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Flash Fiction Marathon 2

flash fiction contest writing marathon

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96 replies to this topic

#1 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 26 2013 - 11:38 PM

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Posted Image[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Flash Fiction Marathon 2[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][OTC Topic :: Entries Index][/color][/font]

 

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]With the success of last year's Flash Fiction Marathon, here we are again with another one (approved by HH)! Once again, you are to run a marathon. A marathon of short stories, or, more appropriately, flash fiction pieces. For the next ten days there will be ten themes. Five will be OTC-themed, and five will be Bionicle-themed.Sound like something you’re interested in? Then make sure you read the following:[/color][/font] 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Contest Rules and Important Information[/color][/font]

  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Each entry MUST be under 750 words in length. This is flash fiction.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]One new theme will be given out each night. Each theme will be given out around Midnight, EST, every night for 10 days[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]The contests will alternate between BIONICLE and OTC. The first contest will be BIONICLE, the second will be OTC, then going back to Bionicle and so on.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Bionicle entries may be human-Bionicle, if you wish. Just as long as they have some sort of relation to Bionicle. As usual, the story does not have to follow the canon storyline -- you may create your own characters, settings, etc., as long as in some way the story relates to Bionicle.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Bionicle themes must be Bionicle. The OTC themes are for non-Bionicle stories.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]For each theme, contestants will have 48 hours to enter – so, if it’s a Bionicle theme, you will have until the next Bionicle theme is announced (as there will be a OTC theme in between) to enter your story; the themes will overlap.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]After the 48-hour entry period, the entries will be placed in a poll for you – yes, you! – to decide the winner for the day. At the end of all 10, the 10 winners will be pooled together and judged by judges for a final prize.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]It is very likely that an extra prize will be given for those who enter all 10 challenges, both COT and Bionicle.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]If you are going to post your stories, do so in the correct forum; OTC stories belong in OTC, Bionicle stories belong in the Short Stories section of the Library.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]All entries must adhere to BZPower's rules and guidelines.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Your story must be new and never before posted on BZP. You can certainly have been working on your entry before this, but it must be posted on BZP after the start of the contest for it to be eligible.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Keep it PG-13-ish appropriate. So no overly gory descriptions, excessive violence, sexual content, inappropriate content, et cetera.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]You cannot edit your entry once that theme's entry period is over. So if you post your story on the first day, you have another whole day to edit. If you post your entry last minute, you will not have much time to edit. The polls will be going up the night that the theme ends.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]If your story is not posted in this topic with the correct format, your entry will not be entered into the contest.[/color][/font]
  • [color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Do not use unnecessary formatting -- see more in the "How to Enter" section.[/color][/font]

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]----------------------------------------------------[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]How To Enter:[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]There will be two main topics, one for Bionicle (this one) and one in OTC (link pending); make sure you post your entry in the right one. If you are entering a OTC theme, post in the OTC topic, not this one.[/color][/font]

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]To enter, please use this form:Member Name:Theme:Word Count:Story:[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]NOTE:[/color] Do NOT link to your story. It is fine if you wish to post it on BZPower, but for entering this contest, we ask that you post your story in this topic. Thanks!Furthermore, do NOT have any unnecessary coding when entering your stories. This means no color, no signoffs, no indents, etc. You may use italics, underline, etc. if it’s used for the body of your story, but please leave your posts as bare possible. If you have a pre-set posting style, just know that the story will be removed of its formatting. [/font] 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]----------------------------------------------------[/color][/font]

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]And so, without further ado, I present to you:[/color][/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Theme #9:[/font]

Posted Image

Paradise

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"] [/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: July 6th, 11:59PM PST.[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Previous Themes:[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Theme #1: A Dark Hunt[/color][/font]

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Theme #3: The Chronicler[/color][/font]

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Theme #5: Find the Power[/color][/font]

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Theme #7: The Order[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]----------------------------------------------------[/color][/font]

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]It is our honor and pleasure to host yet another contest for you. We wish you all the best of luck, and hope we receive as many entries as possible![/color][/font]

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=#000000;]Your hosts,Andrew ([/color][color=#000000;]Velox[/color][color=#000000;])John ([/color][color=#000000;]55555[/color][color=#000000;])[/color][/font]


Edited by Velox, Jul 06 2013 - 11:33 AM.

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#2 Offline 55555

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Posted Jun 26 2013 - 11:41 PM

Theme #1:

Posted Image

A Dark Hunt

 

[color=#000000;][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: June 28th, 11:59PM EST.[/color][/font]


Edited by 55555, Jun 27 2013 - 12:12 AM.

