Jump to content

Search the Community

Showing results for tags 'mystery'.



More search options

  • Search By Tags

    Type tags separated by commas.
  • Search By Author

Content Type


Forums

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

Calendars

  • Community Calendar
  • BioniLUG Calendar

Blogs

  • blogs_blog_1
  • blogs_blog_2
  • blogs_blog_3
  • blogs_blog_4
  • blogs_blog_5
  • blogs_blog_6
  • What You Want Is Now
  • blogs_blog_8
  • blogs_blog_9
  • blogs_blog_10
  • blogs_blog_11
  • blogs_blog_12
  • blogs_blog_13
  • blogs_blog_14
  • blogs_blog_15
  • blogs_blog_1841
  • blogs_blog_1842
  • blogs_blog_1843
  • blogs_blog_17
  • blogs_blog_18
  • blogs_blog_19
  • blogs_blog_20
  • blogs_blog_21
  • blogs_blog_22
  • blogs_blog_23
  • blogs_blog_529
  • Akano's Blog
  • blogs_blog_25
  • blogs_blog_26
  • blogs_blog_27
  • blogs_blog_28
  • blogs_blog_29
  • Wind's Weblog
  • blogs_blog_553
  • blogs_blog_31
  • blogs_blog_503
  • blogs_blog_32
  • blogs_blog_621
  • blogs_blog_33
  • blogs_blog_34
  • blogs_blog_35
  • blogs_blog_36
  • blogs_blog_37
  • blogs_blog_38
  • blogs_blog_1590
  • blogs_blog_568
  • blogs_blog_39
  • blogs_blog_40
  • blogs_blog_41
  • blogs_blog_42
  • blogs_blog_43
  • blogs_blog_44
  • Star Blogging across the universe
  • blogs_blog_46
  • blogs_blog_47
  • Time Capsule of Teenage Musings
  • blogs_blog_49
  • blogs_blog_576
  • blogs_blog_1407
  • blogs_blog_135
  • blogs_blog_50
  • blogs_blog_1019
  • Mount Coronet
  • blogs_blog_80
  • blogs_blog_51
  • blogs_blog_52
  • blogs_blog_53
  • blogs_blog_54
  • blogs_blog_55
  • blogs_blog_504
  • blogs_blog_515
  • blogs_blog_56
  • blogs_blog_626
  • blogs_blog_57
  • blogs_blog_138
  • blogs_blog_58
  • blogs_blog_59
  • blogs_blog_60
  • why is this blog so wide
  • blogs_blog_62
  • blogs_blog_72
  • J.A.F. Team
  • blogs_blog_64
  • blogs_blog_65
  • blogs_blog_66
  • Bloghaku
  • blogs_blog_68
  • blogs_blog_69
  • blogs_blog_70
  • blogs_blog_71
  • blogs_blog_73
  • blogs_blog_876
  • blogs_blog_74
  • blogs_blog_75
  • blogs_blog_76
  • blogs_blog_518
  • blogs_blog_84
  • blogs_blog_78
  • blogs_blog_79
  • blogs_blog_81
  • blogs_blog_82
  • blogs_blog_83
  • blogs_blog_85
  • blogs_blog_86
  • blogs_blog_1397
  • blogs_blog_96
  • blogs_blog_499
  • blogs_blog_87
  • blogs_blog_88
  • blogs_blog_89
  • blogs_blog_91
  • blogs_blog_92
  • blogs_blog_578
  • blogs_blog_579
  • blogs_blog_93
  • blogs_blog_94
  • blogs_blog_95
  • blogs_blog_97
  • blogs_blog_497
  • blogs_blog_98
  • blogs_blog_113
  • blogs_blog_99
  • blogs_blog_103
  • blogs_blog_100
  • blogs_blog_101
  • blogs_blog_102
  • blogs_blog_104
  • blogs_blog_105
  • blogs_blog_106
  • blogs_blog_107
  • blogs_blog_108
  • blogs_blog_109
  • blogs_blog_545
  • blogs_blog_110
  • blogs_blog_111
  • blogs_blog_112
  • blogs_blog_115
  • blogs_blog_114
  • blogs_blog_116
  • blogs_blog_117
  • blogs_blog_118
  • blogs_blog_119
  • blogs_blog_120
  • blogs_blog_121
  • blogs_blog_122
  • blogs_blog_123
  • blogs_blog_124
  • blogs_blog_125
  • blogs_blog_126
  • stuff
  • blogs_blog_128
  • Blogs Blags Blogs 42
  • blogs_blog_1604
  • blogs_blog_130
  • blogs_blog_131
  • blogs_blog_597
  • blogs_blog_620
  • blogs_blog_132
  • blogs_blog_1445
  • blogs_blog_133
  • blogs_blog_134
  • blogs_blog_136
  • blogs_blog_137
  • blogs_blog_139
  • blogs_blog_140
  • blogs_blog_141
  • blogs_blog_142
  • blogs_blog_143
  • blogs_blog_144
  • blogs_blog_145
  • blogs_blog_146
  • blogs_blog_147
  • blogs_blog_153
  • blogs_blog_148
  • blogs_blog_149
  • blogs_blog_150
  • blogs_blog_617
  • blogs_blog_151
  • blogs_blog_152
  • blogs_blog_154
  • blogs_blog_612
  • blogs_blog_155
  • blogs_blog_156
  • blogs_blog_157
  • blogs_blog_233
  • blogs_blog_158
  • blogs_blog_1585
  • blogs_blog_272
  • blogs_blog_159
  • blogs_blog_160
  • blogs_blog_161
  • blogs_blog_162
  • blogs_blog_163
  • blogs_blog_164
  • blogs_blog_165
  • blogs_blog_166
  • blogs_blog_167
  • blogs_blog_168
  • blogs_blog_169
  • blogs_blog_170
  • blogs_blog_171
  • blogs_blog_172
  • blogs_blog_173
  • blogs_blog_174
  • blogs_blog_175
  • blogs_blog_176
  • blogs_blog_177
  • blogs_blog_178
  • blogs_blog_179
  • blogs_blog_180
  • blogs_blog_181
  • blogs_blog_182
  • blogs_blog_183
  • blogs_blog_184
  • blogs_blog_185
  • blogs_blog_186
  • blogs_blog_1794
  • blogs_blog_188
  • blogs_blog_189
  • blogs_blog_190
  • blogs_blog_389
  • blogs_blog_191
  • blogs_blog_192
  • blogs_blog_193
  • blogs_blog_194
  • blogs_blog_195
  • blogs_blog_196
  • blogs_blog_197
  • blogs_blog_198
  • blogs_blog_199
  • blogs_blog_200
  • blogs_blog_201
  • blogs_blog_202
  • blogs_blog_203
  • blogs_blog_204
  • blogs_blog_205
  • blogs_blog_206
  • blogs_blog_207
  • blogs_blog_208
  • blogs_blog_209
  • blogs_blog_210
  • blogs_blog_211
  • blogs_blog_212
  • blogs_blog_213
  • blogs_blog_214
  • blogs_blog_215
  • blogs_blog_216
  • blogs_blog_217
  • blogs_blog_218
  • blogs_blog_219
  • blogs_blog_220
  • blogs_blog_221
  • blogs_blog_222
  • The Minimalist
  • blogs_blog_1605
  • blogs_blog_224
  • blogs_blog_225
  • blogs_blog_226
  • blogs_blog_227
  • blogs_blog_228
  • blogs_blog_229
  • blogs_blog_230
  • blogs_blog_231
  • blogs_blog_232
  • blogs_blog_234
  • blogs_blog_235
  • blogs_blog_236
  • blogs_blog_237
  • blogs_blog_238
  • blogs_blog_239
  • blogs_blog_240
  • blogs_blog_241
  • blogs_blog_242
  • blogs_blog_243
  • blogs_blog_244
  • blogs_blog_245
  • blogs_blog_246
  • blogs_blog_247
  • blogs_blog_248
  • blogs_blog_249
  • Tales of Arizona Blue
  • blogs_blog_251
  • blogs_blog_252
  • blogs_blog_253
  • blogs_blog_254
  • blogs_blog_255
  • blogs_blog_256
  • blogs_blog_257
  • blogs_blog_258
  • blogs_blog_259
  • blogs_blog_260
  • blogs_blog_261
  • blogs_blog_262
  • Blog. BLOG! BLOOOOOOG!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • blogs_blog_264
  • blogs_blog_265
  • blogs_blog_266
  • blogs_blog_267
  • blogs_blog_268
  • blogs_blog_269
  • blogs_blog_270
  • blogs_blog_271
  • blogs_blog_273
  • blogs_blog_274
  • blogs_blog_878
  • blogs_blog_275
  • blogs_blog_276
  • blogs_blog_277
  • blogs_blog_278
  • blogs_blog_279
  • blogs_blog_280
  • blogs_blog_281
  • blogs_blog_282
  • blogs_blog_283
  • blogs_blog_284
  • blogs_blog_285
  • blogs_blog_286
  • blogs_blog_287
  • blogs_blog_288
  • blogs_blog_637
  • blogs_blog_289
  • blogs_blog_290
  • blogs_blog_291
  • blogs_blog_292
  • blogs_blog_293
  • blogs_blog_325
  • blogs_blog_1844
  • blogs_blog_1464
  • blogs_blog_294
  • blogs_blog_295
  • blogs_blog_296
  • blogs_blog_297
  • blogs_blog_298
  • blogs_blog_299
  • blogs_blog_300
  • blogs_blog_1501
  • blogs_blog_317
  • blogs_blog_302
  • blogs_blog_303
  • blogs_blog_304
  • blogs_blog_305
  • blogs_blog_306
  • blogs_blog_307
  • The Serpent's Den
  • blogs_blog_853
  • blogs_blog_309
  • blogs_blog_310
  • blogs_blog_311
  • blogs_blog_986
  • blogs_blog_611
  • blogs_blog_562
  • blogs_blog_312
  • blogs_blog_313
  • blogs_blog_314
  • blogs_blog_315
  • blogs_blog_319
  • blogs_blog_316
  • blogs_blog_318
  • blogs_blog_320
  • blogs_blog_321
  • blogs_blog_322
  • blogs_blog_323
  • blogs_blog_358
  • blogs_blog_324
  • blogs_blog_326
  • blogs_blog_327
  • blogs_blog_328
  • blogs_blog_329
  • blogs_blog_330
  • blogs_blog_331
  • blogs_blog_332
  • blogs_blog_333
  • blogs_blog_334
  • blogs_blog_335
  • blogs_blog_336
  • blogs_blog_337
  • blogs_blog_613
  • blogs_blog_338
  • blogs_blog_339
  • blogs_blog_340
  • blogs_blog_533
  • blogs_blog_341
  • blogs_blog_342
  • blogs_blog_343
  • blogs_blog_344
  • blogs_blog_345
  • blogs_blog_346
  • blogs_blog_347
  • blogs_blog_348
  • blogs_blog_349
  • blogs_blog_352
  • blogs_blog_351
  • blogs_blog_353
  • blogs_blog_354
  • blogs_blog_355
  • blogs_blog_356
  • blogs_blog_357
  • blogs_blog_359
  • blogs_blog_360
  • Kathisma Library
  • blogs_blog_362
  • blogs_blog_1436
  • blogs_blog_363
  • blogs_blog_364
  • blogs_blog_365
  • blogs_blog_366
  • blogs_blog_367
  • blogs_blog_368
  • blogs_blog_369
  • blogs_blog_370
  • blogs_blog_371
  • blogs_blog_372
  • blogs_blog_373
  • blogs_blog_374
  • blogs_blog_375
  • blogs_blog_376
  • blogs_blog_377
  • blogs_blog_378
  • blogs_blog_379
  • blogs_blog_380
  • blogs_blog_381
  • blogs_blog_382
  • blogs_blog_384
  • blogs_blog_385
  • blogs_blog_386
  • blogs_blog_387
  • blogs_blog_388
  • blogs_blog_390
  • blogs_blog_391
  • blogs_blog_651
  • blogs_blog_392
  • blogs_blog_393
  • blogs_blog_394
  • blogs_blog_395
  • blogs_blog_396
  • blogs_blog_397
  • blogs_blog_398
  • blogs_blog_399
  • blogs_blog_400
  • blogs_blog_401
  • blogs_blog_402
  • blogs_blog_403
  • blogs_blog_412
  • blogs_blog_404
  • blogs_blog_405
  • blogs_blog_406
  • blogs_blog_407
  • blogs_blog_408
  • blogs_blog_950
  • blogs_blog_409
  • blogs_blog_410
  • blogs_blog_411
  • blogs_blog_413
  • blogs_blog_414
  • blogs_blog_415
  • blogs_blog_416
  • blogs_blog_417
  • blogs_blog_418
  • blogs_blog_419
  • blogs_blog_420
  • blogs_blog_421
  • blogs_blog_422
  • blogs_blog_423
  • blogs_blog_424
  • blogs_blog_425
  • blogs_blog_426
  • blogs_blog_427
  • blogs_blog_428
  • blogs_blog_429
  • blogs_blog_662
  • blogs_blog_430
  • blogs_blog_431
  • blogs_blog_432
  • blogs_blog_433
  • blogs_blog_434
  • blogs_blog_472
  • blogs_blog_435
  • blogs_blog_436
  • blogs_blog_437
  • blogs_blog_438
  • blogs_blog_439
  • blogs_blog_440
  • Disty's old surgery
  • blogs_blog_442
  • blogs_blog_443
  • blogs_blog_565
  • blogs_blog_556
  • Moon in the Water
  • blogs_blog_629
  • blogs_blog_444
  • blogs_blog_445
  • blogs_blog_446
  • blogs_blog_447
  • V1P2's Blog
  • blogs_blog_449
  • blogs_blog_450
  • blogs_blog_451
  • blogs_blog_452
  • blogs_blog_453
  • blogs_blog_580
  • blogs_blog_454
  • blogs_blog_455
  • blogs_blog_456
  • blogs_blog_457
  • blogs_blog_458
  • blogs_blog_459
  • blogs_blog_460
  • blogs_blog_461
  • blogs_blog_462
  • blogs_blog_463
  • blogs_blog_464
  • blogs_blog_465
  • blogs_blog_466
  • blogs_blog_467
  • blogs_blog_468
  • blogs_blog_469
  • blogs_blog_470
  • blogs_blog_471
  • blogs_blog_473
  • blogs_blog_474
  • blogs_blog_475
  • blogs_blog_476
  • blogs_blog_477
  • blogs_blog_478
  • blogs_blog_479
  • blogs_blog_480
  • blogs_blog_1105
  • blogs_blog_1013
  • blogs_blog_481
  • blogs_blog_482
  • blogs_blog_483
  • blogs_blog_484
  • blogs_blog_486
  • blogs_blog_485
  • blogs_blog_487
  • blogs_blog_488
  • blogs_blog_489
  • blogs_blog_490
  • blogs_blog_491
  • blogs_blog_1032
  • blogs_blog_492
  • blogs_blog_493
  • blogs_blog_494
  • blogs_blog_495
  • blogs_blog_496
  • blogs_blog_498
  • blogs_blog_501
  • blogs_blog_500
  • I'm Me
  • blogs_blog_1888
  • blogs_blog_505
  • blogs_blog_506
  • blogs_blog_507
  • blogs_blog_508
  • blogs_blog_509
  • blogs_blog_510
  • blogs_blog_514
  • blogs_blog_511
  • blogs_blog_512
  • blogs_blog_513
  • blogs_blog_516
  • blogs_blog_517
  • blogs_blog_558
  • blogs_blog_520
  • blogs_blog_522
  • blogs_blog_521
  • blogs_blog_523
  • blogs_blog_524
  • blogs_blog_525
  • blogs_blog_526
  • garbage water alien chill sesh
  • blogs_blog_528
  • Blogarithm
  • blogs_blog_531
  • blogs_blog_532
  • blogs_blog_606
  • The Blog Below
  • blogs_blog_535
  • blogs_blog_536
  • blogs_blog_537
  • blogs_blog_538
  • blogs_blog_539
  • blogs_blog_540
  • blogs_blog_541
  • blogs_blog_559
  • blogs_blog_542
  • blogs_blog_543
  • blogs_blog_544
  • blogs_blog_546
  • blogs_blog_547
  • blogs_blog_548
  • blogs_blog_552
  • blogs_blog_549
  • blogs_blog_551
  • blogs_blog_550
  • blogs_blog_554
  • blogs_blog_555
  • blogs_blog_560
  • blogs_blog_561
  • blogs_blog_563
  • blogs_blog_564
  • blogs_blog_566
  • blogs_blog_567
  • blogs_blog_569
  • blogs_blog_570
  • blogs_blog_571
  • blogs_blog_572
  • blogs_blog_573
  • blogs_blog_574
  • blogs_blog_575
  • blogs_blog_577
  • SeiclonatorZ (the blog about nothing)
  • blogs_blog_581
  • blogs_blog_1036
  • blogs_blog_1023
  • blogs_blog_582
  • blogs_blog_583
  • blogs_blog_590
  • blogs_blog_584
  • blogs_blog_585
  • blogs_blog_586
  • blogs_blog_587
  • blogs_blog_588
  • the transgender adventure
  • blogs_blog_592
  • blogs_blog_593
  • blogs_blog_596
  • blogs_blog_862
  • blogs_blog_594
  • blogs_blog_595
  • blogs_blog_598
  • blogs_blog_603
  • blogs_blog_599
  • blogs_blog_600
  • blogs_blog_601
  • blogs_blog_602
  • blogs_blog_875
