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  1. Kulagi, an Onu-Matoran from Metru Nui, was hard at work on his forge in his home. He was a talented Kanoka Maker, and had crafted many powerful discs in his time. Kanoka discs are used everywhere in Matoran society, from work to sports to transport to self defense. Kanoka discs are formed out of protodetmis from one of the six Metrus of Metru Nui, and can have one of eight standard powers at various power levels. Kulagi was known for going to extremes to collect the purest of protodermis in order to make the strongest of discs. Even then, purity didn’t count for everything, and Kulagi’s skills and techniques are above most of his peers. Kulagi finalized a disc at his forge, and set it aside to let it cool. But he didn’t give himself time to rest; he quickly poured more protodermis into his forge to start another disc. The protodermis was part of a batch he had received from Ta-Metru, and its purity was not up to Kulagi’s standards. But Kulagi couldn’t complain; even in the peaceful days of Metru Nui, it was hard to come across pure Ta-Metru protodermis, since most of it was located in restricted zones. Of course, Kulagi was not currently living through the peaceful days of Metru Nui. Right now, the city was in the middle of a war between the Dark Hunters and Toa. It had begun years ago when the Dark Hunters released the Kanohi Dragon upon the city. A team of heroes, known as the Toa Mangai, had arrived and after a major struggle subdued the beast. This had not pleased The Shadowed One, the leader of the Dark Hunters. Next, they tried to kidnap Turaga Dume, the leader of Metru Nui. The kidnapping had ultimately failed, and in a rage The Shadowed One sent an army of Dark Hunters to besiege the city. But the Toa managed to get word out, and an army of over one hundred of the heroes arrived to protect the city. And thus the war began. The Matoran’s livelihood abruptly changed with the war, as they now worked to support their Toa protectors. Many Matoran had to flee their homes as the Dark Hunters claimed large sections of the city. Those who remained set up fortifications, and worked hard to create weapons and armor for the Toa. Kulagi himself was now cranking out Kanoka discs as quickly as he could to support the war effort. Kulagi’s door abruptly opened. On reflex, Kulagi snatched up his disc launcher, with a Kanoka labeled 626 already loaded. But he relaxed as he recognized the Po-Matoran’s brown Hau. “Welcome back, Huaju.” “Put that down!” Huaju said, as he closed the door. “I don’t need you shrinking me down to the size of a protodite every time I walk in.” “It’s a freezing Kanoka anyway,” Kulagi said casually. “Great, because turning into an ice cube is a much better fate,” Huaju replied sarcastically. Huaju was a fellow Kanoka Maker, and a good friend of Kulagi. However, the Po-Matoran often found it difficult to live with Kulagi’s habits. Kulagi couldn’t blame him for being on edge either; Huaju’s home had been in a region invaded by the Dark Hunters, and he had evacuated with the other Po-Matoran over a month ago. Kulagi could tell that Huaju was getting homesick, but there was nothing he could do about it. After all, he had invited Huaju to stay with him, instead of being forced to live in the Coliseum with the other refuges. “Why are you so trigger-happy anyway?” Huaju asked. “It’s not like the Dark Hunters are going to attack here any time soon. This region is too well protected.” “Well, it could’ve been a member of the Matoran Guard,” Kulagi pointed out. “The last time they paid me a house visit, they took every last Kanoka they could get their hands on. I don’t mind supporting the Toa, but I need some discs for my own arsenal.” “And how are those discs coming along?” Huaju asked. “The bad news is that it’s not the best batch,” Kulagi said. “But I did get a couple of powerful ones, and the good news is that they’re not power levels 7 or 8.” Huaju laughed. “That’s not normally something you’re happy about. You’re always trying to make the strongest Kanoka.” “Yeah, well that was before the war,” Kulagi said darkly. “Now every disc with a power level of 7 or 8 gets sent directly to the mask-makers to be turned into a Kanohi mask for the Toa. It’s that new mandatory law that the Turaga passed.” “Yeah, nobody has any spare 7 or 8 discs anymore,” Huaju agreed. “But it’s helping the Toa out, so we can’t complain.” “Sure we can,” Kulagi said, retrieving the disc he had let cool off. “According to the Kanoka recorder, this is a level 6 Ta-Metru Shrinking disc. It’s just below the cutoff, so I can keep it in my personal collection.” He began to carve the code into the disc, the last step that needed to be taken before the disc was completed. “And what about the rest of these?” Huaju asked, gesturing to the piles of finished discs on the ground. “They’re all low levels,” Kulagi said with a shrug. “They can go to the war effort, to arm the Matoran Guard or, against my better judgment, the Vahki.” Indeed, Kulagi knew how important his Kanoka discs would be for defense, even low powered ones. The Matoran and Toa were just barely holding out against the Dark Hunters. In the north, much of the dry Po-Metru had been claimed by the Dark Hunters, and they were also expanding their territory in Le-Metru and Ko-Metru. The rest of the island, including Ga-Metru, Ta-Metru, and Onu-Metru, were under the constant threat of a Dark Hunter attack. While the one hundred Toa were the main combatants, they relied heavily on intel from the Matoran Guard and assistance from the robotic law enforcing Vahki. Kulagi wasn’t a fan of the Vahki. In the days before the war, he had been on the wrong side of the law many times in his search for pure protodermis, and had been attacked by Vahki countless times. But with time also came experience, and Kulagi had learned how to outwit the Vahki at their own games. And the Onu-Matoran was not a stranger to combat either; he had played a major role in subduing the dreadful Gang Matoran. His actions had earned him recognition from the Turaga, who had shown more leniencies to Kulagi’s unlawful ways. At least, more than usual. Kulagi had still been arrested twice since that incident, but his punishments hadn’t been as severe as before. Ordinarily, Kulagi wouldn’t have obeyed any laws that he disagreed with, especially when it came to giving away his precious Kanoka. But he had to admit that he knew it was for a greater good, so he begrudgingly accepted them as long as the war lasted. As he continued to work on Kanoka, Kulagi looked to Huaju and asked, “So did you learn anything while you were out.” Huaju frowned. “Yes, but none of it was any good. The Dark Hunters made a push and captured the region north of the Moto Hub in Le-Metru.” Kulagi’s head snapped up. “Wait, that’s where Triki lives!” “I know,” Huaju said solemnly. “And there was a big battle too, and not all the Matoran got away. I looked at a list of survivors, but Triki’s name wasn’t on it.” Kulagi glanced down at his partially made Kanoka, as doubt gnawed at him. Still, he said, “I wouldn’t worry too much. This is Triki, and you know he wouldn’t go down without a fight. And he probably got out with the rest of them, but was too distracted to tell anyone that he was all right.” “Maybe,” Huaju said. “But Triki doesn’t always think straight, and he might’ve done something that would’ve gotten him captured.” Kulagi shook his head. “I don’t believe that. He must’ve escaped.” Triki was a Le-Matoran Kanoka Maker and amateur mask-maker, and also a close friend of Kulagi’s. He was a little eccentric and borderline crazy at times, but he was still a decent Matoran who had come through for Kulagi multiple times. Remembering this, Kulagi said, “Are there any refuges being shipped up here? Triki might be with them.” “There should be one coming into the Archive’s airship dock soon,” Huaju said. “But the odds of him being there...” “With Triki, you never bet on the odds,” Kulagi said, turning off his forge and getting to his feet. “In fact, you could say that Triki will do what is least likely. Let’s