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Posted Image


#3 Offline Hahli Husky

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 12:13 AM

PIN PIN PIN


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#4 Offline dotcom

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 02:22 AM

Okay gonna take the chance and be the first to enter! Super dark stuff though, holy cow. Member Name: dotcomTheme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 747Story:  

The Fair Dark

  [font="arial, sans-serif;"]At his feet was a mangled corpse. Though only recently robbed of life, its face was so familiar; he still half expected it to talk to him like it had always done. [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]His name was Dam. At the least, that is what they called him. At one time it had been an honored title. Now it was just a code, a falsity. His real name, along with everything else, had been stripped away. [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]He looked at his companions, lounging around the huts of the village, cloaked in shadows. Their orders fulfilled, they sat and traded small talk. Their recent actions, if not ignored, were talked about in pride. Dam was horrified, but couldn’t seem to muster any words.  [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]How had he come to this? How could he have ever done what he just had? [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]It was a pointless, stupid question. He knew the answer too well. [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]At one time they had called him the Dam of the Rusting Valley for his heroism. For centuries, his actions succeeded in maintaining all danger, natural and otherwise, from the small settlement located at the base of the valley. At one point, he had used his elemental powers to erect a massive stone wall to stop the flooding of the valley by a nearby river. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]He wasn’t alone. Another Toa, his best friend and closest partner, protected the Matoran inhabitants to the best of their abilities. They were inseparable and trusted each other completely. Together they felt they could do anything.[/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]They often clashed with Dark Hunters, who were after the meager resources of the Valley, but, together, were always able to overcome them. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]Unfortunately, Dark Hunters are rarely willing to give up so easily, or forgive such insults. One fateful day, a large number of Hunters mounted an assault on the Rusting Valley. With all their power, the two Toa were unable to defeat them.[/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]And when the Hunters were on the verge of overtaking the village, he murdered them. [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]He wished he could wash away that act, to tell himself that he had only been acting to protect, but he had murdered them in anger and fear. Mustering every last bit of power he had, he opened the floor of the Valley and sent all the Hunters to fall, and then be crushed, by his power. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]His partner couldn’t face him after that. He knew that a Toa could never act that way, and the Dam knew it as well.[/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]So he left. It was an exile that both wordlessly agreed to, and felt was necessary.[/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]It didn’t take long for news of this event to reach the ears of the Shadowed One. Enraged, he called for the killer to be brought to him. His punishment would be unique, befitting the severity of his crimes.[/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]Lacking a home, the support of his closest friend, and anything to protect, he was apprehended easily. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]The Hunters broke him down, physically and mentally, to his breaking point. They trained him to work for them and even sent him on missions, in vile hunts, the foulest the Shadowed One could find. Always he was instructed to leave survivors. Their judging eyes pierced him and only added to his torture. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]He was surprisingly adept at the task, but not a single soul had any delusions about the chance of his survival. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]Eventually, his last task came to him. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]His partner, in his absence, had trained and redoubled his efforts to maintain the Valley safe. So the Shadowed One assembled a team to hunt him down, and assigned Dam to lead it. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]Under the cover of dark, they departed, and overpowered his previous friend. As the Shadowed One hadn’t specified what to do with the village, the others razed it. His previous partner’s pained expression at seeing him with the Hunters, the destruction of their home, finally broke him. He stopped feeling. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]When, in a last effort, the captive Toa broke free of his bonds and attacked them, he dealt with him, swiftly and brutally.[/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]Once the task was done, he had a fleeting moment of lucidity. It was so horrifying he almost went mad again. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]His friend’s eyes were full of judgment and despair. [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]           [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]As Dam stood in the growing darkness, he could feel no similar judging glances from the darkness.[/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]            [/font][font="arial, sans-serif;"]Perhaps, he thought deliriously, those in the dark, robbed of sight, are truly the fairest judges…[/font]           [font="arial, sans-serif;"]His thoughts were interrupted then. [/font] [font="arial, sans-serif;"]His companions, free from judgment, followed their final orders.  [/font]


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#5 Offline Baltarc

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 08:54 AM

I'm extremely excited to see this contest return. Hopefully I'll actually be able to enter all ten this time.


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#6 Offline Legolover-361

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 09:45 AM

Gah, I'll be away at summer camp from June 30 to July 6, so I won't be able to compete in most of the themes. I'll enter as many as I can, though.
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#7 Online Al the Chicken Man

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 11:01 AM

Name: Shuhei HisaguTheme: A Dark HuntWordcount: 406Story: Coldest Night"It was such a cold night when we went. It was too cold- that's what Nuju said. He told me we shouldn't have gone out tonight, but we did anyway. See, me and Matoro had been searching for our friend Kopeke for a few nights now. If we didn't find him soon, he'd be ruled dead. Then, we'd n-no longer be allowed to search for him. S-see, that's why we came out here. To find our friend."But as the night grew colder, we found that we had to retreat into a cave. As we now know, this was the worst mistake either of us ever made. For when the winds came in, the entrance was an entrance no longer. The once-life-giving portal to survival had become an iced-over trap- and a tomb. The cave was long- longer than any cave I'd ever been in. We realized we would never be able to dig our way out, and so we yelled. We yelled for hours. We yelled until our throats were sore, and then we tortured ourselves so that we would keep yelling. "But help never came. We found Kopeke, though. Oh, yes, we found him. Corpse preserved by the cold when we found him there, a slab of stone and an etching pen in his hands. It was almost a day later that I discovered how appeasing Matoran is when you're starving. If not for this discovery, I wouldn't have outlived Matoro. See, there was something else in the cave. We could always feel it, but we never knew when it would come. The first time, we offered what was left of Kopeke. The second, all I had to do was shove Matoro back. Just one shove bought my escape. And yet, I can still hear him. Why does he still talk to me?"With no light, I am the prey to hunter, always hunting me in the dark. And one day, very soon.""Is that all?""Yeah, that's where it ends. Nothing else. Turaga Vakama- do you know who's writing this is?"Vakama looked mournfully over the slab once more. "Unfortunately, this is definitely Takua's writing," he sighed deeply, "I knew he'd been missing, but I hadn't expected this. You said this has been buried for...""Three weeks.""Hmm. Contact Nuju immediately. He might know something about this.""Um, sir? He's currently hunting for more bodies right now. No one's seen him in days."
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#8 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 11:39 AM

I'm extremely excited to see this contest return. Hopefully I'll actually be able to enter all ten this time.

