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  1. So I rarely make MOCs, let alone full scale ones, but I felt the urge to make a Turaga. I rarely make those folks, but I am considering playing one in Six Kingdoms Rebirth over in the rpg section. I am thinking of her traveling about the island, using her medical knowledge and her mask to repair broken homes and heal the injured. She became a Turaga in fact after using up her Toa Power healing someone, and would have been the Toa of Stone to build Po-Koro. Basically of my limited number of Noble masks I made her a Turaga of Stone, an element I don’t usually use. She carries pouches full of pebbles and gravel, which she controls with her remaining elemental power to corral and irritate Rahi into leaving her and her charges alone.She wears a Kiril, Noble Mask of Regeneration, and walk with a long Badge of Office that can be used to grab far away objects. Remember, Matoran and Turaga can look a lot alike, so it’s important to give your Turaga giant walking staffs. (Otherwise you get Dume, who simply looks like a buff Matoran) She has a heartlight and nine points of articulation. Please ignore the fact that her left hand is missing a piece. (Maybe it’s her thumb?) I choose her name from the word Karda (Heart/Core) and Ka (Spirit) so her name means Spirit of Heart, since she is a healer. I also call her the Mender. Now here are some images of her finding a hidden Miru, Noble Mask of Levitation. So yeah, enjoy this little Turaga.
  2. So I wrote another Kanohi story because of course I did. This one takes place in the core universe and the kingdom, a little before the two timelines split. The premise for this is the hurt some Matoran feel as the Turaga reveal the true history of their people, as well as the disconnect some of the Matoran have with the so-called city of legends. So this is a story about the fallout of the Turaga revealing the truth about the 2004-2005 storyline. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy. The Willing Exiles … ”You … you sure we should go?” Ramaka asked, looking at the two Ga-Matoran. The sun was beginning to set, and the tent they were taking shelter in was rustling in the wind. “We have to. Those stories the Turaga shared, they aren’t us. Maybe there were once, maybe they never were. We don’t belong in some underground ruin, working like cogs in a lifeless machine.” Gajaga spat, as she packed her satchel. It was woven of faded plant fibers, contrasting against her blue metal chassis. “Maybe the rest of the stories will—” “—Tell us just how much they lied?” Gajaga sighed, “no. I prefer to have at least some fond memories of Turaga Nokama.” She began to wrap up her sleeping bag. “She’s right,” Cemahri reached over, grasping Gajaga’s hand, and the other Ga-Matoran blushed beneath her mask, “I … to know the Turaga lied for over a thousand years, about the most basic things. No, we cannot go with them. And … it’s better we don’t come. We don’t belong with the other Matoran. This is a chance for us.” Ramaka nodded, though did not match her eye contact. The two Ga-Matoran pushed aside their bags then, before embracing their companion. “Hey, we will get through this together,” Gajaga said, “we spent centuries on this island, we know it by heart. We can flourish in our beloved island home.” “We … we do have our unity to each other,” Ramaka smiled nervously, “okay, sisters, let us return to our real home.” The three Matoran picked up their bamboo disks and slug their satchels over their shoulders, before slipping out into the jungle. Their long arms pushed aside the ferns and branches, their big feet waded through the swamp. They would not leave Mata-Nui, not for some underground ruin that was likely infested by spiders the size of Toa. This was their home, not some broken city. … Kanohi held his lighter to his right arm, softening the orange and black metal. The lighter was infused with the element of Fire, probably a relic from when Turaga Vakama was a Toa. Because apparently Kanohi’s mentor had lied to him about everything. “There,” Nuparu said, “it should be almost in place now.” Kanohi was welding a Volo Lutu Launcher to his arm, as Nuparu fitted the tool’s machinery to mesh with his biomechanical body. The left arm was already complete, now was just the right. The two of them were in a tent this night, the stars mostly shone in the sky despite the many torches around Kini-Nui. Thousands of Matoran were camping in the jungle, as they built ships to sail though the underground Silver Sea. The sounds of hammers pounded under the stars, as the Matoran prepared to return to their home. A home only the Turaga remembered, As Kanohi welded the tool to his arm, Nuparu spoke up, “So, did the Turaga ever tell you—” “—No.” Kanohi answered quickly, and his breath became harsher. His foot began to thump against the floor, and his fingers began to drum against his lighter. The Fe-Matoran’s face was hidden, he wore wooden masks all over his body, as a sort of armor. Each mask was carved to resemble a Ruru, the Noble Mask of Night Vision. And his true mask was a Great Ruru, though he could not use it. Still both were appropriate, his power allowed him to light the darkness of the future. But clearly his visions were helpless to the past. “It’s … frustrating, isn’t it? If we had been able to use the technology of Metru-Nui to help us, our time in exile could have been so much easier. Just having Kanoka instead of bamboo disks…” “There are many reasons the truth is frustrating.” Kanohi stared deeply into his lighter, trying not to think too hard about Vakama. The fire swirled and lifted about, as he looked the flames cracked and turned to embers, and those sparks became the stars in the sky. As he stared at those stars he heard and noise and turned to see an utterly barren island of rock. The rocky crag towered above him, before shattering into an avalanche. Each tumbling rock splashed into the sea, before rising as a fleet of hovercrafts. Kanohi hooked a cabin and grappled over to a hovercraft, flinging above the waves as Matoran wearing linen clothes waved. “You okay? You seemed a bit dazed?” Kanohi startled as Nuparu’s voice cut through the blaze, and he looked away, “Just had a vision,” he answered, “maybe of us sailing to Metru-Nui.” “At least a Vakama didn’t lie to us about that,” Nuparu offered, but Kanohi could not crack a smile, “your visions are real, just like the Turaga’s was. And incredible gift.” “He lied to me plenty about my visions,” muttered Kanohi, “though I do know why. It doesn’t make things easier however.” Then there was a shriek from outside the tent, as a Ga-Matoran called out, “Kraata!” Immediately Kanohi turned off his lighter, and stowed it away. “Is my arm ready?” “Left one is for sure, but the right one isn’t done.” “We will continue it later,” nodded Kanohi, before sprinting out of the tent, his large feet stomping vines and roots, as he hurried out he raised his left arm, and from the Volo Lutu Launcher built into his forearm he fired a strange rippling sphere. A ball of pure gravity. It latched onto a tree before ripping him from the ground and hurling him towards it. Kanohi hurtled through the air, landing on a tree. From there he fired his launcher again, flinging himself after the ball of gravity. In this way he grappled through the jungle, searching among the tents and Matoran. As he flew his armor clattered together, like branches singing in a thunderstorm. A number of Matoran were fleeing from the northern part of the jungle, the Kraata might be there. As Kanohi grappled above, Matoran pointed and marveled. A few began to cheer, and he smiled warily as he hurtled through the sky. He was glad that they could feel some relief from him still. And as he came upon the scene, he spied a Ga-Matoran backing up as a bright green slug squirmed towards her. The Kraata oozed a trail of sickly slime, which wilted every plant that it passed by. The Matoran of Water was backed up against a tree, swinging her bamboo disk wildly at it. Quickly Kanohi fired past her, and launched through the air. As he hurtled towards her he outstretched his right arm, hooking her waist. He strained as he dragged her through the air, before the two of them smacked into the ground in a tumble, his armor rattling with each collision with the earth. As they rolled to a halt, Kanohi shoved himself up, drawing his lighter. He held it out to the Kraata, it’s elemental flame cracking. The slug hissed and flinched from the glow, before slithering away deep into the jungle. “Are you alright?” Kanohi asked her as he pulled her to her feet. “Better swimmer than a fighter,” she laughed nervously, then swallowed, “How … how can there still be Kraata? The Makuta is dead, isn’t he?” He looked away, “In the Turaga’s stories of Metru-Nui, Rahkshi go feral when the Makuta does not need them. This might have just been a wild Kraata-Ye.” “Of … of course. I should have know.” “There was little way you could have,” he muttered, looking at the trail of withering plants from where the Kraata had left, “the Turaga did not tell many about the plants.” “Th-there you are,” a voice called out. Kanohi turned to see a Ko-Matoran running towards them, his body sand-blue and white. The Matoran of Ice waved to him, but Kanohi did not wave back. “What do you want, Matoro?” asked Kanohi, folding his arms. His wooden armor clattered against each other at the motion, each collision a harsh thud, like drums beating. “Three Matoran were seen headed into the jungle, two Ga-Matoran and a Le-Matoran. Some of the Toa are looking but Le-Wahi is big. Well, you know that, you have patrolled it for centuries. So if you could help look…” “Fine,” he said, “once Nuparu finishes upgrading my arm.” “Listen,” the Matoran of Ice shuffled, “we have been friends for a long time—” “You were Turaga Nuju’s aide, I was the vigilante protector of Mata-Nui. That was all.” “I … I know it’s awkward knowing that the Turaga lied to you—” “—Did they tell you the truth?” Kanohi said quietly, his breath whistling through the holes in his mask like a faint breeze. His fingers began to wiggle on his sides with an anxious energy. “I-I … yes.” Kanohi huffed, but said nothing more. “Listen, they needed Metru-Nui to be kept a secret. If the Matoran knew about it they would try to return, and the Makuta would have just enslaved them—” “I understand why they hid truth. It might have even been necessary. But it was still wrong,” Kanohi said firmly, “simplifying our world only hurt cross-wired freaks like Midas, Takua, and me.” “…I know. You … you know they didn’t mean to hurt you, right? Vakama wouldn’t want that.” “I know,” Kanohi sighed as his hands flapped wildly, “But they still hurt many of us. That’s why I became Kanohi. And that is why I will help these Matoran. There are still Kraata squirming around the island, not to mention the Rahi.” “You know, the two of us both knew about the Kraata when no other Matoran did. We helped the Turaga hunt them, when the others knew nothing. We both shared secrets with the Turaga, hid the truth from our fellow Matoran.” The Ga-Matoran startled at that, and backed away back into the jungle towards the campsite. “Yes, we did,” Kanohi could see his heartlight speed up beneath his wooden armor, “and our secret left many Matoran vulnerable, none of them knew why masks become infected. If they had known Kraata were not just Rahi, many of them could have be spared the control of the Makuta.” “But you agreed to be quiet.” “Yes.” Kanohi’s wrists fluttered like a Nui-Kopen swarm. “Then why are you so mad at the Turaga?” “B-because millions suffered underground while we waddled around in paradise. Do you think I never had visions of the people suffering because of the Brotherhood? Do you think when I asked Vakama to explain, he told me the truth? Or do you think he told me those visions were just metaphors, that the only people in danger were the Matoran of this island? He only fed my fears that I was losing my mind. He only isolated me more.” “Kanohi.” “It wasn’t that he lied. It’s that his lies h-hurt people, and that the damage he caused did not inspire him to be honest.” The sound of wood smacking against itself echoed as Kanohi stimmed. “…You know they were Matoran only a year before they became our Turaga,” whispered Matoro, “its not their fault that they were not ready for the role of leadership.” “Its been a thousand years,” Kanohi said simply, before he waved in dismissal, “I need to get my arm ready. Then I will go rescue these Matoran.” He turned around and grappled away, back towards Nuparu. Matora watched after him with a sigh, his telescopic lens zeroing in on the vigilante as he swung from the jungle. Then finally the Ko-Matoran waddled away, he would need to return to Turaga Nuju. … Gajaga walked through the jungle as early morning crept into the sky. She tightly gripped her bamboo disk, ready to hurl it at the first Rahi to barge out of the underbrush. She had once served in the Ga-Koro Guard, before being dismissed from her post. Her dismissal was for a number of reasons, her anger and her … unusual attachments. ‘Like she thought with the mind of a Rahi,’ the other Matoran of Water would whisper when they thought she couldn’t hear. Oh but she heard. The point was, she knew how to throw the disk, and how to make it hurt. Ramaka called from the tree, “I see movement up ahead, and it looks like a number of trees are toppling over. I think it might be a Tarakava.” Le-Matoran were agile in the trees though clumsy on the ground, made Ramaka a better lookout, “You sure?” Gajaga gripped her disk, even as her free hand reached behind her to pull out a sharpened bamboo pole. Cemahri clung to her own throwing disk as well, though the latter’s eyes were wider, and she clenched her disk like one might dangling off a cliff. Cemahri was no guard, just a weaver with very little training in a fight. “I seen little of a large teal head poking out of the trees,” Ramaka answered, “and the way the trees topple over, like they are being bludgeoned by a big sledgehammer. I-I am not very familiar with the Rahi of Ga-Wahi, but I think it is one? At least going off what I saw in the Battle of Kini-Nui.” “We are going to need to move carefully,” Cemahri said, as her free hand shakily reached out and grabbed Gajaga’s wrist. Gajaga turned to Cemahri and smiled, “it’s okay, we can get through this.” She head-butted Cemahri softly, their masks clinking together. The two Matoran of Water embraced, as they stood in the muddy water of this swamp. There was a boom, and a number of trees trembled, no longer so far away. Cemahri flinched with each tremor, clutching Gajaga tight. “A single Tarakava devastated Ga-Koro,” she whispered, staring towards the rumbling trees. “Yes,” admitted Gajaga, “but we can get through this, okay? We aren’t trapped inside a sunken hut this time.” Cemahri nodded, and the two of them wadded through the water, before shuffling behind a tree half-submerged in the water. As they hung there, Cemahri poked her head around the log, her mask’s telescopic lens adjusting to close up on the beast. She was just a Matoran, she couldn’t use her mask’s power of x-ray vision. But the telescopic lens attached to a Kanohi Akaku could be used by anyone. “It’s a Tarakava,” she whispered. “With an infected mask.” “You sure?” “Yes and … and there is a Kraata riding on top of it, a Kraata of Poison I think?” “Karzahni,” muttered Gajaga, “you are right, we need to be careful.” “But how can a Kraata … exist without the Makuta?” “I don’t know. But stay quiet, stay low.” The two other Matoran nodded, waiting as the Tarakava rode past on the treads. As it drove through the water its powerful fists reeled back and punched systematically, knocking over trees with ease. It’s height towered over even the Toa Nuva, let alone three Matoran. But as the Tarakava rode through the swamp it suddenly halted, its treads grinding to a halt. Its head shifted about as it began to look around, its nostrils sniffing the air. The Matoran drew still, even as the Rahi’s Kraata rider squeaked out a hiss of pleasure. … Kanohi grappled through the jungle, firing one Volo Lutu Launcher, then the other. As his balls of gravity hurled him through the canopy he looked about, hearing the birds call, seeing the greenery and fruit. His armor only added to the melody, the wood clanking and striking with each swing like and drum. Mata-Nui was … so alive. While the stories of Metru-Nui sounded cold and lifeless. Of course, Mata-Nui was dangerous, with many aggressive Rahi. And when the Makuta infected their masks, they became even more dangerous. They became an extension of his will, driven to attack the Matoran. And Kanohi still wasn’t sure that the prophecy of the Bohrok had already been fulfilled. Elements of his visions … were incomplete. For over a thousand years the Matoran had lived on Mata-Nui, hunted by the Makuta’s Infected Rahi. The Matoran lived apart, Onu-Matoran in the caves, Ta-Matoran by the lava, Le-Matoran in the trees, Ga-Matoran in the water. They weren’t one people, just six tribes isolated from each other, terrified of leaving their Koro because of the beasts. Thinking Mata-Nui was the only island, that there were only six breeds of Matoran, that this was their homeland. That they were not in exile. That the Turaga would be honest about the important stuff. For the millennia of exile, the Matoran only had themselves to rely on, along with the Turaga he supposed. The Toa were just a legend then. They followed traditions the Turaga made-up, obeyed rules, travel between Koro was forbidden, you stayed with your kind. And if you did not feel comfortable with them, then that was a flaw of your own. Then a few centuries ago Kanohi grew tired of waiting for the heroes to come, and became a vigilante, grappling through the southern jungles to rescue Matoran from Rahi and disasters. He was always a cross-wired freak, not only plagued by visions but his brain functioned differently in general, his wiring was different. More musical, but in a different way, always in motion, calmed by seemingly random noses and gestures. Cross-wired. And his body was strange too. The Turaga said he was Po-Matoran, but he lacked their strength, just had great physical endurance. He knew something was wrong, that he could not be a Matoran of Stone. And of course he wasn’t. It was just another lie, to make the Matoran more unified. Six tribes, six villages. He belonged in Po-Koro. Only it made him more of an outsider. He felt out of place everywhere, and