  • blogs_blog_604
  • blogs_blog_605
  • blogs_blog_607
  • blogs_blog_608
  • blogs_blog_609
  • blogs_blog_610
  • blogs_blog_614
  • blogs_blog_615
  • blogs_blog_616
  • blogs_blog_630
  • blogs_blog_618
  • blogs_blog_619
  • blogs_blog_622
  • blogs_blog_623
  • city burials
  • blogs_blog_1435
  • blogs_blog_1058
  • blogs_blog_625
  • blogs_blog_627
  • blogs_blog_1793
  • blogs_blog_631
  • blogs_blog_632
  • blogs_blog_635
  • blogs_blog_636
  • blogs_blog_638
  • The Observatory
  • blogs_blog_1391
  • blogs_blog_640
  • blogs_blog_641
  • The Phylog 3.0
  • blogs_blog_643
  • blogs_blog_644
  • blogs_blog_645
  • blogs_blog_646
  • blogs_blog_647
  • blogs_blog_648
  • blogs_blog_649
  • blogs_blog_650
  • blogs_blog_652
  • blogs_blog_653
  • blogs_blog_654
  • blogs_blog_655
  • blogs_blog_1207
  • blogs_blog_656
  • blogs_blog_657
  • blogs_blog_658
  • blogs_blog_659
  • blogs_blog_660
  • blogs_blog_661
  • blogs_blog_663
  • blogs_blog_664
  • blogs_blog_665
  • blogs_blog_666
  • blogs_blog_667
  • blogs_blog_668
  • blogs_blog_669
  • blogs_blog_670
  • blogs_blog_671
  • blogs_blog_672
  • blogs_blog_673
  • blogs_blog_674
  • blogs_blog_675
  • blogs_blog_676
  • blogs_blog_677
  • blogs_blog_678
  • blogs_blog_679
  • blogs_blog_680
  • blogs_blog_681
  • blogs_blog_682
  • blogs_blog_683
  • blogs_blog_684
  • blogs_blog_685
  • blogs_blog_700
  • blogs_blog_686
  • blogs_blog_687
  • blogs_blog_688
  • blogs_blog_689
  • blogs_blog_690
  • blogs_blog_691
  • blogs_blog_692
  • blogs_blog_693
  • blogs_blog_694
  • blogs_blog_695
  • blogs_blog_696
  • blogs_blog_697
  • blogs_blog_698
  • blogs_blog_699
  • blogs_blog_701
  • blogs_blog_702
  • blogs_blog_703
  • blogs_blog_704
  • blogs_blog_705
  • blogs_blog_706
  • blogs_blog_707
  • blogs_blog_708
  • blogs_blog_709
  • blogs_blog_710
  • blogs_blog_711
  • blogs_blog_712
  • blogs_blog_713
  • blogs_blog_714
  • blogs_blog_715
  • blogs_blog_716
  • blogs_blog_717
  • blogs_blog_718
  • blogs_blog_719
  • blogs_blog_720
  • blogs_blog_721
  • blogs_blog_734
  • blogs_blog_722
  • blogs_blog_723
  • blogs_blog_724
  • blogs_blog_725
  • blogs_blog_726
  • blogs_blog_727
  • blogs_blog_728
  • blogs_blog_729
  • blogs_blog_730
  • blogs_blog_731
  • in a hole in the ground, there lived a blog
  • blogs_blog_733
  • blogs_blog_735
  • blogs_blog_736
  • blogs_blog_737
  • blogs_blog_738
  • blogs_blog_739
  • blogs_blog_740
  • blogs_blog_741
  • blogs_blog_742
  • blogs_blog_743
  • blogs_blog_744
  • blogs_blog_745
  • blogs_blog_746
  • blogs_blog_747
  • blogs_blog_748
  • blogs_blog_749
  • blogs_blog_1182
  • blogs_blog_750
  • blogs_blog_751
  • blogs_blog_752
  • blogs_blog_753
  • blogs_blog_754
  • blogs_blog_755
  • blogs_blog_756
  • blogs_blog_757
  • blogs_blog_758
  • blogs_blog_759
  • blogs_blog_760
  • blogs_blog_761
  • blogs_blog_762
  • blogs_blog_763
  • blogs_blog_764
  • blogs_blog_1532
  • blogs_blog_765
  • blogs_blog_766
  • blogs_blog_767
  • blogs_blog_768
  • blogs_blog_841
  • blogs_blog_769
  • blogs_blog_770
  • blogs_blog_771
  • blogs_blog_772
  • blogs_blog_773
  • blogs_blog_774
  • blogs_blog_775
  • blogs_blog_921
  • blogs_blog_776
  • blogs_blog_777
  • blogs_blog_778
  • blogs_blog_779
  • blogs_blog_780
  • blogs_blog_781
  • blogs_blog_782
  • blogs_blog_1592
  • blogs_blog_1284
  • blogs_blog_783
  • blogs_blog_784
  • blogs_blog_785
  • blogs_blog_786
  • blogs_blog_787
  • blogs_blog_1485
  • blogs_blog_788
  • blogs_blog_789
  • blogs_blog_790
  • blogs_blog_791
  • blogs_blog_792
  • blogs_blog_793
  • blogs_blog_794
  • blogs_blog_795
  • blogs_blog_796
  • blogs_blog_797
  • blogs_blog_798
  • blogs_blog_799
  • blogs_blog_800
  • blogs_blog_1682
  • blogs_blog_801
  • blogs_blog_802
  • blogs_blog_803
  • blogs_blog_804
  • blogs_blog_805
  • blogs_blog_806
  • blogs_blog_807
  • blogs_blog_808
  • blogs_blog_809
  • blogs_blog_810
  • blogs_blog_811
  • blogs_blog_812
  • blogs_blog_813
  • blogs_blog_814
  • blogs_blog_815
  • blogs_blog_816
  • blogs_blog_817
  • blogs_blog_851
  • blogs_blog_818
  • blogs_blog_819
  • blogs_blog_820
  • blogs_blog_821
  • blogs_blog_822
  • blogs_blog_823
  • blogs_blog_824
  • blogs_blog_825
  • blogs_blog_826
  • blogs_blog_827
  • blogs_blog_828
  • blogs_blog_829
  • blogs_blog_830
  • blogs_blog_831
  • blogs_blog_832
  • blogs_blog_833
  • blogs_blog_834
  • blogs_blog_835
  • blogs_blog_836
  • blogs_blog_837
  • blogs_blog_838
  • blogs_blog_839
  • blogs_blog_840
  • blogs_blog_842
  • blogs_blog_843
  • blogs_blog_844
  • blogs_blog_845
  • blogs_blog_1559
  • blogs_blog_846
  • blogs_blog_847
  • blogs_blog_848
  • blogs_blog_849
  • blogs_blog_850
  • blogs_blog_852
  • blogs_blog_863
  • blogs_blog_854
  • blogs_blog_855
  • blogs_blog_856
  • blogs_blog_857
  • blogs_blog_1713
  • blogs_blog_858
  • blogs_blog_859
  • blogs_blog_860
  • blogs_blog_861
  • blogs_blog_864
  • blogs_blog_865
  • blogs_blog_866
  • blogs_blog_867
  • blogs_blog_868
  • blogs_blog_869
  • blogs_blog_870
  • blogs_blog_886
  • blogs_blog_871
  • blogs_blog_1408
  • blogs_blog_874
  • blogs_blog_872
  • blogs_blog_873
  • blogs_blog_877
  • blogs_blog_879
  • blogs_blog_880
  • blogs_blog_881
  • blogs_blog_882
  • blogs_blog_883
  • blogs_blog_884
  • blogs_blog_885
  • blogs_blog_887
  • blogs_blog_888
  • blogs_blog_889
  • blogs_blog_890
  • blogs_blog_891
  • blogs_blog_892
  • blogs_blog_893
  • blogs_blog_894
  • blogs_blog_895
  • blogs_blog_896
  • blogs_blog_897
  • blogs_blog_898
  • blogs_blog_899
  • blogs_blog_900
  • blogs_blog_901
  • blogs_blog_902
  • blogs_blog_903
  • blogs_blog_904
  • blogs_blog_905
  • blogs_blog_906
  • blogs_blog_907
  • blogs_blog_908
  • blogs_blog_909
  • blogs_blog_910
  • blogs_blog_911
  • blogs_blog_912
  • blogs_blog_913
  • blogs_blog_914
  • blogs_blog_915
  • blogs_blog_916
  • blogs_blog_917
  • blogs_blog_918
  • blogs_blog_919
  • blogs_blog_920
  • blogs_blog_922
  • blogs_blog_923
  • blogs_blog_924
  • blogs_blog_925
  • blogs_blog_926
  • blogs_blog_927
  • blogs_blog_928
  • blogs_blog_929
  • blogs_blog_930
  • blogs_blog_931
  • blogs_blog_932
  • blogs_blog_933
  • blogs_blog_934
  • blogs_blog_935
  • blogs_blog_936
  • blogs_blog_937
  • blogs_blog_938
  • blogs_blog_939
  • blogs_blog_940
  • blogs_blog_941
  • blogs_blog_942
  • blogs_blog_943
  • blogs_blog_944
  • blogs_blog_945
  • blogs_blog_946
  • blogs_blog_947
  • blogs_blog_948
  • blogs_blog_949
  • blogs_blog_966
  • blogs_blog_951
  • blogs_blog_952
  • blogs_blog_953
  • blogs_blog_954
  • blogs_blog_955
  • blogs_blog_956
  • blogs_blog_957
  • blogs_blog_958
  • blogs_blog_959
  • blogs_blog_960
  • blogs_blog_961
  • blogs_blog_962
  • blogs_blog_963
  • blogs_blog_964
  • blogs_blog_965
  • blogs_blog_967
  • blogs_blog_968
  • blogs_blog_969
  • blogs_blog_970
  • blogs_blog_971
  • blogs_blog_972
  • blogs_blog_973
  • blogs_blog_974
  • blogs_blog_975
  • blogs_blog_976
  • blogs_blog_977
  • blogs_blog_978
  • blogs_blog_979
  • blogs_blog_980
  • blogs_blog_981
  • blogs_blog_982
  • blogs_blog_983
  • blogs_blog_984
  • blogs_blog_985
  • blogs_blog_987
  • blogs_blog_988
  • blogs_blog_989
  • blogs_blog_990
  • blogs_blog_991
  • blogs_blog_992
  • blogs_blog_993
  • blogs_blog_994
  • blogs_blog_995
  • blogs_blog_996
  • Dr. Gerlicky's Miracle Diet
  • blogs_blog_998
  • blogs_blog_999
  • blogs_blog_1000
  • blogs_blog_1001
  • blogs_blog_1002
  • blogs_blog_1003
  • blogs_blog_1004
  • blogs_blog_1005
  • blogs_blog_1560
  • blogs_blog_1006
  • blogs_blog_1007
  • blogs_blog_1008
  • blogs_blog_1009
  • blogs_blog_1010
  • blogs_blog_1011
  • blogs_blog_1012
  • blogs_blog_1016
  • blogs_blog_1014
  • blogs_blog_1015
  • blogs_blog_1022
  • blogs_blog_1017
  • blogs_blog_1390
  • blogs_blog_1020
  • blogs_blog_1018
  • blogs_blog_1021
  • blogs_blog_1024
  • blogs_blog_1025
  • blogs_blog_1026
  • blogs_blog_1027
  • blogs_blog_1028
  • blogs_blog_1029
  • blogs_blog_1030
  • blogs_blog_1031
  • blogs_blog_1033
  • blogs_blog_1034
  • blogs_blog_1035
  • blogs_blog_1039
  • blogs_blog_1037
  • blogs_blog_1038
  • blogs_blog_1040
  • blogs_blog_1041
  • blogs_blog_1042
  • blogs_blog_1043
  • blogs_blog_1044
  • blogs_blog_1045
  • blogs_blog_1418
  • blogs_blog_1046
  • You're attacked by a Repair Nektann
  • blogs_blog_1048
  • blogs_blog_1845
  • blogs_blog_1846
  • blogs_blog_1050
  • blogs_blog_1051
  • blogs_blog_1052
  • blogs_blog_1053
  • blogs_blog_1054
  • blogs_blog_1055
  • blogs_blog_1056
  • blogs_blog_1057
  • blogs_blog_1059
  • blogs_blog_1060
  • blogs_blog_1061
  • blogs_blog_1063
  • blogs_blog_1062
  • blogs_blog_1064
  • blogs_blog_1065
  • blogs_blog_1066
  • The Fikou Web
  • blogs_blog_1068
  • blogs_blog_1069
  • blogs_blog_1099
  • blogs_blog_1070
  • blogs_blog_1071
  • blogs_blog_1072
  • blogs_blog_1075
  • blogs_blog_1073
  • blogs_blog_1074
  • blogs_blog_1079
  • blogs_blog_1089
  • blogs_blog_1078
  • blogs_blog_1076
  • blogs_blog_1077
  • blogs_blog_1080
  • blogs_blog_1081
  • blogs_blog_1084
  • blogs_blog_1082
  • blogs_blog_1083
  • blogs_blog_1085
  • blogs_blog_1086
  • blogs_blog_1087
  • blogs_blog_1088
  • blogs_blog_1090
  • blogs_blog_1091
  • blogs_blog_1686
  • blogs_blog_1681
  • blogs_blog_1092
  • blogs_blog_1356
  • blogs_blog_1093
  • blogs_blog_1094
  • blogs_blog_1362
  • Icecrown Citadel
  • blogs_blog_1096
  • Obligatory Volcano Lair
  • blogs_blog_1098
  • blogs_blog_1100
  • blogs_blog_1298
  • blogs_blog_1101
  • blogs_blog_1102
  • blogs_blog_1103
  • blogs_blog_1104
  • blogs_blog_1106
  • blogs_blog_1107
  • blogs_blog_1108
  • blogs_blog_1109
  • blogs_blog_1110
  • blogs_blog_1111
  • blogs_blog_1112
  • blogs_blog_1113
  • blogs_blog_1114
  • blogs_blog_1115
  • blogs_blog_1116
  • blogs_blog_1117
  • blogs_blog_1118
  • blogs_blog_1119
  • blogs_blog_1120
  • A Nerd's Corner
  • blogs_blog_1122
  • blogs_blog_1123
  • blogs_blog_1124
  • blogs_blog_1125
  • blogs_blog_1126
  • blogs_blog_1127
  • blogs_blog_1128
  • blogs_blog_1129
  • blogs_blog_1130
  • blogs_blog_1132
  • blogs_blog_1131
  • blogs_blog_1133
  • blogs_blog_1134
  • blogs_blog_1135
  • blogs_blog_1136
  • blogs_blog_1137
  • blogs_blog_1138
  • blogs_blog_1139
  • blogs_blog_1140
  • blogs_blog_1388
  • blogs_blog_1695
  • blogs_blog_1141
  • blogs_blog_1142
  • blogs_blog_1143
  • blogs_blog_1144
  • blogs_blog_1145
  • blogs_blog_1146
  • Zahaki's Lair
  • blogs_blog_1148
  • blogs_blog_1149
  • blogs_blog_1150
  • blogs_blog_1151
  • blogs_blog_1152
  • blogs_blog_1212
  • blogs_blog_1153
  • blogs_blog_1154
  • blogs_blog_1155
  • blogs_blog_1156
  • blogs_blog_1642
  • blogs_blog_1285
  • blogs_blog_1157
  • blogs_blog_1158
  • blogs_blog_1194
  • blogs_blog_1159
  • blogs_blog_1160
  • blogs_blog_1161
  • blogs_blog_1162
  • blogs_blog_1163
  • blogs_blog_1164
  • oh god blog titles
  • blogs_blog_1165
  • blogs_blog_1166
  • blogs_blog_1167
  • blogs_blog_1168
  • blogs_blog_1169
  • blogs_blog_1170
  • blogs_blog_1171
  • blogs_blog_1172
  • blogs_blog_1174
  • blogs_blog_1175
  • blogs_blog_1176
  • blogs_blog_1177
  • blogs_blog_1178
  • blogs_blog_1179
  • blogs_blog_1180
  • Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum
  • blogs_blog_1183
  • blogs_blog_1184
  • blogs_blog_1185
  • blogs_blog_1186
  • blogs_blog_1187
  • blogs_blog_1188
  • blogs_blog_1189
  • blogs_blog_1190
  • blogs_blog_1191
  • blogs_blog_1192
  • blogs_blog_1193
  • blogs_blog_1195
  • blogs_blog_1196
  • blogs_blog_1197
  • blogs_blog_1198
  • blogs_blog_1199
  • blogs_blog_1200
  • blogs_blog_1201
  • blogs_blog_1202
  • blogs_blog_1203
  • blogs_blog_1317
  • blogs_blog_1204
  • blogs_blog_1205
  • blogs_blog_1206
  • Keratu's Blog
  • blogs_blog_1209
  • blogs_blog_1210
  • blogs_blog_1211
  • blogs_blog_1213
  • blogs_blog_1214
  • blogs_blog_1215
  • blogs_blog_1216
  • blogs_blog_1217
  • blogs_blog_1218
  • blogs_blog_1219
  • blogs_blog_1220
  • blogs_blog_1221
  • blogs_blog_1222
  • blogs_blog_1223
  • blogs_blog_1224
  • blogs_blog_1225
  • blogs_blog_1226
  • blogs_blog_1227
  • blogs_blog_1228
  • blogs_blog_1229
  • blogs_blog_1230
  • blogs_blog_1231
  • blogs_blog_1232
  • blogs_blog_1345
  • blogs_blog_1307
  • blogs_blog_1233
  • blogs_blog_1234
  • blogs_blog_1238
  • blogs_blog_1235
  • blogs_blog_1236
  • blogs_blog_1237
  • blogs_blog_1474
  • blogs_blog_1239
  • blogs_blog_1240