 

That'd be awesome! : D

 

Gah, I'll be away at summer camp from June 30 to July 6, so I won't be able to compete in most of the themes. I'll enter as many as I can, though.

 

Ah, man, yeah that's always one of the problems with contests during summer. =/ I look forward to reading the ones that you do enter, though!


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#9 Offline Nick Silverpen

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 01:35 PM

I'm thrilled to see this contest return, and I feel more practiced this year from all the winter write offs. Thanks for bringing it back Velox!

 

Name: Nick SilverpenTheme: A Dark HuntWordcount: 741Story: Grin in the Dark

 

The yellow teeth were what made him hesitate. He’d never seen teeth so sordid, stained and pitted, yet smiling the same wide smile, as he watched from far away in the darkness. It made him hesitate, his muscles unwilling to push off the rock he spied from. He didn’t want to go near the Skakdi, he would rather slink away behind a rock and convince himself there would be some better assignment when he opened his eyes again.

 

Ahkmou was still a coward, but as a Toa of Shadow he had better ways to hide. Teridax had made sure of that. They were connected by that, he thought- never brave enough to get right in the thick of things, fleeing when it went bad... he shook all these frightened thoughts off as he felt a tug on his mind. Makuta was getting impatient, and he was letting his servant know. It was time to finish this hunt. 

 

He slithered from the rock, activating a Kanohi Huna as he crept along the cliffside. The group of Skakdi did not notice the shadows that followed, assuming them to be from the fire that crackled in the center of their group. While some of them growled and grinned stupidly, however, the leader, the one Ahkmou was sent to retrieve, stared from his throne, a few feet away from the action, something bigger in his eyes that was a pale reflection in the others. 

 

Like an animal defending his home, Ahkmou thought as he crept along. Most animals were more afraid of whoever explored their homes than the explorers were. His time exploring Po-Koro, of all places, taught him that. He would attack brutally so he wouldn’t expose his fear, so he could complete the mission, and they would never suspect... He readied his Rhotuka and shadow scythe, listening carefully to the words spoken along the campfire. 

 

“The Brotherhood will exclude our faithful service from their credentials,” the lead Skakdi told his brothers. “They will conquer the world on the impression that they are able to do it on their own, and the world will crumble before them. But they will not realize it was us that helped them, and as the ground crumbles we will be waiting under the rubble. We will show them it is merely their own ground they mine!” He licked his lips in a repulsive way that made Ahkmou shudder as he lined up his weapon to fire. 

 

The first shadow bolt struck silently at one who stepped away from the fire. Noone noticed as he was swallowed by the shadows. The second, he was the same, not realizing the night in which he celebrated was his enemy. Ahkmou pecked off a few more, mustering some courage as others disappeared due to his handiwork without notice. Anonymity granted him bravery, and for the first time that night, he smiled as wickedly as the Skakdi. 

 

Soon the Skakdi began to see the shadows creeping in, not shining out from their fire. The grins were still plastered to their faces, but the puzzle could be seen in their expressions. Ahkmou fired tight-lipped, as if speaking would let his courage leak out; though most of them panicked, the one of the creatures he feared seemed to glow in the dark, his plaque filled smile brighter as the Toa of Shadow increased his fire. 

 

He was crouching low on the rock he shot from, but somehow he slipped, and went tumbling down. Ahkmou crashed into the center of the campsite, and to the view of all of the Skakdi. The element of surprise was gone, and he waited for them to swarm upon him.

 

The blade at his throat was not meant to penetrate, but Ahkmou wished it did. His eyes remained shut as he felt fear creep back into his mind, trying frantically to replace it with the image of a Kualsi, anything that would help him. But the only thing that came were the words of the Skakdi in his ear. “You heard what we said. Flee to your master, and tell them of the Karzahni that will arrive at their door soon enough.” The pause was enough to send Ahkmou speeding out of the cave and back to Destral. 

 

As the Toa of Shadow fled, the beasts recovered their injured and unconscious, their grins returning as the fire lighted the cave once more. The hunter was now the hunted. 


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#10 Offline Noise #0579

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 01:36 PM

Member Name: Pahrak #0579Theme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 715Story: Vengeful Extermination

 

The Shadow Leech crawled out from under its rock and peered around.  It could sense a massive source of light nearby, more than enough to save it from the starvation it was barely staving off.