go see anyway.” The two of them packed up some spare Kanoka and exited Kulagi’s home. Kulagi’s home was located in a housing district close to one of the larger openings to the underground Archives. Normally, Onu-Matoran archivists would be hard at work cataloging relics of the past, or else digging down into the earth to mine for new minerals. But with the war, the Archives entrance was instead a central headquarters for the war effort. Supplies were moved in and out of the Metru via chutes or airships, and Toa gathered there to rest and resupply. It was far busier than normal, and Kulagi and Huaju had to pass through the crowded streets as they moved towards the airship docks. Indeed, they saw a massive blimp dock, and as they approached, they watched various Le-Matoran exit the craft. Normally, Le-Matoran were at peace in airships, but this crowd seemed to be very eager to get back onto solid ground. “Le-Metru must’ve been really bad if they’re so excited to get here,” Huaju noted. “Actually, I think it may be for a different reason,” Kulagi said, a grin forming on his face. “Like perhaps there was someone on the blimp that they wanted to get away from.” The last Le-Matoran wandered off the airship, his green Kakama mask snapping back and forth as he took in the view. “Hey everybody, why you fast-flee? I thought we were gonna play a game of Kanoka-catch!” “You know, an airship is a really dangerous place to play Kanoka-catch,” Kulagi said, walking up to the Le-Matoran. “How are you doing, Triki?” Triki looked up, surprised to find himself with his friends. “Kulagi dude! Huaju dude! What are you doing in ground-world?” he asked, jumping up and down in excitement. “Well, I kind of live here,” Kulagi said. “Wait, we need to exchange proper friend-cool meet-up!” Triki exclaimed. He swung his hand up into a high five, which Kulagi mimicked. This was followed by a low five, and then swirly arm movements. Kulagi did his best to copy Triki’s moves, but he was caught off guard as Triki suddenly swung up his arm and his fist collided with Kulagi’s purple Miru, knocking him over. “What was that for?” Kulagi sputtered, as he got up. “That new move I quick-add,” Triki explained. “You’re supposed to lean back, swing around and stuff. Did I tell-not you?” “No, you didn’t,” Kulagi grumbled. “I think next time I’ll remember.” “Now your turn!” Triki said, lifting his hand in a high five for Huaju. Huaju ignored him. “Not interested,” he said. “So, Triki, did you manage to get any of your belongings before you left? I heard the Dark Hunter attack came without warning, so you must not have had much time to get away.” “Yes, they came with lots of big Booms and Crackles and smell-bad armor,” Triki said. “I up-picked the essentials before I quick-left. Some raw protodermis, some Kanoka, my trusty launcher-of-discs, and most importantly, my ever cool Triki mask!” “You brought that mask?” Huaju asked hesitantly. Triki had dabbled in mask making, and had learned how to carve a Kanohi whose power a Matoran could use. Unfortunately, the Kanohi’s power was extremely unstable and dangerous, and Triki was the only one who’d ever risk wearing it. “Yeah, I was gonna show Matoran-pals on blimp how it works,” Triki said. “But they said no. Loudly. And repetitively.” “So what are your plans from here?” Kulagi asked. Triki paused to consider. “I not-think much of that? Archives have Rahi-petting zoo, no? Maybe I play-visit that!” “There is no petting zoo in the Archives,” Kulagi said. “I meant, do you have a place to stay? Huaju’s rooming with me, but...” Kulagi glanced up to see Huaju shaking his head back and forth. Getting the hint, Kulagi continued, “But there might be an empty room nearby where you can stay.” “I’m very particular about stay-places,” Triki said. “Must be well ventilated, Rahi friendly, and have easy-fix walls for when Vahki burst-crash in.” “There might be a stasis tube in the archives that would fit him,” Huaju muttered. “We’ll help you find a place,” Kulagi said. “You just may have to give up a few of you more... unique habits.” “Must have soft floor for bouncing when things blow-smash,” Triki added. Before Kulagi could respond, there was a loud crash that echoed throughout the Archives. A cloud of smoke rose up in the distance, close to the local chute station. Kulagi and Huaju shared a glance, and quickly rushed towards the scene, with Triki tailing them. A crowd was already gathering at the station, and Kulagi quickly realized that it was not a Dark Hunter attack. From the looks of it, a transport with three Matoran had crashed into the station, causing the ruckus. “Step back, everyone,” a Ta-Matoran said, rushing forward. “I am Jaller of the Matoran Guard. Let me through.” He knelt down next to one of the Matoran who crashed, and asked, “What happened here?” “Our transport ran out of control,” the Po-Matoran with a brown Ruru said in a raspy voice. “It was because we were attacked. We tried to get away in time, but we weren’t fast enough.” “Get away?” Jaller repeated. “From what?” “Surprise attack,” the Matoran continued. “Dark Hunters stormed the labs in north-west Ga-Metru. Barely managed to escape.” Jaller stood upright, with a sense of urgency. “Contact the Toa,” he shouted. “We will prepare a force to head that direction via the chutes.” “It’s useless,” said another one of the Matoran who crashed, a Ga-Matoran with an Akaku mask. “They destroyed the chutes leading in. That’s what knocked us out of control.” “We need to get back,” the Po-Matoran said. “It’s important that we get back!” Jaller narrowed his eyes. “It will take days to get our forces over there on foot. We need to tell the Toa about this immediately!” “This is bad,” Huaju said, as the crowd parted way to let Jaller by. “Surprise attacks on Ga-Metru and Le-Metru at the same time. And that part of Ga-Metru is not easy to reach. The chutes were the safest option; if the Toa travel overland, they’ll walk right through Dark Hunter territory.” He turned and suddenly noticed Kulagi, whose mask had turned pale. “What wrong with you?” “That part of Ga-Metru,” Kulagi said. “That’s where Sufina lives!” Review Topic
  2. “Vakama…” Vakama began to stir from the strange voice. In his half-awake state, he felt that, somehow, the voice was familiar to him. “Vakama, arise…” Mostly awake now, Vakama fumbled around on his mask, trying to find the switch for his filtration unit, mumbling subtle curses on whoever had mixed up and sent fumes from the Great Furnace into the air ducts to his living quarters a few months ago. Ready for the new day, disengaged the ventilation unit on his mask and took a deep breath… Which filled his lungs with the stasis fluid surrounding him. He panicked and flailed about, thinking he was drowning for a few moments in his unfamiliar surroundings before re-engaging his ventilation unit and accustoming himself to breathing the medicinal substance. He hurriedly felt around the darkened space he was in, noting the curved walls were indicative of a healing canister, though, with no transparent wall, it was clear this one was… different. As he passed his hands along the inside of the chamber, part of the surface gave way, emitting a bright red light, startling Vakama. To add to his confusion and panic, he soon found his canister being tipped over. Whatever was keeping the fluid locked in the canister suddenly gave way, as Vakama shortly found himself blinded by light, coughing up stasis gunk and feeling quite cold. “Wha-where…?” Vakama muttered to himself, trying to get his bearings from the large entryway that was once the top of his canister, though his view was mostly blocked by a figure posing, which he supposed was intended to look heroic. “Ah, another Toa to join in our ranks!” The figure looked backwards as another figure, larger and lopsided, walked forwards, looking into the canister as well. “Nokama says we look like Toa. That doesn’t mean we are…” The new figure absentmindedly rubbed his disproportionately large arm. After a few moments, he turned to Vakama and reached inside. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He hooked his large hand around Vakama’s body, pulling him out of the canister and setting him onto his own two feet. With his surroundings changed again, Vakama took some time to figure out where exactly he was. The ceiling was ribbed, with eight circular gaps in between each of the support struts. The walls were curved, dome-shaped, with circular portholes covering most of it. Stone and metal were melded together in such a way so that the piping seemed to grow straight from the sides. Underneath the gaps in the ceiling, the floor had raised sockets, most of which currently held canisters not unlike the one he just been pulled out of. Evidence of Stone, Iron, and Fire sector craftmanship. If he were to have to guess, based on what he read of history books, Vakama would have say… Tenth era, Krom-style architecture. Placing them in or around the Great City’s center. Try as he might, Vakama did not find a discernible exit. “Hey… is the new guy alright?” The bright light-stones embedded in the ceiling let him properly see the strangers around him. The first figure to appear at his canister was green in coloration, indicative of the Jungle sector. The mask he wore was slightly rectangular, and extended far over the top of his head. He was also not wearing any armor at all. Now that Vakama looked around, he realized no one was wearing armor, their organic components all exposed. That explains why he was feeling cold. “Uh… where’s my armor?” “Same place as mine, I suppose.” Mumbled the large, lopsided one. “We’re all as naked as the day we were built!” The green one exclaimed, a big, stupid smile plastered on his face. Vakama made a mental note to attempt to ignore the green one for the time being. What the big one said made sense. If they were all in medical canisters, surely someone had to have removed their armor so the stasis fluid could heal- or change- them however it needed to. “Well, uh, I suppose… introductions are in order?” The big one outstretched his larger hand to Vakama, before realizing his error and switching it for his smaller, normal-sized left hand. “I’m Whenua. I work… or, well, I think I still work in the archives.” Vakama, after a few misses, managed to shake his hand. “Vakama. Forge-work. Mostly disk and mask-making.” “Still trying to get used to the taller body, I see!” The green one jumped into the conversation. (Almost quite literally.) To Vakama’s dismay, Whenua stepped back from the two, letting him take center stage. “Took me a few tries, but I got the hang of it! I’m Matau, wise, resourceful, and ever-energetic!” Great. “That beautiful blue scholar over there is the lovely Nokama.“ She rolled her eyes, put on a smile, and waved to the two of them. Matau, of course, waved back, grin bigger than ever. “She was the first of us to wake up, followed by yours truly.” “The brown fellow sitting there with the I-am-really-annoyed-by-Matau-look on his face is Onewa!” Matau pointed to the final member of their odd company, “The icy guy in the corner hasn’t spoken one bit yet, but I’m gonna make him talk and be friendly if it’s the-” “Nuju.” “Uh. Okay… That’s Nuju! The cold, icy, and… slightly scary.” The aperture in Nuju’s eyepiece contracted, stared down the offending citizen of the jungle sector, then turned to Vakama. “Ingrown.” Vakama stared blankly, puzzled at the odd, seemingly random word. Nuju sighed. “Our old armor is now ingrown. Covered in new organic components.” He tapped his chest for emphasis. “We have been changed” Vakama let out a short laugh. “Well of course. But into what, exactly? I can’t exactly go home and try and act like nothing’s changed about me.” The room was silent. Apparently this hadn’t occurred to anyone else. That, or they didn’t want to think about it. “But, isn’t that a good thing?” Matau asked. His happy-go-lucky demeanor dropped like a stone. “Think about it. We’ve been given a chance. We’re Toa now, those fated to become heroes!” “Matau.” Nokama spoke. “I said we looked like Toa. Yes, most of us are the right build. But there are some… ” She paused, glancing at Whenua, then gesturing to the cansiters and the rest of the room. “…Differences from how we know Toa come to be. They are built as Toa, and die as Toa. They come from somewhere over the Great Ocean, and when they come, their numbers vary. But there are never six sent to any of the islands. Never six toa. The only group of six Toa will come from the stars!” Vakama nodded. Everyone had heard of The Prophecy of Ekimu. “Did we come from the stars? Or over the sea? Nuju, Onewa, and Whenua met each other before this! By our own admission, we were just Tekoans before… before whenever this happened.” “But, if we aren’t Toa,” Onewa began, standing up. “Why can I do this?” He clenched his fist and made a downwards pulling motion. With a rumbling, His seat was quickly pulled into the stone floor underneath them. He turned back to the shocked group. “The stones just… call to me. I somehow… knew I can control them. I don’t know how I knew… but I must have this ability for a reason, right? Toa have elemental powers, don’t they?” “Lhikan could control and create fire. Tuyet could form ice wherever she touched.” Vakama offered. He didn’t really pay much attention to what the Toa could do. Well, when they were still around. After they started vanishing, many people from the different sectors started trying to investigate the disappearances, though many who searched… well… “You could just be the only one of us who is a Toa.” Whenua mumbled. “Or I could be the only one who isn’t.” “But that still doesn’t account for how we were once Tekoans! Having powers could mean anything! Toa are built as Toa. You don’t become a Toa!” Nokama was clearly adamant on her stance. “Whatever we are, we are not Toa.” “…Who cares?” Matau asked, shrugging. “We look like Toa.” He pointed to Onewa. “He, at least, has the powers of a Toa. No one outside will ever know the difference. We can still be heroes!” Even Nokama paused at that one. He was right. Even if they weren’t Toa, they were given this opportunity, they could use it. “I found armor. And tools. Follow me.” The group was so embroiled in their argument, they didn’t even notice the quiet Nuju had slipped out of the room and returned. They followed him down a large and surprisingly cold corridor, with Whenua following close behind Nuju, and Vakama and Matau shivering in the back. Vakama seemed to be the most affected by the chill of the cavernous passage, and not being used to his new legs did not help him keep pace with those in front. Matau, on the other hand, lagged behind because he kept on tripping over rocks he couldn’t see, with every trip bringing a new line of curses. Vakama found he had never heard most of them before, and, judging from Onewa’s chuckles and Nokama’s glances of disapproval, were very, very profane. “How did you find the exit?” Nokama spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention away from Matau for the time being. “Secret mechanism.” Nuju pointed to Onewa. “His seat.” After many twists and turns, with multiple branches to the path going who knows where, it dawned on Vakama that there was no natural way Nuju had been able to take to this supposed armory. The only thing that made sense to him was that, somehow, the labyrinth had called to him. The tunnel had led them into a great room twice the size of the one they had woken up in. The same circular portholes lined the walls, carrying sets upon sets of armor, tools and weapons within them. The center was raised, circular in shape, with arches along its side, revealing that the interior was hollow. Walking up the steps jutting out from it revealed that the top of it was like a bowl, with a gutter leading off the other side into rectangular depressions in the floor. Surrounding it were seven smaller raised sections, flat and solid, with the eighth open at the top, their hexagonal shape jarring with the rest of the room, . They looked though the old sets of armor, each attempting to find a fitting set for themselves. It soon became apparent that only a few pieces of the available armor were compatible with their specific