  • blogs_blog_1305
  • blogs_blog_1241
  • blogs_blog_1242
  • blogs_blog_1364
  • blogs_blog_1243
  • blogs_blog_1244
  • blogs_blog_1245
  • blogs_blog_1246
  • blogs_blog_1247
  • blogs_blog_1250
  • blogs_blog_1248
  • blogs_blog_1249
  • blogs_blog_1254
  • blogs_blog_1251
  • blogs_blog_1252
  • blogs_blog_1253
  • blogs_blog_1255
  • blogs_blog_1256
  • blogs_blog_1257
  • blogs_blog_1258
  • blogs_blog_1259
  • blogs_blog_1613
  • blogs_blog_1260
  • blogs_blog_1300
  • blogs_blog_1261
  • blogs_blog_1262
  • blogs_blog_1263
  • blogs_blog_1264
  • blogs_blog_1265
  • blogs_blog_1266
  • blogs_blog_1267
  • blogs_blog_1268
  • blogs_blog_1269
  • blogs_blog_1270
  • blogs_blog_1271
  • blogs_blog_1272
  • blogs_blog_1273
  • blogs_blog_1274
  • blogs_blog_1275
  • blogs_blog_1276
  • blogs_blog_1351
  • blogs_blog_1277
  • blogs_blog_1278
  • blogs_blog_1279
  • blogs_blog_1280
  • blogs_blog_1281
  • blogs_blog_1282
  • blogs_blog_1283
  • blogs_blog_1308
  • blogs_blog_1286
  • ArtBLOGed
  • blogs_blog_1288
  • blogs_blog_1289
  • blogs_blog_1290
  • blogs_blog_1291
  • blogs_blog_1297
  • blogs_blog_1292
  • blogs_blog_1293
  • blogs_blog_1294
  • blogs_blog_1368
  • blogs_blog_1295
  • blogs_blog_1628
  • blogs_blog_1296
  • blogs_blog_1299
  • blogs_blog_1301
  • blogs_blog_1302
  • blogs_blog_1303
  • blogs_blog_1304
  • blogs_blog_1306
  • blogs_blog_1309
  • blogs_blog_1310
  • blogs_blog_1311
  • blogs_blog_1312
  • blogs_blog_1422
  • blogs_blog_1313
  • blogs_blog_1314
  • blogs_blog_1315
  • blogs_blog_1316
  • blogs_blog_1318
  • blogs_blog_1319
  • blogs_blog_1320
  • blogs_blog_1321
  • blogs_blog_1322
  • blogs_blog_1323
  • blogs_blog_1324
  • blogs_blog_1325
  • blogs_blog_1326
  • blogs_blog_1327
  • blogs_blog_1328
  • blogs_blog_1329
  • blogs_blog_1330
  • blogs_blog_1331
  • blogs_blog_1384
  • blogs_blog_1332
  • blogs_blog_1333
  • blogs_blog_1334
  • blogs_blog_1335
  • blogs_blog_1336
  • blogs_blog_1337
  • blogs_blog_1353
  • blogs_blog_1338
  • blogs_blog_1339
  • blogs_blog_1340
  • blogs_blog_1341
  • blogs_blog_1355
  • blogs_blog_1342
  • blogs_blog_1343
  • blogs_blog_1344
  • blogs_blog_1348
  • blogs_blog_1346
  • blogs_blog_1347
  • blogs_blog_1349
  • blogs_blog_1350
  • blogs_blog_1352
  • blogs_blog_1354
  • blogs_blog_1358
  • blogs_blog_1357
  • blogs_blog_1359
  • blogs_blog_1360
  • blogs_blog_1361
  • blogs_blog_1363
  • blogs_blog_1365
  • blogs_blog_1367
  • blogs_blog_1366
  • blogs_blog_1369
  • blogs_blog_1370
  • blogs_blog_1371
  • blogs_blog_1374
  • blogs_blog_1372
  • blogs_blog_1373
  • blogs_blog_1375
  • blogs_blog_1376
  • blogs_blog_1377
  • blogs_blog_1378
  • blogs_blog_1379
  • blogs_blog_1380
  • blogs_blog_1381
  • blogs_blog_1386
  • blogs_blog_1382
  • blogs_blog_1383
  • blogs_blog_1385
  • blogs_blog_1387
  • blogs_blog_1389
  • blogs_blog_1392
  • blogs_blog_1393
  • blogs_blog_1394
  • blogs_blog_1395
  • blogs_blog_1396
  • Koth Blog
  • blogs_blog_1399
  • blogs_blog_1400
  • blogs_blog_1404
  • blogs_blog_1401
  • blogs_blog_1402
  • blogs_blog_1403
  • blogs_blog_1405
  • blogs_blog_1406
  • blogs_blog_1413
  • blogs_blog_1409
  • blogs_blog_1410
  • blogs_blog_1411
  • blogs_blog_1412
  • blogs_blog_1414
  • blogs_blog_1415
  • blogs_blog_1416
  • blogs_blog_1417
  • blogs_blog_1419
  • blogs_blog_1420
  • The Lair 1421
  • blogs_blog_1423
  • blogs_blog_1424
  • blogs_blog_1425
  • blogs_blog_1428
  • blogs_blog_1426
  • blogs_blog_1427
  • blogs_blog_1429
  • blogs_blog_1430
  • blogs_blog_1442
  • Mishaps and Bubblewrap
  • blogs_blog_1432
  • blogs_blog_1433
  • blogs_blog_1434
  • blogs_blog_1437
  • blogs_blog_1438
  • blogs_blog_1510
  • blogs_blog_1439
  • blogs_blog_1440
  • blogs_blog_1905
  • blogs_blog_1718
  • blogs_blog_1441
  • blogs_blog_1443
  • blogs_blog_1446
  • blogs_blog_1447
  • blogs_blog_1448
  • blogs_blog_1449
  • blogs_blog_1450
  • blogs_blog_1451
  • blogs_blog_1452
  • blogs_blog_1453
  • blogs_blog_1454
  • blogs_blog_1455
  • blogs_blog_1456
  • blogs_blog_1457
  • blogs_blog_1458
  • blogs_blog_1459
  • blogs_blog_1460
  • blogs_blog_1461
  • blogs_blog_1462
  • blogs_blog_1463
  • blogs_blog_1612
  • blogs_blog_1465
  • blogs_blog_1466
  • blogs_blog_1467
  • blogs_blog_1468
  • blogs_blog_1619
  • blogs_blog_1469
  • blogs_blog_1470
  • blogs_blog_1471
  • blogs_blog_1472
  • blogs_blog_1473
  • blogs_blog_1475
  • blogs_blog_1476
  • blogs_blog_1477
  • blogs_blog_1478
  • blogs_blog_1479
  • blogs_blog_1480
  • blogs_blog_1481
  • blogs_blog_1482
  • blogs_blog_1483
  • blogs_blog_1484
  • blogs_blog_1486
  • blogs_blog_1487
  • blogs_blog_1488
  • blogs_blog_1489
  • blogs_blog_1490
  • blogs_blog_1491
  • blogs_blog_1492
  • blogs_blog_1493
  • blogs_blog_1496
  • blogs_blog_1494
  • The Blog which may or may not exist.
  • blogs_blog_1670
  • blogs_blog_1497
  • blogs_blog_1903
  • blogs_blog_1498
  • blogs_blog_1499
  • blogs_blog_1500
  • blogs_blog_1502
  • blogs_blog_1503
  • blogs_blog_1504
  • blogs_blog_1505
  • blogs_blog_1506
  • blogs_blog_1507
  • blogs_blog_1508
  • blogs_blog_1509
  • blogs_blog_1511
  • blogs_blog_1512
  • blogs_blog_1513
  • blogs_blog_1514
  • blogs_blog_1515
  • blogs_blog_1516
  • blogs_blog_1517
  • blogs_blog_1518
  • blogs_blog_1519
  • blogs_blog_1815
  • blogs_blog_1520
  • blogs_blog_1521
  • blogs_blog_1522
  • blogs_blog_1523
  • blogs_blog_1524
  • blogs_blog_1525
  • blogs_blog_1526
  • blogs_blog_1527
  • blogs_blog_1528
  • blogs_blog_1529
  • blogs_blog_1530
  • blogs_blog_1531
  • blogs_blog_1533
  • blogs_blog_1534
  • blogs_blog_1535
  • blogs_blog_1536
  • blogs_blog_1537
  • blogs_blog_1538
  • blogs_blog_1539
  • blogs_blog_1540
  • blogs_blog_1546
  • blogs_blog_1541
  • blogs_blog_1542
  • blogs_blog_1543
  • blogs_blog_1544
  • blogs_blog_1553
  • blogs_blog_1545
  • blogs_blog_1547
  • blogs_blog_1548
  • blogs_blog_1549
  • blogs_blog_1550
  • blogs_blog_1551
  • blogs_blog_1552
  • blogs_blog_1554
  • blogs_blog_1555
  • blogs_blog_1556
  • blogs_blog_1557
  • blogs_blog_1558
  • blogs_blog_1570
  • blogs_blog_1563
  • blogs_blog_1561
  • blogs_blog_1562
  • blogs_blog_1564
  • blogs_blog_1565
  • blogs_blog_1566
  • blogs_blog_1567
  • blogs_blog_1568
  • blogs_blog_1569
  • blogs_blog_1571
  • blogs_blog_1572
  • blogs_blog_1573
  • blogs_blog_1581
  • blogs_blog_1574
  • blogs_blog_1575
  • blogs_blog_1576
  • blogs_blog_1582
  • blogs_blog_1577
  • blogs_blog_1578
  • blogs_blog_1583
  • blogs_blog_1580
  • blogs_blog_1579
  • blogs_blog_1586
  • blogs_blog_1584
  • blogs_blog_1587
  • blogs_blog_1588
  • blogs_blog_1589
  • blogs_blog_1591
  • JMSOG's Strange Blog
  • blogs_blog_1596
  • blogs_blog_1594
  • blogs_blog_1595
  • blogs_blog_1864
  • blogs_blog_1597
  • blogs_blog_1598
  • blogs_blog_1599
  • Space
  • blogs_blog_1601
  • blogs_blog_1603
  • blogs_blog_1602
  • A Blog in Oblivion
  • blogs_blog_1606
  • blogs_blog_1607
  • blogs_blog_1634
  • blogs_blog_1608
  • blogs_blog_1708
  • blogs_blog_1609
  • blogs_blog_1610
  • blogs_blog_1611
  • blogs_blog_1614
  • blogs_blog_1881
  • blogs_blog_1615
  • blogs_blog_1662
  • blogs_blog_1616
  • blogs_blog_1617
  • blogs_blog_1618
  • blogs_blog_1620
  • blogs_blog_1621
  • blogs_blog_1622
  • blogs_blog_1623
  • blogs_blog_1624
  • blogs_blog_1625
  • blogs_blog_1626
  • blogs_blog_1627
  • blogs_blog_1630
  • blogs_blog_1631
  • blogs_blog_1632
  • blogs_blog_1633
  • blogs_blog_1635
  • blogs_blog_1636
  • blogs_blog_1637
  • blogs_blog_1638
  • blogs_blog_1639
  • blogs_blog_1640
  • blogs_blog_1641
  • Garreg Mach
  • blogs_blog_1904
  • blogs_blog_1643
  • blogs_blog_1645
  • blogs_blog_1646
  • blogs_blog_1651
  • blogs_blog_1647
  • blogs_blog_1648
  • blogs_blog_1649
  • Unspoken Words
  • blogs_blog_1907
  • blogs_blog_1871
  • blogs_blog_1652
  • blogs_blog_1653
  • blogs_blog_1654
  • blogs_blog_1655
  • blogs_blog_1656
  • blogs_blog_1657
  • blogs_blog_1658
  • blogs_blog_1659
  • The Island
  • blogs_blog_1667
  • blogs_blog_1661
  • blogs_blog_1663
  • blogs_blog_1664
  • blogs_blog_1665
  • blogs_blog_1668
  • blogs_blog_1666
  • blogs_blog_1669
  • blogs_blog_1671
  • blogs_blog_1672
  • blogs_blog_1673
  • blogs_blog_1674
  • blogs_blog_1675
  • blogs_blog_1676
  • blogs_blog_1677
  • blogs_blog_1678
  • blogs_blog_1679
  • blogs_blog_1680
  • blogs_blog_1683
  • blogs_blog_1684
  • blogs_blog_1685
  • blogs_blog_1687
  • blogs_blog_1688
  • blogs_blog_1689
  • blogs_blog_1690
  • blogs_blog_1691
  • blogs_blog_1692
  • Onaku's Blog Thingie
  • blogs_blog_1694
  • blogs_blog_1696
  • blogs_blog_1706
  • Between the Bookends
  • blogs_blog_1698
  • blogs_blog_1699
  • blogs_blog_1700
  • blogs_blog_1701
  • blogs_blog_1702
  • blogs_blog_1866
  • blogs_blog_1703
  • blogs_blog_1704
  • blogs_blog_1705
  • blogs_blog_1707
  • blogs_blog_1709
  • blogs_blog_1710
  • blogs_blog_1711
  • blogs_blog_1712
  • blogs_blog_1714
  • blogs_blog_1715
  • blogs_blog_1716
  • blogs_blog_1717
  • blogs_blog_1720
  • blogs_blog_1719
  • blogs_blog_1721
  • blogs_blog_1722
  • blogs_blog_1725
  • blogs_blog_1726
  • blogs_blog_1727
  • blogs_blog_1728
  • blogs_blog_1729
  • blogs_blog_1730
  • blogs_blog_1731
  • blogs_blog_1732
  • blogs_blog_1733
  • blogs_blog_1734
  • blogs_blog_1735
  • blogs_blog_1736
  • blogs_blog_1737
  • blogs_blog_1738
  • blogs_blog_1739
  • blogs_blog_1740
  • blogs_blog_1768
  • blogs_blog_1741
  • blogs_blog_1742
  • blogs_blog_1743
  • blogs_blog_1744
  • blogs_blog_1749
  • blogs_blog_1745
  • blogs_blog_1746
  • blogs_blog_1747
  • blogs_blog_1748
  • blogs_blog_1750
  • blogs_blog_1751
  • blogs_blog_1752
  • blog ehks
  • blogs_blog_1798
  • blogs_blog_1755
  • blogs_blog_1756
  • blogs_blog_1757
  • blogs_blog_1765
  • blogs_blog_1758
  • blogs_blog_1759
  • blogs_blog_1760
  • blogs_blog_1761
  • blogs_blog_1762
  • blogs_blog_1763
  • blogs_blog_1764
  • blogs_blog_1767
  • blogs_blog_1766
  • blogs_blog_1772
  • blogs_blog_1769
  • blogs_blog_1770
  • blogs_blog_1771
  • blogs_blog_1773
  • blogs_blog_1774
  • blogs_blog_1775
  • blogs_blog_1776
  • blogs_blog_1777
  • Generic Blog Name
  • blogs_blog_1779
  • blogs_blog_1780
  • blogs_blog_1781
  • blogs_blog_1782
  • blogs_blog_1783
  • blogs_blog_1784
  • blogs_blog_1785
  • blogs_blog_1786
  • blogs_blog_1787
  • blogs_blog_1788
  • blogs_blog_1789
  • blogs_blog_1790
  • blogs_blog_1791
  • blogs_blog_1792
  • blogs_blog_1795
  • blogs_blog_1796
  • blogs_blog_1797
  • blogs_blog_1799
  • blogs_blog_1800
  • blogs_blog_1801
  • blogs_blog_1802
  • Blog Name Here
  • blogs_blog_1804
  • blogs_blog_1805
  • blogs_blog_1806
  • blogs_blog_1807
  • blogs_blog_1808
  • blogs_blog_1809
  • blogs_blog_1810
  • blogs_blog_1811
  • blogs_blog_1812
  • blogs_blog_1813
  • blogs_blog_1814
  • blogs_blog_1816
  • blogs_blog_1817
  • blogs_blog_1818
  • blogs_blog_1819
  • blogs_blog_1820
  • blogs_blog_1821
  • blogs_blog_1822
  • blogs_blog_1823
  • blogs_blog_1824
  • blogs_blog_1825
  • blogs_blog_1826
  • blogs_blog_1827
  • blogs_blog_1828
  • blogs_blog_1834
  • blogs_blog_1829
  • blogs_blog_1830
  • blogs_blog_1831
  • Sybre's Log
  • blogs_blog_1833
  • blogs_blog_1859
  • blogs_blog_1835
  • blogs_blog_1836
  • blogs_blog_1837
  • blogs_blog_1838
  • blogs_blog_1839
  • blogs_blog_1847
  • blogs_blog_1840
  • Diary of A Forgotten Man
  • blogs_blog_1849
  • blogs_blog_1850
  • blogs_blog_1851
  • blogs_blog_1852
  • blogs_blog_1870
  • Valendale's Reflections
  • blogs_blog_1854
  • blogs_blog_1855
  • blogs_blog_1856
  • blogs_blog_1857
  • blogs_blog_1858
  • blogs_blog_1860
  • Kranan's Floating Isle
  • blogs_blog_1862
  • blogs_blog_1863
  • blogs_blog_1865
  • blogs_blog_1867
  • Time to put on a show...
  • blogs_blog_1869
  • blogs_blog_1886
  • blogs_blog_1872
  • blogs_blog_1873
  • blogs_blog_1874
  • blogs_blog_1875
  • blogs_blog_1876
  • blogs_blog_1877
  • blogs_blog_1878
  • blogs_blog_1899
  • blogs_blog_1879
  • blogs_blog_1880
  • blogs_blog_1893
  • blogs_blog_1882
  • blogs_blog_1887
  • blogs_blog_1883
  • blogs_blog_1884
  • blogs_blog_1885
  • blogs_blog_1889
  • blogs_blog_1898
  • blogs_blog_1890
  • Inverted Moon
  • blogs_blog_1892
  • blogs_blog_1894
  • blogs_blog_1895
  • blogs_blog_1896
  • blogs_blog_1897
  • blogs_blog_1900
  • blogs_blog_1901
  • Blognle
  • it's summer and we're running out of ice
  • blogs_blog_1908
  • blogs_blog_1909
  • blogs_blog_1910
  • blogs_blog_1911

