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Found 9 results

  1. Gallery Light and Darkness struggle, invaders rampage, plagues spread, and kings go mad. But the Shepherd wanders the earth and sky, inviting all into the sanctuary of the flock. A MOC built in honor of Anthony Wilson (The Secret Walrus) for a secret santa project. See how many references to his work you can spot!
  2. Lord Of The Bionicle This is my secret santa gift to T1S. So I hope he enjoys it. In case you didn't figure it out by the title, it's a Lord of the Rings, bionicle crossover. Discussion topic:http://www.bzpower.com/board/topic/22082-lotb-discussion/?p=1059414 The story starts in the forge of Ekimu, where Ekimu defeats Kulta. Kulta was thrown back by the force of Ekimu's hammer and landed in the furnace, but before he could burned to a crisp, a dimensional gate opened underneath him and sent him to another dimension, and at the same time, Brutaka stepped out of the portal. This Brutaka is not the one your familiar with,this Brutaka uses his mask to discover other dimensions and report about them to the rulers of his dimension."Hmm, this is interesting" he said to himself. "Excuse me, you in the gold and blue armor, I need to check out your dimension and I could use a guide"Brutaka said. "Uhh, I'm a little busy right now, but if you head over to one of the six villages, I'm sure you could find a guide" Ekimu said as he put the Mask of Creation back on his face. "Okay, thank you" Brutaka said gratefully. Meanwhile, the maskless Kulta ended up in a dimension above the clouds where Ekimu had no brother and he used his Mask of Creation to make thousands of Olmaks and from the look on his face, he couldn't have a better life. Kulta wanted the element of surprise, so he tried to play nice until he got the information he needed. "Where am I?" he decided to ask first. "Well your in my place, thats where" Ekimu said in an especially carefree voice that you wouldn't expect from a guy like Ekimu. "Okay, so whats this?" Kulta asked as he picked up an Olmak. "That, my skeletal friend, is a kanohi Olmak, mask of dimensional gates. It lets you traverse different dimensions". And Kulta decided to ask one more question just to be safe,"What's that your wearing on your face?" he asked pointing to Ekimu's mask."This" he said, pointing to his mask, "Is the Mask of Creation, it lets me make all these masks" he said gesturing to the piles of Olmaks everywhere, "Its got tons of other powers but I have no need for them" he said right before he was grabbed in the face by Kulta,"Woah man, what're you doing!" Ekimu said as Kulta tightened his grip on the mask. "I plan on making use of those 'other powers'". No sooner had Kulta said that, he tore the mask off of Ekimu's face, letting him collapse to the floor. Kulta placed an Olmak on his face and was about to leave, but then he turned around and said, "I don't think anyone will miss you", he then nicked a pile of Olmaks with his toe and watched it come crashing down on Ekimu's unconscious body. Then, he opened a portal, and left. When Kulta emerged on the other side, he saw a village. This village was inhabited by a bunch of short people who were running away, in fear of him. I just got here and everyone's already scared of me Kulta thought to himself. He went to look around. By now, all the "shorties" had fled. All he could find were some sheep, some pigs, a river, some goats, and a bunch of small things that must have belonged to the shorties. While he was looking, he managed to find one of the hiding shorties and grabbed him in his hand before he could run away again. "What are you, and where am I ?!" Kulta yelled in the shorty's face." I-I'm a hobbit, a halfling, and th-this i-is H-Hobbiton" the hobbit said squeamishly "M-might I a-ask who y-you are?" the hobbit asked "I am Kulta, the skull grinder. You wouldn't know who I am, I come from a very different place, somewhere you couldn't possibly know about" Kulta said calmly. "You wouldn't happen to know about any, beings of great power, would you?" Kulta asked the "hobbit". "W-well, there w-was once a being named S-Sauron and his servant, S-Saruman, they ruled the o-orcs, r-ringwraiths, a-and n-nazgul" the hobbit said. "Hmm, alright then, thanks" Kulta said as he placed the Mask of Creation on his face and set the hobbit down. As much as he wanted to flee, the hobbit knew he had to find out what this stranger was up to. "W-what's that mask for?" the hobbit asked. "Your quite brave to stay and ask that. Very well, I will show you" Kulta said. No sooner had Kulta said that, he began to channel the power of his mask. The ground shook as enemies from the past began to surface from the ground as skeletons and zombies. Cave trolls, orcs, nazgul, uruk-hai, wargs, mumakil, even the balrog and smaug were there to bend to Kulta's will. And amongst all these horribly disgusting creatures stood, the very imposing, Sauron (accompanied by the not zombified Saruman). Saruman's not a zombie because the power of the Mask of Creation mixed with Saruman's magic managed to revitalize his body, making him young and strong again. "So I guess these are the powerful beings you were speaking of?" Kulta said to the hobbit. The hobbit was to struck with fear to speak or move. "Must've caught him off guard" Kulta said to himself before he walked through the undead army to speak with Sauron & Saruman. "So you brought us back to life to help you in your conquest of evil?" Saruman asked. "Actually, I figured I'd bring you back to life and help YOU in YOUR conquest of evil, then you could help me help Makuta to get rid of the toa and get revenge on Ekimu" Kulta replied. "If your mask could bring all of us back to life, then do you think that you could bring back, THE RING?" Sauron asked gravely. "Sure, no problem" Kulta said plainly. "If you give me the ring and help me to take over Middle-Earth, we will help you with whatever it is you need us for" Sauron said. "Alright, let me just get MY army" Kulta said before he used his Olmak to bring his skull army into Middle-Earth "If we combine our armies, there's no doubt that we, I mean you, can take over Middle-Earth" Kulta said confidently before he used the mask of creation to bring forth, The Ring. At that moment, the Brutaka from earlier came through a dimensional gate leading to Middle-Earth saying to himself, "Okoto sure is fascinating" but then Brutaka looked up, not only to find that he was in Middle-Earth, but that there was an undead army standing before him. Luckily no one noticed him yet so he found a place to hide, with some hobbits already in it, so he had to shush them so they didn't blow his cover. He managed to stay hidden long enough to realize what was going on so he could report back to his dimension. When the coast was clear, Brutaka went back to his dimension to report to the rulers of his kingdom: Turaga Takanuva, Toa Helryx, and Voporak. Once he told them what had happened, they gave him a new mission, to gather people from different dimensions to stop the combined armies of Kulta and Sauron.