the Matoran had not forgotten to remind him. As an cross-wired outcast, Kanohi knew just how isolating the island could be. So he resolved to be there for the Matoran, especially the other freaks, instead of waiting for fabled Toa to arrive and save the world. To protect the Matoran, give them hope, and let the outcasts know that they were not alone. Because no matter how much Turaga Vakama said his visions were a gift from the Great Spirit himself, even from the start Kanohi had known it was just a glitch. He continued to grapple through the jungle, hooking the branches to catapult his way through the trees. Brakas hooted as he went past, the water lapped against the tree trunks; there was a music to Mata-Nui, one he doubted Metru-Nui had. Kanohi could hear thumping in the distance, maybe a Tarakava? The Rahi usually hunted in pairs, but he did not hear enough sound for there to be two. And it sounded like it was in the shallows, Tarakava preferred to ambush from the depths. That might mean it had an infected mask, and that its will was being overwritten. The Makuta … the Turaga said he had been killed by Takanuva, but they apparently would lie if they thought it necessary. And if they had told him the truth, a Kraata in a high enough stage would know the Makuta’s will. It might be able to continue the plans of its master. He swerved to face the thumping, before grappled towards the sound. If it was an Infected Tarakava he would need to know, to protect the Matoran. Not that the Matoran would going to stay in Mata-Nui for much longer. … The Tarakava sniffed about, its nostrils flaring. Its reptilian head pivoted side to side, probing the trees, searching for the Matoran it could smell. Its Kraata had hopped off, sinking underneath the swamp. The sun was rising higher, and a Kraata of its level knew to fear the light. Gajaga and Cemahri continued to hide, trying not to move. They … they couldn’t win a fight with a Tarakava, the only beings strong enough would be a Toa. And they were no Toa. Then suddenly Cemahri let out a scream, and began to thrash. Gajaga swerved without hesitation, all but tackling her fellow Ga-Matoran. “What’s wrong?” Gajaga demanded as she looked over her. Before her optics Gajaga could see that green rash had began to burn into Cemahri’s metal leg, spreading like rust. The Kraata. Gajaga stabbed her spear into the water in a frenzy, only for the tree they hid behind to be battered away by a giant fist. The Matoran were sent hurtling through the swamp, smashing against a tree. Gajaga shakily stood up, as the Tarakava reeled its arm back. Thump. Ramaka’s bamboo disk thudded against the Infected Tarakava, and the beast shrieked in rage. It swerved towards the Le-Matoran, who shook like a leaf. The Rahi slammed its fist into the tree, Ramaka barely managing to leap to another branch. In the meantime Gajaga clutched at Cemahri, holding her tight. “Come on, fight this thing, please,” she begged as she pressed Cemahri to her heartlight. There was a splash a few bios away, as Ramaka’s tree shattered. The Le-Matoran fell like a rock, only for a brown streak to slam into Ramaka mid fall. Kanohi held Ramaka in his arms as he grappled to another tree. “Ramaka right? She/her?” “Um, yes, you … you are Kanohi, right?” And he … he knew about Ramaka? He knew that she was … not like other Le-Matoran. “Yes,” he nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out a piece of blue shimmering cloth, “listen, Turaga Nokama gave me this centuries ago, it should help reduce poison.” “You … you know about the Kraata?” “I can smell the poison,” he said simply, “get it to Cemahri, I will distract the Tarakava. Head to the south, okay?” “Wh-what about the Kraata?” “…We will try to do our best.” He grappled away flying right past the Tarakava’s snout. Ashe went past he swung his bamboo disk, thumping it against the Rahi’s nose. It flinched before roaring, and rampaging after him. Ramaka stared after him briefly, before hearing shouting. Quickly she jumped into the swamp, wadding over to Cemahri. Quickly she pressed the cloth to Cemahri’s infection, and the poison began to flush out of her body, forming a toxic cloud in the water. “How … how did you…” Gajaga struggled to speak as she held Cemahri tight. “We don’t have time to think about this, we need to get out of here, that Kraata could still be here, ready to poison her again, or one of us.” “R-right,” Gajaga nodded, cradling Cemahri in her arms. She began to wade through the swamp, with Ramaka returning to the trees. … Only a Toa had the power to fight a Tarakava head on. Their command of their element and their ability to harness their masks gave them the ability to take on the toughest beasts. Even Bohrok and Rahkshi fell before them. Kanohi was no Toa, just a Matoran of Iron who had visions and could grapple around the jungle with ease. Still he had fought again rampaging Rahi for centuries, he knew how to deal with them. Kanohi hung to a tree, waiting for the Tarakava to swing. As it punched him he grappled away, and its punch shattered the tree. Bits of debris smacking into the reptile, scratching up its chassis. “O-over here.” He called out, and the beast charged at him, thrusting out its fists. He hooked another tree as it rammed through the swamp, dodging as it hit the tree. The tree fell and smacked into its head, though the blow missed its mask. Kanohi grappled to another tree, before latching to another and hurtling away as the Tarakava smashed the tree to bits. He grappled besides the Tarakava and immediately launched away, dodging another fist. He grappling around the foe, circling it like a Nui-Rama around a Toa. It shifted through the swamp after him, but its treads could not pivot, and it stumbled on the roots and rocks of the marsh. He then suddenly hooked the beast and flew at it, smacking it in the head. It staggered and he leapt away right as it thrust its arm out, exploding a tree into splinters. It swung at him, but his Volo Lutu Launcher first, hurtling him out of reach among the trees. He was baiting it, and with each punch of a tree debris blew back into it. As it shattered another tree Kanohi launched onto another tree. He hung there, waiting as the beast charged. Infected mask or not, it was still an animal. The Tarakava punched at him, but he hooked a ball of gravity against its face. He flew over its fist, before wrenching off its infected mask. He hurled it into the swamp, before grappling over and stomping the mask. The mask cracked, even as the beast stumbled in a daze, its mind was clearing. It lurched about, confused how it had gotten here. Kanohi grappled away, flinging himself through the jungle canopy. As he tumbled he released a sigh he … he had not expected things to do that smoothly. But then as he slung across the marshland, he heard a cry. He swerved in midair and hooked a tree, heading towards the source of the cry. … “Stay back, Makuta-spawn,” demanded Gajaga, thrusting her spear at the Kraata. They were on a patch of mud, solid enough to stand above the water. The Kraata was hissing as the three Matoran stood in a patch of sunlight, enough to ward the Kraata off. The green slug hissed, the mud around it turning a sickly puke color. It paced about on its patch of shadow, trying to figure out how it could grow closer— Then there was a tumble as Kanohi landed besides them. He thrust out his lighter, and the slug flinched from the light. “Burn it, quickly.” “Not unless I can help it,” he said, waving his arm back and forth, aiming to ward off the beast. “It hurt Cemahri,” shouted Gajaga, grabbed his wrist and thrusting the vigilante’s lighter forward. Immediately the Kraata ignited, turning into a violent blaze. Noxious green fumes plumed off from it as it burnt to a crisp, and Kanohi kicked the slug away, into the swamp. “Fire-spitter,” Kanohi growled, before sighing, “now this patch of swamp will become toxic, it will be unsafe to dip your mask in the water for years.” “It needed to die.” “It did, but there are better ways to get rid of them,” Kanohi stood up, “you all alright? How is Cemahri holding up?” “Okay just … hurts,” moaned the Ga-Matoran, clutching her leg. “We need to get her to Toa Gali, she could cure the poison.” “But … of course,” Gajaga said, hoisting Cemahri onto her back. “Why did you leave into the swamp?” It looked like they packed heavy, tools, sleeping bags, maps, there was a lot of camping gear. “B-because this is our home. We don’t remember Metru-Nui, it’s just a story. Mata-Nui was our home, where we meet each other, where we grew. Where we … meet each other. We don’t know the first thing about the city, or living underground. It’s … it’s not our destiny.” He nodded, looking away, “I understand.” He said, and his wrists began to flap, his arms held out like a Tarakava ready to punch. But his posture wasn’t aggressive just … anxious. “You do?” “Of course. And does it hurt me that the Turaga lied for centuries. That the lies they used to keep most Matoran safe hurt the rest, and they found it acceptable. That when we came to them in confusion and fear, they lied more, to protect the rest. I … I had thought they thought higher of us.” “Would you want to stay here too?” “…What I want and what will happen are very different,” Kanohi sighed, “Duty calls us elsewhere, to the underground.” “But … that is the Duty the Turaga claim we have. What if they are lying?” “They mean to do what’s best for us.” “But you kn-know very well that’s what is best for the Matoran is not what is best for every Matoran. We are not just a monolithic people.” Ramaka stumbled, shrinking under his gaze, “some … some of us are broken. We don’t belong in Metru-Nui.” “…I understand,” he sighed, “I feel out of place in any Koro, let alone in some city I never traveled too. But first, let us return to Kini-Nui. Cemahri needs help recovering from the poison. And the other Matoran will need to know to avoid this stretch of swamp. The three other Matoran nodded, even Cemahri, and together they began to make their way through the tree, Kanohi grappling overhead. … Kanohi grappled across the camped village of Voka-Koro, reaching down to swipe up a fallen bamboo disk. “Um, over here,” a Ta-Matoran called out, avoiding his gaze. Kanohi hooked the ground besides the Matoran and landed besides the m, before handing over the disk. They curtsied in thanks, before reeling their arm back and throwing the disk again, aiming for a target dummy shaped like a Kraata. The small village held thirty seven Matoran, with Kanohi acting as their protector. In the treetops Matoran grappled with Volo Lutu Launchers they held in their hands, foraging food and resources from the jungle. Some wove flax into cloth, others cut bamboo into tools. A few worked to repair their hovercraft, which were made with large cabins to live in. Voya-Koro was mobile, hence the name. For the past month they have traveled about, foraging supplies from the old abandoned villages, having a tour of the island. He could hear laughter as Matoran discovered old adventures, old victories. As they traveled their hovercrafts were frequently rebuilt, the fleet’s ships growing bigger and bolder. “Your village is coming along quite nicely,” a shaky voice offered. Kanohi tensed up like a coiled spring, and did not answer. “I know you are still mad,” Turaga Vakama said as he appeared besides him. A Turaga could only use Noble masks like a Huna, but the Mask of Concealment still had its uses. The Turaga was using his Firestaff as a cane, though it’s flames were dwarfed by sunlight. “I understand why you did what you did. I might have even done the same in your position, though I would have been a very different Matoran then. But maybe I even would have been such a Matoran, before I lost my memories. And I know that had I known, I may have ventured below to help the Matoran underground. Could have enraged the Makuta, or just died. I understand. But all of that doesn’t undo that keeping our truths from us wasn’t cruel.” “We thought that if the Matoran were more organized, if things were simpler, they would be happier. And safer. We did not know how many would fall in the cracks.” “Least you don’t need to worry about us anymore.” He gestured to the nomadic village. Many of them had been outcasts in the old villages, considered freaks by their people. Some were the ‘wrong’ gender for their breed, some of them had strange urges for companionship, some had eccentricities, some were cross-wired. Few of them had ever belonged in their Koro, and now that the world was changing, they had clung to the only people who had been there for them. “I did not know our gulf was so deep.” “…I would not have stayed here if they did not need me.” And that was true. “…You and I do not always seem the exact same thing in our visions, but you must know, I have witnessed a new prophecy.” “The Bohrok?” Kanohi said simply. Instinctually his hand reached to his side, where one of his wooden masks covered his lighter. He winced at the gesture, and pulled his hand back, its wrist flapping with discomfort. “Yes. They will destroy Mata-Nui. Our war against them had only delayed the inevitable destruction of this island.” “I know. It’s why we travel in hovercraft. It’s not just to see the whole island, or to flee from Rahi. We will sail away from the island of Mata-Nui when that time of doom comes, we will find refuge in the open ocean.” “Are you so enrage at us that you would condemn yourself and these Matoran you protect to an eternity on the Endless Ocean?” Vakama’s voice trembled with exhaustion, and Kanohi’s fingers began to wiggle, an anxious energy sinking in. “No, but I have foreseen what happens when the Great Spirit will awaken. Only suffering will follow for the Matoran below. And the Matoran of Voka-Koro will stay here whether I stay or not, I know as much. All I can do is protect them, maybe guide them. And the Matoran suffering below … I could not protect them. I … a Brotherhood of Makuta is beyond me, I know that now.” “How could the Great Spirit awakening be anything but glad?” “…I see a giant machine towering above the Endless Ocean, eyes crimson with arrogance. I see the Matoran ruled by Rahkshi, the Turaga imprisoned in the Coluseum itself, and even the Toa Nuva forced to flee for their lives.” “How is it possible?” “I only tell you what my visions said. It may just be a metaphor.” He winced. He regretted that he had said that dig, deserved or not. “…I couldn’t tell you the truth. But … maybe I could have been less dismissive.” “I know many of the problems I faced you did too once,” Kanohi sighed, “for better or worse, the truth makes you seem less unreachable.” “Yes. I suppose I viewed Turaga Dume the same once,” he laughed, “I never fully learned the lessons I should have, even after a thousand years. And after the trouble we had with the fake disks, I inflected that kind of pain onto you? I failed you.” “…From the sounds of your stories, you did better that Turaga Dume and Lhikan. As long as we continue to do better for the next generation, we haven’t failed.” “Perhaps,” Vakama smiled wearily, “Maybe if we peer into the fire together, like old times, we could learn more.” “…Alright,” Kanohi nodded. If it would help the Matoran, that was most important. And he … he hated that he no longer could trust Vakama like he once had. He could still remember Naming Day, being honored that Vakama had appointed Kanohi his truth name, instead of just his masked identity. “Do you ever think you can forgive us?” “I have forgiven you. But there is a wall between us now, and there always will be. We will never be as close as we once were.” “I understand.” “How are things in Metru-Nui?” “Rebuilding continues. You could be a great help down there.” “I would, but the Matoran of Metru-Nui have seven Toa and seven Turaga. I can make a bigger difference here, among the Matoran who need it most.” “If the giant does rise, what then?” “I get my people to safety, then try to help all of you. Thank of us as a backup group of heroes, who will be there to save you in a ‘great rescue.’” Vakama smiler, “I noticed you listened to all my stories.” “Yes. And for the record, I have foreseen that our hovercrafts will make landfall one day. We will not wander the ocean forever.” “…We can send some supplies to you before then, masks and tools. Once we can make Kanoka again, we can send some your way. Dume would be resistant, he is not comfortable with you being out here, he wants to have the guards bring you back to Metru-Nui.” “I see why the Matoran bristle under him.” “Yes he … Metru-Nui was very different that Mata-Nui. More distant. And Dume would rather us Turaga maintain that distance.” Kanohi glanced at the Turaga. “Meaning?” “Turaga Dume … is used to announcing his decrees, and the Matoran listening. He has more experience that us, much more, but he has not lived among Matoran for a long time, and has not walked among them for millennia before the Makuta captured him.” The Fe-Matoran looked away, “Thank you, Turaga Vakama. If you can send us Kanoka, focus on disks of regeneration, freezing, and remove poison. Those should satisfy our needs. But don’t worry about powered masks, they would be wasted on us. The Toa Nuva and Takanuva, and your Turaga could use them more.” “I know, do not fear,” Vakama laughed, “And just in case your people ever need to know, a Kiril can be made with a regeneration disk. It’s fairly simple to make. Level seven is a Noble Kiril. Level eight would become a Great Mask.” “That’s good. If you can gives us tablets on how to make Kanoka and masks, it might be good to have that knowledge, just in case.” “Yes. Forming a Kanoka is not easy, they were only invented fairly recently. Well, recently in the history of Metru-Nui. But I would be happy to share that with you, late though it would be.” Kanohi looked up as drums began to pound. He looked towards the source of the beating, listening in. “A Rahi is approaching from the west,” he said as the thunder of music continued, “I need to handle this.” “Very well. Good luck.” Kanohi nodded before hooking a tree, and hurtling through the air. He grappling through the trees, launching himself among the branches past the parked convoy. In the distance he could hear a roar, maybe a Muaka? Their jaws were powerful, their claws too, but he knew how to tire one out. The vigilante protector of Voya-Koro hurtling forward, passing the waving Matoran of the village. He catapulted through the forest of Le-Wahi, hurtling through the many trees of Mata-Nui, his beloved island home.