Product Groups

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

Find results in...

Find results that contain...


Date Created

  • Start

    End


Last Updated

  • Start

    End


Filter by number of...

Joined

  • Start

    End


Group


Twitter


Instagram


Facebook


Discord


YouTube


Flickr


Skype


Website URL


LEGO.com Account


AIM


Location


Interests


Previous Username

Found 18 results

  1. A place to comment and chat about the series "The Halfway". Please let me know your thoughts, as well as any comments, on the series and what could be improved: sentence structure, punctuation, flow of ideas, etc. And please remember to be kind - not everyone will agree with each other, but honesty with gentleness and respect goes a long way. Link to series: http://www.bzpower.com/board/topic/24446-the-halfway-a-bionicle-series/ More info about the series: https://www.patreon.com/hebarlow
  2. "What if everything we thought we knew...was wrong?" Mystery. Betrayal. Survival. A series based on LEGO's Bionicle, "The Halfway" shifts from the original universe composed by Greg Farshtey and C.A. Hapka and takes dramatic turns into unexplored territory. Characters, settings, plots, origins, villains, storyline, and endings have all been altered to fit a new reality- one that strongly parallels our own. With new challenges, mysteries, and developments, all awaits revelation in this dramatic re-telling of the classic Bionicle story. (More information about the series can be found at: https://www.patreon.com/hebarlow) Link to review/discussion: http://www.bzpower.com/board/topic/24447-the-halfway-review/
  3. I found this Roodaka revamp and what puzzled me the most was the head design. Since there are no instructions released or parts identified aside from the obvious ones, I want to know, where did the eyepiece come from?
  4. Hi, guys! I have been wondering about something for a long time since the New York Comic Con 2014, when we witness the return of our beloved Bionicle, and that is this picture: http://biosector01.com/wiki/images/9/9d/CGI_2015_Quest_for_the_Mask.jpg When you look to the top right of the picture, there is a black face with red eyes. It looks like the Witch Doctor from Hero Factory, but it is black. When I look at it, I always wonder whose face is this. My guess is Makuta wearing his Mask of Ultimate Power (which would appear perhaps next year or two), Skull Grinder or Skull Warrior. It seems that mysterious face represents the main villain in this year's storyline. Do you have any guesses?
  5. Link to Epic Hey, y'all! Thanks for taking a look at my first Epic since 2007! (I know, I'm equally shocked). Any comments, criticism, and otherwise thoughts on it will be extremely appreciated! And again, thanks for taking time to read it. Hopefully it's half decent
  6. Zatth

    A Mystery Explored

    A Mystery Explored Chapter 1 Ajura barely twirled her finger, making the water sphere rotate on its axis. She usually did this to unwind after a day of dealing with irascible Matoran, or to clear her mind and focus on a problem at hand. Having to separate a physical altercation between two Ko-Matoran and their slightly different predictions on the star’s alignment counted as both. How simple, yet complex, she mused. A perfect sphere, but with a simple yet small flicker of my wrist, and it becomes an entirely different shape. The ball was now a diamond. From a continuous, smooth surface, to seemingly solid sides. The intricacy… The droplets flew out of her hand violently, splashing against the wall. And there’s someone who isn’t intricate in any way, Ajura thought. “Having fun twisting some droplets around?” asked Orde. “It’s as if you want to go back and spend your days studying the thing. Does controlling water mean nothing to you?” “Oh, it means quite a lot,” Ajura said as she stood up from her chair to face Orde fully. “I can control it, yes. Does that mean I spend my days over a desk trying to study water or Liquid Protodermis from far away? Not anymore. But now that I control it, it affords me so many more opportunities to learn. One door opens up, leading to a thousand corridors.” Orde couldn’t hold his snicker. “I’m sorry… corridors? I didn’t realize you were also into architecture. Here, I’ll call that Po-Matoran Hafu and tell him that you don’t really want to be a Toa anymore, that you want to design houses now.” Ajura’s expression didn’t change. “You really think you’re funny, don’t you?” “It could also be me having subconsciously projecting so many of my famed jokes into your head that now you consider them funny.” Ajura smiled. “Look at that, you might actually have an actual sense of humor after all.” “Yeah, well, humor isn’t gonna do much during our next patrolling session.” “No?” Ajura was bringing the droplets back near her palm. “You might be able to use it to get some Matoran to stop fighting each other.” “Or I could also use the more direct formula.” “Even though violently flinging Matoran against a wall using your telekinesis doesn’t actually fix anything.” “Alright, first, I was talking about that Doom Viper I stunned using that telekinesis, and second, you can’t just shoot all of my ideas down!” “No promises.” Before Orde’s retort, the high-pitched dinging noise that signaled someone entering the Toa Base rang. “Looks like I’ll get to test more of my strategies sooner than I expected,” Orde beamed. Ajura unsheathed her Water Sabre and followed Orde. She wanted to keep close to him in case he decided that the area was too peaceful for his taste. *** If they had to guess, the next block of foundries would be as calm and serene as the last seven had been. Ajura and Orde had been patrolling for about three hours now, and nothing seemed to be amiss in Ta-Metru. Two more blocks and they were off to Le-Metru. “It’s odd, isn’t it?” “What is?” Ajura asked, scanning for any signs of trouble. “You’d think that with this place being so… non-temperature friendly, the Matoran here would be more hot-headed.” “There’s only one hot-headed being here, and it sure isn’t a Matoran.” Orde let the jab at him slide, but he nonetheless stopped walking abruptly. “What is it?” “Ajura, just because I was never a Matoran doesn’t mean you can classify me as a being, or make fun of who I am.” “Orde, it was just teasi-“ “I DON’T LIKE IT!” The outer wall of one of the foundries began to shake violently. “Orde, please calm down!” “JUST BECAUSE I WASN’T A MATORAN DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T FEEL LIKE THEY DO, OR CAN CARE ABOUT THEM.” “ALRIGHT, I GET IT! BUT CALM DOWN OR ELSE YOU’LL BE HURTING OTHER MATORAN!” Orde paused and looked at the wall that was beginning to cave in. He’d let his telekinesis run rampant. He breathed, and used his telekinesis to try and return the wall to the shape it once was. “What do you think you’re doing to my foundry?!” asked a Ta-Matoran that ran out of the disfigured building. “Apologies for that. We’ll have it fixed,” said Ajura. “Yeah well, you’d better!” Orde eyed him as he scurried back to his foundry. “I don’t trust him.” “Yeah, well, I don’t think he trusts us much either thanks to your temper tantrum.” Ajura made a mental note to send someone to fix the wall. Orde was great at punching holes, but his psionic powers weren’t as powerful as to allow him to undo the damage. She pushed Orde along. “In all seriousness, think about it, Ajura. No conflict, no fight between Matoran? How come Ta-Metru is that quiet? Heck, how come the entire island is this calm?” “You’d have the League to thank for that. You know that.” “The League? I have to thank a band of tyrannical despots who decided to form a trade pact with Metru Nui that leaves us out of their dealings?” “Orde, we’ve spoken about this. You have no proof that the League of Six Kingdoms is tyrannical. Are they the rulers of our universe? Yes, they were appointed as such by Mata Nui. Does this mean there could be someone else that could be ruling? Certainly. But we have no proof or evidence that they are such cruel leaders as you like to think about them.” Orde folded his arms. “That’s easy for you to say. We have to stay here and not see what’s going on out there.” “Well, it’s not like we have much of a ch-“ “TOA!” Orde and Ajura turned around to notice another Ta-Matoran running towards them with an expression of anguish on his face. They quietly glanced at each other, worried at the Matoran’s state. “Please, you have to come with me!” “Of course. Your name?” “M… Maglya. Please, come with me Toa!” Ajura, why is he leading us to his foundry? Why not tell us here? I don’t know about you, but this seems slightly off, projected Orde into Ajura’s head. As the more diplomatic and level-headed of the two, she would be better suited to get the answer out of the Matoran. “We will, Maglya. We just need to know, why not tell us here?” “It’s about the Archive Mole infestation. They’ve been fighting amongst themselves and destroyed much of my property!” Wait, Ajura. Don’t Archive Moles work together? “We understand, Maglya. We’ll go with you to figure out the problem.” *** Maglya’s veiled message had indeed been hidden as a code. When the three of them were inside Maglya’s foundry, where the sound of the Matoran working was loud enough, he told the Toa this would be a safe place where no one would be able to eavesdrop on them. “Why would someone evasedrop?” “Because of what you yourself were saying, Toa! You know, about the League.” Ajura looked at Orde with annoyance. “Maglya, I understand that you are worried of the state of other islands,” assured Ajura. “But we have no proof of what my friend here was saying. So let’s deal with the situation at hand. What’s the problem?” Slightly off-put by Ajura’s dismissal of Orde’s comments, Maglya paused and then resumed. “My friend… Kadira. Po-Matoran living on the Tren Krom Peninsula, I… we send each other letters ever since he was relocated there. Even with the League’s conquest of the Northern Continent Kadira has always been able to stay in contact with me. Sure, the letters arrive late, and other times they might get lost, but I always know how he’s doing. In his last letter he told me that he was relocating in secret, to go to a better place. He said he’d send me a message again once he was there.” Orde crossed one leg over the other. “Alright, so why hasn’t he answered back?” “I don’t know, but the point is I got that letter seven months ago! I’ve written three more times and no responses have returned.” Ajura felt pity for the Matoran, but knew that they couldn’t go around helping every Matoran in a pickle. “Alright, anything else we should know?” “In the letter, he… well, he highlighted some of the letters. And they spell out something.” Maglya pulled out the letter. It was worn down, as if it had been folded, clutched, hidden, and clutched over again. Order didn't need his telepathy to know how much pain Kadira's disappearance was causing Maglya. Under every few letter there was a line under it. Not too visible from far away, but from close up it was quite evident: VALMAI MANGAIA “Well,” whispered Ajura wide-eyed. “That’s not foreboding or anything.” Orde couldn’t contain the smile. “Does this mean we get to go out there and see what’s going on?” Ajura didn’t want to leave. Metru Nui had a certain safety, and their team hadn’t communicated with any Toa outside the island for a long time now. But there was something in this story that suggested that there were deeper layers. Only scholars like the Ko-Matoran and Ga-Matoran knew these archaic terms that well. Why this Po-Matoran from the Northern Continent knew them, she had no clue. And even though the term ‘Mangaia’ was more understandable, ‘Valmai’ wasn’t the kind of word she’d hear from a Matoran, unless there was something very serious going on. Was this Matoran insane? Had he learned something that had put him at risk? Ajura wasn’t sure. But it was worth investigating. Review Topic
  7. Onaku

