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  1. Been branching out in this recent quarantine. Branches include Clone Wars and drawing, thus I give you: (rough translation of Matoran and Galactic Basic ) Eheh, I forgot how Ussal crabs worked, so now we have puny Pewkew. As always, totally open to suggestions, would love to improve!
  2. Matoran concept and turaga comes later. New matoran build Prototype build Set form Kaita form Updates coming soon.
  3. The matoran are the 2nd sets i made for bionicle animated. This is what i do best. Matoran Kaita of loyalty mahuli Fastest and smartest, also kind. Kaita of courage hakato Strong in 3 ways, its determenation is durable Nui kaita akachi Strong and fast, but the only downfall is its temper
  4. 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.
  5. So, as many of you know, one of the first things I did since I returned to BZPower was participate in the Six Kingdoms Escapement. My character in the rpg was Kanohi, a Fe-Matoran “superhero” whose island was destroyed by the League of Six Kindoms, and who spent his days grappling around Metru-Nui trying to repair buildings and help evacuate civilians. He’s one of my favorite Bionicle OCs, just an anxiety-ridden Matoran trying to help others. He grew a lot over the first rpg, and he continues to grow in Six Kingdoms Rebirth. I have written a number of stories about a version of him that fits into the canon of Bionicle, but this story will be a bit different. You see, as SKE was wrapping up we discovered that one of the major NPCs wanted to use the Disk of Time to change history. To us players, there was some fear that our character development would be erased, all our growth and new friendships lost. So I began to plan a way to avoid resetting Kanohi to zero. Kanohi has an ability not unlike Vakama possesses in canon, he can experience visions of events yet to happen. Well he is a superhero, he needs at least one superpower. And it was based on this that I began to plot what to do if history was changed. Ultimately though history was not rewritten, but since the Disk of Time was used, and becauseI know some of us are a bit stressed by recent events in SKR, I thought it might be fun to still use my plan as the basis for a new story. So yesterday instead of sleeping I wrote this bad boi. This story takes place in a universe similar to SKE, starting with a failure of Fe-Matoran grappling through the swampland of his island home. With that said, enjoy. artwork by @Onaku The Impact of a Rebirth … The Fe-Matoran hurtled through the trees like a cannonball, tumbling and careening. As he was flung upwards, he fired from his Volo Lutu Launcher a small ball of gravity into a tree. As he fell from his arc he was yanked to the gravity ball, dragging him through the canopy. He flew past the tree, before continuing to grapple through the swampland of Bo-Wahi. A satchel dangled from his arm, stuffed full of herbs. With Turaga Bomahri‘s back acting up, some of the foragers of Bo-Wahi had searched for and harvested a few herbs to treat his pain. To get them them to the Turaga in time they needed a courier, and Dece was, well, available. Dece was an okay courier. Not a great one. He was decent enough at throwing a bamboo disk as well. Though most of Fe-Koro was his better. Still he at least was proficient at grappling through the swamp than he had been as a mask maker. Right? The traditions of the island of Okoto were simple. The Fe-Matoran lived in Fe-Koro, they made the island’s tools, masks, they mined Protodermis, and occasionally they fought Rahi if Toa Fehagah was too far away to reach them in time. On the other hand the Bo-Matoran grappled through the swamps to forage plants and other resources, and acted as medics if there was a crisis. Toa Fehagah protected them from aggressive Rahi or other disasters, while Turaga Bomahri led them with wisdom. That was how it was supposed to be. But Dece … he was a failure. He struggled to make masks, he had a few successes with easy Kanohi, but he failed on the harder masks. So much Protodermis wasted. Even Turaga Bomahri had gotten tired of his pathetic attempts at forging masks. And every time he tried to forge a mask, he could hear the Turaga’s disappointment, see the other Fe-Matoran looking in pity and-and… The Matoran spotted out of the corner of his optics that his heartlight was flashing. He swallowed and made a moan. Remember what Turaga Bomahri always says. Just … don’t focus on the big picture, break everything down to small manageable tasks. The Turaga had found a way for him to be useful as a courier, he was still helping the Matoran, still doing his Duty. Maybe he wasn’t trusted with particular sensitive cargo, but this was still going to help Okoto. It would help the Turaga even. Dece tried to force a smile he … he was helpful, he … he was. Then came a sound like a buzzsaw cleaving through a thick tree. Dece flinched at the sound and tried … tried not to look behind him. But he could see the shadow behind him, drawing ever closer. As he tumbled through the trees he used his left hand to reach into his satchel and pulled out a bamboo disk he … it wouldn’t be much help, but it might help him get away. Then with a grinding shriek the Nui-Rama was upon him, the giant bug lunging its claws at his mask. He wore a Kanohi Hau, the Great Mask of Shielding. Not that he could use its power, he was just a Matoran, and not even a very useful one at that. But as the Nui-Rama swung at him he threw the disk, striking its bulbous eye. It flinched, it’s flaw only slamming into his gut. Dece tumbled from the blow, slamming into the swamp. As he struck the murky surface, Dece felt his head shattered. Not literally, his mask was not even damaged. But as he sank into the mud the mud seemed to swirl and grab at him, dragging him deeper into the swamp. He struggled, but the world was smothered in mud, turning into a brown goop. And then … Dece’ s mind exploded. … “Turaga?” Turaga Bomahri looked up as he continued to rub his back. His hut was all but woven with iron like a quilt, with metal imitations of flowers blooming in it. In the entrance to his metal hut was a Fe-Matoran, wearing a burnt orange Hau and with a biomechanical body of the same shade or orange, mixed with black components. “Oh, Dece you … have arrived. We were worried you were lost in the swamp.you certainly look the part.” The Turaga of Jungle remarked. Dece was covered in mud, splattered all over his body. But that wasn’t what made Bomahri hesitate. There was … something in Dece’s eyes. “I have brought your herbs,” Dece said emptying his satchel on the table besides the Turaga. “Sorry, they got a bit muddy.” “Of course,” the Turaga said with a sigh. What was he going to do with Dece? Couldn’t even travel the swamp without making a fool of himself. “Turaga I … What do you think of Destiny?” “Destiny? It’s what we all seek to fulfill, to be the best version of ourselves, as the Great Spirit Mata-Nui desires. It is of the Three Virtues most honored by Bo-Matoran along with Unity. Why do you ask?” Such a basic question. “I … I saw something. Or … I was something. Or will be something. I … I don’t know if I understand.” “Don’t worry, we expect that by now,” Turaga Bomahri smiled, “thank you for the herbs, but you need to hurry along, more Matoran will need deliveries.” “Yes um, sorry Turaga. I … I’ll get back to work. Sorry, um, sorry…” Dece bowed and departed the room, but hesitated at the door. He started to look back, before clenching up and raving outside the hut. Then with a fire of his Volo Lutu Launcher he grappled away into the open air, hooking the surrounding huts to travel to the edge of the plateau. … “Matoran Dece,” Toa Fehagah knocked on the hut’s door. It was on the outskirts of the plateau, well away from the rest of the Fe-Matoran. There was a delay and then a shout of, “Um, you … you can come in.” She nodded and bent over, before fitting into the metal doorway. She was tall, her armor was blue and white, and she wore atop her face a Kanohi Kadin, the Great Mask of Flight. Dece was on the floor, welding something. “S-sorry, Toa. I know have not started my rounds today, I just … I saw something. I don’t understand it but I think it’s important. For all of us.” “Alright,” she nodded, sitting down besides him. Anything I can help with—” And then she realized he was welding something to his forearm. “Dece what are you doing?” She demanded in shock, reaching to pull his Firestaff away, only to hesitate. If … if he burnt himself because of her. “It’s okay, Toa Fehagah,” he swallowed, “I … I trust in Destiny.” “What Destiny is it to have a Volo Lutu Launcher stuck to your arm?” She all but managed to shout. He flinched and she added, “sorry but this … this isn’t like you.” “I saw something.” “What did you see?” “The future,” he whispered. The Toa stared at him, “you … saw the future?” “I don’t know how but I … I saw how I can help the village. How I can help our island. I know it sounds silly but I … Mata-Nui had to have given me this vision for a reason, right?” She stared at him, and finally said, “Dece, you had faith in my strangeness, even before I was a Toa. The least I could do is trust in yours. Scoot over, I can make this smoother.” His optics widened beneath his mask, “if … if it’s not a trouble.” “It’s not,” she smiled, “but, would you mind telling me exactly what you saw?” She pressed her finger to his welding job and metal began to secrete from her finger, sealing up the rough welding he had been doing. “Um, well um, is it okay if you do the other arm too?” “Yes,” the Toa of Iron answered, “but what exactly did you see?” “I saw you overwhelmed by strange people that were as tall as you. I … don’t think they were Toa. And I saw Fe-Koro demolished, Bo-Wahi burned to the ground. I saw me fleeing like a coward. I retreated to a great city, whose buildings towered above even the plateau. I saw … that city be destroyed too in the end, by the same army.” “…The pressure you must feel.” “But in the destruction of the city, I was doing things. Good things. Grappling around the city, rescuing Matoran from falling debris, snatching them before they could be executed, shielding them from attacks, using disks with strange powers to repair towers and bridges; I was helping. And if I can help Okoto now with what I had learned to do in the future, maybe we can survive this.” “…That is a great responsibility.” “Yes but … but I can help. A way to help that I can do, that others might not do as well. And that might take pressure off you.” The Toa of Iron was quiet for a time, her body tense. Dece looked away, his face beneath his mask growing crimson. But finally she says, “well, let’s get to work then.” … “Toa Fehagah, this is foolishness,” the Turaga nibbled alongside her, his wooden staff helping support his wright, “Dece is barely good as a courier, he can’t be a fighter.” “He won’t be. He’s going to be a vigilante protector. And he’s Kanohi now.” “He can’t just choose a new name.” “I did.” “Yes well, you underwent Naming Day.” “And maybe Kanohi will too one day,” the Toa dismissed, before using her long legs to speed past the Turaga’s pace. Soon enough she was at the edge of the plateau, where Kanohi was looking down at the swampland below. He was covered in broken masks that he had dangled from his body, like wind chimes. He had never gotten rid of those failures, clung to them. And now they hung to him as armor, the broken and failed masks repurposed to do good. “Ready, partner?” “Um I … I am just your helper.” “Well, you are doing part of my work, so you are my partner,” she smiled, and he blushed. “Now we should begin practice by…” She trailed off, catching sight of something in the swampland. “What’s wrong?” “Fire,” she pointed in the northern patch of the swamp, and he followed her gaze, “it looks like it’s in the path of some of our foragers’ routes. We will have to reschedule practice for another day.” “Okay, I-I-I’ll try to get them to safety.” She turned to object, but stopped. Finally she said, “before careful, alright? I’ll contain and smother the fire, you help them escape. Don’t try to fight it.” “Of course,” he nodded, his makeshift armor jingling at the motion. She swallowed hope … hopefully this would go well. She lifted him up and put him atop her shoulders, and he held on tight. Then with a glow of her mask she lifted into the air, and blasted off through the jungle, flying with all the speed she could manage. … Kanohi hung to his Toa as she flew through the swamp. There was only one Toa in the island of Okoto, and only one Turaga. The island was difficult to reach, the trees were packed closely and shredded boats, it was surrounded by swampland so there was nowhere to dock a ship either. The only settlement was atop a large plateau, so a traveler would need a mask of flight or a Volo Lutu Launcher to actually meet with the natives. And few actually cared to visit Okoto in the first place. The island had little to offer, just a vast swamp full of plants and large bugs, and a Protodermis mine built into the side of the plateau. It had no wealth, the technology it had was fairly basic except for the Iden Machine, but that was made by a traveler from outside the island. They had a few hovercrafts for shipping goods over the island, but the hovercrafts were small, and they were only able to maintain a few of them. Most folks who traveled just used Volo Lutu Launchers. Its people were poor, and they were not worth trading with. And yet, those warlords in his vision, they would burn it to the ground. He shuddered just, just focus on small manageable tasks. Right now there was a fire, he had to rescue Matoran, just … just tru to take it one at a time, He did not have time to dwell on those through though, as soon enough a wall of heat slammed into him. “Here, Kanohi,” Toa Fehagah shifted her shoulders and he climbed off, landing in a tree, “I’ll contain the fire, you rescue the Matoran.” He nodded in a frenzy, before pointing his right arm away. The Volo Lutu Launcher in his arm fired, and he was shot forward into the trees. Then with his left arm he hooked another tree, and began to swing across the swamp. It was … easier somehow, grappling with the weight of his masks and with two launchers. That vision had all but given him the experience of using a similar setup. The one in the vision was a bit more … hi-tech, but this new power was still useful. There, in the blaze he spotted a Bo-Matoran choking on the fumes. He swallowed this … it was real now. Mata-Nui, please let me not screw up again. Not with a life on the line. Quickly he latched a tree trunk behind the Matoran, and grappled through the fire. As he sailed past he extended his arm and hooked it around the Matoran’s gut. With a heave he dragged the Matoran from the blaze, before the two of them tumbled into the mud. As a Matoran of Iron, Kanohi had high physical endurance, so he stood up pretty quickly. He almost tackled the Matoran of Jungle, frantically over his injuries. He was still alive, but he was still unconscious. He … small tasks, just get him away from the fire, With a shove Kanohi hoisted the Bo-Matoran onto his back, before grappling away from the blaze. He swung and hooked his way across the swamp, until he tumbled before to a lone tree some distance from the rest of the woods. Slowly Kanohi lifted the Matoran, straining to carry him. He laid him against the tree, hopefully the tree was far enough away the fire wouldn’t reach it. He looked over, the Natoran was coughing now, spewing wads of black ash. He … he still needed to learn how to treat the