  3. New story time. This one does not really feature Kanohi, but it follows up on some of his stories. I wrote this because of the RPG I participate in, Six Kingdoms: Escapement/Rebirth. Within the story there are a number of PC Turaga who still adventure like Toa. Likewise a plot point in the rpg is that the Matoran can be fairly prejudiced against other races. RIP Poison’s species. Also I wanted to setup the epic I have not written and might not write, that details the Toa Inika of this reality as they struggle against the Makuta. Gosh I hope I write that story one day. As for setting, this story takes place millennia after the events of my stories The Company of Cowards and A Village Against the Rahkshi, in a world where those stories are ancient history. It takes place on a poor village on the shore of Aqua-Magna, which has recently suffered some damages that might be the result of a large Rahi. Anyway without further ado, here is the tale, hope it keeps you folks entertained while we are all self isolating. Those We Choose to Forget … The water around Turaga Macku rippled like the fumes of the old Great Furnace. She slipped through the water in a rush, bending around her to propel her fast and far. She squeezed through the current, laughing underneath her squishy organic mask as she traversed the waves. Sparks danced from her harpoon as she cleaved through the waves, like stars in an ocean. “Turaga,” a voice called out as she briefly surfaced, “the Chronicler wants to speak to you.” Her head turned as she treaded water, spying two shapes. She focused, the blue blur looked like Dalu, her bodyguard. Then she focused on the second figure, and recognized the gold and white blur of an Av-Matoran waving on the shore. Turaga Macku swayed her hands and the water pushed her to the shore, letting her shakily wade onto land. Her legs trembled with age and her hands were unfocused, her vision gone. As she walked she slammed her harpoon down, using it to steady her unstable legs. “Chronicler, it is good to see you,” the Turaga said in greeting as she walked closer, “you do not often find your way to Mahri-Koro.” Her chassis was a bright blue, and she wore a strange almost fleshy Noble Huna over her face. As she walked her fingers drummed her harpoon in a flash of sparks, and the water dripping off her frame suddenly splashed to the ground in a sheet, flung off of her body so she could dry. She was a Turaga of Water, not as powerful as when she was a Toa in her youth, but she still had some lingering remnant of her old elemental powers. “Sorry it’s just, well, most of the Toa and the Matoran live in Metru-Nuva,” he answered, rubbing the back of his mask. “Oh, I think you’ll find we Mahrika still have our fair share of excitement, Solek,” Turaga Macku answered, stopping right besides the Chronicler, “tell me though, why have you come all this way to the shores of Aqua-Magna?” “I … was wondering is you could help me finish a tale I’ve been wondering about. What happened to the Fe-Matoran named Kanohi. The vigilante?” Solek rubbed the back of his head, and Dalu rolled her eyes. “His is an old tale,” she answered with a faint smile, “dating back to the days of the island of Mata-Nui, before the Toa Nuva had landed on our shores. I was just a Matoran back when he first became our protector, still Turaga Nokama’s right hand…” She trailed off, still smiling. “What was it like? When your team killed Teridax?” “It was … lucky,” she sighed, “we got lucky. Three Toa and two titans against six Skakdi and a horde of Rahkshi, and the Ma… the leader of the Makuta? It was just luck.” “And Destiny,” Solek offered with a grin beneath his noble Akaku. “Yes,” the Turaga nodded, “Destiny had its part to play. As did Unity and Duty. Despite what Velika might say.” Her optics tightened, and she clutched her staff hard enough for it to tremble. “Who?” “He’s a part of the story, I suppose you could say. His part is forgotten, for better or for worse.” “Was he a Matoran?” “No.” Turaga Macku answered simply. “Though he might as well have been,” spat Dalu, the Ga-Matoran’s face clenched under her mask. “As for Kanohi,” the Turaga continued, “I do not know what his last adventure was. Because as far as I know, his adventures have yet to end.” The Turaga walked off towards the coastal huts of Mahri-Koro, with the two Matoran following after her as she used her harpoon as a cane. “Really, where is he?” “He is helping many, those that are less fortunate than our people on Spherus-Magna,” Turaga Macku turned her head towards him, her metal lips turning to a soft smile, “some Matoran, some Skakdi, some Vortixx, some Zyglak. Some who have no name in our tongue. He helps them.” “But … where else would Matoran be? Or the others? The Red Star?” “Where he is, that is quite the story. He is not alone however. I believe he is with one of your fellow Av-Matoran, Gavla I believe her name was?” “Gavla? Why?” “I believe she felt out of place on Spherus-Magna and among the Av-Matoran. Since he was patient with her, she chose to leave with him.” “That’s it?” “That is it.” “But she wanted to be a Shadow Matoran, she attacked our people, she … she was the worst Av-Matoran I have ever met.” “Yes,” nodded the Turaga. “Why does she get to travel with a great hero?” “Because she was as uncomfortable in this paradise as he was.” “Wh — why would he be uncomfortable?” “Why indeed,” mused Turaga Macku, her smile wide beneath her mask. The three of them walked along the shore among huts woven of flax, some huts hanging on the ocean atop large lily pads. Matoran walked among the braided rope bridges and sandstone paths, most of them Matoran of Water, Lightning, and Psionics, but there were others too. They swam and fished on the lily pads, while others wove cloth from fibers of flax and seaweed, and others built spears and throwing disks out of bamboo. Vortixx were there too, the towering traders leaned over Matoran stalls, examining harpoon guns and fishing rods. They were shorter and leaner than the ones in Xia-Nuva, but even the smallest one still dwarfed even Toa. Some worked to hang up bug nets, others threw bolas to ensnare flying Rahi, bringing them down in time for Matoran to run up to catch the meal. Solek startled as he nearly thumped into a Skakdi, but as the Av-Matoran backed up the hulking character only grunted and gestured for Solek to leave. The Chronicler hurried away, but looked back enough to see the Skakdi going back to whittling a wooden Hau. Then he spied a large blue, white, and red reptilian creature, lumbering on wooden tools and surrounded by a trio of Ga-Matoran. “That … this is a Zyglak?” Solek managed, clenching his staff. “Yes, Far-Dive is lucky, all of the Zyglak here were recently injured in a deep sea dive. Luckily he was able to swim long enough to get to shore and was able to get help, we were able to recover the rest. Most of the others are recovering in our infirmary.” “They … live here?” “Some do, they help us dive for sunken huts or hovercrafts, maybe hunt deep sea beasts. And the few times we have been attacked by the Bone Raiders, they have been of great aid repealing them.” “But they … they were the Great Beings’ mistakes,” he stared at the Turaga. “All of us were their mistakes,” huffed Dalu with a tremble like a bioquake, “doesn’t mean we don’t deserve homes. And that at least give us aid when they can spare it.” It was … strange to an outsider like the Chronicler. Not just the many shady inhabitants, like the greedy Vortixx and the violent Skakdi and Zyglak, but the buildings, While the huts were humble, there were many of varying sizes, some wide, some lean, but all fairly tall and often with both a large curtain and a small curtain for doorways. Were those entrances for folks of different sizes. It was … the effort to engineer this town this way… “Is this how it was on Mata-Nui?” “Not really,” answered Turaga Macku, “electricity wasn’t so widespread then, medicine was worse too, and there were only Matoran there, and we all suffered under constant attacks by Rahi. This Koro is poor, but it is not cruel.” “But why live here instead of Metru-Nuva? Or any other Koro?” “Because … many Matoran have not evolved beyond their programming. Not really.” “What does that mean? That the Matoran here are simp—” Solek suddenly was cut off as Dalu swung her Charger at his neck, stopping just short of his throat. “Watch what you say.” The Ga-Matoran’s voice hissed like a boiler venting steam. “Um, right, sorry.” Dalu walked off alongside her Turaga, and Solek could only stare. That was … Ga-Matoran were not like that. That was more the anger of a Ta-Matoran. Why was she so angry? And why was she just … no one really was reacting either? And why were Skakdi here, they mostly spent their days beating up each other. Not … relaxing on a beach. Then Solek realized Turaga Macku was walking farther away. The Chronicler straightened his mask before running up after them, stumbling as he struggled to catch up. Finally he stood besides them out of breath, as Macku laughed, “Now,” the Turaga gestured towards a hovercraft tied to a hut floating on a lily pad, “I am wondering if you would help us with something, before I tell you a bit of Kanohi’s tales.” “Sure, Turaga. What do you need?” “A few days ago some of our hovercrafts were sunken. The Zyglak went to investigate and were brutalized by the encounter. From what Far-Dive says, I suspect both were attacked by a large Rahi. Dalu, Idris, and me were planning to descend into the depths to investigate it, but having an Av-Matoran to guide us in the dark would be a great help.” “Oh, um, I … Pit Mutagen isn’t there, is it?” “There shouldn’t be.” “Do you have a submarine?” “Why? Don’t you have Adaptive Armor?” scowled Dalu. “Well, yes, but what about you?” “Idris was exposed to Pit Mutagen long ago, she can breathe underwater. As for Dalu and myself, we can manage between the two of us.” “Can Ga-Matoran hold their breath that long? Are you going to use her Chargers?” “If something goes wrong.” “Do not worry, Chronicler,” the Turaga laughed, “the survivors of Mahri-Nui have many techniques and technologies for surviving underwater, many that put any Ga-Matoran to shame. Many of them moved here, and they have helped us in times like this. And our Vortixx residents are always happy to help us improve our tech and keep it in working order.” “Why are they here?” “The same reason any Mahrika are here. Oh, that is what we call us people of Mahri-Koro. Now would it be alright to count you among our voyage? “Um, yes, Turaga Macku.” … Idris took the lead, bubbles spurting from her back as she descended into the water. The Chronicler swam besides her, a glowing hand outstretched. His body had changed in shape and function, his feet and hands now had webbing, and built into his back was now propellers that shoved him through the water in bursts of speed. “So, Idris,” The Matoran of Light held out his hand as he radioed her, “why do you live in Mahri-Koro?” From his hand a bright light radiated through the gloom, a beacon to the swimmers. “Because I cannot breathe air?” She glanced at the Chronicler, her head tilted. “Yes but you could get a Breathing Helmet and live in Metru-Nuva? Or get your body upgraded to be able to breathe air again.” “Well … it wouldn’t be comfortable. My body is built for water since I was exposed to the Pit, and I spend centuries living beneath the waves. Metru-Nuva wasn’t built with me in mind.” “Built with you in mind?” “I don’t have the widgets to buy a Breathing Helmet, or buy replacement parts if it broke. I definitely cannot afford a body upgrade. And I don’t know if many Matoran would hire a worker who could suffocate in air.” “Yeah but that’s…” “It’s okay. Mahri-Koro might not have the best medicine or the biggest selection of comforts, but it’s still good. Close to the ocean, the other Mahrika will swim with me, they value my help and freakishness. It’s a nice place to live. More accessible to everyone.” “You aren’t a freak.” “I kind of am,” she looked off to the side, before abruptly saying, “but it would be better if I was enough of a freak to use my Ruru. Imagine if I could actually use my mask to see through this gloom. It would let us save your elemental power.” “Oh it’s no trouble—” There was a rumble below them, and Solek vanished. Though as Idris swerved in the water to look for him, she realized his light remained. “Chronicler? Are you there?” “Yeah, sorry. My armor changes color on reflex.” Idris turned towards the glowing light, she could just about see an indigo hand with a black forearm, both illuminated by the light. “Incredible.” “One of the many perks of being a Matoran of Light. If you want I can change back?” “Don’t,” Macku’s voice interrupted, as a hand grasped Solek’s shoulder. He spun around, only to find true emptiness behind him. “T-Turaga?” Solek’s optics swept about, searching for her. Then Turaga Macku laughed across the radio, “Come now, Turaga. I have a Huna, don’t I? Noble Mask of Invisibility.” “Oh, right,” Solek blushed. “But I suggest you keep those colors you have shifted to, at least fir now. Us girls naturally blend in with the water, even without my mask. If the Rahi is hostile, it could only help you to stay a little camouflaged.” “Quiet, I hear something,” interrupted Dalu, “more rumbling to the southwest, lot of water being displaced, other Rahi are fleeing from the rumbling too, some are screaming.” Solek turned to see her swimming up, her body was built in the Mata-Nui style, giving her long arms and short legs with big feet, an somewhat ape-like appearance. “Understood, rest for a time, Dalu. Chronicler, Idris, please investigating the sound, I will help Dalu rest, make the water support her. When you explore, don’t attack the source of the sound unless you must. We don’t know how dangerous it is, if it is enraged it could damage Mahri-Koro.” “Right,” Solek nodded, and extinguished his light. His hand reached out and grabbed Idris’s wrist, before swimming towards the direction Dalu suggested. His Adaptive Armor shifted slightly, and a visor formed in his mask. giving him a sort of basic night vision. Not as powerful as even a Noble Ruru could do, let alone a Great Ruru, but enough for the darkness not to blind him. As the two swam Solek remarked, “Dalu seems a bit … odd for a Ga-Matoran.” “She came from Voya-Nui.” “So did you, didn’t you?” “…Not originally, but then neither did she.” “Then why—” “She grew up on a hostile island with no Turaga for guidance, just unusually weak Matoran struggling to survive as they ran more and more out of resources, hunted by powerful starving beasts.” “You had to live underwater.” “Yes. But that doesn’t take away what she endured.” “But times are easier now, aren’t they?” “They are. But not everyone heals, and not everyone heals the same way.” “Her core processor is damaged?” “Don’t say that,” Idris spoke with a sharpness that Solek cut himself on. “Oh, sorry.” “Point is, she doesn’t fit together with most Ga-Matoran now, always ready for the next attack, her instincts ready to retaliate at the first sign of a threat. Most Matoran find a warrior Ga-Matoran disturbing, she was isolated in Metru-Nuva, and that only made her anger and paranoia harder to control.” “So she came to Mahri-Koro?” “Yes. She is fairly calm and happier here, but certain things can trigger her.” “And the Vortixx? How are they odd?” “Well um, many of them come here because Vortixx society is very rigid on gender. Many of our siblings here are more flexible, some have no gender, some have many, some are assigned as male by their people but prefer to be women, some the reverse, some have a third gender.” “I … never heard of such a thing.” “It appeals to some of the Mahrika Matoran too. Other Vortixx come because they are injured or disabled, and cannot afford treatment or prosthetics. And even with treatments, Vortixx don’t often get hired in Xia-Nuva if they might be a liability. And in Metru-Nuva, well, medicine is not intended for beings that size.” “What about the Skakdi, most of them are just bandits, raiding Koro or getting in street fights. Their uncontrollable rage is legendary, I never saw an artisan one before. And the false Toa were Skakdi too, but the Turaga lets them live here?” “The Skakdi feel great rage, yes, doesn’t mean all of them want to let it rule them. They are sick, but so am I, so is Dalu, so are all of us. And the false Toa were only six in number, they do not speak for their whole people. And do not forget, the Skakdi people were experimented on by a Makuta, they did not exactly chose to be wrathful.” “And the Zyglak? They are strange for their people?” “Not really. Well, they might be more … hopeful? When Kanohi and Turaga Macku reached out to them, they did not immediately refuse.” “Kanohi? He was here?” “Yes, he lived here for a while. Before he left. Gavla tried living here too.” “But why approach the Zyglak?” “Because as much as all of us Mahrika are considered freaks and outcasts in Matoran society, none of us are openly called “the