armor-plugs. The rest of the armor wasn’t even wearable, some pieces seemed to even be torn in two. They found shoulder plates, gauntlets and greaves that fit on most everyone, even Whenua found coverings for his massive arm. Vakama was the only one that found a fitting chest-piece for himself, with a vented bevor positioned just slightly above the center of his chest. The others were not so lucky. The light-stones in the walls burned a bright red-orange, illuminating the room like the furnaces Vakama had worked in all his life. He turned to the center of the room, recognizing the intended purpose of the raised portion. It was a furnace… and it was…calling to him. He pulled a forge-staff from one of the portholes, and, like in a trance, Vakama used the it as a lever to pull one of the light-stones from the wall, took it to the furnace, and smashed it. Flames licked up from the broken crystal, igniting the smelting furnace. “Come on, help me get this stuff into the top.” Vakama grunted, lifting rusted pieces and dumping them into the basin. The others, after some time and passing looks to each other, followed suit, picking up more and more, until Vakama gave the word. “Okay, I think that’s enough.” “Yeah, that’s great and all, fire-spitter, but enough for what?” Matau wheezed. Even Whenua looked tired from carrying all the junk pieces to the top. “Armor.” Vakama replied, engaging his ventilation unit as the fumes started to rise. “Didn’t you say you only did masks and disks?” Nokama asked, also trying to catch her breath. “First time for everything!” Using the tongs segment like an ink well, he dipped the tip into the molten metal, pulling up a good amount into the disk reservoir. He plunged the burning mess into the open pedestal, the quenching tank bubbling and gurgling. Vakama drew the new disk out of the tank, the silver quenching liquid dripping off the beveled shape. Type-7, repair and regeneration. Duration and uses: indefinite. Perfect for incorporating into armor. As Matau alternated entertaining and annoying the rest of the group with stories and jokes, Vakama poured molten metal from the foundry into ingot molds. From there, he hammered and bent them over the hexagonal anvils until they matched their desired form. With each new piece of armor, he added in a part of the disk. The satisfying hiss of armor-plugs into their sockets proved that Vakama had done his job well, each piece fitting its respective owner as if they were built into it. Glowing patterns splayed out from the each of the incorporated disk fragments, slowly spreading coloration of their respective owner’s native element across the chest-plate. “Wow…” Whenua tapped his new armor in amazement of how even the right side was beveled outwards to be able to comfortably fit his odd form. “Adequate.” commented Nuju. Probably the best complement anyone could have received from him. “I like the style, but its color doesn’t match my-” Onewa at this point physically restrained Matau from completing his joke. “They’re wonderfully made, Vakama,” Nokama said for the whole company, “Thank you.” “I have some metal left over. I’d like put it to some use… I could make weapons or something. If you don’t mind waiting a bit longer.” “Swords! Swords are a must-have!” Matau had broken free of Onewa’s grasp, and was now spouting random facts about uses of different types of swords. “Okay, okay. I’ll make you some swords,” Vakama held up his hand, signaling Matau to be quiet. “Anyone else?” “Ice-pick batons.” Nuju requested, “Climbing should be primary function.” The others were content with choosing a weapon or tool from the armory. “In the meantime, anyone who wants to help me find the exit is welcome to join me.” Nokama called to the team. All but Whenua went with her, Onewa and Matau attempting to strike up conversations with Nuju as they exited the room. The exploration party left the room and returned multiple times, still unable to find the real exit. “Whelp. That was a bust. It’s really dark back there. Someone used to that kind of darkness could really come along…” Matau said pointedly. Whenua, who had been watching Vakama work intently up until this point, sighed and got up from his seat, joining the rest of the party. Vakama was slightly glad to be by himself, the only noises that of the hammer against the metal and quenching liquid hissing against the hot metal. After he had finished the Matau’s swords and Nuju’s ice batons, he took the time to look over the tools the others had picked out. Nokama had picked out an odd set of tools… or were they weapons? The blade end was shaped like a crescent moon, attached to a hilt and guard, two triggers placed were the index finger would go when wielded. Some sort of cylinder was in the middle of the blade, perhaps housing some sort of chain, or rope. Whenua chose a weaponized gauntlet with a motorized chisel at the end of the knuckles. A ‘thumper,’ of sorts, like the kind the archivists use to drive away creatures from the archives. Onewa chose a mace-and-chain, large and relatively simple, the handle end having a small stone-carving hammer attached to it. Vakama had taken his time, trying to determine which tool he would use to define himself as a toa. Despite all his thinking, he had decided on the forge-staff he had picked up. He examined the beautiful hammer-tongs combination, silver gears, levers and switches lining its side, each one performing a different function. What he would have given to have had this when Elder Dume commissioned him to make a mask… He had completely forgotten about that. It would have been his life’s work, the masterpiece of everything he had ever forged. He couldn’t just abandon the project just because he had changed, he could still finish it, he just needed- “Yo, Vakama, buddy, we found the exit! Let’s go!” Matau called, slinging his new swords around his waist, re-positioning them onto his back, then back around his waist, trying to figure out which one made him look cooler. “Seriously, Vakama.” Onewa looked stern, “You need to see this.” As he followed the other five carefully down the pitch-black corridor, Whenua in the lead, he got the feeling that everyone was unsettled by what they had seen outside. Outside the great temple’s doors, Vakama saw what had disturbed his new allies. Blockades covered most of the streets, forcing citizens to funnel through controlled lanes. Above them, projected onto the side of a crystalline building, was Elder Dume’s face, a recording of his voice broadcast in such a way that it seemed as if he could be talking right in front of them. “… We now have confirmation of… disruptors in our midst, representations of the outside world, synonymous with the darkest vices of violence, ignorance and decay. Bear with your loyal Vahki guardians, as they will soon rectify this incursion. If they ask you to do anything for them, please comply, as it will certainly aid in the capture of these dissidents. Remember, despite it being a regrettable action, our city has closed its borders for your protection, to prevent such anti-citizens from continuing to invade our land. This city is a gleaming beacon of purity and stability, and I believe it is in all our best interests to keep it as such. Keep our city pure. Keep it safe. If you see something strange, something out of the ordinary, report it to your local Vahki protectors. Civic deeds will be greatly rewarded. Should we fail to uphold our laws, even if it seems like the right thing to do, the consequences could be… cataclysmic.” As the recording started to repeat, the group suddenly became aware of all the stares they were getting, all the fingers pointing their way, whispers and murmurs travelling from person to person. A few citizens walked in the opposite direction from where they were going, presumably on their way to alert Vahki guards. --------- Review Topic
  3. Which sort of "feel" or atmosphere do you prefer for Bionicle, pre or post-Metru Nui? Storywise and set wise I preferred the Mata Nui "feel", but still liked a lot about the later years. I'd be interested in hearing people's opinions on this.