 

The light was coming closer.  Silently, it slithered out of its hiding place, sticking to the shadows as it moved towards the approaching meal.  The source stepped on a branch—it was close now, so close that the Leech could already taste that delectable light.  Just a few more steps, and the unlucky prey would be in the perfect position…

 

Unfortunately for the Shadow Leech, its “prey”—a Toa clad in white and gray armor—spotted it coming.  The creature advanced quickly, but not quickly enough.  The Toa raised the cylindrical cannon he carried, pulled the trigger, and smothered the mutant Kraata in flames.

 

“Serves you right, you little worm.”

 

Takanuva drew one of his Light Staffs and prodded the Leech to make sure it was dead.  Once satisfied that the monster was no more, he returned the staff to his back, rested the cannon on his shoulder, and marched on.

 

Recently, a Shadow Leech had found its way into New Atero and attacked a Matoran.  The Toa, who had assumed that all of the creatures had died off when their hive was destroyed, were quite surprised at the parasite’s appearance.  Worse, this seemed to be a special Leech.  Its brethren from Karda Nui lived only for a matter of minutes, and took hardly any effort to slay once they were found.  For some reason, this particular Leech was much more durable and had a far longer life span.

 

Where there was one Shadow Leech, there could potentially be more.  The most likely explanation was that Makuta had recreated and altered the species while in control of the Matoran Universe—or so the Turaga insisted.  Whatever the case, the Shadow Leeches would need to be dealt with, and it was recommended several Toa be sent to hunt down the vermin.  Takanuva had jumped at the chance.

 

The Toa of Light yawned.  It does get a little lonely out here, but I get it—the others need to help evacuate the rest of the population and finish getting New Atero in order.  Not like I need any help.  No way am I letting one of those things latch onto me again.

 

He eyed the new weapon he held.  Apparently it was something Nuparu had thrown together during his down time on Metru-Nui: a portable flamethrower powered by the Fire energies of the Toa Disk once belonging to Turaga Vakama.  Takanuva didn’t really understand how it worked, but he couldn’t say that he cared.  All that mattered was that it made his job a whole lot easier.

 

A quiet rustle drew Takanuva’s attention.  Trees and shrubbery lined the path he was travelling, so there was no telling where the Leeches could be watching him from.  Lowering the flamethrower, he took a staff in one hand and slowed his pace.

 

All of a sudden he whirled and thrust his staff, impaling a Leech that had lunged directly at his back.  He tossed the creature on the ground and prepared to finish it off, only to be greeted by a more disturbing sight.  At least a dozen Shadow Leeches were racing right towards him, their sickening forms twisting horrendously as they slithered their way forward.

 

“By all means, join the party.”

 

The cannon roared to life.  Takanuva held it steady as flames poured out of it, incinerating every last Leech and charring the ground before him.  A few seconds went by before he stopped to check if they were still alive.  When he did, he was pleased to find that none of them were.

 

For a moment, and not for the first time, Takanuva wondered if he should feel remorse for his actions.  The Leeches were, after all, living creatures, and Toa were not supposed to kill, let along take pleasure in it.  However, as he always did with these thoughts, he set the concern aside.  Shadow Leeches were created by Makuta for the sole purpose of enslaving Matoran.  In order to fulfill his duty to protect the villagers, the Shadow Leeches needed to be eradicated.

 

Shouldering the weapon once more, Takanuva trudged on.


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#11 Offline The Dandy Automaton

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 08:27 PM

[color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]Member Name: The Remorseful Automaton[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]Theme: A Dark Hunt[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]Word Count: 750[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]Story: The Music Box's Song[/color]

 

  It’s often said that the most curious piece of treasure in all of The Shadowed One’s collection is a plain, wooden box with neither value nor decoration. A key juts from its front and when turned, the box begins to sing. A hollow, melancholic trill fills the room and drowns it in pensiveness. The Shadowed One has never attempted to sell it, to barter with it or even dare to gamble with it.

 

  Why he keeps this box is known to few and fewer still who would speak of it. But yet it continues to rest amongst rubies and opals, broadswords and spears, trophies and spoils of war. It exists besides them without contest and most curiously of all, it has gathered the least dust in all its years of rest.

 

  The Dark Hunter trod through the collection, his feet whispering across the stony ground with all the subtlety his name would suggest. In the distance The Shadowed One marched these halls in pursuit of a separate purpose. Whatever it was, it was of no concern to Darkness. His intent was of a different nature, independent yet important enough to allow his game to wander from his watchful gaze.

 

  The music box lay where it had always been kept, on a pedestal between two tablets inscribed with a language older than the rocks used to host them. His fingers brushed the surface and left a trail of dust in their wake. Darkness made no noise as he lifted it from its resting place and held it to his face.

 

  Something shifted beyond and The Shadowed One’s voice floated over to Darkness’ ears. Whatever those words said was left unqueried as the Dark Hunters’ attention returned to the plain box before him. He turned the key and shattered the silence with its grating groan. The gears were wound and the song began to sound.