injured. He was no Bo-Matoran. Still, he could hear the fire cracking, other Matoran would need help. Kanohi swallowed, before hook in a tree and grappling away, heading back towards the fire that chewed up the swamplands. Just focus on small manageable tasks. He hurtled and flung through the trees, swinging one arm at a time. Soon enough he spotted another Bo-Matoran, this one stuck in a tree as fire engulfed the lower tree trunk. With an outstretched arm he caught the Matoran, carrying him away from the flames. “What the heck are you doing?” The Bo-Matoran demanded as he coughed up mud, “who … who are you supposed to be?” “I-I am Kanohi,” the Fe-Matoran said, “can you climb onto my back, I can carry you away from the blaze.” “I don’t need the help of a freak—” The two of them staggered as a wall of heat slammed into them. The Matoran of Jungle winced before managing, “um, yeah, let me just get on your back.” Kanohi shook under his weight, he had enhanced endurance, not strength. Still his body at least could take the strain, and with a fire of his built-in launchers he grappled away. … Toa Fehagah waves her hands about, and iron erupted from her fingers. Her elemental power snaked and wove through the air like vines up a tree, and soon enough metal had ensnared the trees of the swamp. From tree to tree she grew a wall of iron, a barrier to halt the spread of the flames. The trees would likely die from her metal vines strangling them, but the rest of the swamp should be saved. She had been trained to use her element by Toa Bomahri, most of her lessons had been before he had become a Turaga. Back when he had the full elemental powers of a Toa of Jungle. Because of his influence, the metal she created almost grew like a plant, instead of crude geometric shapes it blossomed and crawled and strangled like any vine. She … had only met one other Toa, the traveler who she traded bodies with, but even with her lack interaction with proper Toa of Iron, she knew she was weird. For many reasons. She was quite aware that she was a freak, just like Kanohi. Kanohi’s vision was … horrifying. She wished she had a Mask of Mind Reading, so she at least could understand some of what he saw. Share his burden. But destiny chose only him to see that awful future. And all she could do was support her old friend. He had always been … anxious and a mess of issues, but Fehagah did not forget that when realized she was no man, Kanohi had accepted her instantly. And when she became a Toa he did not forget her truth. He was respectful, if terrified of messing up. And when she decided to switch bodies with that Toa of Lightning, he was nothing but supportive. Even her old mentor was a bit wary about the island’s only Toa using that strange untested machine. But Kanohi … he believed it was her Destiny from the start. What else could she do but believe in his own Destiny? As she formed her barrier there was a whoosh behind her. She turned to see Kanohi grappling past, dancing among the fire and the trees. She winced, the heat was dangerous. But he just hurled through it, looking for Bo-Matoran caught in the flames. She could not remember this energy from him, this speed and grace. Yes he still tumbled, but his swing through the trees was so precise. That vision, despite its horror, it had empowered him. Told him plainly ‘you don’t have to be a Toa to be a hero. And you Kanohi, you can be a hero.’ As terrible a burden that vision must be, the Toa still found herself thanking Mata-Nui for letting him see what he could be. … Kanohi threw his bamboo disk, striking a few branches. The branches tumbled to the swamp, even as the disk ricocheted towards him. It landed in the mud besides him with a splash. He leaned over to grab it, winching as he strained his back. Even with his enhanced physical endurance his body ached from carrying around the Matoran. Still he picked the disk up, before looking up at the tree he had severed. Without those branches the fire would not be able to spread this far. He turned to the four Bo-Matoran, three of them carrying their fourth. Swallowing he said, “o-okay, you need to wade through the swamp, I will move from above and divert the fire from you.” “Um, sure thing, Kanohi,” one of them managed. They looked at him like he had a Fikou perched on his head, but even still they began to move. He might be a mad Matoran, but he had been doing alright rescuing them from the blaze, so madness wasn’t looking so terrible. Kanohi grappled above them, encircling them to look for dangers. The Volo Lutu Launchers the Bo-Matoran had been used were broken during the blaze, but Fehagah had reinforced Kanohi’s launchers when she attached them to his forearms, they would hold. He was so lucky for the Toa of Okoto to give him a chance, As he revolved around the group he stopped periodically, dangling from one of his launchers to look back to the blaze’s growth and to look for any Rahi. The beasts would flee the fire, but they would still be dangerous. Nui-Rama, Fikou, Nui-Jaga, Nui-Kopen; all those insects stalked the jungle, and all would eat a Matoran if they had the chance. There was a boom as the fire engulfed another tree, and Kanohi grappled over, his bamboo disk at the ready. With a twirl he threw it, cleaving through branches before falling to the mud. He grappled down and hooked it in his hand as he swung over the mud, before hurling and flinging his way back to the four retreating Bo-Matoran. But as he approached he heard that buzzing sound, that terrible buzzing. The Fe-Matoran turned to see a Nui-Rama with a cracked eye flying towards him. Was … could it be the one from before? Kanohi swallowed, before grappling away from the large winged bug. It swerved after him, its claws swiping at the air behind him. He grappled left and right, hopefully throwing the bug off with his erratic movements. Still it pursued him, buzzing like a roar as it clawed at the air. And — argh, the jerking motions only made his body throb and scream. He … he couldn’t just dodge it could he? It was after him, maybe even for revenge. He … he had to make the chase more costly. With a flex of his arms he grappled to the base of a tree, just hanging there. He perched there for like a second, before launching away. The Nui-Rama all but slammed into the tree trunk to attack him, splashing into the swamp from the impact. “Um, sorry?” Kanohi called out, as the Nui-Rama dragged itself out of the swamp. With a sound like a propellor grinding against a tree trunk, it reared its arm back, before slashing its claw through the base of one of the trees. The Fe-Matoran swallowed and hooked another tree, resuming his swing through the swamp. In the meantime the Rahi shook off its wings, mud splattering wildly. The Rahi pivoted in the air, before spying Kanohi and charging towards him. As the beast charged he latched onto a tree, waiting. But as it rammed him with its jaw he grappled away, leaving the Nui-Rama to take a large chomp out of the tree. It spat out the biomechanical wood, before looking at the fleeing Fe-Matoran. It shrieked out a buzzing sound, it would get back at the four-legged Fikou another day. The Nui-Rama buzzed off, swiping a big gash in a tree as it left. Kanohi grappled away, heading back towards the Bo-Matoran. But as he approached them there was a sound he struggled to recognize. Like a cry, but the pitch was off. “Nice one, Kanohi,” he winced at what must be mockery, but then the Bo-Matoran said, “not everyone can drive off a Nui-Rama without even throwing a single disk. That was incredible.” “Oh um,” were they being genuine? “um, well, all I did was making it hurt itself until it lost interest. It wasn’t like I fought it.” “You didn’t have to, you used your head.” “No, I didn’t head-butt it,” Kanohi answered, “but oh um, thank you though.” “Everyone alright?” Kanohi turned his head around to see Toa Fehagah fly towards them. The fire was now contained, walled off from the rest of the swamp by a barrier of trees woven with iron vines. “Don’t worry, Kanohi saved us. He’s working with you?” “He is indeed, we are partners.” Kanohi’s face could have been redder, but it would have been hard. The Toa of Iron just laughed though, and said, “come on, we need to keep moving, even with the fire no longer spreading, it won’t be safe here. The Rahi will be all riled up.” “Um, right, Toa Fehagah,” Kanohi nodded, “Um, what do you need me to do?” “Just move among the trees, and get ready to help them if a Rahi attacks. I will follow from the air, but you can be closer to them.” “Um, okay,” Kanohi nodded. He … he was going to be guarding so close up. Like the first line of defense. He … his hands fluttered like a Nui-Kopen’s wings. He … he really was helping Okoto. And maybe, if he got to be a better hero, even when the league attacked, he could help evacuate Matoran and rescue them, while Toa Fehagah fought the league. And with her able to focus solely on fighting, maybe this time she could win. Mata-Nui had given him this vision of the future for a reason, he had to believe that. And whatever that wad reason, it had to be to help Okoto, to do what his future self failed to do and save his people. Not that he was better than that future self, that Kanohi had disks with strange powers that came out of a weapon, he had strange technology in his mask that let him aim his launchers better as well communicate from long distances. The Kanohi of Okoto lacked those abilities. But maybe one day? It seemed possible at least?
  6. 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…”
  7. So for the first few months of 2020 I have been posting a bunch of my short stories on BZPower, most of them connected to versions of my vigilante Fe-Matoran character “Kanohi.” Because if you are going to make a Bionicle superhero, there are worse names than “Mask.” The story concept was a Matoran who would protect his fellows, guided by visions like Vakama had in LoMN. Because I freaking love the idea of that glitch. He would never become a a Toa, if fact his Destiny would be to always be a Matoran, never to transform. Since then I have explored a version of Kanohi over in the RPG topic, one who is a bit more of a mess than the one in these short stories. He’s a lovable mess though. He still can be a bit of a mess here, but in these stories he’s been a vigilante for at least a few centuries, he’s a bit more confident and a lot more experienced. Either way he continues to grapple around on Volo Lutu Launchers, helping the Matoran he can. Point is, I figured I should make a little library for these short stories, in case anyone is interested in reading the adventures of Kanohi, outside of the Six Kingdoms RPGs. They are all fairly short, no epics so far, and if I do make an epic I don’t think it would involve Kanohi much, and instead would be about a version of the Toa Inika. Spoilers for one of my continuities though. Anyway, please enjoy these short stories about a Matoran vigilante trying to protect his people. sprite made with the Danska’s Bionicle Builder sprite kit Kanohi: Core The Core Universe Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes: The short story that started it all, this takes place in the island of Mata-Nui, during the events of the Mask of Light movie. This short story is removed from most of that movie’s plot, just him rescuing some refugees from Ta-Koro from a Rahi. This story is canon to both the Core Universe, the Kingdom, and an alternate universe based off the vision Karzahni showed Jaller in the book Dark Destiny. New The Willing Exiles: A short story taking place post Mask of Light, in the months when the Turaga tell the legends of Metru-Nui. For some Matoran there is a disconnect with the great city, they feel no attachment to it, Mata-Nui is their home. For others, the revelations the Turaga give are almost a betrayal, as the knowledge they withheld could have helped some outcasts be less isolated. Kanohi feels both, and his bond with Turaga Vakama is damaged. Kanohi: Fear In the book Dark Destiny, Jaller witnessed a vision of a world where he did not sacrifice himself for Takua. The Chronicler was killed, the Toa Nuva were overwhelmed, and the island of Mata-Nui fell into everlasting shadow. Of course, this vision does not make sense in canon, as Teridax would not be content to rule a mere island, nor kill the Toa Nuva. So instead of adhering strictly to the vision, I used it as a springboard for a world without a Toa of Light. It is a dark age, Ta-Koro and Onu-Koro destroyed, the Turaga imprisoned, a horde of Rahkshi enforce their Master’s law, all while six false Toa encourage the Matoran to submit to the Makuta. Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes: also canon to this reality. The Company of Cowards: In this short story thirty seven Matoran flee for the south, guided by visions Kanohi has had of another island. Among the voyagers are the Chronicler’s Company, Nuparu, and Hewkii, all hoping to find asylum from the Makuta, and hopefully allies to free Mata-Nui. A Village Against the Rahkshi: Things have changed drastically for the Matoran, both the refugees of Mata-Nui and the hardy folk of Voya-Nui. With the Chronicler’s Company gone to fulfill two desperate destinies, the remaining Matoran find themselves under attack as six Rahkshi land on their island, searching for the escaped refugees. The Matoran of Mata-Nui only know fear from the Rahkshi, but the Voya-Nui Matoran have not been beaten yet. Kanohi joins them with his Volo Lutu Launchers in defending their village from the Rahkshi, but he strangely requests the Matoran capture and not kill the Rahkshi’s Kraata. What has he foreseen? Those We Choose to Forget: A story taking place in a poor village of Mahri-Koro on the shores of Aqua-Magna, millennia after the Makuta’s defeat. Here Turaga Macku is swimming, when the Chronicler of Spherus-Magna comes on a visit, asking for a forgotten tale. Kanohi: Kingdom The Universe of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit, the universe Takanuva visited on his journey to reach Karda-Nui. Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes: also canon to this reality. The Willing Exiles: also canon to this reality A Restless Freak in Paradise: A short story about a version of Kanohi in the Kingdom Of the Great Spirit, years after Takanuva visited it, but before the people all migrated off Aqua-Magna. In this era of peace, where the Toa no longer protect the Matoran what use is a near powerless vigilante. Kanohi: Rebirth An alternate timeline spinning off of Six Kingdoms Escapement, where a version of Kanohi in his past experiences a vision of the events of the first season of the incredible Bionicle RPG. Knowing that his homeland may be destroyed, he resolves to become a vigilante hero early, to prevent the horrible future from coming to pass. The Impact of a Rebirth: After having a vision of a future, noted failure Kanohi resolves to help his Toa and his island as a vigilante. His first struggle? To help rescue Matoran as a fire raged in their swamp of an island. Other Stories Interview with a Supervillain: Ultra Agents came out during my “Dark Age” but a few years ago I discovered their sets, and was enamored by their villains. Struck by how LEGO often makes their own villains, but rarely their own original superheroes, and the fact that “Tox” was a hero of sorts in the Ninjago show, I wrote this story about a former villainess running into an old adversary. It’s a little preachy, I was less subtle back then, also was in a mood, but if you want a story about a vigilante and a former ultra agent being more than a little gay, here you go.