  4. So why can't matoran of magnetism or gravity, or any of the others live in Metru-Nui? Now I do know that those elements were made later in canon after Metru-Nui and originally weren't there but was their separation ever fully explained in the story? Why do all of them have to live in separate villages? Why are only fire, water, air, earth, stone and ice united into one big super-city? Are Metru-Nui matoran like racist or something? Now I can understand why SOME tribes would be kept separate, like the De-matoran (sonics) due to their incredibly acute hearing which forces them to make as little noise as possible, making them stay separated from other noisy beings, but the other seem like pretty normal matoran by their descriptions. Was their some sort of event in history that made them decide to stay apart or is that simply the way they live (socially and geographically)? Or is it the Great Beings that purposely kept the matoran separate, since they're the ones who laid the foundation for Metru-Nui, and if so, why? Or does it have something to do with the Mata-Nui robot? Did they simply spread matoran throughout the robot body so they could keep it working in that particular area? But these matoran seem to live in pretty simple villages, only Metru-Nui has been proven to have a direct impact on the robot's health, and plus the most of the other southern islands have no known inhabitants to do any sort of work there. Is Metru-Nui simply not big enough to fit most of the other matoran in the universe? It seems like a pretty big city, I feel like it could hold more residents there. What do you guys think? Am I simply missing some sort of important canon material? Are matoran really racist? BTW: !!! I do realize 'racist' probably isn't the right word in this situation but the idea works for what I'm trying to say here. !!!
  5. Author's note: I do not follow canon very closely, particularly with regards to BIONICLE anatomy. I have them about 60% biological (blood, organs, muscles, even hair) and 40% mechanical. They also have familial relationships, children and females and males in all elemental types. Matoran have an average lifespan of 250-300 years, while Toa live for nearly 5,000. Also, this is a "what if" story, although I'm not going to reveal exactly what was altered... That's something you have to discover for yourself.I rate this PG-13 for violence, death and mild romance.EDIT: Because of the length of this epic, there is a chapter index in the Review topic. Life is a Blank How do you fight a battle that has already been lost? Stave 1 Telet tried for what felt like the millionth time to slide his hands through the small gap between the chains and his skin. His chapped wrists protested against the pressure, but he ignored it, trying to work himself free. Even thin and wasted as he was, there was not enough space to get out. "I hate you." he spat at his captor. "That's your problem, not mine." the tall dark figure replied, touching his arm. For so strong a being, he was surprisingly gentle. "I think you're merely misreading what you've seen, but that's just me." "I didn't misread anything! You're not the Great Spirit, and you're not our savior! You may have everyone else thinking you are, but I know better!" A glimmer of a frown crossed the tall being's face. "Your resistance to my benevolence is growing tiresome, matoran." The touch became ever so slightly more rough. "Who else did you tell about what you found?" "No one." Telet tossed his head bravely. "I didn't have time before your Vahki grabbed me." The being stared directly into the matoran's eyes, trying to read the small one's thoughts. It did no good - whatever training this matoran had put himself through, it had included some sort of mind shielding. Which means he hasn't just been reading, the being realized. Someone has to have trained him. "Impressive. Not many can withstand my gaze. So, I must ask, who was your teacher?" The Onu-matoran never broke eye contact. "No one. I taught myself. It was useful when dealing with Vahki." "Yes, I suppose it was." The tall being removed his hand and took a few steps back, examining his captive again, searching for a weak spot. "And yet, those same Vahki managed to find you, and bring you to me. It seems you must not know everything." "I know enough to stop you." Telet smiled grimly. He could feel the pain wracking his chest now, and he choked on something. Spitting it out, a bit of blood ran down his lip. "What's the matter?" the being asked, hastening to examine his face. Telet fought against the urge to cough up more blood. "I'm not stupid. I knew if you didn't get what you wanted from my mind, you'd torture me. And I'd cave. If what the tablets said was accurate, people stronger than me have caved." Involuntarily, he gagged again. "Your Vahki-scraps weren't quick enough when they searched me." The being's face was full of suspicion now. "What have you done, matoran?" Roughly, he yanked the matoran to his feet, snapping the chains with his telekinesis. Telet merely smiled. The pain was gone now, replaced by a numbness. He knew that meant he only had a few seconds. "You... will never... win. Others... Others will find out... what I found. You can't win... You won't." Even as he grasped the knowledge that the matoran had poisoned himself, the being smiled. "Fool. I already have." He dropped the Onu-matoran to the floor carelessly, then turned to a Vahki who stood awaiting orders. "Summon the Toa. I have a few issues to discuss." Gyet, Telet willed his thoughts to reach his closest friend, he knows. They're coming. They're... looking... The tall one glanced back at the matoran as the Vahki exited the chamber. His heartlight was dark. "A noble, but pointless death." He kicked the corpse across the room. No matoran would keep that knowledge to himself, he mused. He had accomplices. And in that lies their weakness - matoran always crack when you threaten one of their own. He looked proudly at the polished silver walls which reflected his own gleaming form: ebony and gold armor buffed to a mirror-like sheen, huge wings that seemed like they belonged on a colorful rahi, and his ancient kanohi. I truly look like the Great Spirit. I am the Great Spirit, after all.Review