  3. Edelgard

    OBLIVION: Review

    For forty years, Spherus-Magna has lived in relative peace following an event known as the 'Reformation'. However, darkness always rises - and four Matoran find themselves hired to stop its shadow from spreading across the planet forevermore. Gathered together by a Mad Great Being, they find themselves in a deadly race to find the Mask of Life... all the while hunting down a mysterious and deadly foe before they succeed in their dark plan to end the newly reformed world. CHAPTERS "THE MAD GREAT BEING" "MEET THE TEAM" "KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE..." "AND YOUR ENEMIES CLOSER" "SHARE YOUR STORY" (From the Files of a Stranger) "IT'S ALL A GAME" "SPINE EATER" "BY THE FIRESIDE" MEET THE TEAM ARAINA - "The Mad Great Being" BRONZE - "The Living Mask" SIRIEN - "The Snarker" SMOKE MONSTER - "The Mask Maker" MARAKO - "The Mayor" SVENTOLA - "The Agori" OTHER CHARACTERS - Voltex - Xaeraz - RG - Dina - The Artisan - Makua - Kuan - Dallior - Dai - Phrase - - VELIKA - - Iaredios Paerkenon - Driken - Lord of Ice Picks - Pilgrim Shadow - Jalicax - Aerixx - Maltik - - Shadow Ignited - Well, everything appears to be in order! What do you think so far? My apologies about the lack of, well, really anybody except for Araina and Voltex in the prologue; the latter plays next to no role later in the story, but his freeing of the so-called "Mad Great Being" is what ultimately sets the events of this story in motion. Chapter 1 will release on January 16th.
  4. A BZPOWER STORY PROLOGUE: “THE MAD GREAT BEING” ---Sixteen Years Ago--- ---24 AR [After Reformation]--- He crept through the trees, keeping a wary eye on the slowly setting sun as it drifted down the sky. It would not do to be caught in the dark of night without shelter; he could already feel the creatures of the night beginning to stir; they would soon wake up. In the fading light, he could make out an ancient building, crumbling and covered with vines. A quick mental signal enhanced his visual perception, clearing the image and brightening it so that he could make out more of what was clearly some sort of ancient fortress. The sandy-brown stones were out of place amongst the layered greens of the jungle, and would have been better suited in a desert. As he approached the fortress, he was able to make out ancient carvings, from a dialect so old even his translator systems could not determine their origins. This fortress was from a time long since past. As he came close enough to reach out and touch the building, he stopped, turned, and then began to walk around it, circling it once to examine all four of the massive walls. Even in his decrepit state, the various systems in his body allowed him to accomplish the task within a few short minutes; a task that would have taken most others hours. Nonetheless, by the time he was finished, the sun was almost gone, and like clockwork, the jungle behind him was coming to life. His only shelter for the night would be inside the fortress itself. Returning to the side of the fortress where he had discovered what once was an ornate entrance, he confidently stepped inside, somewhat surprised to find the halls within lit by torches. He had not seen any evidence of anyone other than himself being outside, and yet the torches, if his scanners were to be trusted, had been blazing for less than an hour. This information did not trouble him; he had dealt with far more dangerous - far more sinister - things than this. It would take more than mysterious torches to bother him. So he continued on, working his way through the labyrinth-like halls towards the center of the fortress, where he felt a strange compulsion to be, as though someone were calling him. He would have considered that strange, except that whoever was summoning him had made second-guessing the decision impossible. When he found himself entering a room with a solitary jail cell and a massive stone slab slid into place, blocking the way he had come - and inconveniently, the only exit - he did indeed find it strange. Despite this, it was not half as strange as the being sitting cross-legged upon the floor of the cell. They were tall - taller even than him - with emerald green armor, and they wore an ornate helmet. Their head was bowed, and their eyes shut. He took a tentative step towards them, only to freeze in place when they raised a single hand, palm facing him. “...hello?” he asked. His voice was ragged from disuse, mechanical against his will. The being frowned, opening their eyes and tilting their head up to look at him. Then their eyes widened slightly and they nodded, as though he had somehow answered an unspoken question. “Interesting,” they murmured. Their voice was like a thousand lines of silk, all sliding across each other. “A Matoran, when I first created you. Now a robot, long past your time.” He frowned. “You… know who I am?” They nodded, but tilted their head to the side, re-examining him. “Curious… you are not him. So I did create you, but somewhere else. You are not from here. You’ve come a long way.” “Look,” he started, stepping forward, clenching his fists. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re gonna start answering some questions right now. Who are you? Why are you here? How do you know me?” The being was silent for a long moment before asking, “where is your staff?” The question threw him off and he involuntarily stepped back into his original position, his frown deepening as he realized that his staff was no longer in his hands. He twisted, intending to go look for it, but found himself rooted in place; his legs would no longer move. He wrestled with them for several seconds before giving up the task and turning back towards the mysterious being, his eyes narrowing into a glare at the sight of his staff hovering at their side. “Once, long ago, I helped to create you, or rather, another me did.” The being said, seeming to speak as much to themselves as they were to him. “You were a Matoran of Gravity; my first contribution to the Matoran race. I named you.” “I don’t go by that name anymore,” he snapped, scowling. “It’s meaningless to me - the name of a murderer, and so much worse.” The being laughed - a rich, intoxicating sound, addicting in its pure and unadulterated pleasure. “No, no, you are mistaken. You bear the name now, as you should; you have gone by it for many years now, although nowhere near as long as I would have preferred. You go by Voltex, yes? That is what I called you.” His scowl turned back into a frown and he shook his head, unable to understand. “I… I don’t….” “I touched the Mask of Life, and it cursed me,” the being told him, their eyes shining. “Everything I touch comes to life. Isn’t that interesting? But it was a curse, for I made a mistake, and oh, the other Great Beings, they never tolerated mistakes.” “You’re insane,” he decided. “You have to be.” “If assuming that will help you to keep your own insanity then certainly,” the being replied, their voice full of mirth. “The ‘Mad Great Being’ they called me, until they locked me in here and forgot about me forever. What a quaint little title. I admire it; perhaps I am insane. I would not know; you are the first I have spoken to in many millennia.” He wanted to move, wanted to leave. His head was beginning to spin. The Mad Great Being appeared to both know this and take immense pleasure in the knowledge. “I had rivals, you see. Enemies. Some of them thought me foolish, as though I were some little child. Thought that they could turn my own creations against me, modify them for their own purposes without my knowing…” here, their gaze locked with his own, and if his robotic body could have felt chills, Voltex would have shuddered. “They changed you. Tried to wipe away your programming and replace it with their own, with a portion of themselves, and very nearly succeeded, yes. But I am very clever, for here you are; for unknown to them, you were always still in there, simply waiting to be let back out. Their plans were their own undoing, for they played right into mine.