    Unknown Beyond

    "It is at a time like this that one wonders; what constitutes an explorer? What drives them to keep challenging themselves, to reach new frontiers never seen before by any other Matoran? The answer? Curiousity. Curiousity and the desire to learn. To expand one's field of knowledge. To know more, to obtain the missing pieces of a puzzle too big ever to be completed and fully comprehended. That's what drives us forward. And that very instinct, along with extrordinary ingenuity, has brought us here, right now. We are now ready to explore a new, unknown frontier. Today, our view of the world is about to be radically changed. Our perceived notions of the limits of exploration are about to be torn down to their very foundations. Because today, we are taking a step into a new direction. A new world. An unknown beyond." Professor Kamura finished his speech, and a round of applause went through the crowd present. The professor went back to his seat among his team on the stage, and his friend Omuro patted him on the back. There was an elated smile present on Kamura's dark grey Rau, as was there a smile present on the masks of everyone in the team. Today was the day. The day on which a new, rigorously tested piece of technology was to be deployed. Professor Kamura and his team had been working on it for decades, and it was only today that a team of two highly trained matoran was to use it. "It" being a rift generator. They had no idea where this rift led to. They had tried to decipher the energy readings coming off from the rift when they managed to form it, but some of them made no sense. In some cases, the readings were off the charts, while in others the energy readings had a negative value; something they didn't even know these sensors had built in them. Granted, it was a salvaged artifact rather something they had designed, but this was unprecedented. They had sent probes through the rift, and surprisingly, they had managed to keep limited but sustained contact with the probes as they explored what they assumed was the other side of the rift. The readings indicated that the physical properties on the other side were all within safe paramaters for a matoran to survive there, granted that they wore an enviromental suit, seeing as how they had no idea if there was even an atmosphere on the other side. The probes had not returned, how ever, and as a result, the first mission of the two matoran going through the rift was to find the probes and return with them so that the sensor readings could be analyzed. *** Kyria, a female matoran of air wearing a bright green Komau, was putting on her EV suit. She just finished putting on the suit itself, and was about to put on her helmet when her mission partner, a male matoran of gravity wearing a black noble Arthron named Ralius, entered the dressing room. He was carrying his own suit in his arms, and had a calm yet at the same time excited look to his face. "So this is it then. First trip into the rift. Got any second thoughts?" Ralius asked her as he placed his suit on the bench opposite to the one Kyria was standing by and began to open up the suit so that he could get into it. Kyria giggled lightly. "Oh please, you know me too well to be asking that seriously. I've been waiting-" "Years to go through that rift, I know, I know, you've told me a thousand times." Ralius interrupted. Kyria smiled. "It's hard to belive we're finally here. After all this time." Kyria said with a hint of awe in her voice. The two matoran stepped onto the metallic platform, both fully suited up in their EV suits. Cameras conveyed the scene from every angle as civilians, reporters, government officials and other scientists all the same watched with anticipation. Kyria looked to Ralius, and Ralius returned the glance. With a reassuring nod from both to the other, they stepped into the repulsion field, finding themselves pushed into the air as the machines whirred to life. A beam of light appeared in front of them, seemingy cast by nothing at all. The beam expanded into an irregular line, stretching in between the two towering mechanical constructs like a crack in the very fabric of space. The rift started to stretch apart, and quickly it had become big enough to allow both of them through. They activated the thrusters on their boots and elbows, and soon enough the two had disappeared into the light. A murmur of awe arose from the people watching. *** "Kyria. Ralius. This is Ground Control. Do you copy?" The voice of Professor Kamura came through with only a minor amount of static. As Kyria surveyed her surroundings, she placed one hand up to a button on the side of her helmet and responded. "This is Kyria. I copy." A voice came through on the communication channel. "This is Ralius. I copy." An audable sigh of relief came through from the professor. "Report on your status. What do you see?" As Kyria spun around, looking around herself, she found herself unable to accurately convey what she was seeing. Wherever she looked, she seemed to see something completely different. Planes of rock, suspended above her as if they were the sky itself, and the ground itself was a white void, but when she looked in another direction, the ground was rough but solid metallic crystals, with torrents of some kind of metallic liquid shooting out into the burning sky where they seemed to never falter. When she moved, her vision blurred, and what was once a small cliff drop was now the roots of a massive mountain. Another slight movement, and she found herself unable to breathe, as if she had been kicked in the stomach with unimaginable force. "I... I c-can't. This isn't how I..." Kyria was now extremely afraid. This location was unimaginably eldritch to her. And she had no idea where Ralius even was. He had reported in on the channel, but to her he was no where in sight. Not that her sight was consistent anyway, and as she looked up again, an infinite void appeared before her, with her lying on her knees on top of an impossibly geometrical disc. It had no imperfections that she could note, and had a chrome sheen to it. She slowly stood up again, trying to come to terms with what she was seeing. The void seemed to be consistent for the time being, but she wasn't going to bet that it would stay that way for long. Looking around, she saw noting but the pitch black void. And then, she saw it. A bright yet extremely distant flash of light. She looked around frantically, trying to see if another one would appear elsewhere. And so it did. And another. They were sparse, and far in between, and the interval at which they came was highly irregular. Looking down, Kyria noticed that the disc was slowly yet steadily bulging out. She hurriedly tried to gain balance, but found that she was quite secure on it no matter how she moved. The disc had now become a perfect sphere. A sphere, apparently, with the same amount of gravitational pull her home planet. It had to be incredibly dense, but then again, it had expanded from what seemed like a disc lacking any width that also had possessed the same gravimetric properties, so she doubted there was any physical logic to it as she knew it. But here she was stuck, in the middle of an infinite void, standing on a small metallic sphere that seemed to disobey the very laws of physics. She placed her hand to the button on her helmet. "Ground Control. This is Kyria. Do you copy?" End of Part 1 Review Topic
  8. The Hunt: Lost in the Woods. Story: In a town, there is a shack that gives tours in the nearby woodland to those who wish to go on a little adventure, with the help of a guide of course. One fated group of 10 people readied up to travel into the wilderness. This little group traveled for a good few days, without any type of interruption. The people were having a good time, but the guide was frightened by some news. On the one-way radio, local police had radioed in the following message: ​" Warning to guide of expedition group 8" "Big time killer loose from last prison riot" "Keep close eye on all members" "One of them is the murderer" Gameplay: In this game, one person is a murderer, one is a guide, and the rest are innocent. This game has a time increment of 1 day (With school and such going on) however the cops follow the group 5 days behind. The killer must kill every one while trying to evade the police. The guide must keep the group going so as they may reach safety at the end of the trail (next 17 days) where there are more cops waiting. The group is also given the chance of voting to "Watch" a person, going not to kill them, but just keep an eye on them. If it is the murderer who is being watched, he can still kill a person, but the others will be alerted and will leave the murderer behind, lost for the cops to find. If it is an innocent, the watched man is declared innocent, but the group needs a day to recuperate from the recent killing to vote again. Environment also plays a specific role. If the area that the group has traveled to is a nice fine plain, the killer cannot kill as there is no place to hide the body, and the group may move on the next day. If the place is next to a ravine and in heavy snow, the killer may kill a person, while the group must stay to weather the storm. The killer may also use a piece of the environment to block a path so they cops following behind will be held back a day. If there are any questions on gameplay, I will answer them as soon as I can to clear things up. Rules: All BZP rules apply Win Conditions for the Killer: Kill all of the innocents, don't get caught. Win Conditions for innocents: Reaching the end of the trail, finding out the identity of the killer, or the cops travelling up the trail catch up to them. Roles: Killer: Ability to kill one innocent each day/night, but only in a place that says a kill can take place. Can also vote on who to watch. Be careful, you do not know who the guide is. Can also describe the way the murder went out in the area. Be creative with that! Guide: The only one who knows the land. If killed, the group is lost and cannot traverse the land and left to wait for the cops. also knows the identity of one other person. He also has a secret ability. Innocents: Simple people who wish they weren't here. Cannot kill anyone and hold special voting sessions on who is the most suspicious. Players: 1:Voltex Frozen inside the waterfall. 2427135: Luroka Survived. 3:Chro Survived. 4:Kopekemaster Allowed to be choked with a rope due to a bad watchman. 5:Seaborgium Fell to his death. 23: Tyler Unsubscribed 7:Councilor Manducus A hors d'oeuvre for the Butterfly Queen.. 8:Toa Chuck Killed by being turned into a Barraki on land. 9001: ghidora131 Killed with insecticide and washed up on the shores of Arizona. 10:Quisoves Pugnat Punched multiple times while also growing another finger. 11: Sir Unit Survived. 12: Valendale Hung by the innocents.
  9. { P E R E G R I N E } "Here. This place." shuffle shuffle Movement. Blood sloshing around in his head. Fuzzy. Immobile. luuuurch "Careful!" "Shh. Keep it down, you-" "Not another word out of either of you." Still moving. Swaying and bouncing slightly. Might be just in his head. thudthudthudthud Footsteps, maybe. Couldn't see; barely hear. "Check that he's out." Snoring. A pause. thudthudthud "He's pretty out of it." "Does he need another? "No." thudthudthud No more snoring. No more moving. ... ding Moving again. shuffle shuffle The sloshing's stopped. Can't tell if he's moving. ding Now he's definitely moving. thudthudthudthudthudthudthud "All the way to the end." thudthudthudthud beep "Karz, he's lucky. I'd kill to live here." "He won't be living here." thudthudthud "Okay, move him." clack-clack clack-clack Dim light fluttering through his eyelids. Air. Cool. Stale. Felt hands grabbing at him, lifting him. "...easy..." Depositing him someplace soft. "Check him." More hands grabbing at his head. Was that a face? "His eyes are fluttering." "He needs another dose, then." A grunt. shuffle shuffle Something sharp pricking at his neck. Everything getting... further away... "He's fading." "We're finished. Head out." thudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthudthud.... { - - - - - } what is this place where am I I can see trees over there some dirt beneath my feet is that a bridge ? I can walk I'll just walk over here to the bridge there's nothing around peek over the side there's something in the water there a body dead Toa bluish-green Kakama I look up there's someone over there by the trees wait no he's here some guy in red who are you "Find us" wait no who are you who are you who are you who are you who are you who are you who am I { - - - - - } I wake and take a few breaths. The air is cold. Stale. These sheets are nice. Bed is comfy. I stare at the ceiling. Light is filling the room. I sit up and take a look around. Directly across from the bed is a door nestled into the far wall, which is light grey. Far to the right of the door in the corner is what I think is a washroom. A single couch sits in the middle of the room, resting atop white-tiled floors, facing a window that makes up nearly the entire wall the bed is resting against. I can't remember my name and panic for a bit. I can't remember how I got here, or where here is, or anything, really. No wants or desires or goals or ambitions. My mind's just kinda blank. I'm confused and can't really think. Was that a dream? Where did it end or begin? Hard to tell. I get out of bed and walk over to the window. The light hurts my eyes and my head starts throbbing. I rub my temples and my eyes adjust. I can see a street far below, with tall buildings lining it and others branching off and outwards. Beings mill like ants among them. This isn't Metru Nui or Xia. I realize that I can remember places I've been. That's something, I guess. I think I remember the world I live in. Hard to tell what's real. I'm confused and can't really think. I turn around and walk over to the washroom. I turn the tap of the faucet and take my mask off. Water sputters into the sink and I splash my face. It's cold but it wakes me up. I put my mask back on and look up into the mirror. I see the dead Toa. { - - - - - } Review Topic
  10. To staff: Since I forgot what happened with the Media Discussion Topic, I placed it here because I don't know where to place it. If you remember at the end of The Legend Reborn, the first song of the credits, was called Ride. Out of all the bands we know about that have been put in Bionicle, only two are or can be classified as popular bands, Cyroshell and All-American Rejects. Now All Insane Kids have only made two songs that we know, Hero and Caught Up In A Dream, which seems to be all they made. But there is one band that has made an album, only thing is there is no information on them. If you know who I'm talking about, then you know it is Presence. These guys have some amazing songs from their self titled album such as Better Off, Somebody's Watching Me, Lose Yourself, and of course Ride.If you try looking them up, the only thing that pops up is a band by the same name, only they are older and don't have a self title album. So the question is, who are they and what happened to them?
  11. Throughout the Hero Factory story, we noticed that there is a mysterious villain who is responsible for the Breakout and possibly the Brain Attack events. His identity isn't revealed, possibly yet. We are wondering who this villain is. For me, I think it is most likely Von Nebula because it's obvious that he always hates and wants to destroy the Hero Factory organization, I think that he obviously has the guts to do that, and in the very end of the second Breakout episode, his clawed arm is shown in darkness. I also think there is an explanation about this, and it is this: after he got trapped in his own Black Hole Orb Staff, he made a new plan to he hopes to destroy the Hero Factory successfully. First, he got out of his staff like a powerful battering ram. Then, he snuck past the organization like a ninja. I would think that he probably learned how to do that when he was a Hero named Von Ness (Aren't Heroes trained to adapt to their surroundings during missions?). Next, he used a spaceship to get out of the Makuhero Planet and hide in a rocky planet or moon, which is seen at the very beginning of the Brain Attack episode. He later found the Black Phantom and Voltix. He told them his plan. They agreed to participate in it. That's when Von Nebula started his plan. He pretended to be a completely different innocent being to trick the Hero Factory into placing his staff into its Villain Storage Unit by calling it through a connected communicating device tell them to place the staff into the room for more security and safekeeping, so Voltix can start the Breakout. Then, Von Nebula had the Black Phantom steal the plans for the entire Hero Factory for him. Black Phantom was trying to destroy the Hero Factory, but he was stopped by the Heroes. Von Nebula got the plans through his laptop, which is seen at the end of the second Breakout episode. He changed his body to almost look like the Black Phantom, which is seen in the very beginning of the Brain Attack episode, too, to probably become more powerful. He sent the Brain bugs to destroy the Hero Factory, which is also seen in the very beginning of the Brain Attack episode. The Brains caused the events in the main Brain Attack storyline and Secret Missions: Collision Course and Robot Rampage books. I also think that he will probably get involved with the new Invasion From Below storyline because I think he possibly told the Brains to create the giant hole in the Hero Building, seen in the Brain Attack episode, to probably somehow unleash the monsters, seen on the front pictures of the new, upcoming Hero Factory 2014 set bag packages, from underground to attack the Hero Factory, too, just in case they can't succeed in destroying it. I believe that the Breakout, Mission: Catch 'Em And Cuff 'Em, Black Phantom's takeover in the Hero Factory building, the Brain Attack events, and possibly the upcoming Invasion From Below events are all distractions on Hero Factory, so Von Nebula can have enough time to use the Hero Factory plans to create his own robot-making factory to create an army of evil versions of the Hero Factory Heroes to finally destroy the Hero Factory and possibly take over the galaxy and/or the whole universe. He will probably use some Anti-Quaza, which the Bkack Phantom has, to create the evil robots. He will also possibly get a lot of bad people, probably the villains that are still on the loose, to help him create both the factory and the robots, like the Hero Factory organization. I think Von Nebula would be like Makuta Teridax from Bionicle because of the way he plans and acts like the main villain in the whole Hero Factory story. Overall, that's my theory about the mysterious villain could be Von Nebula.So, what do you think about this, guys? Do you agree or disagree with me? If you don't agree about the mysterious villain could be Von Nebula, then who else?
  12. What's with those creepers/stalkers or whatever in the background of all these Bionicle canister art? There is a promo pic of tahu Nuva with Half his mask out of the EP, and behind him are two, crocodiles/emo reptilians.With strakk there is a couple of "muggers" or "paparazzi" are they simply just that?They don't look like other glatorians.Tarik has blur tentacle/coral monsters attacking him.Is this supposed to be a Lego conspiracy so that it will eventually lead to clues to find the biggest treasure trove of Lego ever imaginable?
  13. Jaysii