Great Beings’ mistakes.” Solek’s face reddened, and he looked away “…How is the Turaga strange?” “She loves.” “Well, we all do.” “No, not like a sister, she loves like an Agori would.” “…I had never heard that about her.” “That’s surprising, she’s pretty open about it. I know you don’t come to Mahri-Koro much but I would have thought one of the other Turaga would have told you. Turaga Kapura at least.” “Well he doesn’t really talk anymore.” “From what our Turaga says Turaga Kapura never talked the way the Matoran approved of, but he always got his point across. Turaga Macku wonders out loud sometimes why he did not leave Metru-Nuva to live here with us, before she usually sighs and mutter, ‘but we were safe, weren’t we? We were the Hands of our Turaga.”” “…What was it like on Mata-Nui? The island I mean.” “I … never really went there.” “But what does Turaga Macku say?” “…Not my place to speak for my Turaga.” “What about Kanohi then? I know that right before he vanished he had spent much of his time here. Was that hero … he unusual too?” “…” Idris was silent, but as Solek started to speak again the water came to life. Not literally, but it began to squirm and twist, and then the water churned as the very ocean rumbled like a yawning Tahtarok. The darkness around them seemed to squeeze around them, something shifting in the gloom. The two Matoran startled, and Idris drew her electro-blade as the Av-Matoran drew his staff, a curved two-pronged two representing his status as the Chronicler. The two of them treaded water back to back, even as the very shadows around them seemed to move as an avalanche. As the water rumbled around them, suddenly a familiar voice declared “swim to your left.” The two Matoran broke to the side, and Solek startled when he realized he was all but a blur through the water, zipping away in a burst of speed. He flapped his hands to stop, before feeling a hand grab him and turn him around. As Idris redirected his gaze, Solek ignited his staff with elemental light. The glow illuminated a massive wall, one that was squirming about. “What … is that?” The Chronicler managed. “The Dweller in the Deep,” Turaga Macku radioed quietly, “I heard stories of this beast. A unique massive Rahi that had made its home in the Silver Sea of Metru-Nui. Turaga Nokama faced it once when she was still a Toa, it was the only predator of Tarakava and Great Temple Squids.” “I … am unfamiliar with those Rahi.” “A single Tarakava almost wiped out all of Ga-Koro, trapping the Ga-Matoran underwater in a hut rapidly running out of air. They would have died if I had not snuck past to get help from Toa Gali. And a Great Temple Squid all but destroyed Ga-Koro five hundred years before the Toa came to Mata-Nui.” “…And this eats them?” The Chronicler managed, the wall of fish scales still passing in front of him and Idris. It was … endless. As he stared the light from his staff grew larger, but still he could not see the edge of this colossal Rahi’s body. But he did see something. “Turaga Macku, the Rahi has some discoloration, a green burn is running down its side. Looks diseased, or maybe poisoned?” “Troubling.” “Turaga, could it be the world of a Lerahk? Could Makuta Krika be the cause?” “Shame, Idris. You know the last Makuta keeps to himself, and after saving Spherus Magna he deserves some good faith, despite … everything.” “Of course, Turaga.” Besides, without Energized Protodermis, no new Rahkshi can be made. Even if he wished to create some, he could not. Still, it does resemble the poison Tahu suffered. Perhaps it is the work of a feral Kraata, or even a wild Rahkshi that escaped our hunters…” “Can you heal it then?” “Possibly, though I have far less power than Toa Gali Nuva. Dalu, wait for me, then try to accelerate its healing.” “Right.” “Idris and Chronicler, you will need to distract the beast. Give us time to get to work.” “We are on it,” Idris declared, and the Chronicler nodded, before firing a flare of light through the darkness of the ocean. The light streaked through the water, and with a terrible rumble the Dweller winced as the light passed its eyes. The beast slowly began to swerve in the water, it’s snake of a body turning about slowly as Solek fired another flare. It winced at the radiance, before diving at Solek. As it opened its maw Idris thrust her electro-blade against the beast’s hide. It moaned and Solek jetted out of its jaws’ path, before sending another flare streaking past. … Turaga Macku’s fingers sparked with electrocity as they pushed and pulled against the depths, creating a current to shove her and Dalu through the water. Their feet kicked too of course, but the water did not fight them, letting them move swiftly through the darkness. “Okay, Dalu, enhance my finger strength.” “On it, Macku,” muttered Dalu, “not stopping there, gotta increase this dweller’s natural resistance to toxicity and ability to heal.” “Three enhancements? Are you sure—” “I can take it, Macku,” Dalu grunted, “I’m not some frail fisherwoman.” She drew her Chargers and they began to glow, illuminating the Turaga’s hands and the whole of beast itself. Dalu lurched as the water around the two rippled and churned, before going limp. “Dalu—” “Get … on with it, Turaga,” spat Dalu, and Macku just nodded with a small grin. With a flex of her sparking fingers she hurled through the water, flying at the beast just as it turned chasing the Chronicler. She stowed her harpoon on he back, she wouldn’t need it yet. Macku’s hand shot out and grasped the beast, clinging onto his scales. As she hung she began to climb along him, searching for the burns. Her body was all but invisible, her organic mask cloaking her from sight. Not that she needed it much in the gloom. The strange fleshy mask was … smart. She did not need to focus to use it, it empowered her on its own. Such a freakish mask, a Mahrika through and through. There, she heard the beast roar in pain as her finger grasped at a patch of flesh that was unusually soft. The beast bucked and thrashed, she clung to a scale desperately, her fingers straining for a handhold. As the thrashing slowed she closed her eyes, still clinging tightly. As she dangled off it she held out one hand, which sizzled with energy. Her Toa Team had been … unique. Infused with the power of the Red Star, their elements were bonded to electricity, their masks were sentient and organic, their bodies full of energy. Three of them had become somewhat more … conventional later on, but she, Kapura, and Hafu had kept their strangeness, even after Kapura and her had finally became Turaga. She breathed slow into her air bubble, digging her feet and hands into the gaps in the beast’s scales. Then the Turaga pressed a hand to the wound, and electricity burnt into the green fleshy patch. The beast lurched and thrashed, but she held. And as her hand sparked water rippled around the wound, soaking into it. The fluid seemed to glow a shade lighter than the ocean, as the waves from her hand pushed into the wound. The element of water could naturally heal, not as well as a Mask of Healing, but it could mend flesh. And now not only was she healing, she was flushing out the poison. Like Toa Gali had done long ago to Toa Tahu, before … things got bad. Macku was not a Toa anymore, and not a Toa Nuva like Gali, but she still had some healing left in her. As she focused the sparks coming off her hand burned away the infected tissue as the water healed it, as well as cauterizing and cleaning the wound. “Chronicler, be prepared for danger,” she said suddenly over the radio, “this burn, it is similar to the ones a Lerahk could cause.” “Then it is a Rahkshi?” “No,” she grunted as the Dweller suddenly lurched. She could feel herself getting low of elemental power, “the poison burns are in streaks, like something slithered there. It was likely a Kraata-Ye, I … think it would have to be at least stage five.” “Stage five?” “Yes, that would poison any Rahi. But since this is not just any Rahi, it might be a stage six of even a Shadow Kraata.” “How could a Shadow Kraata remain alive? How is it possible?” “It is a big universe, and there are plenty of things outside it,” she answered, “Do not worry, the Turaga hunted the Kraata for centuries on Mata-Nui, and none of them had the element of light to help them. At best they had Matoro and Kanohi to act as bait.” “…Yes but I’m not Kanohi.” “No kidding,” Dalu managed to radio, “Macku, I’ve got an idea. Still a bit winded, so if I pass out, you better bring me to the surface.” “Of course, warrior.” “Okay, I did this with Toa Tamaru once, before he … used the mask. Let’s try this.” And then Turaga Macku’s hands began to glow and a current of lightning and water unleashed from her fingers. “What are you—” “Enhancing … your connection to your … elem…” And then Dalu fell silent. “…Idris,” Macku ordered as her power washed over the beast’s wounds, “find Dalu and bring her to the surface.” “Of course, Turaga.” The beast’s wounds seemed almost to regenerate as the poison was flushed from its skin into a noxious cloud. As her power dwindled Macku called out, “Chronicler, get ready. If the Kraata is still here, it will try to stop—” And then a blast of light streaked past her, illuminating the Dweller’s back. As Macku’s optics adjusted she could just about see a green slug-like creature, hissing as it flinched from Solek’s light. The Kraata reared back lunged towards Turaga Macku, but whether it aimed to infected her mask or poison her, she would never know. For Solek fired a pure bolt of light energy, which streaked over her shoulder and plowed into the Kraata. The Kraata-Ye burst into a cloud of vapor, and a small cloud of greenish blackness hung in the water. “Are you alright, Turaga?” “Yes,” she nodded, before shoving off the beast, “the Dweller is still wounded, but the poison is expelled, and there should be no more.” “But where did it come from? And the Dweller—” “Is leaving for deeper water,” she pointed simply, and it was. The long creature slithered through the water towards the farther depths of Aqua-Magna, the ocean rippling in its wake. … “So, you will speak to Krika then?” “Well, not him, I don’t know where to look. But he keeps a Rahkshi with a Shadow Kraata in Metru-Nuva, it knows his will. If … if there are wild Kraata on Spherus-Magna, it should know. And if not, then he should know another Makuta still remains loose.” “You will trust him?” Turaga Macku said. “You … you all have given me a lot to think about. I never … thought about … never questioned … you are a strange Turaga, you know that? You still have wisdom but you fight, you go on adventures.” “Yes, well, I always knew when tradition should be ignored. Apparently even before Mata-Nui.” “…What was Kanohi like? I mean I know the stories but … I did not question them.” “He was an outcast,” she said almost casually, “we thought there were only six elements, the Turaga told us he was a Po-Matoran. But of course, he lacks their strength and his body is built differently, he failed in much that they did with ease. Then there were his visions.” She looked away to the horizon, “we thought he was insane, his other oddities didn’t help. Vakama taught him about his visions, he knew what it was like to have a glitch, especially such a strange one. But there was only so much time they could meet with each other. For centuries the six types of Matoran were kept apart, and while Kanohi was a traveler, he ‘belonged’ with the Po-Matoran.” “Why not tell him he was a Matoran of Iron?” “Because, Matoran like people to fit into nice neat boxes, and some of us can’t,” she sighed, “revealing other elements would only confuse the Matoran, cause disharmony. Or so they said when he found out. It drove a wedge between him and Vakama, and I wonder if it is why Vakama finally died seemingly of his body shutting down.” “Vakama died of guilt?” “I think that sometimes. You know, the most remarkable thing about Kanohi was not that his vision gave him visions or that he was a Matoran of Iron on Mata-Nui. It was that he took all the ostracizing and judgement other Matoran pushed and him, and turned it into compassion. He became a vigilante while the rest of Mata-Nui waited for the Toa. He rescued Matoran, helped other outcasts build homes, he tried to make the world a little kinder, a little more hopeful. Especially for the most vulnerable of the Matoran.” “When he learned about the Matoran below, his heartlight broke,” she sighed, “on Mata-Nui, the bulk of us were bullies at worse, we could be cruel but not monstrous. Well, most of us were merely bullies, one Matoran served the Makuta willingly. But below our people were much worse. Some of our fellow Matoran committed genocides, viewed other races as savages. They experimented on other ‘lesser’ Matoran, they committed atrocities. And as far as he knew, he might have been monstrous too before the Makuta had destroyed all of our memories.” “So he and you made Mahri-Koro as a sanctuary? “Something like that,” she nodded, “a village that would take in the freaks, the outcasts, the monsters and the creatures.” “…The stories I hear of Kanohi are … different. That he was always beloved hero, honored by all of Mata-Nui and Voya-Nui.” “He was and is a hero, and most Matoran honored him by the end. The stories are not exactly wrong. But even now, acknowledging that he was first an outcast, that the villages did not see his potential for nearly a millennia, that for a time only the freaks admired him, well, it does not fit the simple view of the world that Matoran like.” “…I will have to rewrite some of the chronicles in the Wall of History.” She shakily stood up, using her harpoon to stand, “on a brighter note, the last day he was here, he told me that he had been wondering something. That when the Turaga took us to Mata-Nui, and rebuilt our society, if they had tried to make it kinder. It was not perfectly so, but if they had at least tried to make society nicer, more compassionate. And though their efforts had fallen short, now Mahri-Koro had learned from their mistakes and successes, and made a better village. And he wondered if one day, millennia in the future, if another village will come and put this one to shame.” “That’s beautiful.” “Forgive me, I still have not told you where Kanohi went.” “Isn’t he still here?” Solek smiled. “In ways,” she smiled back, “and in many ways though he is far away, often he is quite close to Aqua-Magna, if not Spherus-Magna. Rarely the Red Star, and even rarer farther than that.” “I don’t understand?” “It’s not known to many of us. I wonder if he knew about it all along, his visions might have given him glimpses. Makuta Krika might be able to tell you more, he was the one to use the Olmak in the end. Ask him when you visit him.” “Krika knows?” “A Makuta seeking redemption? Filled with regret? He is a freak, much like us Mahrika. He was kept in much of the loop in the early days.” “…You know, he still went along with the Plan, up until you killed Teridax.” “Yes,” she nodded, “and personally corrupted many of your fellow Av-Matoran. Nothing will make that right, undo the harm he did in the Brotherhood. But he might one day be able to fix some of the evils his brothers and sisters had committed.” “…You know as evil as Matoran can be—” “…They were not the Makuta?” She sighed, “I fear it is dangerous to view evil as a mere sliding scale. But so is assuming that every evil is the same and throwing aside trying to better things, even gradually. Ultimately though, you are right, the Matoran did not cause the scale of harm the Makuta did. But it does not mean we are innocents, and it does not mean we have no need to examine ourselves and try to improve ourselves. And do not forget, most Matoran are all but powerless. The damage we could cause the world was limited by our physical limitations. And we still caused great harm. Poison, Phantom, Gaardus, all victims of Matoran violence. And they were not alone.” Solek looked away to stars out over the horizon. “How are the Zyglak?” “Mending,” she answered, “some of their other tribes were able to send them aid, help us better take care of their injuries. A few Zyglak plan to hunt the Dweller for vengeance, there is not much we can do about that.” “They are going to antagonize it? After it wrecked the ones here?” “The Zyglak are used to being beaten and attacked,” she turned from the rising sun, “they have been outcasts since before the Great Spirit awoke. All they have is that they can stand together and show support.” “What about Mahri-Koro?” “They are wary, some tribes consider the Mahrika Zyglak traitors. Others they say they hope to erase the memories of all Matoran so they could become more like us. I think they are joking.” “I hope so.” “I hope that the Zyglak don’t find it,” she muttered. “Because it would kill them?” “Yes, or they would kill it. The Dweller is one of a kind, only one was ever discovered. It even held the Great Disk of Ga-Metru for a time, the disk wedged in its teeth. Turaga Nokama encountered it when she was a Toa, before the Great Cataclysm.” “…Once you knew what it was, there was no way you would kill it, was there?” “I doubt I would have killed it regardless,” she laughed like gravel tumbling, “the Toa Code still has some sway over this old Turaga. But knowing it was a freak, poisoned and abused, lashing out in its pain, well … I was never the most bloodthirsty Toa. Better to leave it be, instead of hunting it down. Aqua-Magna is big, I doubt it would come too close to here again.” “You are something of the Toa of the Mahrika, aren’t you? “Something like that. I am a indeed bit more … active in facing threats to the village than some Turaga, though I am far weaker than any Toa. Not to mention my tiny stature.” She laughed to herself, shaking her head with amusement. “Well, before you leave for Metru-Nuva,” the Turaga interrupted her own laughter, “would you like me to tell you the story of Kanohi’s last adventure here? And where he has gone?” “Yes. But … it also might be good to hear a new perspective on more well-known chronicle. I will have to leave soon, but someday, will you tell me what you remember of the War?” “The War,” she sighed, “you mean the tale of my team of Toa Inika, and our fight to save Mata-Nui from the Makuta? How we fought against the Makuta, his Rahkshi, and his Piraka; all while our brothers faced a horde of undersea monsters eight of the Makuta and the six corrupted Toa Nuva?” “If it would not bring up too many bad memories.” “I was spared the worst of it,” she said simply, “Toa Tamaru faced the worst, and Kopeke and Onepu did not fare much better. If not for Toa Krakua…” She trailed off, remembering that great sonic shriek that seemed to echo through the universe, and how it had changed the far off battle of Karda-Nui completely. She shuddered, “But yes, I can tell my part of that epic tale. I can even start it now. It began long ago, a week or so into our exile on Voya-Nui. Kanohi had conversed with Garan and Axonn for much of that time, guided by a vision he shared with few. And then one day, he had Axonn carry the Toa Canisters of our beloved Toa back towards the beach…”