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this. What is this supposed to mean?” The Mad Great Being shrugged. “Alone out of the Great Beings, I have always had the gift and curse of foresight. I have foreseen it all, and here, in this universe, you are my salvation. For only a Great Being can tear down the bars of my cell and the walls of this fortress. Only at the hands of a Great Being can I become free… and you have a part of one locked away inside of you.” The Mad Great Being shook their head, studying him more closely. “No, that is not correct… ooh, he is clever indeed. You have… two? Really?” “Two of what?” Voltex asked, eyes narrowed. “White One.” He sighed. “You’re something else, aren’t you?” “Well, I am a Great Being,” they replied, their voice light and cheerful, “and besides, as you so succinctly put it, I am insane. Although if we’re both honest with ourselves - and I do believe we should be - you are as well. We both know you should be dead, not locked away inside a Maxilos unit! Gone and turned yourself into even more of an artificial intelligence than you were before!” “Before?” he asked, at this point completely lost. “Well, yes. You Matoran were all mostly mechanical. And besides, you can’t just make souls and personalities. You were just highly specialized AIs - and you, specifically, have managed to break your programming rather spectacularly. But then, if I had been called something as silly as ‘White One’, maybe I would to. Velika was always so awful with naming things…” the Mad Great Being trailed off, lost in their ramblings. Voltex had just opened his mouth to speak when they suddenly turned back to him. “How long has it been? Since the Reformation?” “...about twenty-four years,” he answered. “Interesting,” they murmured, looking away once again. He coughed. “You… said something about a Great Being inside of me?” They shrugged, waving the issue away. “Oh, yes, Velika. That nutter. Really, if any of the Great Beings deserved to be called ‘mad’, it’d be him, not me. He managed to override your coding by essentially inserting a small portion of his own soul into you. Made you stop being Voltex and start being him. And then when you broke through, came here and stopped the other you, and the other you found a way to transfer his thoughts into you as memories to preserve himself, because both of you are too clever for your own goods. Unfortunate, isn’t it darling? You’re a ticking time bomb.” “Thanks,” he muttered. “I’m really feeling your appreciation.” The near-blinding grin he received in response suggested that the Great Being seated in the cell with his staff had long since lost the ability to perceive sarcasm. “Thank you! I do appreciate you! That’s why I brought you here, of course. Because you’re you, and that means you’re lugging him around too. Or, you know, a part of him. It works!” “What works?!” he cried. “Why did you call me here?!” “To let me out, of course,” the Mad Great Being said, sounding confused. “Did I not explain it already? You have a bit of Velika inside of you. Just grab the bars, picture whichever version of those different White Ones inside of you that you want, and they’ll be deleted in exchange for freeing me!” “That sounds… overly complicated,” he muttered. The Mad Great Being shrugged cheerfully. “I don’t make the rules, dear.” Resisting the urge to groan, Voltex took a deep breath before slowly nodding. “Okay. So I grab the bars, lose some memories that were never mine to begin with, this whole place comes down, you get freed, and I get to walk away?” “Yep!” “Awesome. The answer is no.” “Great! Let’s just - wait, no?” “No.” The Mad Great Being frowned, seeming perplexed by his refusal. “No, you see, you have to say yes. Because I foresaw myself being freed. So… it’s happening. You can’t stop it.” Voltex shrugged, trying to ignore the gears that fell loose and clattered to a floor as a result of the action. “I think I can. Even if you won’t let me move, I’ll just stay here as long as it takes. I can induce a permanent sleep-state in myself, you know. One of the perks of this body, despite its state. Maybe somebody else will come along and free you, but it won’t be me.” “I specifically saw you freeing me. Robot body and everything,” the Mad Great Being replied, sounding frustrated before beginning to mutter to themselves. “Hmmph. What did I do wrong? Did I miss something? What if… no, no, that wouldn’t work. But then… no. Maybe…? Oh! Yes! I will give you a reward!” “A reward,” Voltex replied. “Yes!” the Mad Great Being exclaimed, holding out for what appeared to be some sort of data stick. “Free me and you get this! A map to all of the other Great Beings still on Spherus-Magna!” “Why would I want that?” he asked. “Because I know one, he was always friendlier than the rest,” the being said, sounding excited. “Never wanted me locked up, liked you all a lot. His name was Angonce. He can fit you with a fancy new upgraded body and everything! Better than that piece of junk you’re stuck inside right now, at least.” “I-” “Come on, we both know you can’t refuse it! You were practically programmed to survive before you became a robot! Now it’s like… you just have to! Right? You can’t refuse something that’ll help you survive!” “...you seem to know a lot more about me than I know about myself,” Voltex replied, more wary than before. The Mad Great Being tapped their head. “Foresight, remember? You’ll discover it for yourself and share the information someday. And then you’ll die.” “And then I’ll - wait, what? Why would you tell me that?!” “Because you deserve to know!” the Mad Great Being responded, still annoyingly cheerful. “So, are you going to bust me out of here or what? Quickly, too. It’s almost nap time!” “Nap… what? I don’t even… I don’t even understand.” “You don’t need to! Just break the bars! Forget one of those White One fellows and break me out, darling.” He shook his head. “I still don’t trust you.” “Oh, you don’t need to trust me; you just need to free me! Come on now, dear Tex. I might as well be your mother, of a sort. Would you really leave your own mother to rot inside of a jail cell for all of eternity?” “...I don’t even know what a mother is,” he muttered, shaking his head before snapping, “and don’t call me Tex! What a stupid nickname! My real name isn’t that long.” “Oh please, you know you love it,” the Mad Great Being replied, waving their hand dismissively. “As for what a mother is, well, I can give you the answer to that along with the map to the other Great Beings! How does that sound, Tex?” “Stop calling me Tex and you have a deal,” Voltex replied, scowling. “You have got to be the single most irritating person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.” The Mad Great Being clapped their hands together, giggling gleefully. “Excellent! Very well then, darling Voltex! Grab the bars, and shatter them with your robotic might! Forget one of those ugly White Ones inside of your head! Free me!” With a great deal of reluctance, Voltex did just that. The dilapidated Maxilos unit he was inhabiting sputtered and sparked, his footsteps clanking upon the stone floor as he approached the jail cell and grabbed onto the bars, forcing down the feeling of trepidation that he felt. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the memories that did not belong to him - and just as quickly as he had pictured them they began to vanish, as the bars to the cell shimmered out of existence until he was clutching thin air. He opened his eyes, barely managing to keep his balance as he nearly toppled over. The Mad Great Being chuckled, pressing his staff back into his hands as he stared at them, dumbfounded. “Here you are, darling,” they said, handing him the data stick. “A map to the Great Beings, starting with Angonce, as well as a dictionary and a few other miscellaneous pieces of information. Should it ever be necessary, I do hope that they will help you to integrate with the cultures of the locals with more success than the rest of the Matoran are having.” “I… okay,” he muttered, his gaze falling to the stick in his hand. “Um… cool. So now what?” “You need to get going into the jungle, I expect,” the Great Being responded, patting him on the shoulder lightly. “It’s almost nap time for you, darling. You’ll understand what I mean when the time comes! As for me… I do believe I shall travel the world!” They laughed at the confused expression on the face of the Maxilos unit as she walked away. Upon reaching the now-open exit, they briefly turned back to face him. “Good luck Tex, darling,” they said, giving him a small smile. “Do try to take care of yourself.” Speechless, Voltex was only able to nod; it was only after the Mad Great Being had vanished that he realized they had continued to call him ‘Tex’, causing him to curse with frustration. ---Present Day--- ---40 AR [After Reformation]--- The tall, lithe being shifted her weight from one foot to the other, pulling the hood of her dirty brown cloak up so that it hid the ornate helmet that she wore; what little of her emerald green armor could be seen gleamed in the sunlight. She rested one black gloved hand upon the pommel of her sword, the other shielding her eyes from the sun as she took in the sight of the city before her. Sixteen years of wandering had led her back to civilization at last. At her side, a small bronze Matoran of Fire was jittery, hopping from one foot to the other, the Kanohi Kakama on his face practically vibrating with excitement. “New Atero,” he whispered, his excitement flowing out of his mouth alongside his voice. “Is this really it, Lady Araina?” The gloved hand that had been shielding her eyes was lowered to rest upon the excitable Ta-Matoran’s head, gently freezing him in place; she laughed lightly when he glanced up at her, his expression worried; at the sound, his face shifted back into its excited expression. “Yes it is, my dear Bronze,” she replied. “This is where we shall find the rest of our team.” TO BE CONTINUED! In CHAPTER ONE, we will officially meet the rest of the team - as well as getting some interesting backstory for Bronze! And perhaps a few other appearances as well? REVIEW TOPIC
  5. Vrokorta

    LotB Discussion

    So here's the discussion topic for Lord Of The Bionicle: http://www.bzpower.com/board/topic/22081-lord-of-the-bionicle/. Not much more to it.