    Pitch White

    Pitch White 4/17/12 9:10 P.M. "Another one bites the dust", thought a bearded man in his mid-forty's as he put the finishing touch on another novel, "send this copy to LEGO for review, and I can finally have that vacation I was thinking of having." He quickly checked Facebook for any updates. There was nothing there except a post telling him that something important was waiting for him on his BZPower account. "I'll look at it later", he thought. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. While walking to the door, he wondered why someone would be at his house at that late an hour. When he opened the door, no one was there. He looked around for a moment, trying to find the person that knocked. When he looked down, he saw it. It was a small book. He picked it up to get a better look at it. It was a small, brown, leather-bound notebook with the Bionicle symbol on the cover. He opened it up and chuckled. The inside was covered with matoran symbols. "Probably some excited fan that wants to be mysterious", he thought. He combed through the notebook until he found something rather unusual. A list of names and phone numbers. This was possibly the only part of the notebook that was not written in matoran. It featured a lot of names that would seem like toa cover names. GAIA NOVA TAYLOR NOVA PARKER NOVA OWEN NOVA KORI NOVA ALLEN NOVA TREY NOVA "Wow. This fan really took the time to make this look like a giant conspiracy", the man thought. "Oh well. Maybe I'll call these numbers in the morning just for the fun of it". He left the notebook on the coffee table and went to his room for some sleep. Little did he know that that was his last night alive. A/N: Wow! First Fic! And I kill off everyone's favorite writer off the bat for the sake of dramatic tension! What is this mysterious notebook? And who is the protagonist now that Greg Farshtey is dead? Find out next chapter! Don't forget to review here!
  14. Transcripts begin.State your name and occupation for the record, please.Jason Reed. I’m working part-time as a security guard at Westbridge Mall, you know, for the holidays and all that.And you were on duty at the time of the incident?Yes, that’s right. I always work Friday afternoons. Well, I always work afternoons. So I guess that includes Friday.Where were you at the time the incident took place?Down in the main sort of atrium area. It’s kind of the hub for everything, I mean if you’re passing through from one wing to another you’re going to pass through there. And that’s where we had Santa set up this year – I think we had three, maybe four guys playing the role since it was supposed to be all day every day ‘till Christmas, you know, and I guess that suit is actually really hot and nobody wanted there to be twelve-hour shifts for one guy ‘cause then Santa’d be like, dead by the time the kids got to him. I mean not literally dead. But zoned out, you know, I mean – anyways, like I said, three, four guys.Did you notice anything unusual immediately prior to the incident?No, nothing, I mean, that's – it was Christmas Eve at the mall, you know, there could have been a Santa with an electric guitar and I wouldn't have – it wouldn't have given me pause, you know? But I guess looking back there was a guy in a Santa suit going upstairs with a big bag, all bulging and swung over his shoulder, and I guess it was sort of weird ‘cause like I said those things are supposed to be crazy hot and who the heck would wear it past their shift? – but I mean hindsight is 20/20 here. I probably just thought it was one of the guys getting ready for his shift or something – I mean like I said it could've been an electric guitar and I wouldn't have given it a second thought. I mean nobody gave anything a second thought.Were you familiar with the staff playing Santa?Nah, not really, I mean I saw them around sometimes but they never really came out of the costume near the public because – I mean that’d just be dumb, you know? Look kids, Santa is a thirty-five year-old dude who needs a little extra cash to buy those Marlboros in his back pocket! Sorry, didn’t mean to sound disrespectful or anything. Just sort of a funny image, you know? But anyways I was always out in the crowd, I mean that’s what a security guard does, so like I said I didn’t really know the guys in the suits.When did you become aware that something unusual was occurring?I think it was a kid or something – you know how kids are, always looking for something to poke at. I mean I know how kids are, I’m a mall cop over Christmas, for crying out loud, and they poke. Had one try to grab my taser once – sorry, got sidetracked. Anyways, yeah, some kid in the crowd just yelled “What’s that?” really loud and honestly I didn’t want to look at first because I kid you not I’ve had kids do the old “look over there” but then I heard the pop and the kids started screaming and I looked and I just thought oh my job just got so much worse.Did you take any immediate action?Man, what immediate action was there to take? I mean it was out there, boom, nobody saw it coming. Talk about your memorable Santa visits – the kid right by him got covered in the stuff. But I mean there was another and another and then people were just all over the place, pushing each other out of the way and everything and I mean I saw a few kids even just jumping up and down because they didn’t know what to do. I was a rent-a-cop and it was like the climax to some messed up movie. I was lucky I didn’t get trampled. My radio was going nuts, you know, all the other guys asking if anyone knew what the [redacted] was going on and I just radioed back and said “you’re not gonna believe this” and then Ryan called me a pissant for not just coming out and telling him what was happening so I did and then a second later he called me full of it and hung up. Nice guy.State your name and occupation for the record, please.Mike Provost, general manager of Westbridge Mall.Were you working at the time of the incident?I’m the manager, it was Christmas Eve, yeah, I was working. Guy like me doesn’t get a whole lot of vacation days, especially when other people do.Where were you at the time the incident took place?Up in my office, as always. Looks over the atrium, it’s got a nice big plate window so I can see what’s going on. It’s actually soothing in a funny sort of way; you see everyone running to and fro with their bags and you just think “god I’m glad I’m not down there”. And it lets me see if anything goes down, which ninety-nine times out of a hundred is some punk kid getting himself busted by security. ‘Course, today was the hundred.Did you notice anything unusual immediately prior to the incident?Like what? It’s my job to look at papers, not play Where’s Waldo with nutjobs. ‘Sides, it was Christmas Eve. When I wasn’t busy trying to figure out who’s nicking the cash from the safe lately or the decorations from the stores I was dealing with Mama my-kid-is-so-precious and her [redacted]ing about the music being too loud. Can you believe that [redacted]? It’s the mall on Christmas Eve! What’d you expect? You want peace and quiet, take little Sally-precious-sparkle-princess to the library or something. Who even takes their kid to the mall with them when they’re Christmas shopping? Isn’t it the [redacted] point that they don’t know what they’re getting? [Redacted]. No, nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual Christmas crazies. Though I guess we got an unusual Christmas crazy, huh.Were there any managerial decisions that could have incited the incident?Not that I can think of. But then again I’m not a basket case. Maybe someone wasn’t happy that we put Santa on the left side of the atrium this year instead of the right. Maybe someone didn’t like our Christmas decorations. It ain’t about money, if that’s what you’re asking. We pay pretty well, all things considered, and unlike just about every other retailer in the past few years we haven’t cut salaries. Don’t mind telling you that we could, and probably should, but we didn’t. Though after all the cleanup we're gonna have to do it’s looking mighty tempting. Never mind the PR we have to deal with. No spinning something like this as a holiday treat we had up our sleeves.When did you become aware that something unusual was occurring?My secretary Sally was dropping off some papers for me, letting me know we had a disgruntled customer or two, the usual [redacted] when all of a sudden I hear something weird from outside, kind of like a pop, and I don’t really care until she stops talking and just starts staring, that big mouth of hers open wide enough to drive a truck through, and I turn around. And when I realized what was going on my first thought was just, Aw, [redacted]. Second thought was, aw [redacted], we’re going to have a [redacted] stampede. Nobody wants a stampede in a mall. People get killed during stampedes, and let me tell you everyone who’s ever worked in retail hates their customers, but nobody wants them dead. So I get on the radio with security – not that they hadn’t already noticed – and tell everyone to get their [redacted] down there and into the crowd. Sally’s already calling the police, she ain’t the brightest bulb in the drawer but she knows enough not to panic, but even still I tell a few of the security guys to get upstairs and find the SOB who did this. ‘Course they didn’t, just an empty Santa sack and costume. You guys dust that for prints or anything yet? ‘Cause I’m going to make sure the [redacted] who thought my mall was a good place to go crazy is getting the full sentence. How long is that for this sort of thing, anyways?State your name and occupation for the record, please.Max Teller, Santa Claus by day, accountant by night. Not glamorous, I know.You were working as Santa at the time of the incident?Well, I wasn’t Santa right when it happened. I mean, he’s still in the hospital and all. But yeah, I had the evening shift that day after Rob finished up, so I was there when the whole mess happened. I was due on in a half-hour.Where were you at the time the incident took place?Back in one of the employees-only areas, looking for my costume. Like I said, I was due on in a half-hour, so I was getting ready when it happened. Or at least I would’ve been getting ready if I could’ve found the darn thing.Your costume was missing?Yeah, exactly. I got back there and it was nowhere, I mean nowhere. I tried asking around, I thought maybe it was being washed or something, but nobody had any idea where it’d gone. Security didn’t seem to know either. So I was thinking I was pretty screwed, and then, I heard it, you know – bang bang bang.Is it possible your suit was used by the perpetrator?Definitely. I definitely think that’s what happened. I mean it adds up, right? Some guy got back there, grabbed my costume, and sashayed off to do his noble work. Lucky for him I wasn’t running early, I guess, because I’d have recognized my suit – it’s got a tear on the back that’s all stitched up with green string. Pretty noticeable, really, but the kids never see it because of the big throne we sit on while we’re talking to them. There was one kid who saw a bit of string and tried pulling on it once though. He’s getting coal.Did anyone see you getting ready?Huh? Yeah, like I said, I talked to a couple of the security guys – oh man, you don’t think it was me, do you? Come on, I’m a freelance accountant who plays Santa. Why on Earth would I do something like this? But, uh, yeah, couple of security guys talked to me and a few janitors and all that – uh, let’s see, Jake Gaston I think’s his name, he was cleaning up back there, uh, Lance something-or-other- Lance Casters, that’s it. He was security for the area, though he was on his way out and on his radio when I bumped into him, so I dunno if he’d really remember me. Are there security cameras back there, do you know? I’d definitely be on those, I was all over the place looking for my costume. Hey, maybe the guy’s on there too!When did you become aware that something unusual was occurring?Well, like I said, I was thinking I was pretty screwed, then I hear these bangs, and I don’t pay it that much heed because I’m busy thinking I’m screwed. And then I hear yelling and stuff from outside so I stick my head out and bam, what a scene. People were going nuts – with good reason, I mean, who wouldn’t in that situation. It was sort of tempting to go out there, but I didn’t want any trouble, so I just kind of closed the door and waited for things to blow over. Then I went back to looking for my suit in case they decided to have me go out anyways. I mean, it was Christmas Eve, after all, and I’ve seen management try to do the whole “carry on” thing in worse situations. In the end though I got the call that they were cancelling Santa for the rest of the night in light of what had happened – which was good, because I still hadn’t found my suit. Did you guys find the one the guy was using? Because like I said it’s pretty recognizable. I could ID it if you needed.State your name and occupation for the record, please.Janice Waters. I guess unemployed, but, I mean, stay-at-home-mom, tell me that’s not a job.Why were you at the mall at the time of the incident?I know you guys need to go through procedure and all, but seriously? I was there with my son Brian, he wanted to see Santa. And I was going to do some last-minute shopping when we were done with that, for my husband – he was at work, you know. Maybe grab something for Brian, too, he’s young enough that it’s not exactly hard to sneak something extra into dad’s gifts without him noticing.Where exactly were you at the time of the incident?Come on guys, you know this already – sorry, sorry. It’s a pet peeve of mine, people asking questions they already know the answer to. I was with Brian, right up by the guy playing Santa. We’d been in line for half an hour, and I swear he was vibrating with excitement by the time he got there. I was standing pretty close by in case he asked Santa for anything he hadn’t told me about – he did that last year, and I had to do the hundred-yard dash to get to the bookstore before it closed. That’s why we went in the afternoon this year.Did you notice anything unusual prior to the incident?Are you kidding me? I’m a mom with a hyperactive kid on Christmas Eve in the mall. It’s like, unless a T-Rex is smashing through the wall, I’m not even going to look. And even then that’s iffy – what direction is the T-Rex headed? I did notice the guy playing Santa was looking pretty tired- must’ve been near the end of his shift or something, since they’d stopped taking kids a little while after we got in line. Gotta give the guy credit, he was giving it his all. If I was playing Santa I’d get pretty sick of belly laughs after an hour or two.Did you see any other mall employees nearby?Well, there was an elf – I bet that guy’s job sucks more than Santa’s, really. At least Santa gets respect. Everyone hates the elf. I mean, it’s like, “Elf job description: Santa’s [redacted]”. He was looking pretty bored. But nah, I didn’t see much. There was a security guy giving the crowd the once over when we got in line, but I didn’t really see him later. Like I said though, most of the time I was busy talking with Brian. Great kid, really, but like every other 6-year-old he’s like a little energy vampire. You get more and more tired and he just gets louder and louder. What? Don’t look at me like that, I’m the oldest of seven. My mother taught me the truths of motherhood well, chief among them that you can love your kid with all your heart and that won’t stop them from making you want to jump out a window.Talk us through the incident.Well, like I said I was standing pretty close by. Brian was up on Santa’s lap, listing off what he wanted for Christmas – no surprises, mercifully enough – and then the elf helped him off. But there was this toy train set up near Santa, so Brian scampered over to that instead of just leaving – shock, shock – and before I could tell him to stop dawdling, I heard these bangs. And then I looked and it took me a few seconds to process what was happening. By the time I did Brian was covered in the stuff, not that he understood it at all. I think he was still more concerned with the toy train. Anyways, Santa’s elf yelled something that would’ve gotten him soap in the mouth in my house, and then everyone was scrambling. Brian seemed to realize what was going on now and he was grinning head to toe – he was just looking around and basking in the scene, you know? Looked like a lot of kids were. I grabbed him and started hauling [redacted] out of there because I knew things were just going to get messier. He was actually kind of upset at that, he wanted to go back, but let me tell you there wasn’t anything there but. I feel sorry for the guy playing Santa, I really do, I don’t know if he’d done anything to get wrapped up in the middle of this but he sure didn’t seem happy about it.It’s funny, though. Once we got a little ways away and the hubbub had died down it was actually sort of nice. Made for a memorable Christmas Eve, you know? I’m not condoning the guy who did it, and I’m especially not condoning how he did it, but I think it was a nice gesture, in the end. Like I get what he was trying to do.So, uh, you guys have any leads or anything?We’re going to have to ask you a few more questions.Yeah, shoot.Were there any additional problems at the mall in the days leading up to the incident?Like what?Were you aware that several stores had reported theft from their registers the day before the incident?Well, sure. I mean I am on the security team, who didn’t know about it? Bossman was up in arms, swearing to high heaven that he’d turn whoever was behind it into filets. Nice guy.And why hadn’t any leads on this been established?Word was that we’d been having issues with the security cameras. Nobody really wanted to say how widespread it was, ‘cause, you know, Mr. P would’ve gone ballistic. You know how they say “don’t shoot the messenger?” Bossman’s not a big believer in that.Were you aware that decorations and party supplies had been stolen from the mall’s stores prior to the incident?Yeah, I heard a few murmurs here and there. My guess? Cleaning crew wanted something to show off at home.The cleaning crew?Yeah, man, they’ve got access to the whole freakin’ mall. Wouldn’t be hard for them, especially if they’d heard the cameras were down.According to Mr. Ryan Cortez, you have been known to vanish for periods of time during your working hours.Ryan said that? I didn’t think he cared. Don’t know what he’s talking about – I’ll hit up the restroom from time to time, but hey, that’s no crime. And before you ask, no, I don’t have a corroborating witness for taking a leak.Did you take such a break on the day of the incident?Are you implying something?Please answer the question.I don’t really remember, you know? It was busy enough as it was. ‘Sides, I don’t exactly keep a log of when I take a whiz.According to Mr. Mike Provost, you were assigned to atrium security on the day of the incident.Yes I was. We had this conversation.As part of that assignment, you had access to employee-only areas adjacent to the atrium, is that correct?Suppose it is.And as part of that assignment, you were to work with Mr. Lance Casters, is that correct?Suppose it is.Mr. Casters stated he was having trouble locating you during your shift that day.Lance probably just missed me, you know? It was crowded like nobody’s business – I was moving around a lot. ‘Sides, I radioed him once or twice.Last week you were assigned to security on the upper floors, is that correct?Sure is. Normal guy was out sick, so they picked one of us part-timers to keep an eye on the offices and stuff. Nice change of pace, you know? Less screaming kids, more water coolers and chairs.The upper floors have maintenance areas looking out over the atrium, is that correct?So I hear. Haven’t been there myself. You guys seem kind of serious, you going somewhere with all this?Mr. Reed, what was your occupation prior to taking your current position at Westridge Mall?I don’t really see – how is that relevant?Please answer the question.I was an electrician. But that was like a year ago.You were let go?Recession, you know? Everyone has to tighten their belts. Or their employees’. Merry Christmas!Mr. Reed, we believe that on the day of the incident –Can I stop you right there?I’m sorry?Let me take a guess where this is going. You can write this down if you want, it’ll save you time later: “A few days prior to the accident, Mr. Reed sabotaged the camera system of Westridge Mall. Using his knowledge of security layouts and the absence of cameras, he perpetuated several thefts against both retailers and mall administration, taking a significant amount of cash, silver streamers, snowflakes, and balloons. On December 24th, he abandoned his post and entered the employees-only area of Westridge Mall, whereupon he located and absconded with” – sorry, is that too informal, absconded with? – “stole” – that’s better – “a Santa Claus costume meant for use in the mall’s ‘Meet Santa’ promotion. Mr. Reed then donned the suit and, the stolen goods in tow, accessed the upper floors of Westridge Mall, in particular the areas used by maintenance which provided access to the mall atrium from several floors up. Mr. Reed then filled several smaller bags with cash and decorations, attached them to balloons, and floated them across the roof of the atrium. Upon the balloons reaching the area above Santa Claus, Mr. Reed popped the balloons, possibly by way of a firearm, with the intent of causing chaos” – sorry, chaos too informal? – “in the atrium below. He then disposed of the Santa costume, left the empty bag near his vantage point, and radioed in to create the appearance that he had been in the atrium at the time. He then rejoined security to help look for the ‘intruder’.” That sound good to you all?Is that a confess-Ain’t done yet. Here’s another way you could put this: “Once upon a time, there was a guy. He wasn’t really special or smart, but he was pretty happy. He had a good job, and every year at Christmas he took pride in what little he had. One year, though, his boss decided to let him go to save money. The guy was sad, but what could he do? He still took pride in what little he had, even though times were tough. Then, a year later, the guy saw something horrible. Something awful and tragic. He saw the other Christmas – the Christmas people like his boss celebrated. He saw thousands of people, desperate to spend, spend, spend, and he became very sad indeed. So he decided he would play Santa this year, because when he looked, the only people who seemed happy there were the ones who went to see Santa. So one day, Santa snuck up to the roof, and brought out his bag of presents. Santa knew a lot of the people who were spending were spending because they felt they had to, because they had kids or girlfriends or parents they wanted to make happy. So Santa decided he’d give out two kinds of presents: money, because Santa’d been around long enough to know that’s what those people’d want, and simple, happy things like snowflakes and tassels, because Santa wanted to see if anyone would be happy with those. So Santa tied his presents to his special balloons, and then flew one of his little helpers via the magic of RC and popped them right over the other Santa, the one who ran this sort of Christmas. And then Santa watched, and Santa smiled, because down by the other Santa, who was busy fighting over a $50 bill with his elf and who would eventually take a haymaker to the nose, the kids were all scooping up the snowflakes and tinsel and dancing and laughing. And then Santa flew away back to the North Pole.”I think I like that one better, how ‘bout you?Again, is that a confess-Sorry, forgot one more story. It’s called, “Santa Claus and the Circumstantial Evidence.” Because, really, have you ever known Santa to leave behind decisive proof he was there? I mean, it could be your parents who dropped off the presents. You never know. And besides, I bet Santa knows some awesome attorneys.So, are we done here? Yes? Great. Merry Christmas, officers.Case #2011-1224-5003 is currently closed pending further investigation. For additional information, please contact...