  6. Talking to Janus about how 2005 was one of the best things ever and I wrote this on the spot trying to explain. He said to turn it into a story but I think this is as effective as it's going to get for me. This one's for you, Rob.So let me tell you something about the Turaga.Way back in Metru Nui,they were Toa.Toa who became monsters.After all they had facedthey came back to their cityand now it's infested.That was the Toa realizing that sometimes,they can't protect what they love.Fighting a losing battleagainst everyone and everything.They saw their city reduced to cobwebs.They saw their own kind betray them in primal madnessand they can't forget that.So they step back into their cityunrecognizable,irreconcilable.The streets are empty save for the clatter of Visorak crawling back to their webs.Something's out there in the shadows but they don't care.Vakama visits the forge where he once worked as a Matoranand finds, perhapsthe shell of a Vahkistrangled by a withering vine that trails off into the furnace,and he remembers all that the city had faced and wonand how much they lost.But all he can see now are these websall leading straight back to the Coliseum.Wrapped around the statue of his hero, the great Lhikan.Defacing the Great Temple where they were transformedinto the Toa Metru, defenders of their city.They who were once hunted and imprisoned by their own leader.And now there's nothing they can do to save their city.There's no coming back home.There will only be the bitter taste of victory,followed by a short farewell,then they will turn their backs to the cityand condemn it to entropy.And this!They win the battle!Their true forms are restored!Their friends are saved!As they head out to board the boat,Whenua glimpses the entrance to the Archives.He imagines the terrifying beasts once caged belowand he wonders what is happening to them now;mutant behemoths screaming in the dark.But there's nothing therejust an open entranceand a silence.So they board the boatand push offnone of them look back as they try not to thinkabout what once happenedabout their fellow Matoranwho will remember nothing of the glory of Metru-Nuiand so they live out their liveson the tropical paradise of Mata-Nuisuppressing these memories.Ignoring the instinct to share old jokes with their brothers and sisters.Because none of them remember,none but these six.And when they hold council,it starts with a look shared from one to the next.Sometimes Matau starts it,sometimes Nuju.But none of them want to say it.Nobody wants to speak the one thought shared by all:"Remember Metru-Nui?" ---
  7. The Turaga's hand hovered over the paper, trepidant and remorseful. For centuries he had watched his city grow into a thriving metropolis full of happy, successful matoran enjoying their lives, but this-- this was not a decision to make lightly. The petition he had written himself, of course. Nobody else would have the audacity to suggest the crimes he was about to make into indisputable law, backed with the military might of the Vahki. But then, none of the decisions he was forced to make were ever easy, and they rarely ended well. He needed to do this one thing right to redeem himself, if not for his own conscience, then for the good of his loyal citizens. Ah, the matoran. Turaga Dume smiled sadly and stepped away from the paper for a moment, still clutching the pen tightly, his hand moving forward with a tremble as his legs pulled him back. He remembered being part of the noble proletariat so many centuries ago, honoured to work with his brothers in the glory of the forges. He remembered enjoying the simple life, the satisfaction of a job well finished and the inexplicable relief at returning home after dark through the streets lined with perfectly wrought lanterns. The city worked, it thrived, and when the time had come, he protected it to the best of his ability with pride as a great toa. His retirement came as he felt his destiny calling him to lead the matoran into an era of ever more magnificent peace and prosperity as a turaga, mentor and friend to those he had come to love. No, of course he hadn't been perfect. How silly it would be to disillusion himself like that. There was always a time when wisdom and valour may fail, and he had seen the darkest of those times. But as the saying goes, faith... ah, what did it matter. No hero can save everyone, right? There were times that he had called in others to defend the city. An island so grand couldn't last forever without drawing the attention of unscrupulous creatures and natural error. Dume suppressed a small chuckle in his throat. He hadn't seen the fight when the Nui Dragon broke loose, but he heard it took a team with three toa of ice to bring it down. The three most valiant of that team he had asked to stay as protectors of the city. A Ta-matoran from the very forges where Dume once worked, and indeed, one whose life he had saved many years ago, was now a Toa of fire, the very embodiment of duty. The second was a toa of water, rational and controlled, one whose face practically glowed with the virtue of destiny. The last was a toa of air whose honour and camaraderie was flawless, the picture of unity. Oh, how they would change. Dume's city, his very legacy he had entrusted to the caring and virtuous hands of the noble toa. Their dedication to the three virtues could not have been more clear. Dume could only watch in horror as the three guardians proved themselves far, far less than heroes. How easily the three virtues could be forgotten. Unity broken through betrayal as the Toa of air gave his brother to the open mouths of Dark Hunters. Duty maligned as cowardice forced the betrayed brother into hiding, leaving the object of his sworn protection to die. Destiny consumed by madness and unflinching murder as a peaceful Toa littered the streets with the corpses of her brothers and sisters. Toa could not be trusted. It was clear that the legends of toa no longer held any merit as they were severed from the virtues that bound them all together. In their place, Dume constructed an army who would obey him if nothing else. His unflinching morals and commitment to the protection of his people would keep them from straying into anarchy. Metru-Nui needed no toa, for toa could corrupt, and toa could certainly kill. The thoughts and memories made Turaga Dume sick. He flicked the pen open and took a decisive step back to his desk, deftly marking the petition and even creasing the page a bit. Toa could not be trusted. This was all he could do to protect the matoran, even if it meant sacrificing six more. A tear pooled in the corner of his eye, but he blinked it back and firmed his stance, tightening his jaw to keep his constitution. Information wanted leading to the capture and arrest of traitors to the glorious city of Metru-Nui. Whenua, the Archivist. Nuju, the Scholar...
  8. But honestly, just telling everyone that Dume was just Teridax in disguise and he wanted the toa captured because MAKUTA ARE EVIL AND THEY DO JUNK LIKE THAT was kind of an awful move. I subscribe to the Janus headcanon as he described it at Cascade, where it's stated that Dume was a corrupt leader who could no longer protect his people through his senility. To that end, I wrote a story.
  9. It's good to be working on an epic once again. This is inspired and loosely based on the british Sci-Fi drama Primeval, but set in the Matoran Universe. Those who have seen Primeval will most likely understand more from this first chapter. For those who haven't seen Primeval, I would recommend it. The story will also be tied in with the Expanded Multiverse, and I will post this in the story submission topic, and have more EM related stuff, when the EM gets going again. In the mean time, enjoy the story. The Rise C&C appreciated, Post away.