  4. The last of the Toa Mata... Thousands of years after the Reformation of Spherus Magna, the Toa, having fought and won countless battles, now lead the new society as Turaga. They may look different as time has caused many changes, but inside of each of them beats the heart of a Toa Mata. Turaga Onua..... Since becoming a Turaga, Onua spends much of his time in the New Atero Archives. His wisdom is unsurpassed, and though he lost his eye in a battle against the Skadi Federation warlords, he can see the truth with more clarity than any other being. Nuparu built a device that enhances his vision when worn over his good eye. It tracks the movement of his good eye and simultaneously scans the area before him. That information is then fed directly into the socket of his damaged eye, allowing him to "see" artificially. Though it is one of Nuparu's favorite inventions, the old warrior is known to prefer his natural sight and will often disable the device while looking over a landscape or watching wild Rahi. While protecting a group of Agori traders from a pack of Baterra, Onua's left arm was torn off. It was replaced by a telescoping arm that he uses frequently in his old age. His staff is carved from black rock, and the blade at the tip is made of hardened Protodermis. The serene and wise Turaga has a passion for teaching, and loves bringing groups of Agori and Matoran into the New Atero Archives to see rare Rahi up close. However, the normally jovial Turaga has a deeply hidden sense of guilt-he blames himself for the fate of Whenua, who was killed by Visorak. When Onua and Lewa reunited, Lewa offered the Drill Staff to Onua, but he refused, wanting to honor Whenua's last wishes. Turaga Hordika Lewa..... While investigating reports of a small group of Visorak, Lewa disappeared and was not heard from for an age. It was discovered that Roodaka had been attempting to reassemble the Visorak horde, and the reports were merely a trap to lure in unsuspecting victims. When the New Visorak Legion was finally defeated and Roodaka killed, rumors began to surface that Lewa was alive and in hiding. A search and rescue team finally found him in a complex network of caves, where he had been hiding and protecting the Matoran and Rahi he had rescued from the Visorak. When he emerged from the caves, it was the first time he had seen the sun in a hundred years. Roodaka had been cruel, and had experimented on him before he had escaped her clutches. Fearing for his sanity as the Hordika within him grew stronger, he released his Toa Power and became a Turaga Hordika. The wisdom and serenity of a Turaga was enough to keep the beast at bay; however, as a Turaga, Lewa remained a very capable warrior. His mutated arm was cybernetically enhanced by Defilak and Balta, who were among the Matoran he rescued. The cybernetic arm functions as a sort of energy cannon, capable of firing sustained beams of pure energy. Lewa found Whenua, who had been captured, and rescued him. But the Turaga of earth had been fatally wounded, and as he died he gave the Drill Staff to Lewa, who used it to carve new tunnels and hiding places in the caves. Balta designed a headlamp for Lewa, which attached to the left side of the Turaga Hordika's head. Lewa became much more solemn and pensive from his many hard and difficult years in the caves, and he developed a deep bitterness against the Visorak. Since returning from the caves however, he has regained his old free-spirited side, and is known to have a mischievous streak. He has unexpectedly found a close friend in Keetongu, who understands and shares both his pain and anger against the Visorak. Tahu..... Of the three remaining Toa Mata, Tahu is the only one who has not become a Turaga. He fears relinquishing the power that he might someday need to protect his people. He remained an active warrior for much longer than any of the others; he was the one who actually killed Roodaka and lead the Toa-Dark Hunter alliance against the New Visorak Legion. His battle with Roodaka was fierce, and Roodaka became desperate, mutating herself into a violent beast while they fought. Tahu won, but not without paying a price: his body was badly wounded, and he lost his right arm and leg and his mask was badly damaged, making its power intermittent and unreliable. He was also forced to kill Roodaka in self defense, driving a pike from a fallen warrior into the beast's stomach. He had his right forearm rebuilt, but left his mask and damaged leg as reminders of the battle (because of Vakama's history with Roodaka, the confrontation was both emotionally intense and physically demanding). After the battle, Tahu joined the team that eventually found Lewa; however, Tahu's wounds had slowed the team down, and he was forced to turn back for his own good. Realizing that the group had found Lewa ultimately without his help, he realized that though he would always protect his people, they might not always need him to. Since then he has become a Mask Maker, using his elemental power in his profession. He had his artificial arm outfitted with a device that can channel his power over fire with incredible precision for Mask Making. He often assists on construction projects in New Atero as well, and is frequently seen hobbling about wearing a bandolier with the various tools he uses for his work. Though he greatly enjoys his new work, he has never lost his desire to protect, and always carries the pike that he slew Roodaka with. ****So a few things: First, Onua's telescoping arm was inspired by another MOC I saw years ago, but that's the only thing I remember about... so if that was you.... thanks! Second, Tahu was (VERY) loosely inspired by Matoro1's Canister Builder on Brickshelf-check it out! https://www.brickshelf.com/cgi-bin/gallery.cgi?f=572802 Third, sorry about the pics, I don't have a good camera. Let me know what you guys think! More MOCs to come!
  5. An attempt to blend the visual style of the Bionicle films with G2.
  6. Hey everyone, I'm looking for a bunch of instructions that I hope shouldn't be too hard to come by: 8539 Manas—just the instructions for the yellow crab with #4162043 8540 Turaga Vakama (#4159407), 8542 Turaga Onewa (#4159409) and 8543 Turaga Nokama (#4159410)—would rather buy these as a bundle 8811 Toa Lhikan & Kikanalo—with #4267275 I already have all of them but they all have various problems so I'm looking to replace them with better kept copies. I'd rather buy within Europe. Thanks.
  7. Turaga Dume and Takanuva Turaga Dune and Takanuva by Toa TimeLord, on Flickr
  8. So, sometime around the same time that Teridax infected the GSR with that sleep-causing virus, he took on the appearance of Turaga Dume in Metru Nui, presumably after subduing somehow and stuffing the real guy into a Matoran sphere. Now, according to BS01, Teridax went ahead and took over the person of "Dume" about a year and a half prior to the climax of Legends of Metru Nui. The question is... how did he avoid arousing suspicion right off the bat? If Teridax was the "Makuta of Metru Nui", presumably one of the folks who could directly influence trade, communication, and regulations concerning Metru Nui and work with the inhabitants of other islands to keep the place safe, how could he possibly have disappeared for over a year without creating mass panic? Sure, the Matoran probably didn't see much of an effect, as it's possible that they didn't even knew who Teridax was; however, the folks in charge of Xia, Zakaz, Stelt, and the Southern Continent would have surely made an effort to communicate with him on issues concerning immigration and commerce. As far as always figured, Teridax was the de facto leader of Metru Nui after the Matoran Civil War, with the Turaga serving a strictly ceremonial role for social events and rituals like Akilini games. (IIRC that's pretty much what the Turaga did on Mata Nui as well.) At the very least, he would have been watched by the Order, which was definitely keeping tabs on him and his efforts at militarizing the Brotherhood. Wouldn't folks have been trying to reach him constantly, especially as rumors spread of the Morbuzahkh and certain Dark Hunters? If anyone can clear this one up, then that would be phenomenal. Discuss. -Azani
  9. So here's a question that's been on my mind. Story goes that after the Bohrok-Kal, the Turaga impart the knowledge of rebuilding the matoran to counter the effects of the sphere's Makuta put them into during the events of the Great Cataclysm. Here's a question though, why did they wait 1000 years to do so? We find out in the book "time trap" that Makuta agreed to give the Matoran one year of peace, why didn't the Turaga use the time then to rebuild the Matoran? Why wait for 1000 years til when the Toa show up, and after a whole bunch of dangers show up? It's been stated that the Rahaga taught the Turaga how to do it, so they had the knowledge since day one. Aside from the obvious reason I mean *coughsellmoretoyscough* Anyways, what do you guys think?
  10. http://orig12.deviantart.net/2d21/f/2016/274/d/0/turaga_nui_by_mate397-dajiph2.jpg Originally I wanted to build the actual combiner but then I thought why not make it into a MOC. Detail: http://mate397.deviantart.com/art/Turaga-Nui-Back-637451110 http://mate397.deviantart.com/art/Turaga-Nui-Side-637451550 http://mate397.deviantart.com/art/Turaga-Nui-Side-637451914 http://mate397.deviantart.com/art/Turaga-Nui-Size-637452135
  11. http://orig15.deviantart.net/32c5/f/2016/274/6/5/turaga_lhikan_by_mate397-dajil91.jpg I've been wanting to build a Turaga Lhikan for a while now, and finally got around putting it together. No idea what's with the focus on this, might have made the camera move, gonna retake this shot when back at home. Detail: http://mate397.deviantart.com/art/Lhikan-Back-637442036 http://mate397.deviantart.com/art/Lhikan-Size-637442043
  12. So we know that when a Matoran becomes a Toa their design becomes the same as how they imagine a Toa to look, for Takua he became like a Toa Nuva and the Toa Metru took after Lhikan and other pre-existing Toa from Metru Nui. So where exactly do Turagas' forms come from? Although the Toa Metru transformed into similar looking Turaga, why did Lhikan and Dume have different Turaga forms even though they are all based off of the same Toa Metru build? Could this be a case more of the set design not being entirely canon? as the movies show that the 6 Turaga on mata nui have the same build as the ones on Metru Nui, although this could have just been a way of cutting corners like how the Matoran keep the same design throughout the films. Also could the variance in form have anything to do with the means of transformation into Turaga?
  13. As another holiday rolls around, you all know what that means...another installment of the Lewa# Studios Holiday Series for your entertainment! And on this very green day, where else should we start but in Le-Metru? Imitation Celebration A BIONICLE comedy by Me! Part 6 of the Lewa# Studios Holiday Series 2015-2016 Turaga Matau looked out the window of his hut as Turaga Dume approached, completely painted green and with shamrocks sticking out of his mask. (Rather than any of his many bizarre holiday-specific masks, however, he was apparently just wearing his regular mask painted green like the rest of him). “Dume, please go quick-away…” Matau muttered. Of course, Dume didn’t listen; for one, he couldn’t hear Matau from that far away, and for two, he wouldn’t have listened even if he could hear it. In no time at all, Dume was knocking on Matau’s front door. “Hello-Hi, Turaga-Old-People!” Dume called out in a horrendous impersonation of a chutespeak accent. “Open-open this-that door-door, please-begging!” “‘Door-door?’ Really?” Sighing, Matau reluctantly opened the door. “Hello Dume,” he said. “Hi-hello, Matau-Matau! I-me am-am a-a Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga! Don’t-not do-do you-Matau like-enjoy it-me?” “Why are you talk-speaking like a moron-krekka?” “What-huh? I-me am-am speaking-talking Chutespeak-treespeak, obviously-duh!” Don’t-can’t you-Matau get-see that-that?” “No one talks-speaks like that; this has got to be the most terrible-bad Le-Matoran impression I’ve ever seen. Would you just go away-far and leave me alone?” “Except-but you-you must-have to-to celebrate-celebrate this-that holiday-day! It’s-it’s you-your favorite-best day-day! A-a day-day when-when everyone-all becomes-turns Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga!” “You’re not a Le-Matoran; you’re a Turaga-geezer of Fire who painted himself green-emerald,” observed Matau. “Now please stop annoying-bothering me!” “Nope-can’t! I-me am-am just-now starting-getting warmed-heated up-down! Today-day is-is full-filled with-with ideas-celebrations!” Matau promptly slammed the door. “Hi-hello Onewa-Turaga!” exclaimed the green-painted Turaga Dume, as he knocked on the door to the Turaga’s Home. “Go-come join-follow me-me to-for our-our Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga’s Day-Holiday!” “Dume, what holiday is it this time? I’m trying to sleep,” Onewa complained, leaning his head out the window. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the sight. “Why is everything green?” “Since-because it’s-it’s Le-Air Matoran-Tohunga’s Day-Holiday, obviously-duh!” Onewa glanced at what appeared to be a sizeable portion of the population of Po-Metru arranged behind Dume, all of whom were painted entirely green and had shamrocks and other various odds and ends sticking out of their masks. “What is this, a parade?” he asked. “Hmm-umm,” thought Dume. “That’s an awesome-great thought-idea, Onewa-you! Let’s-let’s go-travel back-return to-to Le-Air Metru-city!” Although Dume’s increasingly terrible Le-Matoran accent was starting to get annoying, Onewa shrugged and opened the door. “I guess I have nothing better to do today…” he muttered. “Come on, Vakama.” Somewhere inside the house, Vakama staggered to his feet and looked outside. Dume immediately ran up to him. “Hi-hello, you-Turaga Fire-Vakama, join-join us-us in-inside this-that parade-march!” “BACK, YOU FOUL CREATURE! ONE MORE STEP AND I’LL--” Vakama shouted, bonking Dume on the head with his firestaff. “Ouch-oww, what’s-what’s wrong-bad with-with him-Vakama?” asked Dume. “He...does that sometimes,” explained Onewa, quickly shutting the door before Vakama could continue to try to beat up Dume. “In his defense, though, all that green paint does kinda make you look like a Lehrak.” “WHAT!?” demanded Dume. “...Uh, I mean, ‘WHAT-WHAT!?’ I-me don’t-do-not appear-look like-like a-a Lehrak-Lehrak!” “Actually, you really do…” “Shut-shut up-down!” “‘Up-down?’” asked Onewa with a . “You know what, never mind. Let’s just start this parade already. In fact, I have a great idea for a route!” “Really-really? Cool-awesome, show-show it-it to-to me-Dume!” “ “ emoticonned the Turaga of Stone, as he quickly scribbled a rough map of Le-Metru onto a conveniently placed tablet and showed it to Dume…. “Matau-Turaga!” exclaimed Kongu after he’d accidentally dive-bombed a chute transport into the Turaga’s house that afternoon, as part of their daily routine. “Have you seen-heard what Dume’s been doing?” Matau groaned and rubbed his eyes. Then he realized that he couldn’t rub his eyes, due to the mask covering his face, and so he rubbed his mask instead. Then he accidentally knocked his mask off in the process and was temporarily rendered unconscious for several long, awkward moments. Then Kongu just stood there whistling the Mask of Light theme while he waited for Matau to wake up. Then Nokama finally wandered downstairs, noticed Matau’s unconscious mask-less self, and put his mask back on his face. Then Matau woke up again. “Oh, hello Kongu,” he said, “you’re still now-here?” “Yes,” Kongu observed dryly. “What were we speak-talking about...oh, right, Dume. I don’t know-think who he knows-thinks he is, pretending to be a Le-Matoran like that.” “It’s not just him anymore, though! Lots of Matoran and even Onewa-Turaga have joined his parade in Po-Metru!” “That’s not a surprise-shock,” Matau commented, “He-Onewa hates me. Where are they now?” “Uhh....” uhhed Kongu. “Hold on.” The Le-Matoran ran out the door (which had been squished by the chute transport from earlier, so he didn’t so much go out the door as he did over it), hopped onto a conveniently placed Gukko, flew off, and flew back in five seconds later with another chute transport, which he promptly crashed into Matau’s back door. Nokama laughed. “I did warn you about karma all those years ago when you crashed everything into everyone else’s house…” she mentioned. “Don’t remind-remember me,” said Matau. “Okay Kongu, what did you see-find?” “You won’t believe this, but they’re going-coming back here, to Le-Metru!” “ “ emoticonned Matau. “Again? Why won’t they leave me alone-solo?” “Actually,” said Kongu, “this might be a good-awesome thing.” “How could Dume and Onewa coming now-here toa nnoy me possibly be a good thing??” An odd-looking Toa suddenly popped his head into the wreckage of the house. “Did somebody call me? I’m Toa Nnoy, Toa of Typos!” “ ” emoticonned Kongu, Matau, and Nokama simultaneously. “Uhh...no,” said Nokama. Toa Nnoy shrugged. “Fair enough. I guess I’ll go back to tracking down the Rahkshi of Letter Control.” He then left as randomly as he had come. The three of them stared after the randomly appearing Toa for several long, awkward moments. Then, finally, Nokama said, “You know what? Let’s all just pretend that never happened.” “Okay-good idea, Turaga,” said Kongu. “So! Turaga Matau, we should prank-trick Onewa right back at him!” “What did you have in brain-mind?” “Let me explain it to you…” Onewa triumphantly marched into Le-Metru at the head of a parade of Po-Matoran and Turaga Dume, all of whom were doused in green paint and trying to act like Le-Matoran...well, trying of course being the operative word here. The actual Le-Matoran they passed were getting more and more annoyed with their attempts at chutespeak...especially Dume’s, which had apparently just devolved into his repeating every word twice. “Hi-hi all-all you-you friendly-friendly Le-Le Matoran-Matoran! Happy-Happy Le-Le Matoran’s-Matoran’s Day-Day!” “Dume-Turaga, you’re doing-working it-that wrong-incorrect,” Onewa said. “You just-only make you-yourself look-seem stupid-dumb. We’re trying-attempting to act-be exactly-really just-like real-true Le-Matoran!” “What-what are-are you-you talking-talking about-about? I-I sound-sound exactly-exactly like-like how-how Le-Le Matoran-Matoran speak-speak in-in real-real life-life!” Every single Le-Matoran in the whole city collectively facepalmed at that moment. As they finally drew closer to Matau’s house, Onewa started to dance around and sing as loud as he could in order to get Matau’s attention. After several minutes of making himself look like a moron, however, he realized no one was in the house. “Oh, come on!” he groaned, momentarily forgetting to use fake chutespeak. “Hi, Onewa! Look over here!” called Matau from a nearby rooftop. Onewa turned to look...and his eyes widened. “What the--what--” he stammered. Matau and a good chunk of the Le-Matoran were arranged on a rooftop, all of whom were covered in paint of various shades of brown and tan. Not only that, but they all carried rocks and hammers in their hands and were bouncing up and down bopping themselves over the heads with them. “Look at us! We’re Po-Matoran!” “But-but it’s-it’s not-not Po-Po Matoran’s-Matoran’s Day-Day!” protested Dume. “It is now!” crowed Matau as he bonked himself over the head with his hammer. Onewa, annoyed, shooed the crows away. “You can’t make fun of me! I was going to make fun of you! You stole my idea!” “Exactly! Wheeeeeeee~!” shouted Matau. “Okay-okay fine-fine, forget-forget this-this!” said Dume. “I-I have-have a-a better-better idea-idea!” The Turaga then ran off somewhere in the general direction of Ko-Metru. Onewa, Matau, and all of the Po- and Le-Matoran shrugged. “Well, now that we’re all dressed as each other, why don’t we trade Metrus for a day?” suggested Matau. “But what if he ruins our house?” asked Nokama worriedly. Matau gestured pointedly at their house, which was now little more than a pile of rubble with multiple chute transports crashed into it. “If he can figure-find out a way to ruin-destroy it even more, then I’ll be impressed.” “Good point. Though speaking of ruining things, I should probably go and check on Ga-Metru. Who knows what Dume’s usual holiday antics might have done to it this time?” However, on their way to Po-Metru, Matau and the Le-Matoran all stopped as they noticed two huge crowds, one of Ko-Matoran and the other of Onu-Matoran, blocking their path. However, on a second look, the Matoran he’d thought were Ko-Matoran were actually Onu-Matoran covered in white paint, and the Matoran he’d thought were Onu-Matoran were actually Ko-Matoran covered in ashes from Ta-Metru’s furnaces. “We don’t have paint,” explained a random Ko-Matoran coldly. The Onu-Matoran dressed up like Ko-Matoran, including Whenua, were making big fools of themselves. “I like the future I like the stars, I like the future that might be on Mars,” they were singing as they wandered around with giant telescopes glued to their eyes and staring upward, bumping into each other constantly due to not being able to see where they were going. “We’re Ko-Matoran!” “Beepity beep beep gibberish gibberish I can’t even speak Matoran!” Whenua was saying, while Onepu, who was apparently pretending to be a translator, said “Nuju says ‘I dance the cha-cha like a sissy girl!” Of course, the Ko-Matoran dressed up like Onu-Matoran were giving as good as they got. “Mining mining mining mining mining!” said one group, as they crawled around with their rear ends in the air, their faces stuck to the dirt, and various random mining tools held in their hands. “Digging digging digging digging digging!” Like the Onu-Matoran with their telescopes, these Ko-Matoran were bumping into each other due to not being able to see where they were going. Nuju walked around with a pile of history textbooks on his head. “I’m Whenua, I don’t care about the future! I just want to study history all day! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn...even pretending to be you is boring…” “Out of the way, Po-Matoran coming through!” shouted Matau as he and the Le-Matoran wandered through the crowds, bonking themselves and each other on the heads with hammers and rocks. “Carvity carve carve!” Meanwhile, Nokama walked into Ga-Metru and saw that it was filled with Ta-Matoran covered in blue paint, accompanied by Dume, who had now somehow become drenched in paint of all six BIONICLE colors. “Blub blub blub blub blub! FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH~!” Jaller shouted as he ran around with a fish on his head. “Let’s learn about FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH~!” “Let’s go sailing and boating and canoeing and kayaking and sailing and pontooning and sailing and sailing!” said Nuhrii. “And then I can teach everyone how to go sailing and boating and canoeing and…” “I’m Nokama, and I’m in LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE with Matau!” said a blue-painted Vakama. “I’m so in love that I’m in love! I’m so in love that I’m obsessed with the ‘wub’ emoticon! I’m so in love that I slap him constantly! It’s all my fault that I’m making fun of Nokama!” At this last one, Dume bonked him over the head with his own firestaff, that had two extra pieces duct-taped to the end of it to make it resemble a trident “Dume,” Nokama said, not wanting to get involved in this ludicrous display of stupidity, “do you mind telling me where my Ga-Matoran went? And what, exactly, are you supposed to be now?” “I’m a Letapoonugako-Matoran, obviously!” “ ” “And your Ga-Matoran are right here. Are you blind?” Nokama, annoyed, walked up to him and with a *SLAP!* slapped him across the face. “No, I mean the real Ga-Matoran.” “They’re right here!” As Nokama readied her slapping hand again, Dume hastily added, “...Although now that you mention it, there are a bunch of Ta-Matoran in Ta-Metru.” Nokama sighed. “Figures. Thanks anyway. Don’t destroy the Great Temple!” *CRASH!* “Too late…” The Turaga of Water gazed out over the forges of Ta-Metru, which were now staffed entirely by Ga-Matoran, who had apparently tried to cover themselves in red paint, but it all melted off from the heat, so they’d given up. Piles of protodermis that were apparently supposed to resemble Kanohi were launching out of the furnaces and getting thrown around like frisbees, even though frisbees don’t exist in BIONICLE. “There you are, Turaga! Come join us; we’re Ta-Matoran!” shouted Macku. She then set a pile of sticks on her head on fire. “I’m on fire! I’m a Ta-Matoran! I’m on fire! Wheeeeeeeeeee!” “I love discs! And masks! And forging! Look at this, it’s perfect!” shouted Kai, picking up a hideous lump of protodermis and chucking it into a fire. Nokama looked around for a few moments, then sighed in defeat as she spotted a conveniently placed bucket of red paint nearby. “When in Stelt, do as the Steltians do…” she muttered as she upended the bucket over her head. “I’m Vakama! It’s all my fault that I’m Vakama! It’s all my fault we’re in Ta-Metru! It’s all my fault that there’s paint everywhere! It’s all my fault…!” “You’re supposed to make the impressions funny, not accurate,” said a brown-painted Matau who had suddenly wandered in. “It’s all my fault I did this wrong! It’s all my fault I don’t know how to exaggerate this any more than it already is! It’s all my fault Vakama’s ridiculous antics are already funny! It’s all my fault…!” Dume walked into the scene after a long day of having toured the other Metrus and taking part in everyone’s imitation antics. “That was a great holiday,” he commented as he looked at the blotchy mess of paint all over his armor. “Though I don’t know why the Le-Matoran were so annoyed with me in the first place. My-my chutespeak-chutespeak impression-impression is-is flawless-flawless!” Unbeknownst to anyone else on Metru Nui, Makuta was that very day planning to invade the city with an army of Rahkshi. Before his attack, he took some time to turn invisible and scout out the city. Upon seeing the Po-Matoran bonking themselves over the heads and singing about carving, the Le-Matoran speaking in horrendously terrible chutespeak, the Onu-Matoran with their faces glued to the ground, the Ko-Matoran with their faces literally glued to their telescopes, the Ga-Matoran spazzing out and running around like idiots screaming about fish and sailing, and a different group of Ga-Matoran who were apparently convinced they were Ta-Matoran, and the Ta-Matoran having apparently vanished entirely, he just shook his head and turned his army around. “You know what...I’ve decided Metru Nui isn’t even worth conquering anymore…” he commented as he evilled his way back to his lair. Upon entering his fortress at Destral, though, he stopped in mid-evil-stride and stared with his mouth hanging open. A group of Toa and Matoran, covered in black and red paint, were dancing around his throne room making complete fools of themselves. “We’re so evil, evil is so fun, I love evil, it’s so fun,” sang the Matoran. “I’m Makuta Terry-ducks! I have a stupid name and my voice sounds like I ingested several gallons of sandpaper!” said what he could now see was a black-painted Takanuva. Makuta couldn’t even say anything. His mouth opened and shut several times in sheer astonishment at the audacity of these Av-Matoran and Takanuva. Finally, he just backed slowly and awkwardly out of the room. Something is wrong with this entire universe, he thought to himself. It’s like it’s made it a personal goal toa nnoy me. Toa Nnoy appeared. “Did you summon me telepathically? I’m Toa Nnoy, Toa of Typos!” I’ve been annoyed for the last time! That does it, I am taking over the universe itself! THE END Lewa0111 the Word Counting Character: Look at me! I can count the words of a comedy and say them at the end! Also I speak in script in prose comedies for some reason! And this comedy has 2,763 words! ~Happy St. Patrick’s Day from Lewa# Studios! Halloween Special 2015 Thanksgiving Special 2015 Christmas Special 2015 New Year’s Special 2015 Valentine’s Special 2016 Bob the Word Counting Matoran (Look at me! I’m the author! I write these comedies two days late all the time and constantly go on hiatuses! And I’m not even that funny!)
  14. I've been wanting to post these guys for a long time. They aren't a complete set unfortunately as I lack many of the required pieces to construct multiples of Matoran, Toa, and Turaga, yet I feel that what is presented now should provide a decent glimpse. My only regret is that I accidentally deleted my Turaga of Water's individual images while I was compiling this evening. The Great Elders Turaga of Earth. The former Toa Varsai of Earth, Erdeur, has retained his shielding as body armor and carries a measure of his once glorious strength to lead his people through the trials of Onu-Mana. His bowed posture conveys a sense of humbleness in his aging years. Turaga of Plantlife. The former Toa Varsai of Plantlife, Rasenur, despite having inherited the massive plating from his old throwing star for defense, remains fleet footed and nimble, and few are the Matoran under his care in Le-Mana who can keep apace. Turaga of Ice. The former Toa Varsai of Ice, Eisenur, is cooler and calmer than ever. His inheritance from his glory days can be seen in the tundra plumage spilling down his shoulders like a regal shawl, allowing him to drift through the snowy currents of Ko-Mana and glide over the icy lakes with little effort. A gathering of wisdom in emergency before the Mana Stump. Wise and shrewd Meerur settles the debate- their hidden Toa Stones must be retrieved and put to use. The Multitude whom Follow Matoran of Earth Like most of his kindred, this fellow carries quaker-strike gauntlets for his right hand and a mighty spear for blowing up any hard to excavate lodestones and light stones alike. Matoran of Stone Not all Po-Mana scavengers are created equal, and some turn to piracy and prospering for loot out in the Sandy Seas. What they cannot keep, they sell - at a great hike in value. Dare you cross this scoundrel and his sabre? Matoran of Magnetism Tiefeka here is an oddity - the sole Fa-Matoran within Mana-Nuva, he is far more competently constructed than his lessors among the people, a great warrior in his own right made greater by the usage of his elemental power that seems far beyond what one would expect. When Makuta Cruxida's Rahi began invading the island his seemingly-impossible victories time and time again in defense of each Mana village gave him a near-legendary prestige, and this is thought to be behind the diminutive stature of the Toa Mava upon their formation. Maybe there is more to Tiefeka than meets the eye... The Heroes Toa Mava of Earth Toa Mava of Plantlife Toa Mava of Ice Rimestal is fearless - or perhaps merely mad - as he uses his lithe frame and great frost blades in conjunction with his Konohi to soar from vast heights, only to piledrive the opponent below and skewer them through with the tips of his swords. Toa Mava of Water Best suited to the aquatic environs of Ga-Mana, her bulk is not an issue in even the fiercest sea thanks to her paddle-like feet, and to the contrary has proven invaluable in cracking the teeth of many a ferocious Ga-Mana Kingfisher and their mutated relative, the Terodact Gulp. Toa Mava of Fire A trembling spirit of wrath lays in wait within the seemingly calm shell of Fusorai, leader of the Toa Mava. When his anger surmounts his reason the six arms of his rage are brought to bear in channeling his elemental power, exceeding the output of even his Pyro Scepter. And that is all for now. I have yet to develop backstories for Toa Mava of Plantlife and Earth but I hope the rest has offered you a glimpse into my widening world of the Island of Mana-Nuva.