  15. Does anyone know exactly (or approximately) what audio tricks/effects were used to give Teridax his iconic demon-robot voice? I'm just kind of curious about audio and video editing.
  16. "I'm sure you all wonder why you're here." V-3 smiled, welcoming his guests inside. "I wanted to talk to the six of you about a future comedies, and I was trying to decide which one of you to include in it." Standing in front of the mildly known writer were six of his favorite characters to write about. There was Junkyard. The Makuta owner of a Junkyard Industries, a highly profiting weapons manufacturing business. He was sneaky, dangerously intelligent, and rather greedy. His real name is Kyrack. Beside Junkyard was Virthee. A Toa of fire with horrible luck in V-3 comedies, always getting hurt whenever possible. He was not exactly the nicest person, cold at times, and he had a short temper. Then was Feyrahk. The Female Rahkshi was the result of an experiment by her 'father', the Makuta Kyrack. She had appeared in only a few comedies. She was violent, and has a bad attitude. She never liked being in comedies. Next in the row was Kayep. A Onu-Matoran who carried a bucket into battle, he hadn't had a comedy about him in a rather long time. He was a little delusional, seeing things differently than they actually were. And then was Random. A Fe-Matoran with an unnatural obsession with chainlink fences. He's not had a major role since V-3 temporarily stopped writing T and V Detectives. He was rather smart, and good at getting himself out of trouble. And lastly, Terka. Terka was a Vahki, and a loyal friend to Kayep on their many adventures, he was the last surviving Vahki on the island of Metru Nui. He's a cautious machine, preferring to stay safely out of trouble. "Now, I need to get my writing pad and my papers full of ideas." V-3 explained to his six guests. "Make yourselves at home while I go look for it." The writer walked away, searching each room as he went. The six guest each went their separate ways, walking around the house while V-3 searched. Outside, a storm was brewing, thunder echoed through the house. It was night, and V-3 had finally found his missing papers. Then, a huge flash of lightning, and the power went out. "Hm, I think I have a few candles somewhere in the house." The Toa of fire muttered, creating a flame in his hand to light his path. He never noticed the shadows were moving behind him. "Going somewhere are we?" "Why yes, but may I ask what you're doing back here?" V-3 questioned his guest, not alarmed or even suspicious. "Wait, what are you doing with that?! No, Please!" The sound of thunder blocked out V-3's screaming, and only one person heard it, the killer him/herself. The six guest managed to find their way back to the main room through the darkness, stumbling over things as they went. No one was quite sure what was going on. "Is everyone alright?" Junkyard shouted to be heard over the thunder. "Yeah, I'm fine." Virthee remarked, clutching his shin slightly, he had tripped over a chair. "Yep, Dad, I'm good." Feyrahk agreed. "Yep, but V-3 has a surprising lack of chainlink." Random noted in agreement. "We are most certainly going to die, without lights, we shall stumble around until we kill ourselves." Terka muttered depressingly. A sudden flash of lighting changed all of that. Kayep gasped at what he saw laying in the floor. "I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!" He screamed in surprise. There on the floor, was the lifeless body of V-3. Police lights flashed outside the building. The Paramedics were on the scene, doing everything they could. But it was of little use, there was nothing they could do. There was no way to keep alive what was already dead. There was nothing to do but remove the body from the house. Six beings stood watching, startled and somewhat fearful. Five were honestly surprised and horrified by what they saw. The six, was the one who had committed the crime, and behind the face of sadness and dread, was a sinister grin. V-3, comedy writer, not famous, afraid of insects, dead, 3/15/95-10-25-11 The police chief looked at the body, shaking his head. He turned to the closest officer. "This murder is not going to be easy to solve. Call in the detectives." CALLING ALL DETECTIVES! Want to help solve the murder of V-3? You can join in on the mystery! P.M. me this form, and you can join the detectives and solve this mysterious murder. Name: Species: Personality: Starting suspicions: Text color:
  17. I was browsing through Bionicle things I have downloaded over the years, and I found this pic:I became intrigued immediately. I have no idea when or why I downloaded this picture. It's definately Bionicle (Pakari, Rahi, tribal setting), but it's nothing I've ever known before. Where is this picture from? The blue being looks like a Matoran/Turaga hybrid of some sort. The Rahi in the picture have never been featured anywhere else. And there are these strange devices pictured in the lower corners. The numbers indicate this is a picture from a game.What do you think? I'd like to know what's going on with this pic...
  18. Remember : : “Throw me the line, Parus!”Oska slid forward across the ledge, reaching out a hand. Above him, the Fire-Agori Parus uncoiled his rope, tossing it back down the cliff-side.“Catch!” he said as he anchored it into the rough stone. “I hope you’re not getting tired, scholar. We’ve a ways to go yet.”Oska scowled, “Even scholars have some brawn, Parus.” He heaved himself up on the line slowly, testing its strength. “We simply use our brains in applying it.”“Hah!” Parus laughed, “Well said...well said.”Above them, the face of the cliff rose in shelf after shelf of overgrown lichen and sornaxa-bush. The sun blazed full and bright in the midday sky, bathing the rise with heat.“Old Solis is unforgiving today,” Oska said as he pulled himself onto the ledge, standing up beside his companion. He stopped to wipe a sheen of sweat from his forehead.“They say he used to be brighter,” Parus said, smiling. “In the time of the Matoran. Right, scholar?”Oska scoffed, “I seem to remember you also theorizing that the great wars were caused by sun-sickness.”“Ah, well...” the Fire-Agori shrugged and stretched, lifting his pack again. “Ready for the next leg?”“As I’ll ever be.” : : By evening they had scaled several more ledges. The sun was low on the western horizon, and the two Agori had stopped for the night. There was a low cave leading off from the shallow plateau they had reached—an excellent place to make camp.The Fire-Agori, true to his heritage, had a small fire crackling in short order, and soon they were satisfying their hunger with some provisions. The light faded slowly from the sky, ruddy orange dying into dark blue. Stars flickered up out of the sunset.Oska looked out from the mouth of the cave, surveying the dim landscape below. The mountain-slope stretched away before him, giving way to woodlands farther to the west. Southward, the trees thinned out into wide, grassy plains. The cities of Tesara and Mava lay two days journey in that direction, now hidden in the veiling night.“So tell me, scholar,” Parus spoke through a mouthful of dried meat, “what do you hope to find in the Mountains of the Matoran? Pottery? Or maybe some of their old masks?”“What?” Oska turned back to the firelight, “Old masks? Is that all you think the Matoran were?”“Ah, well. Can’t say I’ve seen much more of them in the museum-halls.”“I doubt you’ve ever visited an archive in your life,” Oska prodded. “We might have lost a great deal about the Matoran, but we still know some things.”“And you’re in the business of finding out more?”“Of course. Haven’t you ever wondered what they were like? How they lived? They were a remarkable race.”“Apparently not remarkable enough to survive.”“I wouldn’t say that...” Oska trailed off. “I’ve made over seven expeditions to these mountains, and I’ve brought back numerous artifacts from their culture. You should go educate yourself about them sometime.”“Hah! Maybe later. Right now I have better things to do, scholar. Like not breaking my neck.” Parus chuckled.“Although,” he added, “I have to admit: these mountains are rather strange. I’ve climbed a lot of mountains in my day, scholar, and I don’t think I’ve encountered any that were so...I don’t know...“So...what?”“Straight, I suppose.”“Straight?” Oska frowned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”“The slopes,” the Fire-Agori gestured, trying to explain, “they’re not like, say, the Black Spikes or the Quartz Ranges at all. They’re straight. Angular, I guess you’d say. And the rock is tough to anchor in.”“I suppose...”“Even this cave,” Parus continued, “look at how squared-off the entrance is. I don’t know how that could have formed naturally in this kind of slope.”“Now I’m beginning to wonder if old Solis was hard on you too.”“Hah. Maybe, scholar. Maybe.”They lapsed into silence, listening to the crackle of the firewood.“No birds, either.” Parus muttered.“Oh, go to sleep.” : : Hours passed, and the night was cool when Oska suddenly awakened.He was shivering, his rough cloak offering little protection from the cold wind that was now blowing into the cave. The fire had burned down to fitful embers in the steady breeze.“Parus!” Oska whispered, turning over. “Where are you?”The Fire-Agori should have been keeping watch......and keeping the fire fed. Oska cursed as he got up, his teeth chattering. He shuffled forward in the darkness of the cave, moving toward the entrance.Where was he? Did he fall asleep?“Parus!” Oska called out, his eyes straining in the darkness. No answer. There was no moon tonight, and the stars offered little radiance.Oska turned back to the cave, searching blindly for the store of tinder they had gathered. He found a few of the dry branches and quickly tossed them onto the remnants of the fire.Embers flared up, sparks of flame licking at the wood. Oska crouched before it, facing into the cavern with the wind at his back. The camp-fire flashed slowly to life, lighting up the interior of the cave with a flickering glow.The scholar squinted at the coals, letting his eyes adjust to the light, rubbing his cold hands together. After a moment, he leaned back and looked up...He froze, sudden fear rooting him to the stone. His eyes widened.The cave was empty. Parus was nowhere to be seen. The floor seemed undisturbed.But there, at the back of the cave, dark against the fitful light of the fire, there was a black opening in the cave wall.An opening that had not been there before.The wind was rushing steadily into the breach: a straight crack almost the width of Oska’s arm.The scholar fell back in amazement, scrambling backward, out of the cave-entrance. Where had the opening come from? What could have opened it?Parus.The cold fear seized him more sharply. What could be living in this cave? A beast? He shivered. Parus had said he knew of no predators in the mountains, nothing worse than a cliff-bat or two, at least.Parus could be wrong.And if it was a beast? That meant it must have taken Parus. Could it have missed him? What should he do? He couldn’t abandon his friend.He had to do something.Oska lurched forward suddenly, groping for his pack, eyes fixed on the opening. He pulled out an unused torch, dropped it, found it again. He glanced away from the crack long enough to thrust it into the dying fire.Then he crept forward, using his body to shield the torch from the wind. Nothing happened. Slowly he advanced, skirting the wall of the cave.Now he had reached the opening, peering intently into the darkness beyond. No movement. Nothing. Should he call out to Parus?“Hello!” he yelled on impulse. Then he cursed to himself, Fool! You’ll bring something worse instead.But nothing came. The wind continued to flow into the opening, sucking at his torch. The fire behind him was sputtering out again.He wavered, taking a step away from the opening. He could feel his heart beating fast. The darkness inside the crack seemed impenetrable. What should he do?He would have to go in.No…he could wait. Wait for Parus to come back…Parus might never come back.He might be dead, somewhere behind the opening...He would have to go in.The scholar did not consider himself very brave, and he did not feel brave at all now. But there was nothing else to be done. He couldn’t wait around. There were too many unknowns.He turned from the opening and stumbled to his pack, snatching it up with shaking hands.That was when he realized that Parus’ pack was gone as well.Was that good or bad? He didn’t have the time to think about it.Now he was back at the opening, examining the cave-wall in the light of the torch. It was definitely not natural. There was a seam in the stone along the wall, much corroded with dust and age, but it had been disturbed recently. Like a giant door.Oska thrilled with the thought, even despite the fear that choked him. This was a discovery. A real discovery. Something ancient.And it’s not important right now. Find Parus. He forced himself back to the opening. Turning, he tried to squeeze through the gap in the stone. It was not large enough for him to pass. That wasn’t a good sign. How could he move a giant stone slab? How could Parus have moved it?Maybe Parus didn’t move it, he thought. Maybe something bigger and stronger did.He hesitated...No...he had to try.Placing his shoulder against one side of the opening, he began to push. With all his strength he heaved against the hard rock.It gave way! The slab slid suddenly farther into the wall. Oska fell onto his back. He had not expected it to yield so easily. His torch clattered to the stone, sparking as it rolled into the space beyond the door.Don’t lose it, you fool!He staggered up and gave chase, stopping the rolling torch with his foot. He snatched it up again, cupping a hand around the sputtering end.The torch flared back to life, and Oska breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t think that he would have the courage to continue on without a light. He raised it shakily, letting its radiance light up the emptiness before him, almost afraid to look at what might be hidden there.There was no beast. It was a passageway: walls stretching away into the darkness beyond the reach of the torch, leading straight on into the mountain. This was no animal-den. That was certain.The wind poured into the gap even faster now that he had enlarged the opening, rushing around Oska like a river. It whipped the flame of his torch into a frenzy, tearing at the thin flame.Something caught his eye to the left. There on the wall. Something......glowing.It was a light, embedded in the stone. But no, it wasn’t just a light. Oska could see.It was a symbol.He knew what it was. He had seen it many times before...a Matoran symbol. Circular.It seemed to glow right out of the flat wall. Oska sidled toward it, keeping one eye on the dark passageway. He slid his free hand over the symbol.Incredible... he thought. Another discovery. This was history. He was touching it. He knocked on the wall. It resounded with a clang. Metal.Not stone...His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rasping. The sound of metal on stone.The sound of the door sliding shut.“No!” he yelled, leaping toward it. He didn’t even have time to react.It was too late.The slab closed with a clang. The wind vanished. The glowing symbol winked off. Sudden silence deafened him, oppressive, like a crushing weight. He yelled desperately and pounded on the slab with his free hand, eyes roving around the space. It now seemed so very small, closing in around him.He was trapped.Trapped!Oska spun around, pressing flat against the closed door, breathing hard. He thrust the torch out in front of him, his heart pounding up in his ears. What could he do? There was no escape. He didn’t know how to open the door. He was alone.Parus.The thought struck him. He had almost forgotten. Parus was in here too.That was some comfort, but not much. Parus could be lost in the dark or fallen down some chasm, for all he knew. He might spend the rest of his life wandering in the depths of the mountains...Again Oska pounded on the stone slab. He searched around the edges, trying to find some opening mechanism, clawing at the smooth seam in the metal. There was nothing to grip, nothing to pull on. No response.He stopped, leaning against the wall. Sweat beaded on his brow. What now?There was only one way to go. Down the passageway. Down into the darkness of the mountain. The thought chilled him to the bone. Images of deep pits and creatures lurking in the dark rose in his mind. He shook his head, trying to think clearly.He could not stay here. That was certain. He had to try to find Parus. Maybe the two of them could find a way out.The passage went on before him, long and straight.He could always come back...right?Right...Oska breathed steadily, calming himself, trying to keep his hand from shaking. It was not so silent here after all. The torch crackled in the still air, lighting up a place that had been dark for who knew how many ages. Even the air smelled ancient.He had to go on. : : The passage stretched on. Time stretched on, or at least it felt like it. Oska plodded down the tunnel, not knowing how long he had been walking. He called out every so often, calling to Parus. He got no answer back, or at least, nothing more than his own muffled echo. Sometimes he thought he heard a voice that was not his own, filtering from across vast distances.Other times it seemed like sounds came from the walls of the tunnel. Something pounding, thudding rhythmically deep in the earth. It reminded him of the sound of a factory he had seen in Old Vulcanus many years ago. Iron gears grinding…The walls of the passage were smooth, for the most part. At intervals, Oska found small grooves in the thick metal. He thought they might be doors, but he didn’t know how to open them. He hoped Parus didn’t know either—even though the Fire-Agori had apparently managed to open the door in the cave. Otherwise he would surely be lost.Once, near the beginning of the passage, he had come to a place where the tunnel widened into a large chamber, the roof higher than the torchlight could reach. He had searched around the perimeter of it, but found no sign of Parus.There were notches in the walls there too, and he thought he had seen another Matoran symbol glowing from across the chamber. But by the time he reached it, there was no sign of it. Perhaps he had only imagined...his eyes playing tricks in the flickering light.No, for now there was only one way to go: straight forward.Luckily, he still had his pack when he started down the tunnel. It had been on the right side of the door when it closed, and that meant he had one extra torch. But that was a while ago, and by now he had used up one of them. If he didn’t find Parus soon, he would have to turn back or be forced to continue blind in the dark.