane? Why did all the Toa take Helryx’s side at first? What happened on Bara Magna after Helryx’s big win? And how did TN:TS create a comedy and NAME AND ADDRESS WITHHELD, or ACRONYM WITHHELD for short? Here is TN:TS on the purpose of this comedy:“Well, to just put it in a PSA or a Special, would confuse the reader more than before. Plus, there is so much expansion that can be done on the subject, so we are putting it in a spin-off comedy.”In short, instead of answering all your questions in one spin-off-like chapter from TAoT, we are putting it in a prequel comedy that will still attach onto TAoT, but introduce new characters and stuff like that. We’re sure you’ll like it! Sincerely, TG and the Crew of NAME AND ADDRESS WITHHELD To Be Continued…Well, how was it? Post your thoughts below! Also, I have made a color chart for this, I will post it when (or if ) someone replies back!~TN:TS~
×
×
  • Create New...