 

  Once upon a time Darkness had made it his goal to ascend to the Dark Hunter’s throne. His plan had been to follow The Shadowed One, to watch and wait. At any moment his prey would slip, would make a mistake, would show weakness. He would wait for the moment when The Shadowed One had finally proven himself to be unworthy for rule and then Darkness would slip in and take his rightful position at the head of the organisation with a well-placed knife. Once upon a time he had thought nothing of this plan. But once upon a time was a long time ago.

 

 He had watched and he had waited. Years turned into decades and decades into centuries. Through time, Darkness had grown proficient at his job. He learnt The Shadowed One’s schedule, his plans and his aspirations. He slipped into his prey’s mind as though it were a comfortable set of armour without realising the cost. In joining the Dark Hunters he had surrendered his old self to become Darkness. In the pursuit of his goals he had surrendered Darkness and become The Shadowed One’s shadow. He was no longer an independent being. He was only an echo of The Shadowed One now.

 

  And yet, the dark hunt might have been Darkness’ life, but the box held the key to something beyond. In its hollow notes it sang a song of a time gone by when the world was different and when Shadow was something else. Something now lost, not only to himself but to the universe itself. But the music box knew and through its gentle rhythm, Darkness would know as well.   

 

  The true meaning in the box’s elusive history was of course known to Darkness but it was a matter that was none of his business. He cared not for the object but for its produce. It was the music that enticed him to listen. It was the sounds it made, like a siren calling him home. Nothing could have drawn him from the thoughtful trance it cast him in, nothing besides the great shadow of The Shadowed One that loomed over him then.

 

   Darkness turned and the two regarded each other in watchful silence. Not a single word crossed between them as the box’s notes continued to unfold, for there was nothing to say. They simply stood and stared and waited for the empty desolation of silence to envelop them, and then their interaction would come to an end. Two individuals stood in this room but they would leave as one.

 

  Eventually the box fell into silence and the hunt resumed.  


Edited by The Remorseful Automaton, Jun 28 2013 - 08:56 AM.

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Chapter four - Desire

Coming soon!

Short Stories: The Commute ~ Rasinov ~ In Your Absence ~ Hunter's Game ~ Suchia (Coming soon)

Epics: The Best Kept Secrets (Chapter 27: The Shadow Walker coming soon) ~ The Shadow of this Red Rock


#12 Offline Nuile the Paracosmic Tulpa

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 08:50 PM

[color=rgb(0,128,0);]It's returned to us! Dear lovely beauty, where hast thou been? My life has been incomplete ever since we last bade farewell . . .[/color]

 

[color=rgb(0,128,0);]Time for a housewarming party![/color]

 

 

 

Member Name: NuileTheme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 734

Story: Searching in Shadow

 

 

[font="arial;"]I come from the island of Cimmerrii. That is all you need to know.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]"The Star!" they cried.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]"The Star!"[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]"The Star!"[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]They thought it was just a legend. The Turaga, in their best moods, had told us the story to terrify us. They said The Star had long ago come to feed upon the Matoran of Cimmerrii, until a desperate mob had gathered to fight it and defeat it. The Turaga always believed it would return.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]Until that night, I didn't believe. When I heard the shouts, I thought it was only a cruel joke. But I knew I would never sleep with this racket. That was my excuse. I wouldn't admit that I was curious, and instead promised myself that, if I got up to look, it was only to kill someone to keep them quiet. With a smile of sadistic pleasure I collected my pickax and my dented shield and stepped out into the night.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]It was like nothing I had ever seen, when at last I could see at all. For a moment I was blinded, and I didn't understand why. It made me think I was dying. Finally I realized that I was seeing light.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]If you had seen it, you would have only seen a faint glimmer, if you could have seen it at all. To Cimmerrii, it was the first light any of us could remember, and it was blinding.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]As my vision returned I began to see Matoran everywhere screaming, fleeing, running against one another, murdering one another, clambering over dead bodies. Not that this was unusual, and normally I wouldn't have noticed. But that night, I did, and for the first time in my life I was revolted. I was ashamed of the petty viciousness of my people.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]The cry continued, "The Star! The Star!" I alone stood unmoving, watching, as I never would have done before, from my doorway. I noticed that the fleeing Matoran were all running away from The Star.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]The longer I stood there the fewer the passersby became. Only the weakest or sleepiest stragglers blundered past now, and soon the last of them went by and I found myself completely alone.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]With a snort, I squared my shoulders. Let my cowardly people run if they liked! I wouldn't. If The Star was so fearsome, I would face it myself and kill it or I would die trying it. It was terrible and dreadful . . . Then why was it so warm? And why couldn't I move? I didn't want to stay, I didn't want to run, but I didn't want to take even one step toward The Star, either. Why not? Was I afraid?[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]"Afraid!" I shouted. "You're afraid! Coward!"[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]That did it. With a roar I took the first leap and ran forward toward the light, toward The Star, shield up and pickax high. I ran away from the darkness, into the gloom that grew a little brighter with each step. I shivered at the thought but I didn't stop running, until finally I began to realize that The Star wasn't getting any closer.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]I halted, tired and gasping for air. Panting, I bellowed, "Are you afraid of me? You, the terrible Star who devours little Matoran? Come back here and kill me if you can!"[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]I broke into a run again, but as long as I kept it up The Star got no larger. "I don't care! I will hunt you to the ends of the universe if I have to!"[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]When I recovered I ran again, and paused again, and ran again and paused again, over and over. Every time I realized The Star was getting steadily larger, and nearer, I ran even faster.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]The ground began to slope upwards, and I kept running. I could feel the walls of a tunnel all around me, and I kept running. I ran on and on, up and up, until suddenly I rounded a corner and the brightest light yet dazzled me. I raised my shield and swung my pickax, striking walls or nothing at all.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]Gathering my every last ounce of courage I charged forward blindly, up the ascending tunnel, up toward the light. With a fierce battle-cry I plunged into the light and it devoured me.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]I came from the island of Cimmerii. And I have found the light.[/font]