  8. So I got laid off because of the coronavirus, and I have a cold. I hope it’s a cold. It’s not my best week, and a lot of folks have it worse. So as a distraction, I wrote a new Kanohi story. This is actually a sequel to my last short story, The Company of Cowards, which takes place in a universe inspired by the vision Karzahni showed Jaller in Dark Destiny. Both stories are also sequels to my original Kanohi Short Story; Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes, though that one can fit into a couple universes like the Kingdom and the Core Reality. Point is, here is a new story about a grappling vigilante Fe-Matoran, with him back in the lead role. Please enjoy, at the least it’s a bit of a distraction. A Village Against the Rahkshi … Kanohi wiped the large wooden mask, a powerless mask carved in the shape of a noble Ruru. He hooked it atop his head, covering him a strange tribal appearance. He breathed steady, hands shaking. He … he had put on a brave face for the other Matoran, but here, the fear came out. He was not a Po-Matoran. He was a Fe-Matoran. And Vakama would have known that. His visions of an underground world under attack by monstrous spiders and Rahkshi, those were real, but Vakama had lied and said those visions were not so literal. There was so much Vakama had never told him. So much he still would not know if not for Axonn. So much of what he knew over the past millennia was just … lies. He understood the need for secrecy, he might have left Mata-Nui to help the underground Matoran, many would have. And despite Vakama’s mentoring, Kanohi was an outcast, a vigilante who did not belong to any one Koro but helped all Matoran. If people far away had needed him more, he would have left Mata-Nui with regret but resolve. But even though he understood by the Turaga had lied, it stung like a hundred Nui-Kopen. And it still wasn’t right. Necessary maybe, but not right. Kanohi held out his orange and black arms. Like the rest of his body they were plated with wooden masks, but sticking out of his firearms right before his wrists were small launchers. Between the technology of Voya-Nui weaponry, and the inventiveness of Nuparu, the Fe-Matoran had been able to get upgraded again. He how had two Volo Lutu Launchers; one built into each arm, to let him grapple across the jungle with ease. Even the strange jungle of Voya-Nui. Satisfied at his arms, he pulled out his lighter, gazing into the flame. As the fire danced he could see image dance in the embers. That was one honest thing Vakama had told him at least, how to focus his strange ability to prophesies with fire. Within the flickering flames he could see three of the new Toa; Macku, Kapura, and Hafu, all sailing with Hewkii and Axon. They were traveling back towards the island of Mata-Nui through the gloom of night, only the Red Star breaking the endless void of blackness. Axonn rowed and Macku pushed the ship with her elemental power, waves splashing from each push. As water foamed in their wake, the white bubbles broke apart like clumps of wet sand, before crumbling into an avalanche. Kanohi tried to grapple away, but it soon was upon, smothering him in darkness. He shivered in the gloom, before red rusted eyes consumed his sight, and a terrible voice shouted, “where is the Mask of Time!” “Kanohi, sir?” The autistic vigilante spun around, his hands shaking, his heartlight pounding beneath his wooden masks. Piruk flinched at his outburst, and Kanohi tried to settle his breathing. “Yes, brother?” “I … I was surveying the northern coast with Dalu, she enhanced my sense and … there are strange reptilian creatures flying this way. Six of them, all yellow, holding staffs.” “Rahkshi of Heat Vision,” Kanohi sighed like a hovercraft’s engine dying, “the Makuta has found us. Has Garan and Dalu already rallied the Matoran?” “Um yes.” “Is Brutaka joining us?” “No he … he says six Rahkshi are not worth his time.” “I think he will change his tune if we capture some Kraata,” Kanohi stood up. That was another thing Vakama had trusted him with, even more than all Matoran. The only Matoran to ever go hunt Kraata with the Turaga were Matoro and Kanohi, though more as bait than as fighters. “What are Kraata?” “What controls a Rahkshi, the Rahkshi is just a suit of armor a Kraata controls. They are not very smart, but they are dangerous, and can corrupt masks.” Kanohi stretched, adjusting his wooden masks one more time, before saying, “Piruk, I know this is a lot to ask, but report back to Garan, he might need you to report to the other village, and he will need to know these are Rahkshi of Heat Vision.” “M-m-me?” “We all must do our part. With half of the Toa Inika heading to liberate Mata-Nui from the Makuta and his false Toa, and the other half moving to find the Mask of Life, we need all of us Matoran working together. You don’t need to fight, just transmit news between the Matoran.” “R-right, easy. Well, you know what Balta always says…” “…You don’t need to be a Toa to be a hero,” Kanohi nodded, walking out of the hut. Looking about he aimed his right arm to a tree, and a sphere of gravity blasted out of his built-in launcher. It slammed into the treetop, and then in a rush the raw gravity pulled, ripping Kanohi off the village clearing and into the air. As he hit the tree he fired from his left arm, grappling to another tree. He ricocheted from tree to tree, patrolling the village even as other Matoran ran about in preparation for the Rahkshi. … Dalu focused her Chargers as a Rahkshi flew overhead, a tight glare in her optics. With some strange power emanated from her silver blades, striking the beast. As the beast turned towards her it lurched, suddenly as heavy as a Kikanalo. The Rahkshi plummeted like a stone, smashing into the ground with a resounding thud. She ran at the beast, but as she drew close it glared it’s eyes at her, and twin beams of burning energy slammed into her. She wheezed in pain, before that wheeze ignited into anger. “I am not so easily cowed!” The Ga-Matoran snarled, balancing on one arm and her legs. With some strain she fired her Chargers again, this time at the ground beneath the Rahkshi. The earth beneath the beast began to crumble, eroding what should take centuries in a matter of seconds. The Rahkshi was buried, and she slumped over, panting. “Take … that … Rahi,” she managed to shout. Using her Chargers was a big drain, she would need to rest or risk passing out— There was a hiss as beams of red hot flame erupted from the rubble, carving a hole in the debris. She stared up as the Rahkshi dragged itself out of the earth, its armor now scratched up, its legs sparking from when it fell from the sky. The mechanical puppet stepped towards her, its movements jerky like a Rock Ussal scuttling towards its prey. Two blasts of heat vision fired at her, but before it could hit a Ta-Matoran lunged in the way. Balta crossed his Repellers in front of Dalu, the weapons absorbing the full blast of the Rahkshi’s energies. And then with a thrust of his shoulders the Repellers hurled the energy back at the Rahkshi, frying it like the best Toa of Fire. The Rahkshi nearly collapsed, sparking as it used its staff to hold itself upright. With a cock of irs head it fired more heat vision, but not at Balta. The blasts struck a nearby tree, dropping it like a stone. Balta sounds around to repeal the falling tree— Two blasts of heat vision slammed into the Ta-Matoran, sending him tumbling. The good news was that thanks to the blast, the tree had missed hitting him. But the bad news with his injuries, he wasn’t able to lift up his Repellers, too aching from the blow. Balta’s head rolled over to take in the Rahkshi, just as a blur swung through the canopy. As another blast of heat vision flew at the Ta-Matoran a hand grabbed his arm, before grappling away in an instant. The heat vision ignited the tree, but no Matoran was hurt. Kanohi and Balta landed in a roll, as the damaged Rahkshi turned back towards them. Kanohi swallowed and fired a ball of gravity at the Rahkshi, and in a rush was hurled into the beast. He slammed into the servant of the Makuta, knocking it to the ground. As the Rahkshi shakily stood up Kanohi grappled away, calling out, “i-is this the best the M-M-Makuta’s son can do? To lose to three powerless Matoran?” If the Rahkshi was smart enough to understand and insult, it was hard to tell, but it immediately began to fire heat vision after Kanohi, blasting after him like a rampage Muaka. As the forest ignited, Balta suddenly felt some of his strength returning, his injuries mending just a little. There was a thud behind him, and he turned to see Dalu collapse again. She had enhanced his ability to heal. As the Rahkshi fired at Kanohi, the vigilante heard Balta call out, “over here.” The Fe-Matoran obliged, grappling besides Balta. The Rahkshi fired another pair of beams of heat vision, only for Balta to repel them. The blast pounded into the Rahkshi, shattering it in a fiery explosion. “We … we … killed a Rahkshi,” Kanohi managed to squeak out, dropping to his knees. “It’s not over yet,” Balta struggled to stand, putting his hands on Kanohi’s shoulder. The vigilante turned to see the Kraata had burst free of the Rahkshi, and was now oozing towards them. With a nod Kanohi drew a small capsule from his pack, and grappled over to the Kraata, slamming the capsule on top of it. The slug hissed and squirmed as he slid the lid underneath, sealing it away. “Try to rest,” Kanohi urged Balta, “watch over Dalu until she has recovered. I need to hurry back to the village, the bulk of the Rahkshi are headed there.” “Understood, Kanohi.” Balta lay down besides his fellow Matoran, as theFe-Matoran turned, hooked a tree and grappled away, launching his way through the jungle of Voya-Nui. … “Come on, Velika,” urged Kazi, uncharacteristically aggravative, “that Rahkshi is attacking the village, we need to form a Kaita.” “No,” Velika said blunt like a hammer. It was in fact unusually bluntly for Velika, no annoying sing-songs riddles of poems, just a blunt answer. Normally this would strike Kazi as odd. But since there was currently three large reptilian beasts the size of a Toa igniting the hunts and frying the Matoran, Kazi was not in the mood to ponder this. In fact all he could manage to say was simply “Why the Karzahni not?” “We don’t have time for this,” said Garan as he fired a blast from his Pulse Bolt Generators, the pulse flying through the air, growing larger and larger as it flew before pounding the Rahkshi with explosive force, “Piruk, Kazi, we will form the Kaita.” “M-me?” “Yes,” nodded Garan, “just concentrate on our unity, it should be much less of a strain than forming a Matoran Nui.” “I … I will try.” The three Matoran drew close to one another, holding hands as the village burned. Then in a flood of light they merged together, their green, brown, and black bodies fusing into one large Matoran. “Incredible, and I thought the strength we got from Nuparu’s upgrades was intense,” the fusion declared, eyeing his arms and his new two-pronged blades, “but this is on a whole mother level.” The fusion turned towards the rampaging Rahkshi and slammed his blades together, unleashing a powerful burst of sound that only grew sharper and louder as it flew. It slammed into a Rahkshi, sending sparks raining from it like an afternoon rain. The other Rahkshi turned, just as the fusion charged the first Rahkshi, slicing its staff in two. “That, is the power of our unity,” the fusion declared, before slicing and hacking his blades at the Rahkshi. The other two charged at the fusion, and the fusion only laughed boisterously, before lunged at them with clean sweeps of his blades. … “A Matoran Kaita,” Kanohi shook his head in amazement. It was … awe-inspiring to see this penultimate act of the Virtue of Unity, to see Matoran become one in drive and purpose. The giant was a little taller than a Toa, and was a flurry of sound and slashing. It was… Suddenly Kanohi spied a flash of red, and grappled to the side, avoiding a blast of heat vision. He did not have time to witness the unity of the Matoran, there were lives to save first. The vigilante grappled around, his wooden masks thumping and flanging as it went. The sensation the sound gave was oddly comforting to the autistic Matoran, grounding. It kept him calm, as calm as he could be in this moment of raw chaos. Plumes of smoke erupted from huts, ash plummeted to earth as if Mount Valami was erupting, buildings collapsed in explosion of splinters and Matoran collapsed, their metal flesh smoldering from being hit with heat vision. It was … it was just like when Mata-Nui fell. His hands trembled at the memory of Ta-Koro burning in the lava, the smell of roasting Matoran, the crushed remains of Onu-Koro, the sheer destruction caused by the first six Rahkshi, the Matoran of those villages sent as refugees to Po-Koro, to serve the will of the Makuta, then the arrival of those false Toa Piraka— And then he heard the jingling of his armor, and Kanohi let out a breath. They … they had defeated one Rahkshi, that was more than the Turaga ever had. The Matoran of Voya-Nui were strong, they … they could handle six Rahkshi. And since these were all the same type of Rahkshi, they couldn’t physically form a Kaita, same as how three Matoran of Fire couldn’t combine together. And that gave the Matoran a bit of an advantage. Kanohi swooped down towards a burning hut, scooping up a Ko-Matoran. His pistons and servos strained against the weight, but he was a Fe-Matoran, he naturally had better endurance than the average Matoran, and that was before he had been rebuilt to be stronger. Why didn’t you tell me that, Vakama? Just tell me the reason I was such a poor Po-Matoran was because I was not a Matoran of Stone at all, but a Matoran of Iron. The vigilante launched away from the fire, the Ko-Matoran in hand. Finally they tumbled to the ground, now away from the blaze. The vigilante stood up as the Ko-Matoran bolted, signing as the Matoran ran. It … his memories bubbled up inside him, the Toa Nuva could not stand against the Rahkshi, how could a village of Matoran? But he did not have the luxury to be lost in fear. Matoran were in trouble, he could not let Voya-Nui fall too. And he … he was a vigilante hero, he had protected the Matoran for centuries before the Toa arrived, protecting them from wild beasts, capturing Kraata, he was a hero. Not a Toa, but still a hero none the less. Kanohi swallowed, and then grappled back into the fray. … Nuparu slashed with his new electro-blade, frying a Rahkshi’s ankles. He was no great warrior, not the kind to become a Toa, but he had already fled the Rahkshi once, he would not do it again. As the Onu-Matoran lunged out of the way of the Rahkshi’s stomping foot, the fusion charged forward, skewering the Rahkshi’s central compartment. Ooze drooled out from the wound, and the foul smelling fluid pooled into the village center. The Rahkshi swayed, before collapsing down at Nuparu— Only for Kanohi to grapple past and carry the inventor to safety. The vigilante rolled on the landing before grappling away, streaking past the Kaita. “Please try not to kill the Kraata. I have had a vision about the Kraata, we need them to get Brutaka on our side.” “Why?” The fusion startled, “how would that convince him?” “I think he can eat them.” “Eat, like those Piraka you talked about?” The fusion stared after the vigilante, his mouth agape under his mask. Then a blast of heat vision hit him in the back, sending him tumbling. Kanohi swerved in midair and grappled back towards the fusion, as a Rahkshi focused his heat vision at the Kaita. The fusion shuddered, as two more Rahkshi flew into view. The three remaining ones were converging here now. Suddenly one of the Rahkshi became a blur, blasting forward at an inhuman speed. It slammed into a tree, shattering the wood with explosive force. As it stood there dazed Dalu stumbled out, stabbing it with her Chargers. She forced the Kraata’s compartment open, exposing the puppeteer. The slug hissing before lunging at her mask, only to be flung back by Balta’s Repellers. The Kraata smacked to the ground, right as Velika ran up to seal the stunned slug away. And then there was a boom. With explosive force the fusion separated, broken up by the barrage of heat vision. Piruk, Garan and Kazi were flung apart and landed with a resounding thud, too exhausted to function. Kanohi turned to the three other Matoran and said, “can you form a Kaita?” “No, not compatible,” answered Velika quickly. Balta and Dalu gave him a look, and he added, “if the Muaka falls, the Kane-Ra will not do better.” “…Okay. Then I’m try to distract them while you get these three to safety.” “I am not just running from these brutes,” Dalu all but snarled, and Kanohi let out a grin. It was good to see a Matoran who still had that much fire. “Fair enough, then we’ll fight them while Nuparu and you two take the fallen to safety.” “Right—” Heat vision swept at the ground, but Kanohi grappled a nearby tree, hooking Dalu and dragging her out of the way. He swung her as he flew past a Rahkshi, and she lunged at the beast, stabbing it in the eyes. The beast staggered about, and she slashed her Chargers against its thighs. Her friends’ fusion had really done a number on these Rahkshi already, now was just clean up. And as the beast crumbled, she stabbed it through the head, letting a noxious ooze drip out. Kanohi meanwhile was darting around the last Rahkshi, grappling back and forth. It’s heat vision pursued him, try to catch up. And then suddenly it pivoted around, aiming for Piruk. Immediately Kanohi broke left and grappled the Rahkshi, slamming into it. The beast stumbled, heat vision going wild, even as Dalu stabbed it in the head. There was a hiss as the slug dissolved, leaving a black stain on the ground below. And then the Rahkshi collapsed with a thud. Kanohi fell to his knees too, panting, while Dalu kicked the beast and shouted, “yeah, that’s how we do things in Voya-Nui!” … “Incredible,” Brutaka laughed like an avalanche, “I feel … incredible.” The titan slammed his fist against the mountain, shattering a crater in its side. He smirked beneath his strange mask, before punching the mountain again, and again, laughing to himself. As boulders fell Kanohi hooked a tree behind Garan and grappled, catching the Onu-Matoran’s wrist and dragging him to safety. The two Matoran tumbled into a heap, as Brutaka laughed. “And you little creatures killed these Rahkshi on your own?” He shook his head as he smashed open another capsule and slurped out the slug like a Rahi lapping water. He began to glow with more energy, the air rippling around him like the tip of Mount Valami. “Pity you only recovered three of these Kraata,” he scowled. “There are many more on Mata-Nui. And it’s said they are created from the essence of the Makuta himself. So the Turaga say.” Though they will lie if they wish. “Oh I know a lot about the Brotherhood of Makuta,” Brutaka laughed, standing up on his long gold and blue legs, “I’ve fought Rahkshi before too. But to eat one? I never even dreamed…” Under his mask Brutaka sneered, “I think I will visit this island of yours after all,” Brutaka decided, and his mask began to glow. Before the two Matoran’s eyes space rippled and ruptured, until a tear in reality formed. And within the rift, Kanohi could see a very familiar beach. “You could teleport that far?” Garan declared, “then why make your brother Axonn sail to Mata-Nui? Why not help evacuate my people’s northern brothers and sisters?” “I didn’t see the point,” Brutaka answered, before stepping through the portal. And behind him the gateway sealed shut, as if it had never been. “Do you really think we can trust him?” Garan glanced at Kanohi, “No,” answered Kanohi with a sigh, “but he will distract the Makuta, and the Toa Inika there will need all the help they can get.” “The Makuta is truly that strong?” “Yes,” Kanohi shivered, and then forced a smile, “still, I thought the Rahkshi were untouchable, and today we destroyed six of them. Nuparu and Velika are already busy salvaging their remains for more tools and weapons, even as your village is mended.” “You know, when the Makuta is defeated, and Mata-Nui is saved, our islands could learn a lot from each other. Trading goods, stories, knowledge, we are running low on food and resources, your richer island could save us. We already defeated monsters that could defeat your Toa Nuva. Imagine what we could do in a few years.” Kanohi’s face relaxed into a faint smile, before saying, “I better return to your village, we need everyone we can to fix the damage it suffered.” “Then hurry,” Garan laughed, “before my people defeat the Makuta without you.” Kanohi nodded, before grappling away through the jungle of Voya-Nui. The vigilante smile faded as he grappled, despite their words it wasn’t that simple of course. Not only was the Makuta a danger, but the false Toa themselves were powerful, though only ‘Toa’ Thok, ‘Toa’ Vezok, and ‘Toa’ Hakann seemed to be able to use their elements. But all of them had strange and incredible powers, allegedly because of the masks the ‘noble’ Makuta gave them when he appointed them the ‘protectors’ of the Matoran. Lies, all lies. The fights the Toa Inika would face in the coming days would not be easy. But the least he could do while the new Toa saved the Matoran and Mata-Nui was to protect the Matoran on Voya-Nui, both refugees and natives alike. He had a duty to all Matoran, he became a vigilante to protect them on an island with no Toa, to give them hope, and well, here he was again. And despite all his fears, his knowledge, there was another truth. Today was a victory. And that would keep him going. So Kanohi continued to grapple from tree to tree, hurtling between branches as he headed back to this island village, in a forest so alike but unalike his home. And this was the way, of the Bionicle.