  10. This is the review thread for the Bionicle Epic: Dark Forces. I'd love to hear anyone's criticism or reviews on the story as it progresses. This is the first Bionicle Epic I've ever written, so I suppose I'm a newbie, but I have written other FF or stories in the past. So my story is obviously not cannon, it takes place in the alternate universe, blah, blah, blah. I just wanted to see how a story with a team of original Toa, and mostly original Dark Hunters squaring it off would pan out. My writing may be a bit more dark, and heavy on the action/violence than other epics, but that is just how I enjoy writing my stories.As for why they are called the Toa Draconis? You'll have to read the story as it progresses to find out. Also if there are any Inconsistencies in the story, that don't fit in with the Bionicle Universe, please feel free to point them out. I tried to do as much research as I could, and went off my memory of the Bionicle Universe etc. Also you will see guns in the story, I adapted them to fit in better with the Bionicle universe, instead of shooting normal bullets, they are just special Cordak blasters, Cordak pistols etc, etc. This isn't your average Toa team, and their journey won't be like the journey of any Toa before them.Also a note on masks, if I used a Mask power already in existence in the story, for example the Mask of Quick Travel will appear in the story, except the power will be changed, or slightly amplified, the Toa Draconis masks are different than normal Kanohi's, and some of their Mask Powers have been amplified.http://www.bzpower.c...?showtopic=6015 ((The story))
  11. The Ko-Matoran walked across the thick snow; the Matoran had migrated back to Metru-Nui a few days ago. There was lots to be found. The Matoran was sent to see if the buildings on the very north of Ko-Metru were in a good condition. They weren't. As the Matoran was about to go back, he saw something frozen in the ice. It was an orange Kanohi. The Matoran got out his Pickaxe and got the mask out of the ice. It looked a lot like a Vahi. But how could a Vahi get all the way up here? Turaga Vakama had it in his possetion, but how could it get here and get frozen in a two-ton block of ice? He didn't know. All he knew was that it was his destiny to put on the mask. He put it on. Immediately, he vanished. He reappeared again. He saw that he was on a tiny island and that he was orange. He went into time. He decided to go into the future. He vanished and reappeared in a desert. He saw how a new civilization was developing. And then he saw how a shadow of the past engulfed him. He saw Teridax. They fought for what felt like hours. Then, Teridax was defeated. For now, at least. Then, the toa went back to Metru-nui."Ah, back you are", said Turaga Nuju, "what news have you?""The news are this: the buildings are all shattered.""Yes, but you aren't. You are the Toa that we have truly waited for. You are Toa Vahi, the Toa of Time!"
  12. I WILL MAKE THIS CLEAR, I DO NOT IN ANY WAY OWN THIS GAME. I DID NOT PROGRAM IT, I DID NOT CONTRIBUTE IN ANY WAY. THIS GAME WAS MADE BY ANOTHER USER. I have found it still is up, and want to reintroduce it to the site.Now that I explained that, here's the linky http://www.menol.org/menol/index.htmThe walkthroughs are in the archive, and will be reposted ASAP.
  13. A Cold Light Dawns The ancient Turaga gazed out over the crystalline sub-metropolis know as Ko-Metru. The sun rose as it did every day, glittering across the sharp angles of cold obelisks, vibrant colors flowing from the carefully calculated prisms. A bright blue sky hung over the city. The home of the ice-dwellers was surpassed in beauty only by the pristine architecture of Ga-Metru.The Turaga frowned and turned away from the balcony. It was an awe-inspiring sight to be sure, but beneath the flawless exterior, the elder of ice knew that the city was being corrupted. How or why he couldn’t say, but something in the pit of his stomach churned whenever he looked at the skyline of the city of scholars.“Is something wrong, teacher?”The former Toa jolted slightly at the voice and his eyes focused on the figure standing in the doorway. Ah. It was one of his students, come with questions about his lecture that morning no doubt.“No, no.” He sighed with a slight rasp and stepped back into the room. “I’m just contemplating our future.”“Oh! Please don’t let me keep you–” The Matoran held out a thin hand-crafted tablet. “I have this message for you from the leader of Onu-Metru.” He bowed and backed out the door, bumping into a vahki patrolling the hall. The robotic guardian chirped and scanned the nervous matoran’s mask.“Processing criminal record,” it stated coldly. “Record has received one mark.”The elder knew he shouldn’t mistrust the police force of the city, but their empty stares gave him unsettling chills.He frowned and looked down at the tablet resting on his desk. It read as a simple invitation to meet on the Tower of Knowledge in two days’ time, but something told his that he wasn’t the only one with a premonition about the fate of Metru-Nui. -*-*- Two days passed slowly, with classes to teach in the morning and astronomers to philosophize with in the evening. Merchants exchanged their wares in the streets, scholars mused on the lastest of their teachers’ words and prophecies from the stars, and Vahki patrols changed stations like clockwork, faltering only when a less respectable citizen of the city of ice interfered.As the Turaga ascended the last stairwell to the pinnacle of the Tower of Knowledge he could already see that something was wrong. The elder archivist, known city-wide for his punctuality, was nowhere to be seen. A single vahki stood guard by the staircase as usual and regarded him with emotionless blue eyes.“Guard,” the elder rasped. “Where is the other turaga?”The vahki’s eyes flashed dimly as it replied. “There is no other turaga present.”“I can see that, vahki-bones,” the Turaga of ice replied, surprised at the venom in his own voice. He may have harbored a subliminal mistrust for the guardians, but he knew better than to voice a baseless opinion. “Was there another Turaga here?”“Affirmative.”The Leader of Ko-Metru took a step back. However baseless his opinions, the entire situation felt uncanny. “What happened to him?”“He is no longer present.”“Where did he go?” The ancient scholar edged toward the staircase. Somehow he already knew the answer.“He has been terminated.”The Turaga nearly stumbled down the staircase, incredulous at the enforcer’s reply. Although he had suspected it, he couldn’t accept that the guardians of Metru-Nui could do such a thing. “You’re lying!”The vahki didn’t reply as it dropped down to the bottom of the stairwell, cutting off the Turaga’s escape. The elder’s eyes widened as he backed away from the advancing robot. “You- You’re the ones responsible for this? The fall of Metru-Nui in my visions-” He stumbled against the railing. The glowing metropolis spread out far below him like a vast canyon, the white crystalline structures like rows of tombstones. “You’re to blame for the fall of the city!”“Negative,” the automaton chirped as it raised its staff to deliver a lethal blow.“Then who?”The vahki’s reply seemed to echo across the city, reverberating through every cold chill the Turaga had ever experienced, through every dark premonition and vision he dared to believe untrue.“Dume.” -*-*- The sun rises on the horizon as it does every day, glittering across smooth steel and spiraling through crystal prisms, heralding a new day for the scholars of the City of Ice. But today the sun brings an ominous chill to even the most carefree of citizens. Though they may not realize it, the light brings the birth of oppression, the beginning of the fall of Metru Nui. For today the city awakes without a leader. Today the city awakes without a Turaga who cares and visits with the young minds of the generation, as eager to teach them as they are to learn. Today the city awakes to a law and order brought about by pure, emotionless law.Today the city awakes to the cold light of dawn.