  6. Yeah, so, I wrote this for Sergei Rahkmaninoff for the Secret Santa thing. I couldn't think of a title, hence whatever that is up there ^. Also, obviously, Sergei Rachmaninoff never composed a fourth symphony (OR DID HE). Just seemed a handy name to give his fictional piece. Sergei Rachmaninoff logged into his LEGO account and found his way to the Kanoka Club page. He glanced down at the little paper thing that came with his Toa Nokama set and typed in the string of letters and numbers upon it: 34NOK09U. Once entered, he looked scrolled through the list of purchasable items until he found what he had been saving up for months to get, Rahkshi Rock. He had heard so much about Vorahk's performance and just had to see it for himself. He confirmed that he wanted to buy it and readied himself for the musical masterpiece. He was stunned. He had never seen or heard anything so beautiful and reaching such a level of perfection in his life. He was humbled by it as well. He knew he would never be able to reach such magnificence in his pieces, but it also gave him a drive to get as good as he could; he may never be able to reach Rahkshi Rock's flowing melody, but he would try. It inspired him. Filled with a sudden passion, he began composing. He worked all through the night and into the next day before he rested, and that was only for a few hours before he began working again. After days of work, he looked at his completed Symphony No. 4. He felt relieved, in a way, as though the piece had been weighing upon his subconscious for some time now and had only just been removed. He reviewed it, finding it to be quite to his liking, and called the conductor for a nearby large orchestra. He told him of his new piece and asked if the conductor would be interested in having a performance of it soon. The conductor was greatly interested in it, and said he could have his orchestra ready to play it within the month, and that he'd drive by the following morning to pick up a copy of the sheet music. Contented with this prospect and with the melody of Rahkshi Rock still floating through his mind, Sergei fell asleep. The next morning the conductor took a copy of the composition which Sergei had made shortly beforehand. In the weeks before the performance, Sergei relaxed, reading books, listening to records of music, and above all, watching Rahkshi Rock. It haunted him; how could a mortal create such an infinitely powerful work of art? At the performance, Sergei sat in his private canopy booth, specifically chosen for the best sonic quality. He closed his eyes and swayed his hands to the rhythm. At one point, later in the piece, he looked down at the audience below. He smiled as he saw their enjoyment of the music. Then he spotted him. Vorahk, Sergei's idol, sitting in the audience and listening to his music. He couldn't believe it. Despite adoring listening to the first performance of his new piece, he could scarcely contain himself until the end. He must see Vorahk, even if just for a moment. To speak to him... It would be an honor beyond all he had yet received in his life. As soon as the piece neared its end - handy knowing precisely when it would end, Sergei thought - he left his booth and made his way into the main entry hall. He scanned for the easily noticeable form of Vorahk until he found him. He made his way towards the Rahkshi, growing more nervous with every step, and shook Vorahk's hand. "Hello, sir, my name is Sergei." "Sergei?" the Rahkshi responded, "As in, the composer of this fine work?" "You exaggerate it, my friend. Only one of my humble works. I am a fan of your own," he said. "Ah, why thank you! It's an honor to hear praise from as esteemed a virtuoso as yourself." "Why thank you. You enjoyed it, I hope?" "Absolutely. Without a doubt my favorite yet. Though I must say that The Isle of the Dead has dealt me a good deal of inspiration through the years." "Thank you again. Actually, I became inspired to write this piece right after having listened to Rahkshi Rock. It was fantastic." "Really? Well, that's great to hear." The conversation continued for some time. Rachmaninoff was thrilled to be speaking to such a level with him, and after a few minutes decided to ask a question that had been steadily growing in his mind whilst they talked. "I... Well, it may be a silly thing to ask, as I know how busy you must be, but have you ever thought of working on music... with someone before?" Vorahk cocked his head, seeming to understand what Sergei was getting to. "A bit, yes. You?" "Well, not much before tonight. But in talking to you, I have come to the conclusion that we may... Erm, what I'm saying is, would you like to compose a piece of music together?" The Rahkshi grinned. "Certainly. In fact, I've been getting similar thoughts tonight as well. Perhaps we could meet up somewhere tomorrow and begin work?" "Sounds perfect. My house is nearby to this theatre. You could come over in the morning and we could discuss ideas." Vorahk nodded. The two artists shook hands and parted ways. Rachmaninoff had completely forgotten about the performance of his piece. He didn't particularly care. He had bigger and better things to do than think about that. He tossed and turned through the night, hardly getting any sleep due to excitement for the coming day. The next morning came and Rachmaninoff stepped into it eager with expectations of what they could accomplish together. Vorahk arrived and they began work. Complex symphonies with a larger array of instruments than typical, quartets of electric guitars, drum sets, and perfectly crafted harmonies. It was pefect; all Sergei had dreamed about had come true.