  9. I wasn’t going to post this one yet, but since the world is in quarantine I felt like I might as well share a story so folks have something to read. This story was inspired by … kind of a canon alternate universe, but not really. I was hit with inspiration by the vision Jaller experiences in Bionicle Legends: Dark Destiny, the world where he did not sacrifice himself for Takua. Makuta over, the Matoran enslaved, one thousand years later the Turaga are killed in an attempted assassination, and Jaller and Hahli are broken servants of the Makuta. Dark times. Now that vision … doesn’t exactly gel with the canon. I’m not sure Makuta would wait over a thousand years ruling the isle of Mata-Nui, or kill the Toa Nuva, not when he would know that Mata-Nui would die soon after MoL. Karzahni visions aren’t always accurate, so I’m not surprised it may have some continuity issues. So I used that vision as the basis for this story, but made some adjustments and changes as I plotted it. I have other ideas for this AU, Versions of the Toa Inika, someone using the Vahki with the willpower to use its full power, what really happened to the Toa Nuva, just rough ideas I haven’t really polished yet. Maybe they will appear as either an epic or a few short stories, not sure which, but leaning towards the latter. Also this story features my OC Kanohi, because I like him, though Macku has a bigger role in the story. Anyway without further ado, here is the Company of Cowards. … There was no dawn through this storm, the black clouds reigned above as they hurled their weapons down like a swarm of hornets. The rain was a barrage of arrows, thunder was the battering ram, and lightning had all the force of a ballista. Nature itself was tearing at the makeshift raft, striving to destroy it in an unnatural fury. The boat was made of everything they could find, parts were scavenged from the huts of Ga-Koro, others from their boats, others from trees of Le-Wahi, even the six Toa Canisters were used to build the craft. It was held-together more through prayer than the vines and ropes that lashed around it. Seaweed was plastered across its sides, until it looked more like a particularly large clump of algae than a ship. Shivering in the storm were thirty seven Matoran, all hiding underneath tarps of seaweed. Their metal frames were blasted with saltwater, only the Ga-Matoran and Ko-Matoran braced the weather with any real resistance, all the others struggled each to stay conscious, their heartlights faint. Only their heartlights and eyes glowed, no other light was lit in this ship as it plunged through darkness, Most of them were rowing, others adjusted the crude rudders to steer through the endless ocean that encompassed their world. And a few Matoran peered out through gaps in the seaweed canopy with spyglasses, daring to pry into the skies about. “Rahkshi,” a faint voice managed, pointing to the port side of the boat. Macku held up her finger for silence, before squeezing under the canvas of kelp to stand besides him. The Ga-Matoran held out her spyglass in the direction that he pointed, even as she unholstered a throwing disk from her back. Up through the lens of her telescope, Macku could see three reptilian shapes streaking through the sky. Each had sharp spines jetting out of their hunched-back, and their heads were all but serpentine. Each held a double-sided staff in their claws, which they swung and gestured with periodically. Their armor was a vibrant gold, almost mocking the memory of the Avohkii. She tensed up as the thought of that Mask, she had only seen it once, seven years ago. During the last Kolhii Match, when it fell out of the Chronicler’s bag, illuminating Jaller with light. Turaga Nokama had translated it, revealing it was the Mask of Light, heralding the arrival of a seventh Toa. But a seventh Toa never appeared, and the island of Mata-Nui was enslaved by the Makuta. And now she and all the other Matoran who could were fleeing their homes, abandoning their sisters and brothers to their horrible fate. Cowards. Just like Jaller. The Ga-Matoran swallowed, holstering her disk. “Spread the word to keep quiet, Tamaru,” she urged the Le-Matoran, and he nodded. They might be cowards, but there was no way they could win a fight with three Rahkshi. They were just … Matoran. Macku pressed her way back through the bowels of the ship, crouching low to not disturb the vessel’s disguise. Finally she squeezed over to Hewkii, Hafu, and Kanohi. The first two brandished a throwing disk in one hand and a Kolhii staff in the other, standing guard. Kanohi meanwhile was huddled low to the ground, staring deeply into his lighter. He was covered in wooden masks carved in the shape of Ruru, using them for armor. Besides him were three objects, the first was Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff, the second was a Volo Lutu Launcher; last of its kind. And then besides the Turaga’s Badge of Office was something wrapped tightly in canvas and cushioned atop a pillow. Most Matoran did not know what it was, but Macku knew all too well what lay underneath it. “Three Rahkshi are on the port side,” Macku whispered, “I don’t think they have spotted us yet, but I’ve told Tamaru to pass the word to keep quiet.” “Karzahni,” sighed Hewkii, “we are tens of miles away from Mata-Nui, how did they find us?” “The Makuta’s reach is great,” answered Kanohi, “but he has not found us yet. All he knows is where we might be headed.” “And this other land, there are Matoran there?” “Many Matoran, though their bodies are weak, like ours used to be. I think between me and Nuparu we could upgraded their bodies too.” “And are there Toa? Not false Toa like Vezok and Zaktan, real Toa. Heroes.” “There … may be Toa, I see two strange beings, titanic in size, both wearing masks and brandishing powerful weapons. One is stout with armor of red and silver, the other is lean and is plated in gold and silver. I fear they are at odds however.” “Are they strong enough to challenge the Makuta?” Macku interrupted. “My visions are rarely easy to understand,” answered Kanohi, “I understand your frustration. To be blindsided by this tragedy, it is … humbling.” “To say the least,” muttered Macku. “Well, it’s not all hopeless, Macku,” Hewkii huffed and forced a grin, “we’ve smuggled some of our brothers and sisters to safety.” “Yes, until the Makuta decides to track us down,” she shook her head, before her face reddened and she added, “still, you’re right, we’ll probably have the Makuta dead in days and soon enough we’ll be after the seventh Toa again. She contorted her face into a smile beneath her mask. “Macku, you don’t need to hide your fears with me,” Hewkii said quietly, before cracking a more genuine grin, “and it looks like the effort is hurting you.” “True enough,” she shook her head, her smile not quite as forced now. “Excuse me,” a slow voice said. Macku turned to see Kapura, his crimson body covered in a thick cloak. The Ta-Matoran spoke like the slow approach of a glacier, even as his body trembled from the frigid cold, “the Rahkshi have diverted course … to the west.” “Then have they missed us then?” Hafu blurted out with a grin as big as the ocean. “…I think so,” answered Kanohi as he stared into the fire, “keep everyone quiet for now, but I think they are heading elsewhere.” “You are sure?” “Give me a moment to focus,” he said, gazing into the flames, “it’s not easy to steer my power enough to see what I want to know. Kapura, Macku; thank you for your messages.” “It’s the least we can do,” Macku sighed, sitting down, “I should return to my watch, keep an eye on the Rahkshi.” “What color were they?” Kanohi asked suddenly. “Golden, like the Avohkii.” “Before the Toa Nuva were overwhelmed, Turaga Vakama confided in me the types of Rahkshi. I believe the three of them would be Rahkshi of Weather Control, this storm is their work.” “They can even twist nature against us.” “Yes. Oh, sorry, I was thinking out loud. I … I can see nothing, but I will stick to my fire. For the meantime, watch the storm, and be careful leaving the ship. Macku, have your Ga-Matoran forage seaweed when they can, I’ll drill a hole in the ship to dive from.” Macku nodded, “I will pass it alone.” “And I will pass along your orders,” Kapura interrupted. Macku turned to look at him, but he had already vanished into the recesses of the ship. … Kanohi could see Vakama screaming, the Turaga being blasted by the power of fear. The manifestation of raw terror smothered him, as a voice snarled. “The Mask. Where did your pupil hide the Mask?” The waves of gaseous fear blotted out the stars, snuffing them out as Kanohi stumbled in the dark. And then he felt water splash into his face. He looked down to see a Ga-Matoran flailing in the rocky ocean below him, her leg engulfed by a Takea, the shark dragging her down— “Kanohi?” The autistic Matoran lurched away from his lighter, spinning to his feet and thrusting Whenua’s Drill Staff behind him. His optics darted around as the drill whirled. No one was there. And then he spotted Kapura, standing besides him. “You had a vision.” “Yes,” Kanohi admitted, “a Ga-Matoran drowning, a Takea attacking her. I couldn’t tell who she was, it was hard to see.” The starlight outside was all but extinguished, the only light came from the blasts of lightning striking the ocean.” “It may be happening.” “Karzahni. Who?” “Macku has not returned, Hewkii is considering diving after her.” Kanohi nodded, handing over the Drill Staff. “If you have to, shatter it.” “Yes.” Kanohi crouched and made his way through the ship, his Volo Lutu Launcher already back in his hands. It was meant for the jungles of Le-Wahi, but he had made it waterproof, at least as best he could. There, peering over the hole was Hewkii, his hands squeezing his spear until it nearly snapped in half. The hole had been drill in only a few hours ago, the rim bent upward as water splashed inside the boat. Seaweed lay stacked in mounds in this chamber, sloppy and wet. “Move,” said Kanohi, as he pulled out a bundle from his pack. “Please, just … bring her back.” Kanohi nodded and dived in, sinking into the water. With a whip of the cloth he uncovered the Lightstone, illuminating the darkness of the stormy sea. Clutching it in one hand he swam through the gloom, searching for any traces. He was no Ga-Matoran, he couldn’t hold his breath for long. He would have to hurry. … Macku moved her hands towards the object, formerly lost to the waves. It … it looked like a curved blade, a similar shade of silver to the Toa Nuva’s weapons. But it was small, seemingly built for a Matoran’s use than a Toa or a Turaga. As she touched it it radiated light, and a mild shock of electricity zapped her hand. She recoiled, her hand sore, what … what kind of Matoran tool has that kind of power? This could be useful. She grabbed the seaweed from her pack, and wrapped some of it around her hand. She reached over, grasping the tool, it singed the plant fibers but they held. Strange, was it damaged by the erosion of the sea? How long had it been here? As she held the blade in front of her, through its sparks she spotted something swimming through the gloom. She immediately kicked off the rocky patch and swam away, heading back towards the ship. The water curved behind her, something huge was getting closer, shoving aside the ocean like blades of grass. Macku swallowed and turned around, just in time for her blade to illuminate a Takea’s jaws, the teeth glinting from the electricity. She stared in horror just … not responding, as the Takea chomped down on her leg. Somehow she was numb to it, the teeth pierced her leg and she felt nothing. She just stared there. Then suddenly the water rippled, and a Matoran slammed into the Takea. The shark released her, and she drifted through the water, bubbles popping out from under her mask, her eyes motionless. … Kanohi wasn’t sure if Macku was already dead, but he couldn’t dwell on that much, ramming into the shark had staggered him, he had almost released his breath. He swerved in the water and fired a sphere of gravity besides Macku, and with a flurry of bubbles he flew besides her. Her heartlight was still lit, she was still alive. He grabbed her hand and squeezed, trying to help her store, and she almost strangled his fingers. He flinched, before feeling the ocean bend behind him. With a twist of his wrist he fired his Volo Lutu Launcher again, and grappled out of the Takea’s jaws with Macku hanging behind him. He winced at the strain dragging her weight behind him, but he held on. He was … he was different, he could endure it. Kanohi fired his Volo Lutu Launcher over and over, grappling across the ocean floor. Up ahead he could see the hole in the ship, they were almost there. He could feel his head burn from lack of air, not literally but metaphorically. He … he did not have much longer to make it through the water. Then with a rip Macku slipped out of his hands, throwing him off course. He sailed past the hole, struggling to right himself. He … he needed to get her. Finally he hooked something and went flying, before flying up back into the ship. He panted as fresh air filled his lungs, his hands trembling. He swallowed, Hewkii was shouting at him, but his words were utterly unintelligible. “Going back,” Kanohi managed to say, before diving back underwater. He grappled down to the seabed, before using the Lightstone to search for Macku. Through the gloom he spied a flickering light, she was standing up shaking, some tool in her hand flashing while the Takea swam around towards her. He grappled at her, hand outstretched. … Macku stared up at the shark, it’s jaws were nothing like a Rahkshi, but in its rage and aggression, she could see a resemblance. She blankly looked at it, her hand trembling. She used to be in the Chronicler’s Company, she was a great Matoran, she broke the blockade to get help when Ga-Kori was overrun. She defended the Toa themselves when they descended into Kini-Nui. She was … she used to be strong. But now … she felt like a Turahk was blasting her with raw fear, until her servos and joints couldn’t move. No matter how much she wanted to. The Takea barreled down on her, before Kanohi slammed into it again. He knocked the shark off course, missing her and smacking into rock. Macku stared as the shark shook itself off before swimming away from her, now pursuing the Po-Matoran. Macku’s optics followed after Kanohi, his Lightstone illuminating his movements. He grappled again and again across the jagged seabed, the shark gaining on him, its jaws opening up to engulf him. The Ga-Matoran she … she couldn’t let him get eaten. He was a hero. He had protected Mata-Nui long before the Toa landed on their shores, rescued Matoran from dangerous beasts. She … she couldn’t let him die. The Matoran would need him. Look at her. Weak, cowardly. She belonged in Karzahni, with the rest of the failures. Then suddenly she felt a hand grasp hers, and a familiar Mask of Speed greeted her. Hewkii. She hung to his hand tight, and he squeezed back equally hard. His hand seemed to speak in her hand, not with words but with feeling. You are not alone. She felt her heartlight tremble as she stumbled upright, getting a mild shock from her blade, as a Hewkii grasped her hand too. Then with a shove they swam at the Takea, Macku took the lead, she was a better swimmer after all. With a thrust she slammed the electric blade into the shark, and sparks ignited the ocean like a thousand heartlights. The shark gurgled out bubbles, and then with a powerful swish of its tail it turned and swam away into the ocean. Macku released the blade, which Hewkii caught. Trembling she grabbed Kanohi’s Volo Lutu Launchet of his hand, he barely fought her, woozy. She grabbed his hand and Hewkii grabbed his other, but not before pocketing his Lightstone. With a squeeze of the trigger she hooked the hole of the ship, and the three of them grappled into the watercraft. With strain Hewkii threw first Macku, then Kanohi inside the ship, before climbing inside the crude vessel himself. The three of them laid there panting, heaving as a few Matoran looked over them. Finally Hewkii stumbled upright with his spear for balance, and began to speak. Not that Macku could hear his words, she was numb to the world around her. She