  14. I'm planning on rendering a scene from each Metru on blender. Onu-MetruUpdated; Fixed, both links are now diffent pics, thx Eeko. Onu-Metru 2.0 Le-metru Ga-Metru Ta-Metru Po-Metru Ko-Metru C&C are appreciated.
  15. Taipu1

    The Rise

    The Rise Chapter 1 The twin suns set high over the knowledge towers of Ko-metru, sending beams of refracted light scattering across the city, before both fading into patches of cloud. Up in the upper levels of Metru-Nui life continued, as lights along the chute system lit the great city. In the shadows at the feet of the knowledge towers, it was silent and dark. This silence was broken by the footsteps of the odd Matoran making their way to their homes. Then another sound, an unearthly sound sliced through the air. At the same time the windows of a small building lit with flickering blue light. There was a crashing sound from within, and then the flickering light faded. The night became dark and silence fell once more. *** 3 years later Taraka walked down the corridor with his protective Toa Akfen, who was carrying several stone tablets.“Are you saying it destroyed everything?” asked Taraka. “The Fader Bull panics in cramped environments,” Akfen said. “It basically charged about attacking everything. If it’s any consolation, there was more of your stuff left over than mine.” “My stuff is more important though,” Taraka said. “And you only had one thing in there.” “Won’t be easy for me to get a new Toa tool though. Contrary to your various destroyed possessions, I am not very important.” “You’re far to hard on yourself,” Taraka said. “There are far more Toa tools out there than Toa, and you aren’t yet on the bottom rung of the protectoral ladder.” Taraka opened the door to his office. It wasn’t a pretty sight, the desk was over turned, and the shelf was lying across the floor. There were shards of broken tablets everywhere and there was a huge gouge in the drawing board in the wall. “How’d it get in?” asked Taraka. “As a top level archivist, you should know Fader Bulls can teleport.” “Only when they think they’re in danger though.” “Apparently it was under examination elsewhere in the archives, but it woke up and panicked.” “And my office took the brunt of it,” Taraka said vaguely, lifting the shelf and pushing it back up against the wall. He began to pick up the tablets that were still intact, placing them back on the shelf. “Don’t you normally organise those?” asked Akfen. “No point, not without keeping track of which I still have and which are broken, it’ll be a more time consuming job,” Taraka replied. “That’ll be something for me to do for the next month then will it?” Akfen said, rolling his eyes. “Did you have other plans?” asked Taraka. “Perhaps dying heroically to protect you sir, rather than passing away from boredom in your storage room.” “Storage room,” Taraka said, confused. “Sorry, Taraka, I was under the impression that was what you called my office.” “Ha ha, perhaps you should go over to Po-metru and rally the builders with your hilarious stand-up act.” “Won’t be long, I’ll soon get demoted to city comedian.” Akfen joked, but at the same time with a rather bitter tone. Taraka laughed, turning the desk the right way up before placing a tablet upon it. “Show a little support then,” Akfen said sarcastically. “Oh, no. Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you, it was this tablet,” Taraka said smiling. “I wasn’t aware that Rahi anatomy was such a humorous topic,” Akfen said dryly. “Well, we never examined this particular Rahi in great detail,” Taraka said, abandoning the tablets on the floor. He turned his chair the right way up and sat down at the desk, picking up the tablet again and reading through it. “Care to share?” asked Akfen “Remember the so called ‘Lion of Ko-Metru’,” asked Taraka. “The one that terrorised the Ko-Matoran, then was mysteriously gone the day we paid a visit to search for the thing?” “The very same,” said Taraka. “Trust such a pointless tablet to be one that survived. I bet that report that the Kanohi dragon turned up in a Ga-Metru classroom is perfectly fine as well.” “There were twelve witnesses for that…” Akfen said. “Twelve Matoran who had been breathing the fumes at the Great Furnace probably.”Akfen nodded, picking up the two splintered halves of his Toa tool, hooking the office door open with his foot. “Akfen,” Taraka said, raising his voice. Akfen paused and turned around. “Why is it made of wood?” Taraka said scathingly, gesturing at the two halves of a Toa tool in Akfen’s hands. “I was on Stelt, and I was in a fight with this group of trolls,” “Trolls?” ”Well, dim-witted locals. Smelt awful too, they were basically trolls. My tool was broken, but I won the fight still. As repayment the locals I was helping made me a new tool. It wasn’t going to turn it down. After all, it was one of my few successes.” Taraka tutted, and then resumed reading the tablet. *** Akfen sat in his office, examining the Toa tool with a mixture of regret and relief. It had been surprisingly faithful to him, despite being so primitive. He sighed, and threw the halves into a crate by the wall. There was a small stack of tablets on the desk in front of him. He picked up the top one, and stared at it without taking the information in. It wasn’t like it mattered, every bit of work he did somehow went wrong and he ended up being assigned to protect someone who was in less danger. The incident with the Fader Bull had been the most danger Taraka had ever been in, and he’d been a kio away in a separate archive. Truth be told, Akfen’s life was better this way. He had been with Taraka for almost two years now, and in that time he had managed to improve what was left of his reputation to the point that Taraka trusted him with most tasks. The fact that the Matoran Taraka was so much more important to him was bit insulting to his position as a Toa, but at the same time, Taraka was the only person close to a friend Akfen had.As he stared in a trance at the tablet before him, three words stirred something recent in his brain, and he became alert and re-read them.“Lion of Ko-Metru…” he muttered under his breath, before moving his eyes to the top of the tablet to read it through again. *** “It’s back!” gasped Akfen, out of breath as he burst into Taraka’s office. “What’s back?” asked Taraka dazed at the sudden interruption. “Wait, why are you bursting into my office without knocking or at least a spoken warning?” “Sorry Taraka,” Akfen said, “But one of the tablets that was left for me to look through in my office-“ “Storage room,” cut in Taraka snidely. “Yes, if you like,” Akfen said hurriedly. “This tablet is about the Lion of Ko-Metru.” “So throw it away,” Taraka said. “That’s a myth that’s long since gone.” “According to this it’s back. And there’s a witness.” “Twelve witnesses for the Ga-Metru Kanohi dragon remember?” Taraka said patronisingly. “This witness has injuries caused by the lion,” Akfen said excitedly. “It was a Ko-Metru scholar too, not a Ta-Matoran with cooked brains.” “Who was this witness?” asked Taraka, now giving the matter some serious attention. “A Matoran, named Nuju.” ***Review Topic
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