 

[font="arial;"]That is all you need to know.[/font]


Edited by The Novelist Called Nuile, Jun 27 2013 - 08:58 PM.

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#13 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 27 2013 - 11:49 PM

The second theme, and first OTC theme, has been posted! You guys still have a little less than 24 hours for The Dark Hunt, but don't forget to enter the OTC one, too! New Bionicle theme will come out tomorrow. 


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"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender


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#14 Offline Tolkien

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 01:00 AM

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=rgb(0,0,128);][color=rgb(0,0,0);]Member Name: TolkienTheme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 750Story: "Fearsome"[/color][/color][/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]"Fearsome"[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]The waves still washed at the foot of the cliff. The spires of the ancient fortress that crowned the cliff still gnawed at the sky above. The figure still crouched, shadowed by the overhang, where the shore met the water of the Silver Sea. He crouched and waited with colorless eyes.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]The ship must have wrecked last night. Debris littered the shoreline. It reminded him of a time he had almost forgotten, but not quite. Four millennia, was it? Maybe more.... But the years were meaningless to him. This was his home now—his realm. Even his name was lost to time.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Before him, the body of the blue-and-gold-armored creature bobbed with the tide. It was the only survivor of the wreck, it seemed. He squinted down from his shadowed perch, tail swishing back and forth as he weighed his options: It would be easy to end the thing where it lay. Just a glance, and the shore would be a wasteland of glass. Yes, it would be easy. Too easy.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Old memories arose: memories of rolling surf, sand against his face, coughing up seawater, and then struggling up the shore. It had been night, pitch black. He’d set one of the thorn-trees aflame with his vision to provide some light, then lay beneath it, weak and shivering. Eyes had glittered beyond the firelight, and fear had paralyzed him for a time. But then his will had returned, and he’d met the gaze of those beastly eyes with the fearsome power of his own.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]In the morning, he’d awakened to find the remains of their bodies. Ravenous Kavinga and razor-toothed Hapaka, feral and gaunt. Their corpses were burnt and half-destroyed, but worst of all was what he found among them: the seven-toed tracks of the night-stalking Muaka. Muaka Elnikrai: the Dark Hunter. He knew the tracks, but no body remained. The beast had escaped into the darkness. It was still out there, somewhere, and his fear of it had bitten deep....[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]A sound brought him back, and he focused once more upon the figure in the surf. It was moving now, struggling up. Water dripped from its armor and face. Was that a Kanohi it wore? No, it was no Toa. In fact, they were much alike. The same species, perhaps. Sunlight gleamed on the being’s armor as it rose. It did not see him yet, hidden in the cool shadow. It surveyed its surroundings: side to side, then upward. Its gaze lingered upon the fortress atop the cliff. Such irony, that both of them should end up marooned on this island; forgotten, just like the Beings who had raised that fortress in ancient days....[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Their eyes met suddenly, gaze to gaze. A long moment passed, and another memory leapt to the forefront of his mind then. It was amid the stones of the fortress high above. Years had passed since he’d been marooned, and he had survived. He had established himself as the strongest predator in this island realm. Any creature that opposed him fell to his gaze. All but one...the Dark Hunter stalked him still, cunning and terrible. It pursued him always, lurking just beyond his sight.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Until one night, when he had led it on a long, dark hunt through the night, high upon the cliffside, into the stony heart of the fortress walls. And there it had ended, same as now. For a moment he had hesitated, creeping through a courtyard, and in that moment the Hunter had struck. Claws raked, teeth bit, and he had thought his death was near.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]But then morning had poured over the broken walltops, and the beast had recoiled from him, blinking, as he collapsed in the shade. Their eyes met—one bathed in sunlight, one in shadow—and the Dark Hunter had perished at last.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]And now? The silence stretched. Neither figure moved. The one who crouched in shadow felt the sudden urge to act. He was the Dark Hunter now. He was the dark.... He would hunt. He felt the fearsome power welling up behind his eyes. And then—[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]“What is your name?” the other being asked, and something changed. The moment was broken. The power.... It ebbed away.[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]“I...I have forgotten,” he said, hesitating. The words felt strange. “I have lived...in shadow...too long.”[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]“Well, shadowed one, my name is old and forgotten too. In fact, it is beyond ancient. I see you wear the skull of the Muaka Elnikrai...”[/font]

 

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]“...I believe you must be a fearsome Hunter.”[/font]


Edited by Tolkien, Jun 28 2013 - 01:05 AM.