lay there limp and exhausted, before a Hewkii crouched besides her. He spoke to her and she stared up at him, unable to process his language. A Ga-Matoran bent over her, looking at her leg with a shaking head. “What’s wrong?” asked Macku, though she couldn’t hear her voice. What could be wrong with her leg, she couldn’t even feel it? … Macku slammed her makeshift crutches down, swinging her body around on her good leg. She lumbered through the gloom, with a Hewkii following her, his arms outstretched. “I can handle this much,” she said shakily. “I know. But you don’t have to, alone at least.” She sighed, “I know. Thank you.” “Hey, you Ga-Matoran value Unity most of the Three Virtues, if anything I learned it from you.” “Po-Matoran treasure Unity highly too.” You just treasure Duty more than I ever could. The two of them made their way to Kanohi, who was sitting down, Drill Staff at the ready. At his feet was the electro-blade, partly dissected. “Any luck understanding this weapon yet?” “Not really, the technology behind it is incredible, beyond anything on Mata-Nui, save the Bohrok and Boxers. Nuparu has made progress though. It must be from Voya-Nui. I … in my visions of the island I have seen Matoran with strange but powerful weapons, it must be one of theirs.” “Then we are close?” “Maybe. More importantly, the storm is dwindling, and I have had another vision. The Rahkshi have stopped searching these waters, for the moment at least?” “Really? What … what did you see?” Macku briefly couldn’t see the glow of her heartlight, too stunned for it to flicker. “From what I could understand they spotted a drifting patch of seaweed with Takea feasting on fish inside. I think they believed we perished and that was the wreckage of our craft. Again, we should lay low for a time, avoid fishing or repairing the hull, but I think we might have escaped.” Hewkii practically tackled Macku in relief, and she embraced him too, the two Matoran squeezing each other in a whirl of clinking armor. Their bodies almost seemed to intertwine with each other. Then finally they pulled back with a nod, and Macku said, “I should resume searching the skies, this time keep watch over him, alright?” “Of course,” nodded Hewkii, saluting her, and slamming his throwing disk into his forehead in the process. She laughed as he winced from the blow, and he blushed too. “I will go to Tamaru,” Kapura added slowly, “inform him of your vision.” Macku startled at his voice, she hadn’t even known he was there. “Of course—” Kanohi began to say, but Kapura was already gone. Macku shook her head at her fellow’s strange speed, before ducking under a beam and squeezing back through the dank ship. Her metal feet splashed against the floorboard drenched in saltwater and slime, puddles sloshing back and forth as the craft swayed from the dissipating storm. … By the fifth week of travel the Matoran had voted and had decided to name their ship the Voya-Suva; the Voyage Shrine. It seemed fitting, as they carried the prayers of the Matoran with them on this long journey, and Kanohi had had a prophecy claiming the island they sought to be named Voya-Nui. “What do you think?” asked Hewkii as Macku surfaced. She carried a net in her hands, full of seaweed to be ripped up into fibers. Hewkii held a net too, hauling in fish for the Matoran to eat. Turaga Vakama had empowered Kanohi’s lighter with some of his elemental power, easily enough to cook the fish the Matoran caught on their journey. “About what?” She asked. Her crutches lay besides Hewkii, her leg had ultimately needed to be amputated, and they did not have access to the tools to make a prosthetic. Still, she could still swim fairly well, and her lungs were still stronger than other Matoran “The latest vision Kanohi shared with us. That the Makuta may not only have cast the Great Spirit into a deep sleep, but that the Great Spirit might be dying.” She looked away, “I’m trying not to think about it. The last few days have been so tranquil, it’s best we do not dwell on a prophecy that is so … distant.” “Yeah, I guess we need to keep our senses sharp,” Hewkii agreed, “The last thing we need is to be gloomy on a day like this.” The two Matoran stole a glance at the sky. It was a bright blue, but worse it was clear. If a Rahkshi flew overhead, it would not be hard to spy their boat, and to discover its true nature. But for now, no Rahkshi could be seen. “Besides, Kanohi said so himself that his prophecies are not easy to understand, it might have been a metaphor for the Matoran being … beaten.” “Yeah, might be just them losing faith in the Great Spirit.” They both fell silent, Macku awkwardly treading water. Neither Matoran brought up the simple truth. Even if the Great Spirit was genuinely dying, or worse, if he already had, there was nothing they could do. The Makuta’s reach was as endless as the ocean, Mata-Nui belonged to him, his Rahkshi, and the false Toa who enforced order in the six villages. “…Do you think Hahli is alright?” “You want the truth?” “No, I already know it.” Then came a thunderous sound, and both of Matoran flinched, drawing their throwing disks at the rumbling. Their heartlights flashed violently, as they stood there watching. Finally they heard a Matoran shout in the distance, “Razor Whale scraping against the ship,” and the pair of them slowly stowed away their disks. But their heartlights continued to pulse. “…Hahli.” “She continues to resist to her dying breath, leading a guerrilla battle against the Makuta, using Volo Lutu Launchers to slip past the Rahkshi and throwing disks to shatter the false Toa’s masks.” “Lie better,” muttered Macku, “the false Toa don’t wear masks.” “I know. But there is not much any Matoran can do against those strange beings. Even if the Toa Nuva had still been alive when the Makuta first unleashed those Piraka, there is not much even the Toa could have done against them.” “Heh, here we are, we want to ignore those problems, and we are obsessing over them. Guess my cowardice is all consuming.” “You are not a coward.” “What do you call a Ga-Matoran who abandoned her sister to be ruled by a monster?” “So did all of us. We are leaving to get help.” “But are any of us coming back to Mata-Nui afterwards? No, we all will hide in our new refuge like good little Matoran, hoping these two Titans can fight our battles.” “…” “Some Chronicler’s Company we are. Our Chronicler dies and the six of us flee our island, not only forsaking our brothers and sisters but his own memory.” “I know … your guilt,” Kapura interrupted, coming up from behind them. Macku nodded towards him, hauling her catch onto the deck. As it slapped onto the deck Kapura started to speak again, but by then Macku had already dived back underwater. She was tethered to the Voya-Suva by a cord woven of seaweed fibers, to prevent her from drifting away. The Ga-Matoran had been in the Chronicler’s Company alongside Tamaru, Hafu, Kapura, Kopeke, and Taipu. They had worked with the Chronicler to help the Toa, famously defending the entrance to Kini-Nui so the Toa would not be ambushed. Oh if only the Toa had actually defeated the Makuta then. Shortly after Macku resurfaced, with another net of seaweed behind her. As she climbed up Kapura began to speak, but Hewkii spoke first. “Kapura says that we’ve spotted land in the distance, looks mountainous and icy, like Ko-Wahi back home. Might be the northern tip of Voya-Nui.” Macku let out a tightly held breath, before sitting onto the deck facing the ocean, her foot dipping in the saltwater. She reached behind her and pulled out her spyglass, scanning the endless waves. “I think I see it,” she smiled, then frowned, “it looks … thin. Is it really so small?” “No … just the tip … of the island. Its size rivals Mata-Nui.” “Incredible,” she shook her head, “ a whole other island of Matoran. Matoran who have never had the wisdom of a Turaga, or the protection of a Toa. And they live together, not separated into different villages based off their element.” “So Kanohi says.” She sighed, “even for the thousand years before the Toa, we still had the Turaga. To not even have that, not to mention how none of them know of the Titans on their island…” “They have been alone in a way we never knew.” “We know it now.” “They will have experience … to share.” “Yes. And if we can … work with the Titans … we might be able to overcome … the Makuta.” “And someone as large and mighty as the Titans might even be able to use Kanohi’s secret.” “Don’t speak it,” muttered Hewkii, and Macku nodded. The fewer knew what Kanohi had smuggled with them, the better it would be. As far as Makuta knew, Turaga Vakama had told Kapura to hide it. And hopefully the Makuta still thought it was on Mata-Nui. It was the only thing that could stay the Makuta’s hand from destroy the Voya-Suva. After all, the Makuta was a god onto himself, but he was no match for the raw force of time. But it was still unwise to mention it. Not even Toa Nuva Tahu could control its full power, maybe only the Great Spirit or the Makuta could. So Kanohi guarded it, ready to shatter the artifact with the full force of Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff. And the resulting chaos … the universe would never recover. … Macku and the other Ga-Matoran struggled underwater, pushing the Voya-Suva across the shallows. The others had insisted she just rest, but she could not. She could do this at least, stand united with her fellow refugees in one task. And with all of them working together, the weight was less. In front of the Voya-Suva, the group’s Onu-Matoran and Po-Matoran strained, using their enhanced strength to drag the boat on the mountainous terrain of the shoreline. They meant to drag the boat onto the shore of Voya-Nui, to repurpose it as a crude shelter. It would take time to fully explore the massive island, alone find the Matoran. And then finding the Titans would be another problem altogether. So in the meantime, the Matoran refugees would need a place to hide and escape the predators on this strange island. They have traveled down the coast for a number of days, trying to find where the shore was shallow enough to land on. Finally they had reached such a spot, and had resolved to make it a base of sorts. It helped that landscape was a lot less frigid here. Still the Ko-Matoran remained the Matoran best suited for this landscape, able to endure the cold of the peaks. Kopeke had led a number of them into the icy mountains, to at least do some scouting. Kapura was scouting south, hoping to find a village in the more temperate regions. Hopefully down there, where it would be comfortable for more types of Matoran, there would be the village of the people of Voya-Nui. It would take time, but the Ta-Matoran’s strange speed made him great at trekking vast distances quickly, and he needed to stretch after his time cooped up in the Voya-Suva. Macku looked over to see Kanohi, grappling across the cliffs. The Po-Matoran was using his launcher to sling from ledge to ledge, pausing only to take in the view of the shore. He was watching for danger, as well as scouting the surrounding area. On the shore Ta-Matoran were standing guard, brandishing their bamboo disks and any other weapons they had carried. They were to ward off any Rahi, they could at least handle that. The thirty seven refugees were tired, hungry, coated in grease and saltwater, but they were alive and free, and that was better than most of the Matoran back home. Hahli … Macku prayed to the Great Spirit as she strained to push the boat, please let Hahli’s spirit endure. Don’t let her break. And then as Macku lifted her head to get air, she heard shouts. Her heartlight began to pulse frantically, and her hands trembled. She wanted … wanted to run, but where to? Ga-Matoran or not, on a good day she couldn’t swim long enough to get far away without her leg, and she was too exhausted to swim at all. But those shouts … she froze there, half-submerged. Her hand reached behind her to her throwing disk, pulling free the weapon of bamboo. She … she didn’t know why she clung to it, perhaps it was some old instinct from before destiny went astray. An instinct that Hewkii resurfaced with the Takea. There were more shouts, and the other Ga-Matoran swam away, heading inland. She just … were those cries from Hewkii, Tamaru, Taipu, Kapura, Kopeke, Hafu - even Hahli? They all blended together in her mind, roaring into her face. “Hey—” Macku swung her throwing disk with all her strength, thumping against someone. “Ouch,” muttered a small blue being with a mask that Macku had never seen before, one who held two long blades in her hands, each silver like the weapons of a a Toa Nuba, or the blade that Macku had found on the journey. . “You … you are a Ga-Matoran?” Macku managed as she flopped over, laying limp against the boat. Her chest heaved up and down, as the short stranger eyed Macku’s lower torso. “Yes. I’m a warrior, name’s Dalu. Piruk spotted you sailing in, I came to investigate. Glad to see some of my sisters from across the waves have spirit left in them.” “Not much,” sighed Macku. “Eh, more than most of your crew. Most of them look like they’ll just lying on the shore, waiting for the tide to drown them. While it looks like life has chewed you up, and you aren’t dead. Come on, big sister, let’s get you out of the water. Looks like you need to rest for a century.” The smaller Matoran shoved Macku upright, though she couldn’t stand, just prop against the boat. “But, the Voya-Suva—” “We’ll help you haul it ashore, once you all have had a chance to breathe. And we really need to discuss what happened to you.” “But … the Makuta?” Macku managed as Dalu handed her the crutches. Macku blankly stared at them, then back at the warrior. “Makuta?” Dalu shook her head, “You northerners keep saying that name with such fear, like se’ll sense you by his name alone. Although, I swear I have heard that name before. Maybe it was something Velika said, he’s always muttering stuff that makes no sense.” Shakily Macku stood up on her crutches, as Dalu slotted her bamboo disk back into Macku’s pack. The two of them began to lumber forward, inching their way to shore. As Macku drew closer to the shore she could see Hewkii wave to her, starting to run to her. She shook her head and he stayed back. Mustering her strength she let out a sigh, before wading towards him and the shore. Dalu glanced back and forth between the two of them, then grunted before sprinting off through the water, running to stand guard among some Ta-Matoran. As Macku stumbled ashore Hewkii tried to catch her, before they both collapsed. “Ugh, my body aches all over,” Hewkii shook his head. “I can’t even see my heartlight,” agreed Macku with a bitter laugh, as they lay there on the rough jagged shore. “”Neither can I, it’s so faint.” Dalu grunted and walked back over to them and held out her blades. The air around them seemed to ripple, and then Macku felt … different. Like her metal skin was crawling, and her arms were denser, but somehow lighter. As they stood back up, Dalu stumbled, before walking back to shore. “How … how did you do that?” Macku called after. “My Chargers. Let me temporarily enhance an attribute of a person, Rahi, or object. Can make a Burnak too heavy to move, or make a killer aware of all reality until they go mad. Used them to make your stamina increase. It’s draining to use them, I need to rest afterwards.” “How … how did you get that artifact?” Was it like the blade she had found? “Always had it, long as I can recall at least. Come on, we all need to rest now. Once you’ve told me your stories, I’ll head back, see if we can help haul your boat to shore. Then we’ll worry about hunting down this Makuta.” Macku nodded shakily at the strangely powerful Matoran. If a mere Ga-Matoran could have the power she claimed to have, even with such a weak body, and if Nuparu and Kanohi could upgrade the bodies of these Matoran too, and then build more weapons like Dalu’s Chargers and the electric blade… Macku smiled faintly despite herself. She hoisted herself back up on her crutches, and she and Hewkii followed after Dalu. The two Matoran did not even need to look at each other, both certain that the other felt a tiny glimmer of hope in their heartlights, one that had endured despite everything.