  15. Happy Thanksgiving! Whilst I’m busy keeping Tava away from all the pies, I’ve somehow found time to write another one of these things...and HOLY PLOT TWIST BATMAN, IT’S ACTUALLY NOT LATE! Have I been replaced with Mirror Universe Lewa0111 who writes comedies early? Thanksgiving 2014 Thanksgiving 2011 Anyway: To Catch a Gukko A BIONICLE comedy by Me! Part 2 of the Lewa# Studios Holiday Series 2015-2016 Turaga Dume watched from his Colosseum Box as the Onu-Matoran work crews continued to haul the massive pile of dirt out of the Colosseum, a leftover from the...interesting Halloween they’d had last month. The other Turaga, who he’d summoned, looked at him. “So, Turaga Dume, what do you need us for?” asked Whenua. “We need to decide what we’re doing for Thanksgiving,” he told the group. I want to make sure, for once, that none of our holidays are utter disasters. This time, Thanksgiving is going to be problem-free, wonderful, and an enjoyable time for all of Metru Nui!” Matau stepped forward, waving his staff excitedly. “I agree, that’s a great idea! We need a good one this year. Especially after the disaster that was this past Halloween--which had nothing at all to do with me, by the way--we need to make it extra-awesome! “It had EVERYTHING to do with you, and you know it!” said Nokama, bonking him over the head with her staff. “Which is why I grounded you.” “We’ve been over this! You can’t ground me!” Dume cleared his trout. Then, he cleared his salmon, his perch, and his goldfish. “What smells so fishy?” asked Onewa, looking up at Dume. With the leader of Metru Nui having finally gotten their attention, he announced, “Regardless of grounded-ness, I need all six of you to help. This has to be a surprise for everyone, even the Toa, so we do it ourselves. The task...is to catch a Gukko.” “Hey, that’s the title!” pointed out Vakama. “It’s all my fault that that’s the title! It’s all my fault--” As one, the other six Turaga yelled, “SHUT UP!” “ ” Vakama emoticonned. “That’s better. Anyway, this task will not be an easy one. You see, Gukko no longer live in Metru Nui. You might recall a certain recklessly-piloted vehicle careening through the air a few months ago, which terrified them all into fleeing the city.” “It almost terrified the rest of us, too…” muttered Onewa, with a pointed glance at Matau. “We’re too old for this.” “That’s what I told him,” Nokama pointed out. Matau, for his part, just stared up at the sky and started whistling in a vain attempt to look like he had nothing to do with the aforementioned incident. Attempting to get back on topic, Nuju addressed Dume. “Beep whirr, whistle beep whistle whistle click fweep toodle toodle toodle toodle toodle toodle toodle BONK!” “Hold on a second,” said Dume as he quickly grabbed a spare Noble Mask of Google Translate (a Kanohi resembling the Noble Rau, though with the colors of Google’s logo) and swapped it for his normal mask. “‘If you or your Gukko, ingest a city?’” Dume translated with the mask. “I don’t get it.” “FAWEEP BUZZ BOOT!” shouted Nuju, frustrated. “‘All I said?’ All you said what?” Nuju just facepalmed, then turned to Nokama. “Chatter click beep weird Rahi noises,” he said. With a sigh, Nokama activated her own (much more useful) mask and translated the first sentence Nuju had said. “Dume, he originally said ‘If the Gukko are no longer in the city, where can we find one?’ Your mask needs some work.” “Oh. That makes much more sense, thank you. And my mask is fine!” “ ” emoticonned the other six Turaga in unison. “Just you wait, next holiday I’ll have an even better custom mask…” Dume muttered. Then he cleared his toast, ignoring the bagel, bread, croissant, muffin, and pastry also needing to be cleared. “Ahem, getting back to Nuju’s original question, that is what makes this quest challenging. The Matoran Universe’s entire population of Gukko have since migrated to Mata Nui, up above us. The seven of us will need to ascend through the tunnels, emerge onto the island above, capture a Gukko, and return safely.” Onewa sighed. “Well, thanks just the same, we’ll be going then.” As he turned to leaves, the other Turaga just stared oddly at him. “Are we really stooping so low as to quote ourselves from Web of Shadows?” asked Whenua. “Yeah, and why did he turn into a pile of leaves, anyway? That was random,” Nokama pointed out. Matau shrugged. “Just leave him there.” Then he paused, waiting expectantly. “Get it? ‘Leave?’ Oh, never mind, you’re all too old for my humor, anyway.” “We’re all the same age. And you know it,” Nokama muttered under her breath. “Are you going senile?” “Yep!” exclaimed Matau. Then he frowned. “Wait, what does ‘senile’ mean, anyway? Is it a compliment?” Some time later, the Turaga (including a significantly-less-leafy Onewa) all stood on a boat just off the shore of Ga-Metru, watching Nokama ready the boat for sailing. “Yarr har har, ahoy mateys, me hearties, rum rum landlubbers walk the plank avast ye doubloons and swab the swashbuckler!” declared Nuju out of nowhere. “ ” the other Turaga emoticonned in unison. “Walk the plank, scalawags, yarrrrrrrrrrrr hoist the sails?” Nokama activated her mask for a moment. “He says, ‘What’s everyone staring at? You didn’t know I was bilingual?’” She shrugged. “No, I didn’t. Apparently he speaks Pirate too.” “ ” said Dume. “The more you know…” “Whatever, can we just continue? I’m getting impatient,” complained Matau. “I’m missing my favorite show!” Whenua rolled his eyes. “You’d expect after so many times, he’d get bored of watching himself on TV,” he whispered to Nokama. “For once--and I’m honestly shocked I’m saying this--I agree with Matau,” Onewa said. “Let’s go.” “ ” emoticonned Dume. “IT’S THE APOCALYPSE!” “AHOY ME HEARTIES ME MATEYS ME LANDLUBBERS!” Nuju put in. Suddenly, Vakama ran up from belowdecks. “It’s the apocalypse?” he asked. “Oh no! It’s all my fault it’s the apocalypse! It’s all my fault that--” He was stopped from going any further by Onewa grabbing a randomly appeared piece of pizza and shoving it into Vakama’s mouth. “Mmmmmph mmmm mmmmmmph mph mmph!” Nokama activated her mask, purely out of habit by now. “He said ‘It’s all my fault I can’t talk! It’s all my fault Onewa shoved pizza in--’” “You know? Somehow I think we could’ve figured that out ourselves,” Onewa said sarcastically. “Don’t you start.” “I will start...the boat, so we can get going,” Nokama said. With that, she swung down from the mast and landed perfectly onto the button to start the boat’s engines. What she hadn’t realized was that earlier, Matau had leaned on the speed lever, pushing it all the way to ‘Ludicrous’ speed. The panicked screams of six old geezers (and one old geezette) could be heard across all of Metru Nui. “‘Geezette?’ Really? That has to be the dumbest word I have ever heard in my life,” complained Whenua, a few minutes later. Why is it always the Onu-characters arguing with me? “I don’t know, or care, but I could do a much better job than you…” Oh, shut up. “If we’re quite done arguing with authors and breaking the fourth wall,” said Dume, “we’ve arrived.” Dizzy and nauseous, the seven Turaga stumbled off of the boat onto the sandy shores of Mata Nui. The only good thing about Nokama’s mistake was that it made the trip take much shorter than it otherwise would have. “Well, we’ve made it to Mata Nui,” Dume declared. “Yarr harr fiddle dee dee,” commented Nuju. This time, Nokama didn’t bother translating, as she was still sick from the trip. “Wahoo! Let’s go catch ourselves one fine-fresh Gukko!” shouted Matau. Onewa looked askance at him. “What? I’m excited. Also, ‘askance’ is a cool word.” “You know, technically we didn’t actually make it to Mata Nui, since we were technically already inside Mata Nui,” Whenua pointed out. Dume just glared at him. “You know full well what I meant. Mata Nui the island, not the Spirit.” The BZP member SPIRIT appeared out of nowhere. “Somebody talking about me?” he asked. “No.” said a randomly appeared Takanuva. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!” said an equally random Kopaka. “Somebody needs to get rid of all these time-comedy warp portals,” muttered Dume as he threw all three characters into one of said portals and slammed it shut. Matau bounced over to them. “Can we just get going? Let’s call it the ‘Island of Mata Nui’s Face’ and be done with it. Last one to the Gukko is a rotten egg!” The other Turaga all stared at one another. “Okay, first, eggs don’t exist in BIONICLE, and second, if we’re still living in Metru Nui and this island isn’t barren yet, shouldn’t we not know it’s Mata Nui’s face?” asked Onewa. “It’s a Lewa0111 comedy. Probably best not to think too hard about it,” Whenua pointed out. “Walk the plank, ye blubberbees, yaharr avast!” agreed Nuju wholeheartedly. Together, everyone followed the hyperactive Matau into the jungle. Well, almost everyone. “It’s all my fault we sailed too fast! It’s all my fault I’m sick! It’s all my fault eggs don’t exist in BIONICLE! It’s all my fault that it’s all my fault! It’s all my fault--” “HA! Gotcha,” declared Matau, slamming a randomly appeared net down on top of a Gukko. “Would you get off of me??” demanded the Gukko. “ OH MY MATA NUI A TALKING GUKKO!” exclaimed Matau, jumping backward and falling flat on his rear end. “Talking Gukko? Where!?” demanded the talking Gukko. Then it spotted a Gukko sitting next to it. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” screamed the Gukko. The talking Gukko fell backward from fright, causing its Gukko-shaped mask to fall off and revealing…”Turaga Dume?” asked Matau. “What are you doing here? Why were you wearing a Gukko mask?” “Oh, this is my Kanohi Guhkko, the Mask of Gukko Birds,” he said, indicating the Gukko-shaped Kanohi he had been wearing over his regular mask. “It’s supposed to summon Gukko birds, but it doesn’t work too well.” The regular Gukko from a few paragraphs ago just sat on Dume’s head and laughed uproariously. “Where do you get all these awesome-cool masks, anyway?” “From Masks ‘R’ Us, of course! You should go there sometime. They have a nice deal right now on the Kanohi Ahspirin, the Mask of Pain Relief, which comes in handy whenever my back gives out. Like right now...ouch…” Matau shook his head. “Uh, no thanks, we need to find a Gukko! Hold still…” As he swung the net, the Gukko on Dume’s head squawked and took off. “I just told you I’m not a Gukko, you moron!” said Dume, annoyed. “Stop trying to catch me!” “Not you, there!” Matau excitedly pointed to the Gukko that had taken off. “FOLLOW THAT GUKKO!” Matau, though old, still knew how to navigate Le-Wahi, and he swung nimbly from branch to branch in pursuit of the flying Rahi. That is, of course, until he ran smack into Onewa. “Ouch. Matau, watch where you’re going. I nearly had that Gukko until you got in my way…” “With what?” Matau asked, indicating Onewa’s staff, which had a few pieces of string duct-taped to it haphazardly, only barely resembling a net if you turned your head sideways and squinted while holding a net in front of your face. “You honestly expect to catch a Gukko with that?” “Well, at least I have a net.” “What are you talking abou….” Matau’s voice trailed off as he looked down and realized he was no longer holding his net, just his distinctly string-less Kau Kau staff. “Still. Yours doesn’t even count as a net,” he quickly added, covering up his embarrassment. “Oh yeah? Want to fight me for it?” “You’re on! Arrrrgh!” “Arrrrgh!” The two Turaga charged at each other, though they had seemingly forgotten how old they were and that they couldn’t fight like they once had. Instead, their “fight” consisted merely of the two of them standing in front of each other, taking turns bopping one another over the head with their staffs while shouting insults. Actually, they were barely even insults. “You’re old!” “No, you are!” “No, you!” “No, you!” “No, you!” “No, you!” ...You get the idea. Fortunately for the un-spamminess of this comedy, Nokama quickly emerged from the underbrush, net tucked under her arm, and bopped both of them over the head with her trident. “You’re both old, we’re all the same age, you dolts! Anyway, that has got to be the most pathetic fight I’ve ever seen. Matau, you should know better by your age.” “Wait, if we’re both the same age, why am I the only one who should know better?” Matau complained. “Because Onewa hasn’t had the benefit of me attempting to teach him for however many years it’s been, that’s why. Now let’s get a move on, we’ve got a Gukko to catch here!” As a time-comedy warp portal started to appear, she added, “And no, that wasn’t copied from Star Wars, so if Obi-Wan’s about to lecture me about copyrights, please go away.” With a , the portal closed. “I didn’t know portals could use emoticons,” commented Onewa. Before he’d even finished saying this, another portal opened, from which emerged a large, one-eyed, yellow Rahi. Nokama’s eyes widened. “Drat, knew I’d forgotten something...Yikes!” She quickly ran away as Keetongu chased after her, the Rahi as usual upset because he had copyrights copyrighted. Matau and Onewa looked at each other, shrugging, before giving chase. “Oh, where’s Dume and his Mask of Random Portals when I need him,” complained Nokama as she ran away. Then, out of nowhere, the ground gave way and she, Keetongu, Matau, and Onewa slid down into a network of steadily descending tunnels. “I have to say, that was unexpected.” They all landed in a heap at the bottom of the tunnels, on the floor of a large cavern. Whenua was sitting in the middle, holding his drill proudly. “Well? Aren’t you going to thank me?” he asked. “Thank you? You didn’t exactly get rid of Keetongu, he’s still here,” Onewa pointed out. “Oh. Sorry. Hold on.” Whenua touched the drill with his ground. Nothing happened. “Uhh, I think you got that backwards,” Matau observed. Sheepishly, Whenua touched the ground with his drill. “Baaaahhh,” he added sheepishly, growing wool and dropping to all fours. A tunnel also opened up below Keetongu, and the yellow Rahi went sliding away. “Where did you send him?” asked Nokama. “Someplace he won’t be bothering us. Anyway, how’s the Gukko-hunt coming?” “Well, judging by our distinct lack of Gukko...not good,” Matau said. “Though I don’t see you helping!” Whenua just smiled, having finally gotten over his sheepishness from before. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m lying in wait. See?” He indicated the center of the cavern, across which a gigantic net had been stretched. Nokama facepalmed. “Whenua, have you gone completely senile?” “No, only I’m awesome enough to be senile! You’re cool, but not quite at my level,” Matau interjected. “Please, do us all a favor and shut up,” said the Turaga of Stone. “Whenua,” Nokama continued, “how on earth do you expect to catch a bird Rahi underground?” “I think you mean ‘how inside earth,’ seeing as we’re underground,” said Whenua, “and you need to have some faith. Underground is the best place to go, and the Gukko know it too!” If there was such a thing as an “Extra-Strength Facepalm,” Nokama was doing it now. “But they’re flying, bird Rahi. Something tells me they don’t have the same attitude toward being underground that you do...you’re wasting our time down here.” “Can we at least borrow your net?” asked Onewa. “No, and no!” protested Whenua. “Trust me! I know what I’m doing!” Nokama sighed, seeing as this conversation was going nowhere. “Have fun sitting down here empty-handed,” she told the Turaga of Earth, “we’re going aboveground, where the Gukko will all be--” Her jaw dropped as a flock of Gukko suddenly came whipping around the corner and through the caverns, straight toward Whenua’s net. “Okay, that has to be the single most unlikely thing in the history of...okay, no, second most unlikely. Matau being humble is still more unlikely.” “I am humble! Not my fault I’m the greatest Turaga-Geezer of all time! What does ‘humble’ mean again?” Whenua just smiled in triumph as the Gukko flock soared toward his net. “Unbelievers, you all laughed before, but look at me now! Told you I’d catch...a...Gukko...oh no.” The flock had hit his net all right, and hit straight through it as well. Evidently his net hadn’t been designed for a flock that big. “We’re going to need a bigger net.” “AFTER THOSE GUKKO!” shouted all four Turaga in unison, charging as fast as their legs would allow down the tunnel where the Gukko had disappeared. They ran for what felt like hours, though was actually only two minutes, as they quickly ran out of breath. “I hate being old,” groaned Whenua. “Back in our Toa days, I could’ve caught those Gukko in seconds!” bragged Onewa. “No way, I would have easily beaten you,” said Matau. “Can we please not start another wimp fight again?” Nokama said, interrupting them. “Maybe they’ll be stupid and run into a dead-end cavern, and we can still catch one. We don’t