  7. I wrote this short story as my secret santa gift to Dina Saruyama; in it, a Matoran character (named after but not necessarily based upon her, except the love for dinosaurs) runs into a strange robot in the jungle of Bota-Magna. The robot is in a state of disrepair, and the two discuss the holidays and a few other things. --- BY THE FIRESIDE It’s the holidays again. Just like every year. She’ll be spending them alone. Just like every year. Everyone spends the rest of the year as normal, perfectly content to be alone, perfectly content to be horrible to each other, perfectly content to pretend as if they haven’t already started walking back down the exact same path that they had managed to stray from. But then it’s two weeks before the Reformation anniversary, and suddenly it’s not okay to be alone, it’s not okay to be horrible to each other, it’s not okay to pretend as if they haven’t already started walking back down the exact same path that they had managed to stray from, even though they’re supposedly celebrating the fact that they strayed at all. Forgetting that they should have found new path to walk along instead. It doesn’t matter to her very much anyway; she’s become something of a non-presence ever since the reformation. Well, since before the Reformation if she’s honest with herself, but at least back then everybody was too busy fighting one war after another to even care about who was who. Nowadays with the peace and society long ago back to normal in the twenty-five years it has been, there’s plenty of room and plenty of time for people like her to become outcasts. She hasn’t done anything wrong per se. But her views don’t align neatly with the mindless, shambling horde that most of the former Great Spirit Robot inhabitants have become. On most matters, she disagrees even more with the planet’s natives. Despite Mata-Nui’s best efforts and final wishes, the divide between Spherus-Magnans and her own kind is clear, and it grows by the day. They might be in a time of peace, but it is a messy one. Flimsy, and liable to snap at any moment. She can feel another war looming on the horizon, despite any and all attempts to pretend as if it isn’t so. It’s part of why, when the holidays come, she does not celebrate with everyone else. For them, it is designed to be a time of joy, a time of companionship. They partake in what they claim to be ‘remembering’, but it would be more accurately labelled as ‘forgetting’, what with their grand tales of triumph, and the few quiet moments during the wars in which they felt happy. For her, it is a time of frustration and loneliness. She remembers, more than anyone, what it was like before the Reformation. She can share tales of loss and devastation. Her quiet moments during the wars involve sitting by the side of friends as they died. So when the holidays roll around and the rest of the society jumps up to party with smiles and laughter, she instead withdraws into herself, travelling alone. She tried remaining in the city for the first few years, but found it to be immensely challenging. It is far easier to take on the holidays alone. Every year, she journeys to the Bota-Magna forests and sets up camp in the trees, and studies. She studies the fauna, she studies the insects, she studies the animals, and she studies everything else. Her focus this year (and every year before, and it will be every year to follow) is the dinosaurs. They are gargantuan, many of them the largest land creatures that Spherus-Magna has to offer. Some of them feed only on plants; others only on meat; others still on metal. She hates the metal eaters. They aren’t natural; no living organic creature has ever or will ever require metal to sustain itself unless tampered with. And make no mistake, the dinosaurs she studies – all of them, every single one of them – has been tampered with. It took place long, long ago, millennia upon millennia before the reformation, back before even the shattering, when the once-mythical Great Beings still roamed the planet, experimenting everything they knew and creating everything they saw. The Great Beings modified the dinosaurs. She has not found a single dinosaur across her years of studying them that does not have armored plating growing on top of its skin. Certain dinosaurs have other enhancements, although all of the additions are rather obsolete compared to the Great Beings’ later work. She is thankful for this small blessing; it will make it easier for her to remove the so-called enhancements and return the dinosaurs to their natural state. Still, one small blessing does not stop her from hating the beings that were so self-absorbed and narcissistic to believe themselves as ‘great’. Shaking her head to clear it, she returns to her work, and her studies. --- For two full days, she has fleshed out her studies, venturing further and further into the Bota-Magna forest. She walks among the dinosaurs – the more peaceful plant-eaters, at least – and they are unbothered by her scent, by now familiar with it after all of these years. As she does each year, she ventures forth where she has not ever gone before, slowly crossing the great expanse of trees, taking notes and studying her new surroundings, leaving markers so that she will not lose her way (although if she did, she would not be worried). The afternoon is slowly fading away into evening as the sun sets and the sky is swathed in shades of pink and orange when she makes a new discovery. One of the dinosaurs pokes at a heap of metal with one leg before huffing and stomping away; curiosity gets the better of her and, rather than follow the dinosaur, she instead slips through the trees towards the heap of metal. When she is finally standing over it, she realizes that it is not merely some pile of junk, but rather a humanoid robot; albeit it in great disrepair. It is clad in armor of gunmetal gray, highlighted by bright red. Its mask is the vibrant red, although the eyes are dark and lifeless, and there is a scar running through its left eye. As her eyes trail across the rest of the robot, she takes in the damage. Its left arm hangs loosely, there is a small crater in its chest, and armor is clearly missing from every other limb. The shredded pieces of what she can only guess to be some sort of projectile launcher are embedded in its right shoulder, the attachment for the missing launcher sparking ever few seconds. Wires are visible all over the body, and rust eats at the edges of every armor piece. She recognizes this robotic body; the name flickers in the back of her mind. Maxilos. Yes, that is its name. She remembers tyrants using many of them as personal guards when they ruled in the Coliseum of Metru-Nui, and later the Order of Mata-Nui using legions of the mindless robots to enforce their own rule across the universe before the Destiny War. She remembers fighting against them, destroying them. She remembers being assigned to re-program them during the Destiny War, and succeeding; how the robots had helped to tip the scales in favor of those fighting for freedom, and how they had held the last lines of defence so that they could emerge victorious during the Reformation War. She also remembers every single one of them later being melted down, having been declared unreliable. So what is one doing all the way out here, fifty-seven years later? --- She drags what is left of the robot to her campsite and sits it up against a tree across the campfire from her tent. She leaves it be as she builds up the fire, adding logs to keep the flames going as night falls and the air grows chilly. She has just finished building a very rough spit to cook her evening meal and sat down to rest when the robot shudders, activating on its own and turning to look at her, bright blue eyes gleaming in the night. In a flash, she has her disk launcher loaded with a fragmentation disk and aimed directly at the Maxilos unit; it does not react. The fire crackles. They stare at each other for a full minute before the robot’s mouth opens and it speaks, its mechanical voice sounding far more human – and far more tired – than it should. “Where are we?” She glares at it suspiciously, but answers its question nonetheless, her voice sharp and cutting. “Bota-Magna.” The Maxilos unit slowly nods, turning to gaze into the fire, sighing (she ignores this; it must be her imagination, for robots do not sigh). After a long moment, it speaks again. “…what year is it?” She ignores how weak and tired it sounds, but once again gives it the answer it is looking for. “Twenty-five years since the Reformation.” It nods again. “Good… at least I know that system is functioning,” it says, sounding, for all intents and purposes, like a Matoran itself. “You may lower your weapon… rest assured that I will not harm you. Even if I wished to do so, well, I think my current state speaks for itself.” She lowers the disk launcher, but keeps a wary eye on the Maxilos unit as she does so. “You don’t sound like a Maxilos unit.” “I should hope not,” the robot replies, chuckling softly. “I thought they were all melted down,” she continues. The robot glances up at her before responding, “they were; all of the others have been gone for… what did you say? Twenty-five years, give or take. I am the only one left.” “You’re autonomous. You shouldn’t be.” “You’re right,” the robot says, nodding along before looking at her expectantly. “What might that mean?” “Either you’ve somehow become self-aware, or you’re not a Maxilos.” The robot chuckles