“Hello?” Oska called out again into the dead air. “Anyone?” His voice faltered. He was tired. He needed to rest, but that would mean letting the torch burn lower. He couldn’t let that happen.The sound of his own footsteps droned in his ears. Repetitive, wearisome. He had tried to whistle at one point, but the sound didn’t carry in the close air. It fell flat, disheartening.I can’t go much farther like this, he thought, watching the torch sputter and hiss.It would burn his hand soon. And then it would go out. He would be truly alone…lost…forgotten.No one would know what happened to him.No one would remember...Thud.He ran into something flat and solid, falling hard on his back.“Oh...” he moaned, rubbing his face. He sat up. Luckily, he hadn’t dropped the torch.It was a wall. The end of the tunnel?Yes. It was a dead end. The tunnel ended abruptly here. He had been watching his feet, hadn’t been paying attention...He sat motionless for a moment on the floor, staring dumbly at the featureless wall. What possible purpose could there be in this passage if it just ended here? Where was Parus?He stood up slowly. Could Parus have really come this way? There wasn’t even a sign of him. Maybe he had gone through one the doors...or maybe Oska had missed a branching of the tunnel. Maybe Parus hadn’t even entered the tunnel!The thought sent a shiver of fear through him, rising up to choke his mind. All of this could be futile. Parus was not here. He was alone. He should turn back now, before the light was gone.The light... Suddenly Oska’s dazed mind registered the spluttering sound of the torch going out. The oiled wood was spent, and he watched in horror as it sparked, flickered, and died in his hand. The shadows closed in around, covering him, filling his eyes and his mind.Standing there in the absolute darkness, Oska felt despair creep into his thoughts. Despair and fear.It was over. He could not face the long journey back through the lightless passage. Even now, the fear of something creeping down the tunnel froze his heart with unknown terror. Things crawling out of the doors in the passage behind him.He couldn’t see. He was blind now. Blind and dead.The dead air pressed down on his spirit, choking him. He fell to his knees, clawing at the hard metal before him, scraping it with his finger. He couldn’t make a sound. His throat was shut, his eyes clenched tightly. There was no where to hide. It was over.Once.Twice.Three times he struck the hard wall. His fist hurt, and tears sprang to his eyes. He drew his arm back for one more strike. One more before he gave in. Before the darkness claimed him.His fist flew forward......but it struck nothing but emptiness. Wind blew past him with the sound of the door moving aside, and he fell forward, hurtling through the sudden opening......and two arms caught him. : : Oska.He felt like he was floating...no solid ground beneath him.Oska!Weightless…Hey, wake up!Falling...!Oska sat up suddenly, gasping. He was awake. Awake! He had heard a voice...someone had spoken....Someone had caught him.He tried to stagger up, thrashing.“Whoa, hold on, scholar!” A hand gripped his arm in the darkness. It was...it was Parus!Relief washed over Oska’s mind.“Parus!” he croaked, “By the spirits, I’m glad to hear your voice!”“Hah!” the hand moved to his shoulder. “The same to you, scholar.”Oska couldn’t see. His eyes were wide open, straining. It was still pitch black. They were still in the passage.“How long was I out?”“A few minutes, maybe. Looks like you were pretty high-strung.”“You have no idea, Parus. I thought I was going to die down here.” Oska winced, feeling the pain in his bruised hand. He shook his head, trying to clear away the cobwebs, the lingering horror that he had felt.“Hey—“ he said, feeling a bit irritated, “what on earth possessed you to go wandering down here, Parus? You could have wakened me at least! You should have got me up.”There was a silence.“Eh...” Parus’ voice sounded embarrassed, “I...meant to come back. I did. But...I sort of got lost.”“You got lost...in a straight tunnel?” Oska almost laughed.“No, no...” the Fire-Agori cringed, “it was that first chamber. You see, I went looking around the walls and ended up taking the wrong way back. Then I came to this door half-open, and it closed when I went through. I’ve been stuck here for a few hours at least. It only opened when you started pounding on it.”“Oh, well that explains some things.” Oska said, still irritated. “At least you have a good excuse. How did you manage to open the door in the cave in the first place?”“I was checking out the back of the cave, and I noticed the seam in the stone. It just opened when I touched it. I really don’t know how it works.”“Neither do I. It closed when I went through. So technically we’re both trapped.”“Ah, excellent, scholar. A fine situation we’re in.”Oska sighed. “All the same,” he said, “I’m glad I won’t have to die alone down here.”“I suppose that’s some consolation,” Parus chuckled. “Anyways, we won’t worry about dying yet. But what now?”“I don’t know.”“You say we can’t go back?”“Maybe...I don’t know. The doors don’t seem to open from the inside.”“Looks like whoever built this place didn’t want anyone getting out...”They sat silent for a moment, each with his own thoughts. Oska was relieved to have found his companion again, but a sense of foreboding still lingered in his mind. What could they do now? They had limited resources—maybe enough for a few days—but no light and no way to go......except forward.“I explored farther up the tunnel before you got here,” Parus said quietly, as if he wanted to keep the conversation going. “It turns to the left after a while, and there are no more channels in the walls after that.”“Do you want to go back?” Oska asked, half-wishing that he’d say yes.“Actually, scholar, I thought you’d want to go on.”“Why would you think that?”“Well, isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? History?”“I’d prefer to be able to tell people about it in the present. It looks like we may become history here...”“Heh, well said, scholar. But what if there’s another way out? These tunnels can’t go on forever.”“Can’t they?”“Hmph...well, I’m not going to sit here and wait to starve, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”“No, no, you’re right, Parus.” Oska sighed again, rubbing his face. “I want to see where this all leads as much as you do.”“I thought you’d say that.” Parus was smiling. “So we’re agreed?”“Agreed.” : : As Parus had said, the tunnel turned sharply left after a short distance. The going was much slower now that they had no light. The two Agori walked side by side now, each with one hand on the wall. They didn’t want to miss any openings.At least another two hours passed in this manner. They stopped to rest occasionally, taking some food from their packs. Water would be the vital thing to conserve, so they drank sparingly.They talked a little to pass the time, but otherwise silence filled the tunnel. Eventually they came to another tall chamber, similar to the first.“Let’s make sure we go through the right door this time.” Oska said dryly after they had searched the smooth walls.“No need to rub it in, scholar.” Parus said, gritting his teeth.They left the chamber behind, continuing on into the straight, unchanging tunnel. Once again, they lapsed into the rhythm of walking, walking and listening, the same as before.But after a while, something changed.It was subtle at first: a quiet and unobtrusive noise. But soon, both Agori knew that they were not imagining it:It was a rhythmic sound. The sound of pounding: something beating, pulsing from beyond the walls. It was unmistakable. They stopped a few times just to listen, to make sure it wasn’t their minds playing tricks.It was there. Oska could almost feel it vibrate into his feet. Not everything was dead down here. There was something alive in this ancient place.Neither one of the Agori spoke now—all there was to do was walk and listen, walk and listen. A long, drawn-out rhythm of movement and sound. The tunnel went on straight and unbending. Time went on, unmeasured. There was no time here. There was only the relentless walking, the tunnel, the beating noise, the darkness.Suddenly the walls on either side ended. They were out of the tunnel—another chamber? Yes, it was another chamber, but this one was larger—much larger. It stretched away into emptiness, an immeasurable space. The air almost felt thin, all vibrating with the vast, unending noise.They stopped abruptly. The transition from close quarters to the feeling of massive, unseen space was startling. Oska dropped to one knee, bracing a hand on the floor.“You can feel it here,” he mumbled. “Even the floor is vibrating.”“Oska!” Parus spoke to his left. His voice was quivering. “Look!”Look?Oska had not realized that his eyes were closed. In the darkness it had not mattered, and he had forgotten.But now he opened them, raising his weary eyelids slowly.He cried out and staggered back, shielding his dulled sight from the brightness which suddenly assaulted him.“What is it?” he yelled. Points of light flickered in his vision as he steadied himself, trying to ease his eyes open again.This time it was not nearly as bright. There were two points of radiance to his left: they were mounted in the wall on either side of the opening they had just passed through. Parus was examining one of them, his face pale in the white glow.“Look at this, Oska! It’s amazing. No heat at all.”“No heat?” Oska rose, moving toward him. “Where’s the fuel coming from?”“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it’s even attached to the wall.” The Fire-Agori stooped and rummaged in his pack for moment. “In fact,” he continued, holding up a rock-climbing pick, “I think I can pry one loose.”“Be careful,” Oska replied, stepping back. “Don’t damage it. I’ve had my fill of blindness.”“Hah, so have I,” Parus wedged the pick in behind the glowing stone, heaving down on the handle. It came loose without much effort, and Parus crowed with triumph.“Better than a sputtering torch, eh, scholar? We’ve gone up in the world!”“If you say so.”The Fire-Agori pried the second stone out of its sconce, handing it to Oska.“One for each of us. No more stumbling in the dark.”The stone was cool to the touch, giving off a pale, white radiance—a translucent crystal. Oska had never seen anything like it before. He stared at it for several moments, feeling the smooth surface.Then he turned to the massive space, raising the light-stone aloft.The floor lit up before him, and Oska now saw—to his sudden horror—that the floor ended a short distance from where he stood. Beyond it there was only empty space.“My...” he stepped back hurriedly. “Careful, Parus, it’s a pit!”They were on a platform, jutting out over dark emptiness.“Watch your step, scholar.” Parus said, his voice grave. “Thank the spirits we didn’t keep walking...”“Don’t remind me.”Before him, Oska now saw that the platform narrowed into walkway—thin, but straight—which stretched out over the chasm, continuing into the darkness. Presumably it led to some other opening on the far side of the pit.Parus stepped forward.“Be careful!” Oska warned.“—I know what I’m doing, scholar. What, afraid of heights all of a sudden?”He sidled slowly toward the edge, peering down into the blackness for a moment. Then he dropped one of the burnt torch-shafts into the depths, watching as the darkness swallowed it.There was no sound of it hitting the bottom, even if they could have heard it above the steady pulsing in the air.“That’s enough of that, Parus.” Oska gestured for him to come away from the edge. “We know it’s deep. Very deep.”“Of course, well, shall we cross the bridge then?”“Oh...If we must.” Oska eyed the narrow walkway nervously.“Unless you’d rather sit here and listen to the hammering. It’s louder here than in the tunnel.”“I think it’s getting louder as we go on.”“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”“Neither do I...Alright, let’s go.” Oska raised his light-stone aloft again, moving toward the narrow walkway. He squared his shoulders, making sure his pack was balanced.Then he stepped forward.Step after step, one at a time. The thin light revealed more and more of the walkway as they continued on. On either side, the chasm stretched into infinity—up, down, left, right. The cavern echoed with the unending noise, resounding in the unknown distance above and below.Soon, Oska could glimpse another platform and a wall with another opening away in front of him. They were near the end. It was almost over.He slowed his pace, looking back over his shoulder.“Almost there, Parus! Only a little farther.”The Fire-Agori was close behind, sauntering. Almost casual. Oska scowled, turning forward again. He plodded on, matching the pace of the pulsing noise.He could almost imagine the great wheels and gears and throbbing pistons that could make such a sound. Maybe if there were lights in this chamber he could see them, away to the left or right.He wished he could see them. That in itself would make this journey worthwhile.The machines of giants.Or of the Matoran...If only...His thoughts were shattered by a sudden lurch. The bridge shifted underneath him, shaking violently. The pounding noise suddenly rose faster, louder, filling his ears and mind. Oska cried out, trying to keep his balance.He fell to a knee, arms outstretched, wavering.“Go!” he heard Parus shout behind him, and a hand shoved him along the walkway. He had to get to the end—the wide platform. He was almost there.Oska stumbled forward, teetering from side to side. The ground lurched again, and he almost fell, instead he lost his grip on the light-stone.Away it flickered, down into the bottomless pit. Oska felt sick at the sight, but he staggered on.Almost there.Almost there.There! He had made it. He collapsed to the floor of the platform, hugging the flat metal as it shook beneath him. In the corner of his vision he saw Parus do the same. The Fire-Agori still had a light-stone, at least.“What is it?” Parus yelled above the noise that now thundered around them.“I don’t know!” Oska replied.“Maybe we shouldn’t stay to find out!”They rose in unison, both dashing toward the opening in the wall which loomed before them. Parus rushed through first, holding the light-stone forward, and Oska followed, stumbling.For a moment, before he entered, the scholar stopped in the doorway. Bracing himself against the wall, he looked back into the massive chamber.It was a short moment, a short glance, but it was long enough to glimpse a flickering host of lights winking on in the vast distance of the chamber.White light glinted momentarily upon huge shapes rising the distance. Cyclopean machines throbbing and pulsing as they worked—the last thundering throes of mechanisms worn out by time and entropy...It was a sight at once beautiful and frightening in its immensity...fearful and terrible.Oska turned and fled into the tunnel. : : The passage lead straight on as all the others had, except this one now began to slant upward.It was a gradual incline, but soon both Agori were breathing hard as they struggled up the slope, fleeing from the quaking and the deafening noise.Parus still lead the way, holding the light-stone aloft to illuminate their path.Both were weary—weary of this place, weary of the journey, weary of fear.There must be an end soon, Oska thought, feeling his muscles burn with the effort of running. A sense of urgency drove him on. The feeling of some impending conclusion to this journey.The tunnel went on.Time seemed to skip quickly forward, rushing, rushing.The slope steepened, now they were almost crawling, bent forward.Oska went with his hands out to catch himself if he fell...It was almost done. Almost over.The breath stuck in his lungs as he gasped, his heart pounding with the speed of the pounding machines in the depths behind them.Pounding in his ears…Pounding in his mind…In front of him, Parus seemed to stop for a moment, the light in his hand wavering as he bent. Was he going to rest?No, it was another door. Another dead end. The light-stone shone white and flat against it.No.Not another one. Oska couldn’t take much more.Parus raised the lightstone, searching for a groove or seam. There was nothing. Nothing!He beat upon the stone. Oska beat with him. Neither spoke. There was nothing but the thud of their hands on the stone. Nothing more to do but that. Nothing to do but escape. Escape.Escape!And then the door moved.Light blinded them. But this time it was real light—no artificial, crystaline radiance.It was sunlight. Blazing, brilliant sunlight.They staggered forward out of the dark and into the day. : : Wind smote Oska’s face as he stumbled forward upon the dusty ground. It was a crisp wind, bitingly cold after the stillness of the tunnel.“We’re out!” he heard Parus yell to his right as he staggered in the haze of sunlight. Even with the glow of the crystal to acclimate his eyes in the passage, the light of the sun was blinding, painful.He was out of breath, lungs heaving, limbs weak after the last desperate effort up the sloping tunnel. He stood still, trying to regain his bearings. At last, his vision cleared.…and the sight that greeted him was staggering.Before his feet, the ground sloped steadily downward: a long, gray, sweeping curve that lead down into a vast Plain.Immense: a shifting ocean of gray dunes and hills of ancient sand, all sculpted into unmoving waves by the icy wind.Before him it spread, huge and incredible, not just for its size, but also because, as Oska gazed in speechless awe, he perceived that it was a cavern. The wall behind him rose up into an unbroken cliff-side, towering higher and higher, slanting outward into the vaulted arch of a gray stone sky above him.Far out in the vastness, three massive holes in that artificial sky let in the sunlight from beyond.One of holes was more jagged than the others: a rough gap torn in the colossal roof.Oska fell to his knees, overcome.Beside him, Parus rubbed his eyes, his jaw slack. There were no words to describe the scene—not only the sense of scale but also the sense of......Age.Eons lay upon the dry expanse of that ancient sea, that primeval vault of sky. And upon the single feature that rose up from the ashen gray of that plain: an island amid the spreading dunes.Oska thought that he could almost glimpse the spires of towers upon the indistinct shape that glowered in the distance. A mountain?A city?“What...” Parus swallowed, trying to form words. “What is it, scholar?”“I don’t...know...” Oska replied, struggling to his feet again. He moved forward, step by step, farther down the slope. His mind felt far away, shocked and overwhelmed.The wind blew around his knees as he fell forward suddenly, catching himself with outstretched hands.The dust hissed between his fingers, fine-grained and sterile, and he felt something hard beneath the surface. With trembling fingers, he scraped away the accumulation of ages, finding a hard corner of stone or metal.“Parus, where’s my pack?” he mumbled, breathless.“On your back.” The Fire-Agori moved toward him, tearing his eyes away from the landscape.“Oh...” Oska shifted his shoulder, dropping the pack to the ground.He rummaged in its depths for a moment before drawing out a small brush. He then proceeded to unearth the stone object, finding the edges, clearing away the dry grit.The wind aided his progress, and soon he was kneeling before a small raised pedestal which jutted out of the dust.“Found something already?” Parus stooped beside him, peering over his shoulder.“Yes...” Oska bent and blew on the stone, clearing out the small channels and grooves with his breath. An inscription appeared. Several inscriptions. Oska’s heart was beating even faster now.His eyes darted over the pedestal, trying to discern the symbols.There were Matoran symbols here. Matoran. There were several variations. He couldn’t read them very well. Some were worn away by the passing of time.Oska felt a feeling of urgency rise in his chest, almost desperation. He had to find out what they meant...he had to. There had to be some purpose to them, somehow.He traced the lines down the pedestal, line after line, searching......and then he saw it.There along the lower third of the stone: the final set of inscriptions. He caught a word. It was Agori: old—very old. But Oska knew much of the old languages of Spherus Magna, especially his own.He could read it.He could read it.It was here—here for him, he was sure. And it meant that some other Agori had been here at one time. Some Agori had, in ancient days, carved these words alongside the words of Matoran, perhaps at the same time. That in itself was a revelation.“Well?” Parus broke into his revelry, a quiet voice against the wind. “What does it say?”What does it say?Such a question demanded an answer...What does it mean?Such a journey demanded a purpose...And in those few short moments, there kneeling before that awesome expanse—the dry, spreading sea-plain, the dim city-shape, the rising dome of the sky pierced by the shafts of the morning sun—Oska the scholar recited the words carved there for him to see in the long-forgotten depths of time: Look, O inheritor. Look and see.O heir of this world—this world broken and healed and broken again—look long and well.Regain what we have lost, when the life of our world is dying and gone.Remember what we have written here.For, in the remembering, this world shall live again.Look, inheritor, and remember us:We, the Children of the Great Spirit.Children of the Bionicle.Remember:---“In the Time Before Time…... : : The End : :-------------------- [Originally posted 4/21/11. The archived version is here.]Original post: Hey again, BZP.Just thought I’d bring this one back from the time before the cataclysm. Comments/criticism is always much appreciated.JRRT
×
×
  • Create New...