  10. Wrote another fanfic about Kanohi, taking place in the alternate universe of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit. The last story still happened in the backstory of this tale, it exists in both the Core Universe and the Kingdom Universe. It’s a short tale and the stakes are quite low, it does take place in a peaceful near-utopia after all. Still even in utopia Kanohi remains a vigilante, because Matoran still need heroes, and the Toa don’t protect the Matoran like they once did. Macku is a major character as well, most of the story is in her point of view, I’ve never written her before though so I am interested in feedback. And yes shippers of Hewkii and Macku, I threw you a bone. A small one, but it’s still there. Side note, I actually love that Vakama’s visions were the result of a glitch, to me it means the Matoran are evolving beyond their intended programming, even beyond what Velika meddled with. It gives me a canon starting point to have other Matoran “evolve” beyond the limits of Matoran too. Anyway, the story is below, … In the time, after time, in our glorious Kingdom of the Great Spirit; there was peace. For over ten thousand years all of us survivors of the Matoran Universe had lived in unity, from Toa to Matoran to Vortixx to Skakdi to Dark Hunters. From warlords to arm dealers to mercenaries to heroes and villagers, all of us lived together, all but the worst grudges settled. The Toa no longer protected us, at least not through violence. Now they expanded our island, stretching the kingdom farther across the endless ocean, stabilized the earth, fueled our furnaces, kept the kingdom thriving. Instead the Dark Hunters kept order in the Kingdom, dealing with criminals and rampaging Rahi. And after ten thousand years the Matoran struggled to recall how they had feared the mercenaries, nor remembered when they depended on the Toa to protect them. And even fewer recalled the millennia before the Toa arrived on Mata-Nui, when the Matoran were all alone on the isle, with no protection but bamboo disks. Such brutal painful memories had faded, lost to the ages. But there were still some Matoran who remembered those terrible centuries, when six villages of Matoran were besieged by terrible beasts, isolated even from each other, and the only one they could rely on was their Turaga and themselves. … Macku gazed upon the skyline of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit, its many towers as varied in architecture as they were in residents. Some of the cityscape was nearly organic, the building’s metal frames curved and fluid. Other buildings were blunt and angled, brutalist in their shape. Between them ran hundreds of streets and paths, a spider web of walkways. Walking through the streets were millions of the city’s denizens, from the lanky and thin Vortixx, to the sneering and stout Skakdi. And most common of all were the diminutive Matoran, each at best half the height of a Toa, and each far weaker than any other race in the Kingdom. Macku had climbed up one of the towers near her boat shop, as if she fancied herself a Le-Matoran. The Ga-Matoran looked out from her perch, just taking the sight in. All these people flowing through the streets as the current of the endless ocean. But it was not the ocean. And it was not Ga-Koro. She sighed, massaging her mask. She … this was a perfect world, a perfect kingdom. Even though the death of Great Spirit had forced this kingdom into being, it remained a utopia. It was good. But a part of her … felt restless. Even after ten thousand years. Finally she spotted movement, sweeping through the buildings. She grabbed a telescopic lens and peered through it, spotting Kanohi. The Fe-Matoran vigilante grappled through the city, using the Volo Lutu Launcher built into his arm to swing between skyscrapers. He was covered in masks carved out of wood, which was why he was known as Kanohi. He swung across the city, hurtling above the foot traffic. His route was … seemingly random, it was hard to know where in the Kingdom he would appear on a given day. Still Macku would look out for him, especially in the years when boat travel was forbidden. And in recent days he had been circling over this spot. Waiting, As Macku watched Kanohi grappled towards the base of a building, landing with a tap besides a Ce-Matoran. She was … hard to see this far away, but it looked like she was trembling. Kanohi began to speak to her, his words were obscured by his masks but the Ce-Matoran still seemed to respond. She pointed partway up the skyscraper, and Macku followed the motion to see a small Brakas hooting, waving a Lightstone with their feet. Kanohi nodded and aimed his launcher upwards, before hurling himself into the building. The Brakas bolted as the vigilante grappled upwards, the monkey scrambling up the side of the building on their arms and legs as their tail shifted to wrap around the Lightstone. As Kanohi landed on the side of the building he shoved off, and grappled after the monkey. The monkey ducked down as Kanohi swung after them, letting Kanohi whirl past. Kanohi dug his metal fingers into the side of building, skidding to a halt. Then with a blast of his launcher he resumed the chase, following after the Brakas. Macku stood up and began to lean across the roof, trying to get a good view as Kanohi gained on the monkey. A faint smile drifted on her face, hidden below her mask. Her heartlight’s flashing began to accelerate, and her hands gripped her lens tightly. … Kanohi lurched and ripped through the air, his body yanked about as he hurtled after his Volo Lutu Launcher. The modifications to the launcher were simple, he was no Nynrah Ghost, but it still was triggered by his mere thoughts, and no longer needed to be held in his hand. The vigilante felt his heartlight pound as he missed the Brakas, sailing past. His fingers drummed the air as he twisted around, before firing another gravity well into the skyscraper. With a jerk he was flung after the gravitational pull, latching onto the building. His many wooden masks clinked on the landing, like the wind rustling through the old forests of Le-Wahi. He grappled after the monkey, his carved masks sang around him as they rattled together, and he tried not to smile. It was … it felt good to grapple across the cityscape, even with the danger. The wind whipping around him, his masks clanking; the sensations tickled him. And best of all he was helping the Matoran. In small ways yes, but helping was helping. And it made him feel like he had accessed the power of a Pakari Nuva, strengthening all Matoran. He stopped short perching to the building to catch his breath. It was a brutalist shape, straight flat walls, a burnt orange color, basically an inhabited brick. A few windows were open, that might be useful. And there to the side was the Brakas, pointing and laughing at him as their tail coiled around the Lightstone. They just stood there, laughing, so Kanohi took this time to pull out his lighter. It was a relic from when the Kingdom was called Mata-Nui, a simple device Turaga Vakama had made him that projected small flames. The Fe-Matoran gazed into that fire, focusing on the vision. He could see that Ce-Matoran twirling in a an empty white space, clutching her Lightstone. Then his stomach lurched as he was ripped free of the sight, stumbling as he landed before her as she shakily fled through the tunnels, trying to escape the rising flood of water and mutagen. All she carried with her was the Lightstone, illuminating her path. And as she ran there was a terrible sound, as she looked up to see the tunnels melt away, as well as her Lightstone. There above her was a blunt brick of a building, with a monkey laughing as they clutched her Lightstone. And then suddenly something slammed into the Brakas, dropping the rock and them to the ground. His heartlight throbbing, Kanohi left the vision, to see the Brakas inches from his head, making a silly face. Slowly Kanohi stowed away his lighter, before he released his launcher’s grip on the side of the building. He plummeted, and the monkey laughed, before he swung up his launcher and fired. He flung himself at the monkey, but the beast ducked, letting him once more hurtle past. The autistic vigilante twisted in the air, his fingers wiggling as if he was typing. His launcher fired and hooked him back to the building, before he fired again, swinging forward to the point of skimming the monkey’s flank. The monkey shrieked in surprise and frantically scrambled off the side of the building, while Kanohi once again shot past. The Brakas didn’t stop, scampering as far as they could, but by then Kanohi was perched on an open window. Holding onto the window with his left hand he aimed his launcher, moving slow, just focusing on following the monkey, now that he had a solid perch. before firing into the Lightstone itself. Another sphere of gravitational force flew from the launcher, sticking to the Lightstone. In a rush Kanohi was flung after it, the launcher sucking him to the sphere. With a thump he slammed into the monkey, knocking the Lightstone out of the Brakas’ tail. The stone fell, as did the monkey and Kanohi. The Matoran vigilante twisted in free-fall, scrambling to grab the Lightstone. With a lunge he grabbed it, hoisting it to his chest. As he clutched it tight to his heartlight he aimed his launcher and fired, right before colliding with the ground. As he was hurled horizontally by his grappling his momentum was broken, defusing the worst of his landing. Kanohi landed on his back, smacking into the side of the building. He groaned as he slid the rest of the way down, before landing on all-fours. He hyperventilated as his body quaked, before shakily throwing himself onto his feet. Staggering he headed to the Barajas, which lay in the street, their chest heaving. He leaned over the monkey and it … , the poor Rahi seemed hurt, broke their leg. Without speaking the vigilante began to pull out a splint, and began to bind up their limb. But even as he finished tying up the bandage, Kanohi was sent stumbled from a sharp kick. He tumbled, his body aching, as the Brakas limped off. Kanohi reached his ha d out after after them, before pulling his hand back, and instead turning away. The vigilante limped and staggered over to the Ce-Matoran, handing her the Lightstone. Her hands fluttered excitedly as she held the object, flicking the light on and off. Then with a bow to Kanohi she ran off, almost skipping away. … It was so simple, just chasing a mischievous monkey to get back a Lightstone. But it still left Macku feeling … stronger? It was hard to articulate what it felt like. She continued to peer after the vigilante, Kanohi was leaning against a building, panting. Even the sturdy body of a Fe-Matoran could only handle so much abuse. Then he aimed his launcher towards Macku, and grappled up to her perch. She startled as he smacked into the edge of the building’s roof, before she dived at her fellow Matoran, straining but still managing to drag him onto the rooftop. His masks clinked and clattered against his metal body as well as the roof, like chimes caught in a gentle breeze. “Mind if I … if I rest here a bit, Macku?” He managed to ask as he lay flat on the roof, his heartlight flashing frantically as he panted out of breath. His body was hidden by his wooden armor, but it was clear his body used the body plan of Mata-Nui “Sure,” she nodded, before almost blurted out, “need me to look out for the Dark Hunters?” “Yes.” Macku smiled beneath her mask, and began to peer over the city, sweeping her gaze. As she searched the skyline she asked, “You remember me?” “Of … of course, you were in the … Chronicler’s Company.” Her blue face turned a maroon color beneath her mask, and she rubbed the back of her head, “that was … a very long time ago. I am surprised you remember that.” “How could … anyone forget? Without you and the others the Toa Mata would have … they would have been ambushed, and they wouldn’t have been able to succeed against the … Makuta.” “They didn’t exactly defeat the Makuta then.” “Yes. But without … without you, the Toa Mata would have perished. You saved our island.” Macku turned almost scarlet, before she coughed and asked, “what is it like to see the future?” “It is … confusing. Even if I focus my power with my … lighter, it is a series of emotions more than coherent events. Just flashes of imagery and voices. Still, it’s not a bad thing that the most pressing visions I see these days is a monkey stealing a Lightstone.” His breathing was steadying now. “Why don’t the Dark Hunters believe you can see the future?” “You mean why they think I’m just a … just a fraud who … who sets up problems so I can solve them?” Kanohi started to sit up, “because I am a Matoran. I’m not meant to have powers.” “…Yeah,” Macku sighed, “silly question.” “Asking questions is not bad, just means you want to learn more. Even if you believe you know something for sure, it can be good to question it.” The autistic vigilante continued to breathe a little heavy, even as he sat there besides her on the roof, his fingers rattling against the metal roof. “Suppose you need to know that if you have visions.” “Yes. Though I remember a Ga-Matoran who not only questioned her Turaga’s judgement, but directly disobeyed her to get help when Ga-Koro was under siege by beasts.” “I was forbidden to leave the Koro for ages after that,” she laughed. “And if you had not disobeyed your Turaga, Ga-Koro would have been destroyed,” he stretched, flinching as the motion ached his body, “you were a real hero that day. And not much later you protected the Toa themselves when they journeyed into Kini-Nui.” “…Not many know that. The only ones who seem to remember are Kapura and Hewkii. And they are Toa now, things are … different. And why aren’t you a Toa? Surely if it was anyone’s destiny to transform, it would have been you. You were protecting the Matoran centuries before Takanuva summoned them, journeying between the villages, fighting off Rahi.” “Why am I not a Toa?” He sounded genuinely confused, “what about you?” “…” “At least in my case, it is not my destiny to become a Toa,” he said finally, “I know, I have never experienced a prophecy where I become a Toa.” “Your visions don’t show you everything.” “They show me more than most.” “…Is it true, that one day the island will collapse?” “You heard that from Hewkii?” “Yes. We still see each other … from time to time.” “Oh, but you used to be so close.” “That was over ten thousand years ago.” Before he became a Toa. “…You know, I have a glitch,” he said awkwardly. “Your visions are a different kind of glitch.” They were useful at least, they didn’t hurt. Still she changed the subject, “so, will our island flood?” He closed his eyes beneath his many masks. “The Matoran Universe below is … it has been flooded and dead for over ten thousand and fifty years. And as the tunnels … and caverns beneath our island rust and erode from the saltwater … it weakens our island’s foundation. It is likely that the island will sink below the waves.” “But we will leave the planet before then?” “I have seen visions of cannons … firing capsules to the stars, carrying the people of this kingdom into space … up to that barren world in our sky. So I believe so. But sometimes I see visions of things that only might happen.” “You have seen alternate futures?” “Yes,” she realized he suddenly seemed tired, exhausted. “Do you need any medical attention?” “No. Just … talking is draining.” “Sorry.” “It is okay, just ask simpler questions.” “Did you ever see what would have happened if Matoro had saved the life of the Great Spirit?” “Yes.” “Would … would things be better?” “No.“ “…Then why not defend Matoro?” “I tried.“ “The Matoran are not the best at listening to you, are they?” “No.” “We never were good with Matoran who were unusual. We honored them if they proved useful, but even then, they were alone.” “Yes,” it sounded like there was a tired smile beneath his masks, “It is why I became a vigilante. I knew how isolating Mata-Nui could be. We all needed someone to look out for us, especially us glitched freaks. Seeing a Matoran helping all of the villagers, no matter their Koro, in an era when the Toa were only legends, let alone a Matoran freak … I knew what that could mean.” “…Why do you still do your vigilantism? Try to rescue pets, return lost objects, save Matoran from high falls? Not even the Toa do it anymore.” “Someone has to.” “But it’s not like when we were six isolated villages, surrounded by violent beasts with no Toa or Dark Hunters to protect us. We have protectors, we have peace. There are no monsters here. Why do you risk arrest to try to return something like a Lightstone?” “…” “You miss it, don’t you?” “Give me a moment,” He said shortly. And she nodded, going back to peering over the cityscape, looking for the Dark Hunters “I should not miss it,” he answered, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke slow, haltingly, “But parts of it I do, at least just a little. But that is not why I stay a vigilante. The Matoran need to have agency, to feel they can rise above their limits, that they can be heroes. They do not need hope now, but they can still need … inspiration. Symbols are important, and a reminder that Matoran are not helpless, that can be useful. Even if I don’t fight Muaka anymore.” “I hardly remember that millennia now, it seems so long ago. Well, maybe my body still remembers what it was like back then.” “What do you mean?” “Just been feeling … I do ‘t know, for the past few centuries I’ve felt … restless?” He nodded, “I understand. You still play Kolhii?” “Not regularly. I don’t think it would be the same though. Is it wrong the miss that single year when we Matoran stood besides the Toa to fight the Makuta, not as equals but at least as allies?” “Nostalgia can be blinding. But you know that.” “Yes. This is a perfect society, a utopia. Why do I crave the old days?” “It was simpler. In bad ways as well as good. Less complexities, just us Matoran, the Toa, and the Turaga. But then Matoran like Takua and Midak were outcasts for their differences, many of us were. ” “Yes. You at least had Vakama.” “…” “Something wrong?” “Me and Vakama … are not close anymore.” “Because he didn’t tell you about the Matoran Universe?” “I had … so many visions of Matoran suffering. If he had only told me what was happening beneath our feet, that I was not a Po- Matoran…” “Nokama should have told me too. I would have probably tried to return to Metru-Nui and gotten killed, but we deserved the respect to know who were are.” “I do understand why the Turaga lied. But it still burns.” “Especially when Vakama could have told you exactly why you never had felt at home in Po-Koro? That it wasn’t just your visions.” “Yes. Mata-Nui was never perfect, the pressure to conform was … everywhere. And those of us who could not…” the autistic vigilante sighed, “the Kingdom is not perfect. It is … better in a lot of ways, but it still has many of the old problems. Matoran who can’t conform still are freaks, still distrusted. Still it is getting better, steadily over time our kingdom grows wiser and kinder. Slowly at least.” “Dark Hunter spotted, flying towards us.” Kanohi nodded and stood up, swaying on his feet, but otherwise alright. He walked to the edge of the building, aimed his Volo Lutu Launcher to a nearby skyscraper of a curved almost egg-like shape, its sides ending in interwoven spikes. Before he launched though, he hesitated. And then he a said, “You know, maybe you are still a Matoran to inspire the others. You were in the Chronicler’s Company - you could make a good vigilante yourself. Just a thought.” And then he grappled away, streaking off through the cityscape, the winged Dark Hunter immediately diving after him. Macku watched the Matoran vigilante grapple away, zig-zagging through the city like the Brakas as the Dark Hunter pursued. She … she could not lie. To be a hero, grappling across the city, helping the Matoran, it was tempting. To reclaim some of her old heroics, even if the dangers of old had passed. But that was good, not having to fight beasts. She could just do small things, make the world better in small ways. That … that wasn’t so bad But if she did become a vigilante, even if she only did small things, she could lose her boat shop, become an outcast. It was something she would need to consider carefully. But as Kanohi grappled off into the distance, the thought lingered. And who knows, maybe it would give her a reason to see Hewkii more often.