again. “Believe it or not, both are correct. This Maxilos unit did become self-aware; about fifty-seven years ago for you, thanks to the influence of a Ba-Matoran named Quisoves. Of course, its AI is long gone now; the body remains, but the AI reached its natural point of decay nearly two centuries ago.” “Two centuries ago? I thought you said it became self-aware only fifty-seven years ago.” “Fifty-seven years for you,” the robot corrects. “For me, that date was nearly four hundred years ago, give or take. It becomes hard to keep track of time when you travel through dimensions as I have.” “You’re not making any sense,” she says, scowling. “I do not expect you to understand,” the robot says, sounding regretful. “But to finish answering the question you have not asked… yes, I am not a Maxilos. Once, I was a Matoran rather like you; a Ba-Matoran, actually, although not the one that made this unit self-aware. I was dying, but… well, I am rather smart. I found a way to insert my ‘soul’, so to speak, inside this machine instead; and in here I have remained, ever since.” “You cheated death.” “Yes.” “Was it worth it?” The robot shrugs. “Is anything worth it? The moment you begin living, each step you take is one step closer to dying. At the end of the day, one begins to wonder whether there is a point to anything at all.” “You’re avoiding the question,” she notes. “I am,” the Maxilos replies, tilting its head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps it was worth it. Who knows? The mission I took part in may have failed if I had not transferred my soul into this machine. So maybe it was worth it, in a way. But to me… I would wager that it was not worth it, no. Most days that I am awake and aware, I find myself regretting more than accepting.” “Why did you do it?” she asks. “Why not just allow yourself to pass on?” “I was afraid,” the robot says, so quietly that she struggles to hear it. “Afraid of death, of the blankness and the void that would follow. I may regret many things, but if there is one thing I do know, it is how to survive. How to avoid death, to forestall it and delay it. I still fear it, to be truthful with you; but I have come to accept that I cannot flee from it for much longer.” Silence falls between them for several minutes as she ponders the robot’s words and the robot stares blankly into the fire. She wraps some dough around a bit of meat and sticks it onto the spit, slowly turning it over the flames. The edges slowly begin to darken as it cooks; she sprinkles a few spices over top of it, and the smell wafts into the air. Once it is finished, she grabs a pair of tongs and pries her meal off of the spit, touching it to her palm and absorbing all of the nutrients until all that remains is a husk. She shakes the tongs and the husk vanishes into dust that blows away with the breeze. Setting two more logs upon the fire, she turns her gaze upon the robot again to find it watching her with something akin to curiosity in its eyes. “What?” she asks. “I was simply wondering why you might be all the way out in the forests of Bota-Magna at this time of year, all alone,” it replies. “It is the holidays, is it not? The anniversary of the Reformation?” She cannot stop the frown from appearing on her face. “It is.” “You do not celebrate it like everyone else?” The frown turns into a scowl. “Do you?” The Maxilos unit shakes it head, looking away into the darkness outside of the campsite. “No. I remember what the Reformation War was like, and the Destiny War, and even the Uprising War before that, as well as my experiences travelling outside of this universe. The celebrations… they merely remind me that society is once again blind to its faults. They refuse to see, acknowledge, or accept that they have set themselves back upon the same path that led to those wars in the first place.” She nods mutely, some of the robot’s words ringing ominously in her ears. “Besides all of that,” the robot continues, sagging slightly, “my friends and I were too weary to play much of a role in those latter two wars. We played our part in the Uprising War, but nobody remembers that.” I do, she thinks, but she does not share it out loud. “Who are you?” she asks instead, hoping to turn the conversation away from the wars. “Someone far beyond their years,” the robot replies, waving the question away. “Who are you?” “Someone alone,” she answers, “who recognizes the faults of society and is powerless to help it.” The Maxilos unit nods as if in understanding; perhaps, she reasons, it does. “So you avoid the celebrations. What do you do instead?” “I study the dinosaurs,” she says, her mood growing bitter again. “I want to fix them.” “Fix them?” “The Great Beings ruined them. They’re unnatural now; armor plating where they should have feathers, some feeding on machines and energy instead of meat and plantlife,” she snaps. “I want to fix them someday, turn them back to how they should be.” The robot nods again. “Your quest is admirable.” She cannot help but gaze at the robot with disbelief; the robot chuckles. “It is true,” it says. “You have clearly dedicated yourself to what many would call a hopeless and insurmountable task. You seek to return something to how it should be, rather than obliviously leave it be, and I respect that. In fact… if you would allow me to, I believe I might be able to help you.” “I… don’t understand,” she replies, shaking her head. “You… agree with me? Most people don’t.” “I am not most people,” the robot responds, sighing forlornly. “More than most, I understand what it means - what it is like - to be alone. I know that it is freeing. I know that it is also a burden, one not often willingly undertaken.” “Perhaps I want to be alone,” she says. The fire pops and crackles. “Do you?” the robot asks. “It is the holidays, after all. A time meant for gathering with friends and others close to you. You spend them alone every single year, or so it would seem. Is it because you want to, or because you have to?” The silence stretches for a long moment before she finally answers, “a little bit of both.” “If it helps… I do have information - and some leads - that might help to speed up the pace of your project. Allow for progress you might not otherwise make,” the robot continues, holding out its hand. “Look at this.” She watches as a blue hologram flickers into view, hovering a few inches above the robot’s palm. It is a sphere, one she recognizes as Spherus-Magna. A red dot blinks somewhere in the northern hemisphere of the planet; as she watches, the hologram zooms in towards the marked location. “During my travels, I came across a Great Being, one who was turned insane after coming into contact with the Mask of Life,” the robot says, its voice barely a whisper. “He was imprisoned, and wished to escape his bonds; I helped him to do so, and in return he offered me this. A map of the entire planet, one that would help me to track down others.” “Others?” “Other Great Beings,” the Maxilos unit clarified. “He claimed that most had fled the planet long ago, or simply died; but there is one who grew to hate what they had become and what they had done. A Great Being that might be sympathetic to your cause, and be… persuaded to help you.” “I will not deal with Great Beings,” she snaps. “And how exactly do you plan to return the dinosaurs of Bota-Magna to their proper, natural state without them?” She frowns. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ll find a way.” “I’m saying that you don’t need to, not necessarily,” the robot replies. “If we can find this Great Being, and he agrees to help us, your task might be completed sooner than you had imagined. But I am sure that, should you decide against accepting his help, he would value that decision.” She scowls at the fire. “And maybe I simply don’t want to fix the problem. Each year, it gives me something to do, an excuse to escape the celebrations of a war that would be better off forgotten entirely rather than half-remembered. If I solve the problem, what am I supposed to do then?” “Find another problem, of course,” the robot says quietly. “It is what I do. It’s what all of my friends do as well, or so I hear. There are many projects of the Great Beings active on this planet, some more harmful than they are good; they could keep you busy for many years.” The fire crackles. She closes her eyes and sighs. “Fine. Let’s find this Great Being. But I reserve the right to refuse any help he offers… as well as the right to kick him for every wrong he has done to this planet.” “Of course.” “One more thing, then, before I retire for the evening,” she says. “If I am going to be travelling with you, I want to know your name.” The Maxilos unit turns its gaze to her. The hologram in its palm flickers away; somehow, its bright blue eyes look lost and alone. “You can call me Tex.” She holds out her hand; the robot shakes it. “Well, Tex, it is nice to meet you. You can call me Dina.” If it was possible for a Maxilos unit to smile, the robot was now doing just that. “It is nice to meet you as well, Dina. I look forward to the adventure that awaits us.” The robot sits back against the tree, closing its eyes. It becomes still and silent, shifting into some sort of sleep mode. She remains by the fireside, gazing into the flickering flames. The crackling of the fire is calming, and soothing; she waits until it has burned out and the night is dark and silent before retiring to her tent. She sleeps soundly for the first time in years, and it is good. End.