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#15 Offline Vorahk1Panrahk2

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 03:08 PM

Member Name: Vorahk1Panrahk2

Theme: A Dark Hunt

Word Count: 722

Story: Stars

 

Lyke sat by himself in the dark. He was used to it, and he generally enjoyed it, but the jungle at night always disconcerted him. The way the tree canopies blocked the sky made him feel claustrophobic.

 

He jumped as he heard a rustling in the bushes, and instinctively grabbed a stick and thrust it toward the noise. Konepu barely had enough to leap out of the way before being impaled.

 

"Woah, Lyke!" he yelled. "No need to be so jumpy. Everything that can kill us is asleep!"

 

Lyke blushed behind his Akaku. He had a point. "Sorry-- where you able to find the nest?"

 

Konepu shook is head. "I went as far back as the river but I couldn't find any nests." He looked up. "We've still got some time left before light and I don't want to come out for another hunt tomorrow if I can avoid it. Would you mind checking south toward the coast? I can keep an eye on our stuff this time."

 

Lyke chucked aside his stick. "Certainly. If the glowbug nest is out there, I'll find it."

 

"And look carefully. I don't want to have to tell Matau we couldn't find Le-Koro's precious light source. We've been borrowing enough lightstones from the Onu-Matoran and they won't be happy to lend us another emergency supply."

 

Lyke offered a solute. "I'll do what I can, boss. Don't let the swamp rats get my berries." And with that he took off.

 

Lyke took out a lightstone so he wouldn't kill himself while bushwhacking. But when he came to a clearing, he put it away. Partially so his eyes could catch the soft glow of a glowbug nest, and partially because the stars where out- and he loved looking at them. Even where the rest of the Matoran wanted to look down, Lyke wanted to look up. Oh, he understood why no one shared his sentiments- Rahi were dangerous. Lookouts where necessary, and many precious materials necessary for defense came literally from down… in the Earth. There was no benefit to the stars. And no matter how hard he tried to persuade others to join him for late nights on the Ta-Wahi coast, he could not get anyone interested. "Science for the sake of science is a waste of time" he was repeatedly told. He acknowledge the truth in the statement, but still felt wished his fellow Matoran weren't so afraid to branch out their knowledge a bit.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by Konepu calling out his name. Lyke cursed- he knew he was spending way too much time out here. He got up and ran toward Konepu's voice.

 

"Sorry I took so long," he said. "I wanted to check out the trees for good measure. I didn't find anything." It was a lie, of course. And not a very opaque one, either.

 

"So you definitely weren't checking out the stars again," Konepu said sarcastically. "I know you think they're pretty, but we have a job to do. And if you had been paying attention you would have seen a nest not more than two hundred feet in that direction." He pointed back in the direction their camp was, and held up a jar of glowbugs for proof. Lyke couldn't deny his search was sloppy. He rubbed his neck with embarrassment.

 

"Sorry," he said. "But how can you not appreciate them? Mata Nui must have put them there for a reason."

 

"He also put the Le-Wahi swamps in for a reason. And I doubt it was for the benefit of Matoran. Now come on, let's head back. Matau will want these."

 

The two headed back to the Great Tree, the stars being blotted out by the lightstones. If only we can see them closer, Lyke thought. Maybe Matoran will appreciate them more. Discover more. Figure out their relevance. His thoughts then drifted toward his Akaku, and how the lenses allowed him to see smaller objects with greater clarity. What if he could replicate the device, modify it… and point it in the other direction?

 

Ideas formed wild in his head. He would build just such a device! And like a proud Ga Matoro resident shows off an ocean sunset, he would use his invention to show off the stars. And he knew just which coastline to put it on.


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#16 Offline Ricardo Mason

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 03:21 PM

Member Name: Flaredrick: The Sniper

Theme: A Dark Hunt

Word Count: 747

Story: Hunt in the Dark

 

Hunt in the Dark

 

Pittsburg Pennsylvania, home to some old steel work mills. It was night time, and the moon was in full bloom. We’ve been told to never do business before sundown, but we were naïve into doing so. This is the time, I survived the hunt.

 

It was dawn, and me and my companions were waking getting ready to go into the mills to work some trading. We didn’t matter what it was we were trading our steel for, but we were always careful about to make business with. Jaskal, Horuos, Uganl, and I changed into our human disguises so we can blend in with human society. We made sure we got everything we needed, and proceeded to an abandoned mill where we set up our trades.

 

I was a 5,7 albino with blonde hair, freckle faced, and pale blue eyes. Jaskal was a 6,1 African American man who was all muscle built. He had a very deep voice which he sort of hated. Underneath that he was a Fa-Matoran with silver Kulasi. Horuos was a 5,9 1/3 Germanic descendant with dark red hair and green eyes. Underneath the disguise is a Vo-Matoran with a Pakari. Last was Ugnal, he was a 5,11 Mexican American with a Spanish accent in his voice. He had grey hair like an old human, and dark brown eyes. Underneath his disguise was a Su-Matoran with a Hau.

 

When we made it to our mill, our day was going smoothly. We made more of a profit than we did on most days by obtaining gold, silver, and some other oddities that are just too strange to describe.