  11. The Kohlii Champion and the Captain of the Guard. More photos of the pair on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/B63TqqUJLxr/
  12. While I'm sorting my pieces and can't get started on any more serious moccing projects, I'm making some additional Matoran using the template I used with Jala. Here's Maku and a random Po-Matoran! You can find more pictures of the individual Matoran on instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/B7JUvHGJZaY/
  13. So it’s been a while since I have frequented BZPower, but I am getting back into the role playing and had an idea for a ”superhero” Matoran. Well I liked the idea so much I decided to write a little fanfic of this “Kanohi.” (Hey for a superhero, there are worse names than “mask”) It’s just a self contained story taking place after the sinking of Ta-Koro, while Takua and Jaller are searching for the seventh Toa. It was originally going to take place during the Bohrok-Kal saga, but I had already made a sprite of Kanohi with the 2003 Matoran design, and I had misremembered the order of when the Rebuilding took place, so that rewrote the plot. Regardless, enjoy. Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes Word Count: 3090 … In the forests of Le-Wahi, a Matoran sat at the base of a great tree. His metal body was black and orange, a Great Mask of Night Vision was fitted atop his face, and a Volo Lutu Launcher lay hooked to his flank. He was covered in wooden masks, each carved to resemble a Noble Ruru. This wooden armor covered his body almost entirely, and to Rahi with poor vision he nearly blended in with the tree trunks. He was staring at his hand, where he clutched a lit lighter. As the flame burned he stared deeply into the flickering light, searching, probing. And then suddenly he lurched back and forth as images plowed into his face. First he saw Tahu Nuva in the ruins of Ta-Koro, the mighty Toa being poisoned by a strange green reptilian creature and it’s pronged staff, then he was ripped of that sight to a Gukko collapsing in the ice with two Ta-Matoran falling off, like a plow to the gut he could see a trio of Ta-Matoran being chased by a Muaka through a burnt patch of forest. Then everything melted away as the very island seemed to crumble like a dry clump of sand in a Matoran’s fingers. The autistic Matoran gasped out, struggling to steady himself. Then shakily he stood up, balancing himself against the tree. “Okay, okay,” he muttered as he fluttered his wrists, buffering. Even after a thousand years, he did not fully understand the prophetic visions he experienced. But he knew that those images were real, and whether or not they were Mata-Nui’s dreams, he knew they would come to pass, if they had not already. His visions always happened, even if he understood them too late. This was Kanohi. He was said to be a Po-Matoran, but he lacked their raw physical strength, he only had more endurance than the average Matoran, along with his visions. He was an outsider among all of the Koro of the island, a freak like Midak and Takua. But despite being a freak Kanohi was a hero to the Matoran. In the centuries before the Toa arrived, he had gotten to work protecting the Matoran from the Rahi of the island. A vigilante hero of sorts, he traveled across the south of the island only by Volo Lutu Launcher, grappling from tree to tree. His fingers drummed the air. Burnt trees and Ta-Matoran, then that vision might have taken place by the border of Ta-Wahi and Le-Wahi, maybe close to Ta-Koro. And that detail linked it to the vision of Tahu being poisoned. Kanohi didn’t know when any of the visions took place, but Vakama would know more, and he too lived in Ta-Koro. The old Turaga was the only other person Kanohi knew who could see visions, and thus Vakama had been a mentor to him. And if at Ta-Koro was going to be destroyed, the village elder had to know. That was, if the destruction of Ta-Koro wasn’t happening already. And if the village was currently being destroyed, then Kanohi had a duty to hurry there as soon as possible. The Ta-Koro Guard were great warriors, but if Tahu was struggling against … whatever that reptilian beast was, then they needed all the help they could get. Kanohi shook himself off, slipping his lighter into his back. Then the mask-covered Matoran unholstered his Volo Lutu Launcher, and aimed for a nearby treetop. A sphere blasted out of the weapon, affixing itself to the tree. There was a delay, before Kanohi hurtled into the air, his launcher drawn to the sphere like Sol Magnus’s gravity. He landed on the tree with a stumble, almost tackling the branches to hold himself steady. He swayed on the tree’s branch for a time, before shakily aiming his launcher at another tree. He lacked the arboreal reflexes of a Le-Matoran, though he managed. He fired the Volo Lutu Launcher again, ensnaring another branch. He was flung towards it, though this time he missed and sailed past the tree’s limb. Quickly he fired the launcher again, hooking another tree and swinging him upward before he could smack into the rough ground below, Soon enough Kanohi was grappling through the Le-Wahi canopy, making his way towards the border of the two regions of Fire and Air. He whipped through the jungle, speeding through the branches as leaves and twigs smashed into him. His wooden armor absorbed the bulk of the barrage, while his body could endure the rest. The Matoran hero traversed Le-Wahi with as much clumsy speed as he could manage, barreling towards the northeast of this island of Mata-Nui with each hook of his Volo Lutu Launcher. … “Karzahni, we are lost,” muttered Valka, rubbing his head in his hands, “we could be mios away from the others, they could already be in Ga-Koro by now.” Takarda grasped Valka’s shoulder and declared, “don’t give up yet, Toa Tahu will rescue us, if not the Ta-Koro Guard.” “What were the Guard against those beasts? What good was Tahu?” “Tahu and the Guard overcame the Bohrok Kal, and that was before the Rebuilding, and Tahu had even lost his elemental powers at the time. They will defeat these things yet.” “But Ta-Koro is gone now, sunken into the lava. Even when Le-Koro was conquered by the Bohrok, the village still stood. Now we … we have nothing.” In front of them moved Pomahi, a quiet reserve member of the Ta-Koro Guard. His companions were Lava Farmers, while Pomahi had training in fighting Rahi with a throwing disk. He held a shield in one hand and his disk in the other, ready to fling it. The problem was, it was hard to listen to the sounds of this burnt landscape with the two other Ta-Matoran talking. The nearby churning of lava, the thick smoke, the cracking of burnt sticks under their feet, the crumbling trees and the stink of ash, all of that was already overwhelming his senses, but the two of them deafened him worse. Pomahi attempted to clear his throat to get their attention, but Takarda raised his voice with a hearty shake of Valka’s shoulder, “Don’t forget, we built Ta-Koro once, we can do it again. And Tahu will be there to help us this time.” “The Toa are not invincible, they almost fell to the Bohrok Kal. And Tahu has never failed like he did today. And if Tahu was helpless to stop Ta-Koro from sinking, what can we Matoran do? We are just villagers, even after the Rebuilding we were helpless.” “Listen, we Matoran can still do things.” “Not like the Toa. And Tahu failed us. What chance have we got?” “Hey if you do not trust in me, then at least trust in the Toa, they are our saviors sent from Mata-Nui himself. Think about how much better our lives have been since Tahu and the other Toa arrived on the island. We no longer need fear the Rahi—” The two of them thumped into Pomahi, who had stopped moving, his optics searching through the ashen trees. “What is it?” blurted out Valka, his eyes darting frantically about. “Do not know,” answered Pomahi, before suddenly pivoting on his feet and hurling his disk. The disk whirled through the air, smacking into a Muaka. The Muaka hardly flinched, only peering at them and rumbling out a roar. It was massive, its body was yellow and black, its two ears pulled down to make its colossal body sleeker, it had two powerful front legs and treads underneath its torso. The tiger’s treads whirled as it charged at the trio, snarling as it swung its paw at them. Pomahi lunged into the other Ta-Matoran, helping them duck to the side. The three of them tumbled into the black earth, before picking themselves off and sprinting. Pomahi leaned over to grab his throwing disk as they ran, swiping it up. Behind them was the sound of treads grinding into volcanic rock, the Muaka was still pursued them. The tiger roared as it drew closer, its enormous jaws reeling back— Pomahi spun around and threw his disk at the beast, only for the throwing disk to thump harmlessly off the cat. Instead the Muaka chomped down on him, crushing his body in his teeth. With a pop the magnetized mask on his face was squeezed off, flinging it to the side. Pomahi tumbled to the ground, gasping as his mask skidding to the ground off his face. The Ta-Matoran swayed as he stood up, his legs already starting to buckle. Without a Kanohi on their face; no Matoran could stay conscious for long. He staggered, his grooved naked head swerving around, looking for his mask. He could … he could just about … about … there. He stumbled about, trying to waddle over to his mask. But he felt like the life was being drained of him, he … he fell to his knees and began to crawl, all but dragging himself towards them. He was utterly helpless. Elsewhere Valka was sprinting away with Takarda closely behind. Valka’s heartlight beat like an overzealous Le-Matoran drummer, this was … this was how he was going to die. Not to one of those new beasts, not to a Bohrok-Kal or even a normal Bohrok. Just to a normal Rahi. The Matoran were helpless. Takarda was lying to himself if he thought differently. The Ta-Matoran people were now homeless, scattered, and lost. The Ta-Koro Guard had been defeated, and Tahu had failed despite all his elemental powers. Ta-Koro was gone, their home was gone, and he was going to die to a gigantic cat. Then something whirled through the air past Valka, he startled, only for a Matoran to fly in from the side, hooking his arm around a Valka’s waist. The Ta-Matoran was dragged away, sent tumbling to the side of the Muaka’s rampage. As Valka lay in a heap Kanohi aimed his Volo Lutu Launcher up in front of Takarda. With a press of the trigger he launched the sphere, before being sucked in after it. As he arced by the Ta-Matoran he e tended his arm, scooping up Takarda and carrying him to the side. “Kanohi?” Takarda managed to say as he staggered up, “listen, there is another Ta-Matoran; Pomahi, I think he lost his mask—” Kanohi did not reply, only flinging himself after the Muaka with a blast of his launcher. Takarda watched as Kanohi slammed into the back of the Muaka’s head, making the tiger buck. It began to lurch about, trying to swat at the passenger now on its back. Kanohi was a bit dazed by the impact, but he endured. The Muaka was trying to knock him off, so he just held tight, his optics searching about as the tiger lashed out. Then with a sudden thrust the Muaka butted him off, leaving Kanohi to tumble off his back. He landed on all-fours, panting for breath, before firing his Volo Lutu Launcher. Immediately he hurtled through the air, narrowly avoiding the Muaka’s bite. Then Takarda felt a metallic hand grasp his own, and he was dragged upright to face Pomahi. “He already saved you?” laughed Takarda, “Mata-Nui provides.” “Who is that?” asked Valka, staring after Kanohi as he led the beast away. “Kanohi, a vigilante hero who protects the Matoran through the jungles of Le-Wahi. While the Ta-Koro Guard and the Ussalry remain in their villages, he traversed the south, rescuing travelers and helping the villages in its reaches.” “Like Takua and the rest of the Chronicler’s Company?” “Exactly. They even say he has visions like Turaga Vakama.” “Guess there had to be something special with him, for him to fight a Muaka.” “Can we get to safety now?” asked Pomahi. “Yeah. You … you think he will be okay?” “He’s survived worse,” shrugged Pomahi, before leading them away. … Kanohi grappled across the craggy landscape, maneuvering across the volcanic terrain. He stumbled as he landed, the raw heat and fumes was all-consuming, left his unsteady and uncoordinated on his landings. He was no Ta-Matoran, and thus had no protection from the heat. Not that Takua was comfortable in Ta-Wahi either. Takua; now that was a Matoran. Someone far better than Kanohi. It wasn’t something the vigilante wallowed in, it was just a simple fact. Takua was just as much as a outsider and freak as Kanohi, but unlike Kanohi Takua was not a bandage. Kanohi saved lives, fought Rahi, but he didn’t change things, didn’t improve Mata-Nui. Just kept the Matoran alive and safe.” But Takua? He had gathered the six Toa Stones and brought the Toa to this island, without him the Matoran would still live in fear of the Makuta. There would be no Rebuilding, no unified Mata-Nui, no real trade between the villages. There was a reason Takua had been appointed the Chronicler, while Kanohi had not been. Kanohi meanwhile had built up enough of a lead to think. Spying a particularly rocky region he fluttered free hand, he knew how to fight the Muaka. As he landed in front of a crag he stopped, catching his breath as he aimed his Volo Lutu Launcher. As the Muaka barreled down upon him he launched himself away, leaving the tiger to smack into the pillar of stone. The Muaka staggered from the impact, before Kanohi called out, “Not the Brightest Lightstone in Onu-Koro, are you?” The Muaka snarled and charged at him again, only for Kanohi to launch himself away, and the beast to slam into another mound of rocks. “Wow, I was not sure that you would understand that. Not that I am saying you are are a Kohlii-head, well I suppose I am, but that was not my point.” The Rahi smashed into a rock pulled after him, but Kanohi once more launched away. “What was my point?” muttered Kanohi, who had lost his train of thought. By now the Muaka was tiring, it’s joints were bruised and battered, and it was stumbling about in confusion. “Oh right, just, I am impressed that you understood that metaphor. I struggle with them personally. Or maybe you just understood the tone. Which again, I also struggle with.” He was being sincere. Kanohi liked to ramble off to the Rahi and Bohrok he faced, gave him practice in social situations, made him less of an awkward fool. The Muaka meanwhile slammed head first into another pillar of rock, and stagger under its own weight, before collapsing. It lay faint, staring lazily up at the sky. Kanohi approached the beast, looking it over. It didn’t seem to have an Infected Kanohi, so it was not a servant of the Makuta, just a beast. He nodded and then began to grapple away, heading back towards the Ta-Matoran trio. … Valka was silent, as Takarda chatted to Kanohi. The Po-Matoran kept to the trees above them, leading them towards Le-Koro. He didn’t say much, just nodded or told the trio to change direction. “Seriously, what is it like seeing the dreams of Mata-Nui?” “If they are his dreams, they are confusing.” “What do you mean, if they are his dreams?” “I do not know what they are, only that fire focuses them.” “Well what else could they be?” “I do not know. Tell me more about the three beasts that attacked you. You said they all carried staves? They could think then?” “Who cares about that, Tahu will deal with them.” “He was poisoned, he may take time to recover.” “Ah he is the mightiest of the Toa, he can endure.” Kanohi did not reply, so Takarda smiled with confidence. But besides him Valka asked, “why did you decide to become a Toa.” “I am no Toa,” Kanohi said sharply, and Valka almost flinched with the raw emotion that had boiled out of Kanohi’s mouth.” “Yes but … in the centuries before they came, well, it sounds like you tried to emulate the legends. You rescued Matoran, fought Rahi, saved us even before we were united. Why? You were an outcast, all but banned from Po-Koro. You were that Po-Matoran, right? Dece?” “That was my name. I don’t use it now, nor should you.” “Right but, why did your risk your life?” “There were no Toa then, someone had to.” “But why you? Why an outsider who had attacks in the city streets of Po-Koro?” “…Symbols are important. A Hau means the Great Spirit Mata-Nui, it shows a place is shielded from harm. The symbol of a masked hero with special powers and a strange tool; it could make the Matoran feel less alone. Like Mata-Nui wasn’t ignoring them.” “By why you?” “Because I was alone,” Kanohi answered, “can we stop talking, I do not mean to be rude, but it’s exhausting, and I need to focus on my aim.” “Of course,” answered Pomahi for the group. It was easier to speak up for someone else’s sake than for his own. So the three Toa-Matoran and their protector trekked on through the jungle, Kanohi still dwelling on his visions. Ta-Koro had fallen, he could already heart the drums booming to warn the other villages. Kanohi would have to travel to the other villages soon, help them prepare. These strange beings, three of them had sunken Ta-Koro. And in recent weeks Kanohi had suffered visions foretelling the return of the Makuta. If these beasts were his doing, then the Toa would soon begin great peril. And then there was the matter of this relic Takua had found. According to Pomahi, the Chronicler had discovered a strange Mask of Light; that foretold the arrival of a seventh Toa. And that mask was discovered right before the three reptilian beasts attacked. Takua and Jaller had left with the mask before the attack, so it seemed likely that the Makuta had been searching for them. It would take time to catch up with the duo, and Kanohi’s face-blindness would not help much, but he would try to track them down. He doubted he could help on the quest, but he would do what he could, even if that was only to keep the Koro they passed safe.