  8. This is a comedic story I wrote as a Secret Santa Gift for BZP Member for the BZP Secret Santa Event. (If it isn't obvious, I was his Secret Santa. ) I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I'm glad I was able to give it out on time. Why Matoran Shouldn't Time Travel Once, on the Island of Mata Nui, three Ta-Matoran decided to go on a camping trip to Kanae Bay in Le-Wahi for a sort of vacation. These three Ta-Matoran, Agni, Aodhan, and Kalama, thought they would have some fun on this adventure away from their home. It was the first night of this trip. Agni, Aodhan and Kalama were sitting around a campfire, telling stories about their adventures they had been on while doing their jobs in Ta-Koro. Between the three of them, they had some interesting stories to share. What they didn't know was that one was about to begin. Kalama: I can't believe that story you just told us, Agni. Agni: What? Why? Kalama: You really scared off a Vako by just throwing pebbles at it? Agni: Stones, Agni. I believe Po-Matoran would call them stones. And yes, it ran off when I threw some small ones at it. Aodhan: Those things are almost as dangerous as a Kane-Ra. I'm surprised it didn't try to flatten you instead. Kalama: It would've flattened him, Aodhan. Rahi usually don't respond well to having stuff thrown at them. That's how I know he's making this story bigger that it really is. Aodhan: Well, I guess that could be true too... Agni: If you guys aren't going to believe my stories, then maybe we should change the subject. I don't like being called a liar. Kalama: I didn't say that you're a liar. I just saying you're exaggerating your story a bit. Aodhan: And now its my turn to tell a story from one of my days at work. Agni: Let me guess. It involves you and Tiribomba farming lava and having to deal with a really angry Infernavika, which only attacked you two because he accidentally hit it with your farming tool because he thought it was a weird looking rock. Aodhan: ....Maybe..... Agni: Alright, if you guys really want to change the subject, I have something we could discuss. Aodhan: Well, if both of you know my best work story already... Kalama: Wait, that is your best work story?! Aodhan: Lava Farming isn't the most exciting job in all of Ta-Koro. You could possibly fall into the lava and melt to death, sure, but that doesn't make it exciting. Kalama: Agni: ANYWAYS, I wanted to ask you guys about time travel. Aodhan: What's that? Agni and Kalama look like Aodhan as if he had lost his mind. Kalama: You've NEVER heard of time travel?! Aodhan: Long periods of lava farming can do stuff to your mind, man. Weird stuff. Agni: Time travel is basically your present self going into the future or past of the flow of time. Kalama: What's your question about it, Agni? Agni: Well, do you guys think that is actually possible to actually time travel? Kalama and Aodhan paused and thought about the question for a moment. Finally, Aodhan decided to answer first. Aodhan: Well, anything's possible, I imagine. Kalama: If you can think like that, if you want, Aodhan. But I have a pretty good feeling that it can't be done. Agni: Why do you say that? Kalama: Because it sounds impossible, Agni. It sounds like something that would go against the laws of nature. Aodhan: Regardless, I think it would be fun to go into the future and see what has become of us. Kalama: I know what it would be like: a bunch of Matoran still trapped on an island rule by Makuta. Agni: Come on, Kalama. Don't you think that its at least a little possible that someone could travel into the past or future? Kalama: No, and even if you could, why would you? It just sounds like it could cause a lot of trouble for yourself and others. Agni: Fine, Kalama. But I will make a deal with you right here. If, anytime in the future, I do manage to discover a way to time travel, I will travel back to this very spot in time. I will come back to this instant and tell you myself that it is indeed possible to time travel! At that very instant, there was a flash of light that blinded all three Ta-Matoran. When their vision returned a couple seconds later, a new Ta-Matoran was present among them. He was bigger than any of them had seen before, wearing a Miru just like Agni's mask, and standing the group's campfire. Strange Ta-Matoran: I told you, Kalama! I told you time travel was...OH MATA NUI I'M ON FIRE! He jumps out of the fire and begins rolling around on the ground to put the flames on his body. Agni, Kalama, and Aodhan just watch him, perplexed. Aodhan: Um...are you guys seeing this? Sometimes being around lava all day also makes me see things. Kalama: Yeah, we're seeing this. Also, I think we need to get you a new job. Agni: There is only one explanation for a Matoran magically appearing to us like this: He is an evil entity sent by Makuta to kill us! Agni then runs to the nearest bush, ripped off the largest branch he can, and races over to the now de-flamed Ta-Matoran and starts beating on him with it. Strange Ta-Matoran: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Agni: Take that, agent of evil! Strange Ta-Matoran: 'grabs branch from Agni and pushes him back' Would you stop beating on me and let me explain! Kalama: Alright, who are you and where on Mata Nui did you come from? Strange Ta-Matoran: My name is Agni. 'points to Agni' And I'm your future self! Agni: You're my future self? Future Agni: Yep, and I came back to this point in time to uphold my vow to Kalama here and tell him that time travel is indeed possible. 'turns to Kalama' IT IS POSSIBLE, NON-BELIEVER! Aodhan: Well, this is an unprecedented turn of events. Agni: Hold on, I believe in time travel too. But how can I believe that you are my future self? You're bigger than I am, and apparently have more of an ego than I do. How can you proof that you are me? Future Agni: Well, there are many ways. But I think I'll go with the opinion we have of Jaller, the captain of the Ta-Koro Guard. An opinion you, or should I say we, have told no one else. Agni: You don't know anything about what I think of him. Future Agni: I do know that you think Jaller just doesn't look good with that Hau on, and that you think that he would look better wearing a Kanohi Ruru like our friend Kapura. You also have some pretty negative thoughts about his leadership style. It boils down to you thinking that he is too bossy. Agni: YOU ARE MY FUTURE SELF! Aodhan: Hold on a minute, Agni. You have a problem with Jaller's leadership of the Ta-Koro Guard? Agni: My future self is currently standing before us, and THAT is what you're focusing on right now? Future Agni: 'turns to Kalama' So, do you believe me now? Kalama: Well, I still have some doubts about it, actually. What if this is a trick from Makuta, or... Suddenly, another flash of light blinded group. When their vision returned, another Ta-Matoran was standing next to Kalama. He was the same size as Future Agni and wearing a Kanohi Matatu just like Kalama's. Kalama: Wait, are you....? Stranger: Yep, I'm your future self, Kalama. Kalama: Okay, Now I'm convinced! Time travel is real! Agni: For once, I agree with you! Now we can ask you two all sorts of questions about our futures! Like how you guys are bigger than us, or.... Future Kalama: NO! We can not under any circumstances tell you guys anything that we know about the future. Agni: What? Why not? Future Kalama: Because that could lead to severe consequences for our future. There are certain rules that have to be followed so that the future as the future Agni and myself knows will remain unaltered by our visit here. Aodhan: What are these rules? Future Agni: Stupid rules that take the fun out of time travel. Like 'Don't give out information' or 'Don't step on anything.' They are nothing more than silly rules that some concerned Ko-Matoran came up with. Kalama: So that is something Ko-Matoran come up with in the future? Interesting. Future Kalama: What did I just say, Agni! Now our whole timeline could've just been altered! Future Agni: Come on, Kalama. Dropping a few hints to out past selves isn't going to hurt anything. So they know who came up with the rules of time travel. Nothing bad could come of that. Aodhan: So, is my future self going to show up? Future Agni: Oh, you die in the future. So there is no 'future you' to join us here. Future Kalama: AGNI! Kalama: Wait, what? Agni: I guess I also become kind of blunt in the future too. I don't know if I like my future self... Aodhan: Let me guess, I fall into a lava pit. Future Agni: Yep. A few years from now, actually. Aodhan: Figures. Agni: You seem to be taking this revelation very well, Aodhan. Aodhan: I farm lava. It's bound to happen to some Ta-Matoran eventually. Kalama: Well, not on my watch. I will keep a watchful eye on you from now on, Aodhan, so that you don't die in the future! Future Kalama: 'to Future Agni' You smelt head! Now the future is going to... Suddenly, Future Kalama vanishes into thin air. Kalama: Where did he, I mean 'me' or 'I,' go?! Future Agni: I don't....oh wait, I kind of remember now! You die with your friend when you try to save him, so your future self doesn't exist anymore. Kalama: WHAT? Agni: How do you know that? Aodhan: My guess would be that Kalama knowing that I was going to die, failing to save me, then dying himself caused the future to be changed, which then changes the memories that the future Agni retains about said future. Agni and Kalama: Future Agni: I actually remember my Kalama saying something like that could happen if the future changed while we were in the past. Kalama: How do you know that happened, Aodhan? Aodhan: It's actually really simple. You guys are just over thinking it. Kalama: So, what would happen if I didn't try to save you in the future? Future Kalama suddenly reappears in the same spot where he vanished. Future Kalama: ...change! Wait, what happened? Kalama: You're back! My future self is saved! Future Agni: That is a big relief. Future Kalama: See, Agni. This is why we shouldn't be here! Stuff like us disappearing from existence could happen! Future Agni: I see what you're saying. But I just think that if we are more careful with what info we give out... He takes a single step forward as he says this, and then suddenly his entire body turned purple. Agni: WHAT THE...?! You're purple! Or 'I'm' purple! Or whatever the proper grammar term is for it! Future Agni: What are you talking ...WHY AM I PURPLE?! Future Kalama: See what I mean. One small change in the timeline, even a single step, can have drastic consequences. Future Agni: How did this happen...wait, I have the memory now. You did this to me, Kalama! Future Kalama: No I didn't! You brought it on yourself! Agni: How did this happen to him? Or is it 'me?' Future Kalama: If we told you, it could disrupt our future even more. Aodhan: 'to Future Agni and Future Kalama' Maybe you two should just go back to your time before more damage is done. Future Kalama: Agreed. Future Agni should've never made this trip to begin with. I warned him constantly not to do it, but did he listen? No. And now he is purple. Agni: So how will you two get back? Future Agni: The Tiribomba from the future was operating the device that sent us here, and if my count is correct, he will actually warp us back with it in a few moments. Future Kalama: Will you STOP telling them about the future! Kalama: The future Tiribomba? Really? He isn't the smartest Madu Fruit to fall from a tree, if you know what I mean. Aodhan: A bag of rocks is smarter than him. And that is coming from me. Future Agni: He isn't smart currently, but he is a genus in our timeframe. Future Kalama: AGNI! Future Agni: That info isn't going to going to hurt anyone. Suddenly, there was once again a bright flash. When it was gone, only Aodhan, Future Agni, and Future Kalama were left in the campsite. Aodhan: Wait, here did Agni and Kalama go? Future Agni: Oh no.... Future Kalama: Tiribomba brought back the wrong versions of us! That moron! Future Agni: Okay, maybe he isn't as smart as I said he was... Aodhan: Can't he just send them back here and then take you two back to the future? Future Kalama: That can't happen! Our time travel technology only lets two beings travel in time and back once a year! Aodhan: Wow, that is kind of a design flaw with that device. Future Agni: So we're stuck here for a whole year?! Future Kalama: Looks like it. Aodhan: This isn't going to lead to anything good. Future Kalama: I can't believe I'm stuck on this island again! Future Agni: Let's just breathe for a moment, Kalama. So our past selves are stuck in our future for the next year. What is the worst thing that could happen? Future Kalama: Have you forgotten that you are still purple? Future Agni: Oh yeah. There's still that. But what else could... Future Kalama suddenly turned into a yellow and black striped Matoran. Future Agni: Now you're a different color! Future Kalama: 'looks at himself and lets out a long sigh' This is going to be a very long, strange year. ********** Comments and criticism appreciated. And merry Christmas to everyone on BZP!
  9. A lesser-known aspect of the legend of Santa Claus is his periodic transformation into a werewolf. Once, way, way back during the 1600s, when superstition ran rampant, Claus- known in that time by the name of Saint Nicholas- was delivering presents on Christmas Eve. All was going well; he was running ahead of schedule, and took that extra time to have a quick rest on the outskirts of a small village, deep in the heart of the Scottish countryside. That was when it happened. All of a sudden, presumably enticed to attack by the smell of Claus' reindeer, a wolf sprang out of the darkness. Killing most of the reindeer, the wolf severely injured Claus, leaving him with a number of ugly scars along the left side of his body- and a curse that would last forever. Father Christmas had become a werewolf. Every thirteen years, from then on, he would transform whilst in the midst of delivering presents on Christmas Eve, slaughtering a number of children while they slept. This is where the name "Santa Claus" comes from: the massive claw marks engraved in the walls of the bedrooms of the children massacred by the Were-Santa. Eventually, Claus withdrew into a shell in the 1800s, leaving it to parents to act in his stead whilst he lay trembling in a reinforced room at the North Pole, waiting in agony for the horrific transformation that would befall him. What can I say? It's Christmas, and I felt like I had to make it some kind of creepy. By the way, this is my Secret Santa present for Vrokorta; Merry Christmas! Comments, Criticism and random Christmas songs welcome.
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