need the whole flock, after all.” Matau and Onewa looked at each other, then at Nokama, then back at each other. “Nah.” “Bet I catch more than you!” Matau crowed. “You’re on!” said Onewa, dodging the swarm of crows that had emerged from Matau’s mouth. “Wait, do those crows count as Gukko?” “ ” emoticonned Nokama. “...I’ll take that as a no…” The four Turaga hobbled, much slower this time, after the Gukko flock. A few times, Whenua tried to use his drill to trap the Gukko, but kept accidentally missing the ground. Eventually, they emerged from the earth into an area of stone, which Onewa really liked. Then they emerged from the area of stone to an area with a lot of groundwater, which Nokama really liked. Then they emerged from the area with a lot of groundwater to an area with breeze blowing through it, which Matau really liked. Then they emerged from the area with breeze blowing through it to an area made entirely of pie, which Tava probably would have liked, except that he isn’t in this comedy. Then they emerged from the area made entirely of pie to an area with sunlight, which Takanuva probably would have liked, but the Turaga didn’t, as it meant the Gukko had escaped from the tunnels. The four Turaga sat, blinking for their eyes to adjust, at the mouth of the tunnel, looking around at the distinctly Gukko-free landscape. “Well, that stunk,” said Onewa. “Will you stop quoting yourself? I already complained about that earlier today,” Whenua groaned. “You can quote yourself if you want, I don’t mind.” “How’s that supposed to help?” “Please, everyone, let’s just head back to the boat,” Nokama suggested. “At the very least, we can tell Dume there’s a flock flying around in unlikely places. Maybe he’s found it!” Having no better ideas, the other Turaga all shrugged and followed her back to the beach. There, they were greeted by an incredibly unlikely sight. Vakama was sitting on the boat’s prow, blaming himself to Keetongu, who was plugging his ears and trying to open up a portal, but apparently failing. “It’s all my fault I’m annoying you! It’s all my fault you can’t hear me anymore! It’s all my fault you have one eye! It’s all my fault…” But that wasn’t what they were shocked about. On a nearby rock, surrounded by the entire flock of Gukko in perfect formations, sat Nuju, chattering in his usual flying Rahi language. “Cheep whistle brzzt cheep cheep.” The Turaga of Ice noticed the others and waved to them. “Click clack clackity click beep!” “‘Wasn’t that fun!?’” demanded an incredulous Nokama, translating Nuju’s words. “Do you mean to tell me you could have done this at any time?” Nuju shrugged. “Bazt wheep whip whop.” “What do you mean, ‘it was funny?’ It most certainly wasn’t, you icy little--” “By the way, I can also speak Matoran just fine,” Nuju said. “WHAT!?” “ ” For once, it was Nokama who was angry. “You little--I can’t believe--what the--WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!?!?!?!?!?” (Thanks to the overuse of time-comedy warp portals earlier in the comedy, Pohatu did not appear despite the use of question marks and exclamation points together.) Nuju just chuckled to himself. “As a Turaga, I’m not allowed to be a nerd anymore. How else am I supposed to have fun?” “I’m just mad because pulling pranks is my thing…” muttered Matau. “Either way, I found it quite hilarious, and we do have our Gukko. Shall we get going?” “YOU STUCK-UP TROLLING LITTLE ####### #####ING ########### I’M GOING TO ####### THE ######## RIGHT OUT OF YOUR ##### AND ## BECAUSE ###### UPSIDE-DOWN ################ ### PENGUINS ##### ### ######### ####### GUKKO BUCKETS #################################################### BANANA ### # ## # ######## #### # ITALIAN ###### ## ## ##### GIANT INFLATABLE MONKEY ####### ## ##### #### ### WITH #### ### AND ####### ON TOP!” screamed Nokama, as Matau, Onewa, and Whenua all held her back. “Uhh...I think that means ‘sure,’” said Whenua. Then Onewa bopped Nokama over the head with his staff, knocking her mask off and causing her to faint. “That works.” As they all boarded the boat, Nuju’s Gukko flock obediently landing on the railings, Matau grabbed Vakama and threw him belowdecks. A relieved Keetongu immediately turned and ran as fast as he could back into the jungle. “Believe me, Nuju, we’ll hear what Dume has to say about this,” declared a very annoyed Whenua. Then he looked around suddenly. “Wait, come to think of it, where is Dume, anyway?” Matau glanced up, eyes wide at the sudden realization. “Dume? Uhh...yes...about that…” Somewhere in the jungles of Le-Wahi, a certain Turaga wandered around aimlessly, a net covering his face and blocking his vision. “Hello? Anyone? Hellooooooo...get this thing off of me!” “Okay!” exclaimed a nearby Keetongu with a as he raised a randomly appeared club. “Wait, no, not you, that’s not what I--” THE END Bob the Word Counting Gukko: This comedy has 3,649 words. ~Happy Thanksgiving from Lewa# Studios! Lewa0111 Nuva
  16. Hey all, a fair amount of people liked my last moc (an Axonn-like model), so when I bought some more G2 sets a while back, I randomly decided to revamp Turaga Nuju [] Random, huh? [] (And sorry that I can't post the rest of the images directly onto here, they're quite high-res) Front (Color adjustment) http://i.imgur.com/zMmvdSZ.jpg "We fight together!" http://i.imgur.com/sOoOWqP.jpg Dem eyebrows, doe. http://i.imgur.com/7F1gDCW.jpg Also sorry for the orange-tint, it's because it was sundown at the time of taking the photos [] Let me know what you guys think []
  17. This is kind of an odd little story I dreamed up, set during the 2001 storyline. Enjoy! “I need to find another mask,” said Tahu. “If Kopaka gets them all before I do, I’ll never live it down.” “Patience, Toa Tahu,” said Vakama. “The quest for the masks is not a race.” “Easy for you to say.” Turaga Onewa chose that very moment to enter the room. “Oh…I’m sorry, Vakama, I didn’t think you would still be…occupied.” “Pay it no heed, Onewa. I’ll be done talking to Tahu in just a moment.” “Very well.” Vakama turned back to face Tahu. “To find the Kanohi Pakari, you must first seek strength within yourself. Go think on this.” Visibly annoyed at the cryptic words, Tahu replied with a stiff, “Very well, Turaga,” and left Vakama’s hut. “What did you mean by that?” asked Onewa. “Nothing, actually…“ “Nothing?” “Well, you see, brother…that's why I summoned you. I have a problem,” said Vakama. “I can’t remember where I hid the Pakari.” “You forgot? You forgot where you put one of the keys to Makuta’s defeat?” “It was a thousand years ago! I can’t be expected to keep track of all the masks for that long.” “Don’t tell me…” “I…I may have forgotten where a few of the others are.” “A few?” “Well…all of them.” “Oh, Karzahni,” swore Onewa. “How has Tahu found any masks at all?” “So far, I’ve just told him cryptic things, and he’s always come back with one. I have no idea how he does it. But this can’t be allowed to go on. If there’s one he can’t find, I cannot keep feeding him mumbo-jumbo forever.” Suddenly, a tall figure sped into the room. When it came to a halt, the two Turaga realized that it was Pohatu. “Turaga Onewa! Hafu told me I could find you here. I was wondering if you could clue me in to where to find any more masks?” “What mask are you looking for, Toa?” “Well, I reckon the Hau could come in handy.” “Then the Hau it is. Seek the Mask of Shielding in the Place That Is Protected.” “Um, as you say, Turaga.” With that, Pohatu sped off. “Oh dear,” said Vakama. “Is there something you haven’t been telling me, Onewa?” “Um…well…” “Onewa…” The Turaga of Po-Koro drew a heavy breath. “I may not have the best memory, either.” “Oh, Karzahni. This is a fiasco. What can we do?” “Well, the Toa seem to be doing well on their own so far. Perhaps following one of them to a mask might help refresh our memories?” “That’s a silly, ridiculous, and pointless plan,” said Vakama. “It just might work.” “My thoughts exactly,” said Onewa. “Let’s go find Tahu; he can’t be too far.” ******** The two Turaga caught up with the Toa of Fire after about half an hour. He was wandering the rocky slopes of the Mangai Volcano. “What in Mata Nui’s name are you doing here?” asked Tahu. “We wish to observe your mask-finding process,” Vakama told him. “It will give us insight into your inner character.” “Whatever,” said Tahu. “Try not to get in my way.” “We wouldn’t dream of it,” said Onewa. They wandered about for several moments. Suddenly, to the north, they heard a rock bounce against the mountain. Immediately, Tahu headed towards the sound. “Where are you going, Toa Tahu?” asked Vakama. “To the noise. Whenever I start hearing noises like that, it means I’m getting close to a mask.” ******** Concealed behind a pile of rocks, a lone Matoran smiled. Tahu would have his Pakari soon. He picked up a second rock, and threw it. ******** A second noise came from higher up the side of the mountain. Looking towards it, Tahu noticed a rocky outcropping in the middle of a stream of lava. “That must be where the mask is!” he exclaimed. He eagerly bounded up the slope. When he got near the outcropping, he equipped his Miru and floated over the lava stream. There was the Pakari, just as he’d suspected. He placed the Mask of Strength on his face, and instantly felt a surge of power. He leapt off the outcropping, landing right next to the pair of Turaga. “Incredible,” remarked Vakama. “Does this happen every time?” “It does,” answered Tahu. “I can't explain why.” “Perhaps some things are not meant to be known,” Vakama mused. “Perhaps Mata Nui has a way of ensuring important things happen, no matter what obstacles lie in the way.” He glanced slyly at Onewa. “Perhaps so. In any event, let us return to Ta-Koro. This volcano is no place for a Turaga of stone.” ******** Behind his pile of rocks, Kapura breathed a sigh of content. Toa Tahu was one mask closer to defeating Makuta, and his beloved teacher’s secret was safe. He slinked off to guide Pohatu to his Hau. If anyone asked why he was gone for so long, he could simply say he had been practicing.
  18. I know I just posted a tiny Toa two days ago, was it? But, seeing as yesterday was my birthday, I did get some gifts, and being the fantastic little brother he is, Kakama knew which sets I didn't have yet, and got me the cheapest of those, the Protector of Jungle. So, without further ado, Matau: Front: http://orig12.deviantart.net/053d/f/2015/229/8/7/tiny_matau_by_b_rex54321-d961dub.jpg Side: http://orig09.deviantart.net/6ede/f/2015/229/2/6/tiny_matau_side_by_b_rex54321-d961eb4.jpg Back: http://orig01.deviantart.net/2c65/f/2015/229/2/a/tiny_matau_back_by_b_rex54321-d961egs.jpg Skeleton: http://orig11.deviantart.net/b9c9/f/2015/229/5/7/tiny_matau_skeleton_by_b_rex54321-d961eh9.jpg Shells: http://orig06.deviantart.net/b1d0/f/2015/229/8/7/tiny_matau_shells_by_b_rex54321-d961ehx.jpg And, progress with the Toa: http://orig09.deviantart.net/33f2/f/2015/229/b/0/tiny_toa_progress_by_b_rex54321-d961gqq.jpg
  19. Hi everyone! I'm selling sealed bionicle sets from the first wave and introduction of Bionicle from 2001! Toa mata: Onua 8532 35.- euro Gali 8533 35,- euro Turaga: Vakama 8540 15,- euro Matau 8541 15,- euro Onewa 8542 15,- euro Nokama 8543 15,- euro Nuju 8544 15,- euro Whenua 8545 15,- euro Kanohi: European kanohi bags 8530 (with chance of getting misprints) 10,- euro each Rahi: Muaka & kane-ra 8538 85,- euro Nui-Jaga 8548 75,- euro Nui-Rama 8537 (box has lot of wear) 70,- euro Tarakava 8549 80,- euro Used items: Toa mata got all 6 used with cannister and instructions 10,- euro each only tahu 12,- euro Manas complete with instructions 55,- euro no box
  20. I was fooling around with some designs one day after receiving a massive BrickLink haul, and this was the fruit of my labors. I present Matau, the Prankster, in all of his Turaga glory. https://www.flickr.com/photos/happybuzzsaw/sets/72157651116556555 Flickr^ I can't be bothered right now to make that link prettier. I tried emulating his Turaga robes with the tube there, I think it did a decent job. I actually really enjoy this design, it allows for a good amount of flexibility while capturing the stoutness and shape of a Turaga. What I especially like about his design is how compact and filled in his body is, giving him a solid feel. I don't mind using CCBS, especially in cases like this. I'm working on a hand design that'll give him a thumb. My next Turaga will either be Vakama or Whenua.
  21. Hey, guys! Came up with another MOC recently. I've built him surprisingly quickly from scratch in mere 2 hours. Turaga Makuta is actually an impersonation of my friend, whose nickname is Turaga Makuta. Maybe you remember that guy with LoMN covers and this story with Nathan Furst. Well, enjoy. And here is the gallery on flickr.
  22. In the Mysterious Island of Okoto, The Protector of Fire used the Mask of Time,and looking up to stars than he close he's eyes and dreams about a mysterious elder with red and orange than Protector says to the Mysterious Elder, “Who are you,and where did you come for?” than all see lose the Elder spoke to him, “I am Turaga Vakama of Metru Nui,and I was a Mask Maker like Ekimu and Your Makuta. My Greatest Creation was the Legendary Mask of Time, than with my Toa Team, The Toa Metru defeating Makuta,The Dark Hunters,The Visorak,Sidorak, & Roodaka. Than I and my team mates used are Toa Powers to free the Matoran than to give us the transformation into Turaga than are light turn to darkness when Makuta infered are Rahi than a Matoran named Takua surrounding the Toa Mata to defeat Makuta they did defeat him,but also the Bohrok Swarms and their Queens the Bagrag,as Nuva their defeat The Bohrok-Kal than Makuta's Returns with the Rahkshi than out of no where Takua,the same Matoran that surrounding The Toa, become a Toa of Light, Takanuva,and he did defeating Makuta that leave us back to Metru Nui,but with bad news of Mata Nui's Dying leaving The Nuva to Voya Nui their they need to reclaimed the Mask of Life,but they got defeating by Ex-Dark Hunters The Piraka so Takanuva's Friend, Jaller with Hahli,Hewkii,Nuparu,Kongu, & Matoro go to Karzahni to get new masks with stuck by the Red Star become the Toa Inika,and they defeated the Piraka,but the Mask traveling down to Mahri Nui where the Evil Warlords,The Barraki wanting the Mask for themselves,but The Toa Mahri go down to the Mutagen Ocean that ultimately Matoro gives he's life to free Mata Nui,but The Nuva with new Armor and help for The Order faces their final battle to faces The Brotherhood,but then Mata Nui finally awakens than didn't last with Makuta take full control of the robot,and Mata Nui's Spirt in the Mask of Life traveling to Bara Magna where the Evil Skrall Empire rules the Agri and Glatoran only fighting,but Mata Nui appears to them,and defeated Tuma. Than he is off to he's search of Bara Magna's Past to found the Prototype Robot,but than Makuta shown up the Ultimate Final Battle between Mata Nui and Makuta begin with Tahu,Takanuva,Glatoran, & Agri faces Armies of Skakdi,Rahkshi of Heat Vision, & Skrall it was a powerful fight,but Makuta was killed by a piece of rock are worlds unit as one for many years to come.” After herd Vakama's story he was glad to bring he's Tahu to he's Island than he woke up when a villager named, Kaparu say “Protector something is falling to sky.” than he knows that Tahu had arrival thanks part of Turaga Vakama of Metru Nui.
  23. Hi there, this is a MOC I've done yesterday since I noticed some Slizer Set pieces hanging around my room. His name is Jimpsy, a collector robot that used to rip other parts away to his personal collection. Before that he used to be a doctor/AI assistant, but his concerns turned him against their instituition and now he lives in his own junkyard.
  24. Hello everyone. After hearing about the news of BIONICLE coming back I decided to make a drawing. Link I drew a picture of a mysterious Turaga. Was thinking this character could be like a Toa who broke the Toa code but later transformed into a Turaga or something and has some alliance with a Makuta. Or he's just a random Turaga of air. Who knows, I sure don't. He also doesn't currently have a name so he's just the Mysterious Turaga. I tried to draw it in the original BIONICLE comic design (Until I found out how stiff the limbs were). Then it kind of morphed into this while adjusting the limbs. I had trouble deciding how to draw the feet so I just went with the Standard feet. And I picked the Komau because of it's powers of mind control, it seems to fit well with the character. Drawn in Gimp using trackpad. Colored in Gimp as well. No idea how long it took, I took a long break in between. And that's about it. Anyway, comments, critique, whatever is appreciated. ~Soran
  25. This is a Turaga of Darkness I made a while back.
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