  14. Chef is a Ko-Matoran who dedicated his existence to cooking the fauna and plant-life of Spherus Magna after the Re-Formation. No one is really sure why, considering the Matoran don't really eat things, but he's really passionate about it. Other Matoran have tried to understand his art, but eventually ended failing at both getting the concept and executing it right. They usually just get yelled at and go home with nothing but questions about the grumpy guy. Chef carries a sharpening stick around as well as at least always one electro-blade, which he likes to sharpen whenever he has time. He wears a black powerless Ruru. On top of his regular Matoran pieces, Chef added-up an extra bit of armor to cover him a little more, especially when cooking. Unlike most Ko-Matoran, Chef absolutely dislikes cold environments, saying he hates everything that is frozen. He prefers to wander around the planet to try and create more food-related creations. "It's burnt! You burnt the bloody thing!" -Chef to Macku The build of this Matoran is fairly simple, with very basic articulations and limbs. The top is obviously based on the 2003 Matoran Sets. The bottom is custom but still very basic. The color scheme is White for the most, with touches of Black, to emulate Gordon Ramsay's general look in a kitchen: White jacket, black pants, and with an extra piece of armor on the front to replace the apron. More pictures of this little guy here: (I'm not familiar with Bzpower's gallery thing so uhhh here have this funny link) https://twitter.com/Nahunicle/status/1122493173375410176
  15. Ok as I'm getting ready to work on some Bionicle pixel art and sprites projects in the near future I have found myself with a puzzle, in MNOG 1 and 2 most Matoran homes are dome shaped and even in Mask of Light the Ta-Matoran in the attack on Ta-Koro were huddled up inside a dome hut. This got me thinking on is this common throughout the Matoran Universe as I can't recall Metru Nui having dome shaped buildings besides the Moto Hub and the Great Temple where the Toa Suva is. Anyone else know of examples of Matoran homes? I think in MNOG 1 Vakama's chamber was within a building built out of the wall and was more boxy due to this with a classic "Stone Door Frame" like you'd see in the Flintstones. I think that they might move in another direction of Architecture on Sphereus Magna but really what are some good examples of nondome homes?
  16. I see them as Matoran buddies and as Takua becomes Takanuva, and then a year later (not counting the flashbacks years, because thats what they are, flashbacks)Jaller becomes a Toa Inika, and then a Toa Mahri. And Takanuv returns in 2008 as the "Shadow Takanuva" Imagine how cute it would be if they both met eachother, now both as Toa.
  17. Meet Fehu, Matoran of Fire and proud warrior! More to see here: https://twitter.com/Nahunicle/status/1124702441403047936
  18. Hello, everyone. Up until recently I was under the impression that the Voya Nui Matoran sets all came with pearl light gray weapons instead of flat silver ones, but after looking closely at my own sets and sets my friends have owned, the colors appear to be a bit irregular. For one thing, one Balta set has flat silver weapons and one Garan set appears to have come with one weapon in each color. Can anyone (preferably in Europe) check their original sets to see if there are any such irregularities? Thanks!
  19. Created a CCBS version of Matoran Jaller with Digital Designer. His design is based on that of the 2015 Protectors, but with a shield on the back instead of a gearbox. (I'm sorry if the picture is a bit pixelated).
  20. Ganto

    The Story of Lakai

    Lakai is a term created by myself to describe the feeling of "Love" in the BIONICLE universe. This story takes place in an alternate Mata Nui where the events, such as the Bohrok, the fall of Ta-Koro, it has a lot of space in between. Also some Matoran are gender swapped, and some extra characters are introduced such as Ganto and Vika. This specific story is in between the Bohrok, and the Bohrok-Kal. It uses a bit of lore from my own comics and some old BIONICLE community lingo like "Karz" and such. I hope you enjoy. The Story of Lakai This story is updated regularly, but I will not be posting the notifications of updates here. Please join my discord server for updates to all my content such as MOCs, Comics and more. This is a discussion topic as the actual story is in a Google Document, so comments are welcome.
  21. This fanfiction is for VBBN, I'm sorry I didn't have it out in time, but I'm out of practice with writing and my life was a bit hectic as I finished my Internship and started a new job. ________________________________________________________________________________ ‘A united land under a Red Star, Gold and White, Bronze and Blue, The Hunted must finish their hunt, To the Hero’s lair on the Mountain of Monsters, Lest a Maker become a Destroyer, As the Poisoners became poisoned’ Danu looked over the text on the scroll handed to her by Aode. She thought about the agori’s advice about claiming her own fate, and not ending up like Yxaaz. Danu could remember his former lucidity only as a distant memory. Danu was the jewel of his eye, before it was filled with mad visions from the Great Beings. She rolled up the scroll and put it into it’s case, now was not the time to figure out a future bogged down in the past, but plan it. The young glatoran looked over the canopy of jungle; Danu stood over a ridge that defined the end of the local Sand tribe city’s territory and beginning of the Earth tribe’s realm. She figured that Poisoners probably meant the Vorox, or maybe whatever the source of the Dreaming Plague was. But Danu guessed that the recent spy reports of an unknown engineer amongst them suggested the builder that Yxaaz’s prophecy. She sighed as she thought of her summons to court the previous day to exam the prophecy after wrecking the training arena (again) an yet still she couldn’t believe that she had been summoned by order of the Elemental Lord, and she thought of the throne the warlord sat upon; black basalt placed on top a crop covered barrow in the depths of the royal vault of the Earth tribe. Danu’s mother had told her that the Great Being responsible for Yxaaz’s condition was buried beneath it, and Danu wasn’t sure she doubted it. Danu prepared herself, looking up the last star that now hung in the final shadows of the night sky. She had never known Spherus Magna, only Bota Magna. But she didn’t care about that, the prophecy said great danger would occur if the Hunted did not finish their hunt, whatever that meant; and the Vorox liked to have things to hunt. She took in a deep breath, the Elemental Lord had order that her tribe to only spy and gather information, not to directly interfere with the affairs of the other glatoran, skrall or vorox. But Danu had listened to Aode, who had told her of tales of heroism and honour before the war, especially those of Danu’s parents. She knew she would be in trouble at least, but she knew she had to fallow Yxaaz’s prophecy. It was then that the blast of lightning blasting in the forest, and Danu knew she had to go. She pulled out her twin kama and waved them at the least steep slope of the ridge. The glatoran focused her will through them like she had done so many times before; the slope burst forth a new ridge along it’s dorsal edge, wide enough for her to walk down and shallow enough for her to get down safely. She rushed over and started to run down it; all the times she had wrecked the arena had been worth it. At least they were until her third footstep, she felt the ridge collapse; Danu knew she hadn’t compacted it enough as it turned to dust under her feet, and later head, an she now started to tumble down hill. She really didn’t want the Element Lord to find her now, both for punishment for disobedience, and the shame of mucking up like that after all of her training. But Danu knew not of the wisdom far above her, hidden in the last star of night, one of sanguine light; The Red Star. ________________________________________________________________________________ In the depths of the Red Star two matoran ran from Krestora, and some of their victims. One was green with secondary brown colouration and a rose red mask, the other was a horrid mixture of lime green and bright saffron. “Fanua is going to panic when we don’t come back with Mavrah.” Complained the more horrid of the two matoran, his armour dented and scratched from lost aeons, and his mask a foul tusked thing with no equal. His companion stopped for a second to think. “That might be good thing Lerun,” Replied the red mask matoran “He might not worry about us.” Lerun looked back at him for a second and shook his head. “Ruaun, I don’t understand you at times.” Lerun retorted before stopping himself and letting his companion overshoot as Ruaun restarted his run. Then latter matter yelp in surprise as Lerun started fiddling with the wall “Where is that fault?” “I know it might be fun to mess around, but even I think this is a bad time” Exclaimed Ruaun, Lerun waved his concern away. “There’s an old fault that was supposed to be used by a creation of the Great Beings” Explained Lerun, “A failsafe, some sort of proto-toa or something. If the Krestora went mad, which they have, it would awaken and take them out and repair them.” Ruaun snorted, “Good strategy, let ‘em muck up the place and then deal with the Krestora.” “Who do you think their first victim was?” Replied Lerun, “They knew the guardian would ‘deal with’ them, so those buggers dealt with him” Ruaun made a small disappointed sound, “You’ve seen it actually, it’s the one with the two giant scissors for arms and twenty tentacles for a head.” Ruaun than mad a small excited sound, and that worried Lerun. “You mean Sergeant Snippety-Snips?” Exclaimed the Bo-Matoran, Lerun could only sigh in confirmation. “With the blue and silver? And the fire breathing? And the –“ *CLICK* “Oh, you unlocked the door?” Ruaun inquired, Lerun shook his head. “That wasn’t m-“ *Click* Both matoran looked back the way they had come from; Standing at the end of the corridor was a tall silver and blue figure, its hands now distorted into an over sized set of spiderish legs and the original pair of legs twisted and shrunk to serve as arms. The two matoran looked at each for a second before dashing; even Ruaun knew that Sergeant Snippety-Snips was not safe to be around. They ran down several corridors, zigging and zagging along them as the monster chased them with the constant click of it’s unnatural gait. It was slower than them, but every slip and crash in their haste cost the duo some time. But as Lerun and Ruaun started to loop on themselves they gained some distance from it. Their minds were in a rush, that the sound of panicking voices was completely missed. *Crash* Lerun crashed into a grey matoran with a mask of healing and Ruaun into a blue matoran with a Kanohi Arthon. Behind those two still stood their last Matoran companion, a stark white individual glaring with shock at the four matoran. “First our base was taken and the Turaga kidnapped, now you two are just fooling around!” whispered the still standing matoran, although his tone and style it sounded more like a shout. “You were supposed to find supplies! And where is Mavrah! You sold him out didn’t you!” Still quiet but an increased desperation was on the voice, as the four matoran got up and tried to silence their companion. And then the white matoran stopped, his eyes aghast. The monsterous form that had been chasing his compatriots overshadow all of them. They stood still for a second before they tried to run away, but the monstrosity slammed one of it’s spiderous hands down, trapping them all. Most of the matoran tried to squirm free, expect the blue one who had flicked out a wrist mounted blade and was furiously trying to stab the abomination. It didn’t seem to notice, only letting down some tentacles the smoulder from the ooze they secreted, a drop landed on Lerun’s armour, stinging him. “I always thought the monster that would kill me would be of my own design” droned the grey matoran as a tentacle slithered towards him, “Don’t worry Ketsa, just because it happened once doesn’t mean I’ll let you go down again.” Declared the blue matoran, as she jabbed her blade harder than before. The only reaction was the gigantic hand pressing down harded, crushing the matoran. “No” Said Lerun, “I won’t die!” Yelled the Blue Matoran, “So this was their plan?” Moan the white matoran, Ruaun gave a desperate laugh, “So it is” declared Ketsa. ________________________________________________________________________________ Elsewhere, a sole Skrall stood on a field of sand, surrounded by grinning fiends. He thought of surviving the Core War, escaping the Baterra, the glory of Roxtos and the Victory at Atero. How the Stone Tribe had fallen, how he had fallen. Tuma was gone, the greatest tribe scattered and world now infested with foul invaders. He looked down at the peg-leg he had been given by these ‘Skakdi’, their leader had thought it would be funny to give a cripple an experimental micro-lance for a prosthesis, better than the flail he had also been entrusted with. “Now, I, Thasikann, the magnificent” Boasted the leader of these savages, his brass-like armour a poor simulacrum of actually gold with his asymmetric and broken horn hanging a garland of withering flowers and the remains of small animals. “Declare that to celebrate my ascension to being the most powerful Skakdi of All Time, my grand games will be finish with a battle-royale between our greatest enemies to earn the honour of battling my champion, Ziskann!” The Skrall smirked as the arena stands filled with the cheers of Thasikann’s followers towards their favourite, tall and in the colours of the setting sun upon winter snow, she made a dashing figure, especially with those menacing ruby eyes. As she scanned the competitors; the skrall, a small beige and black Agori like being with vibrant blue eyes, a dark green warrior with sharp claws and a sharp gaze, a fish monster of some sort (which seemed to speak in obscenities), and an individual who was either a tiny Vorox or an overgrown Zesk. When her gaze reached the skrall, the intensity increased and he stared back; at least in his mind their rivalry was set. Everything he had been thrown against today was easy compared to what the gazed promised. “From the deserts of Spherus Magna,” Continued Thasikann “A scorpion horror and a basalt Skrall!” The cheers turned to jeers directed at him and the sand tribe competitor “From the depths of the nightmares and Irnakk’s caverns, a Zyglak!” The boos became focused on the fish monster, and while the Skrall couldn’t understand it, this Zyglak was clearly using even fouler language, “To the foot hills of the dreaded Mountain, Suufiji of Xia!” Suufiji merely made a hand gesture towards the crowd, the increased passion in their insults indicated that is wasn’t a friendly gesture. “And finally, from the heights of Metru Nui: Akhmou, the treacherous!” The crowd went silent for a second, confused by the this individual’s seeming importance. Thasikann took a breath in, “a servant of the recently deceased Makuta!” The crowd quickly roared with their rage at that name, with a visceral passion. The Skrall wondered if any of these beings were of any real threat to Thasikann or his skakdi horde; more likely political theatre that was either orchestrated by arrogant leader or manipulating fools. The Skrall assumed both were true. “And now, let the Games begin!” _________________________________________________________ I would like to thank VBBN for giving me his prompt, Tufi Piyufi for arranging the contest and Tolkien for some help with the names.
  22. Mazak is a travelling trader. Everything he carries is up for sale or trade. He prefers trading objects instead of selling them, as his goal isn't to get rich, but to experience as many interesting and unique items as possible before swapping them for something else that's new and exciting. He lives by the motto "everything is for sale and everything has a price". A small tablescrap Matoran that grew out of me fiddling with parts to solve an issue that I ultimately didn't, but ended up making a compact custom torso that fit a Matoran build well. Further images on Flickr. Comments and criticism appreciated.
  23. A trio of Matoran MOCs I built recently. Pudu is an ever-cheerful Po-Matoran Kohlii champion. The only thing that can ever darken his mood is when he is reminded of the fact that as an athlete, he will be forever stuck in Huki's shadow. Kovi is by far the most efficient miner in all of Onu-Koro. This quality is his saving grace, as it is the only reason why the other Matoran tolerate his constant grumbling and mean demeanor. Lawi is a Le-Koroan musician who keeps running late for performances because he's always out vine-swinging in the deep jungles of Le-Wahi instead. Flickr Albums: Pudu Kovi Lawi
  24. Xenia by Artemiy Karpinskiy, on Flickr Xenia here is an albino matoran OC belonging to my good friend Zippy​. She’s in charge of a small island in the Southern Chains known as Woomera, where one of rare Energized Protodermis pools is situated. As such, the island was target for many powerful groups and individuals in the past. The Woomerans are the toughest, most hard-boiled Matoran in the universe, and fight off these threats without need of a Toa or any of the taller races. When Makuta Miserix was assigning his brothers and sisters to different regions of the Matoran Universe, he have sent Makuta Andrax, literally the worst candidate for the job, to oversee the Woomera island. At first Xenia stuck with him to protect from the dangers of the island, reasoning that if this guy accidentally dies the Woomera will get razed by Brotherhood’s armies, but in time she grew attached to the big oaf.
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