 

“Bet ya that this the day we make more profit than last year,” boasted Jaskal.

 

“Let’s just see what happens. The day is still fresh,” I said feeling slightly happy.

 

As the hours went by, it slipped my mind that we shouldn’t stay here at night. I’ve heard that dark things happen here at the moon rise. But I didn’t care; I was having a good time making deals for our steel. Then the sun set down upon us, and we were in a rush to pack up our supplies. When we were just a mere yard away from our vehicle, we were approached by mercenaries armed with machine guns and assault rifles. They were all wearing black, and their faces were covered in black as well, so I couldn’t see their faces.

 

There were hundreds of them surrounding us, ready to fire upon us. I could then see in front of me, that they were stepping aside for someone, but I could not see who it was. Then when the mercenaries in front of us moved, I could see two glowing red eyes and the glint of some gold armor. Then the being looked at me closely in the eyes, and that’s when I realized that it was a Skakdi.

 

His spines were shaped like the tip of a spear. His armor was black as coal and the body armor was a crude gold. His face was rigged and had some white tribal marking running down the left side of his face. He then said to me, “Your trespassing ends here Matoran. For too long we have seen you use our grounds for your worthless trade,” he explained with his harsh voice, as he knocked the bag that Jaskal was carrying off him.

 

“And what are you going to do about it, huh?” Ugnal bursted.

 

The Skakdi then grabbed him by the throat and lift him to his eye level.

 

“We’re going to hunt you down like a pack a pack of animals. That’s, what we’re going to do.”

 

The lined us up side by side, as we were held by the hands. Then they let us go, shooting at our feet to get us moving. We were probably 20 yards away from them, when suddenly I heard a gunshot. Horuos went down fumbling like a rag doll on the pavement. Then I heard the hollering of the men as they began to charge at us, guns blazing in the air.

 

I saw Ugnal fall to the ground, and then a man lunged at him, leaving a knife in his throat. Then Jaskal fell to a shot to the head. I turned off my human disguise so they do not recognize me. To my surprise, I had reached the forest outside of the mills. This was the last time I saw them.


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#17 Offline Neelh

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 04:04 PM

Member Name: NeelhTheme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 492Story: "Nothing"

Nothing

 

There was nothing left for her here.

 

Shadow, yes, and the odd Matoran left for prey of some kind for something much bigger than she. But she was no longer a protector, and should not act as such against whatever Rahi was going to kill these unfortunate little souls. Letting go of them was much more difficult than she had expected to begin with, though.

 

The night was supposedly unwelcoming for Toa as she had been, but now she realised that she had never breathed anything more natural. Light was suffocating, bright, blinding. In the darkness she could be free to roam the darkness. She could be herself properly with no regard for the loathing that had begun to surround her perpetually.

 

People followed her sometimes. A large paw print, right next to a tiny little foot more like a Matoran's than anything else's was bound to be suspicious, especially with the blade marks that her arms had begun to leave. They had left quickly once they had either given up and gone to do something else, or found her.

 

Not many people did the latter, and even fewer survived to tell the tale.

 

She had been scared of the dark as a Matoran. Always terrified of some monster that wasn't really there and never really would be; always wanting another comfort to help her through the night. Nobody had really cared, but she had never put away a lightstone at sundown, and it was always replaced as soon as it had displayed signs of flickering out.

 

Aimless wandering.

 

Aimless thoughts.

 

Maybe she shouldn't think.

 

Maybe letting go was easier than she had thought.

 

Maybe in three breaths, it could all be over and she would no longer feel a strange attachment to these tiny, powerless creatures, and maybe the heavy-footed Matoran would finally stop following her, ruining the silence and stumbling along, completely out of his normal habitat.

 

Blank it out, blank it all out, and maybe nothing can permeate the sounds of your blood rushing through your head; nothing can drill through the psychotic state that you have driven yourself into; nothing can-

 

Rip.

 

Tear.

 

Scream.

 

Nothing.

 

But nothing soon becomes something, for nothing can be nothing forever. Whatever you think, there can be no lies that you can feed yourself without end; an endless feast of truth mixed with non-truth and a tiny bit of seasoning on the latter so that you will always prefer the taste.

 

There was a mask on the floor. It was shattered so badly, all it could be recognised as was a Pakari. She knelt down and sniffed it. There was no power in it. The corpse on the floor was something that her past self would probably faint at the sight of.

 

Nowadays, she could just turn away.

 

So that was what she did.


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I no longer need Taipu as I have achieved the impossible.

 

I have girlfriend.

 

the atlantic was born today

and i'll tell you how

the clouds above opened up

and let it out


#18 Offline Emissary

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 07:44 PM

Member Name: Dreadheart
Theme: A Dark Hunt
Word Count: 481
Story: Colours on Canvas
 
I started making swords as a Ta-Matoran. It promised an honest living.
 
That was not what I sought.
 
One thousand years later, I would wield a sword as a Toa of flames. I was promised glory.
 
That was not what I sought.
 
Another thousand years would pass, and I would wield a sword again. This time, no glory was promised; heroes and defenders had become commonplace to the Matoran. We had been demoted from legends to scarecrows. We had become the security blanket locked in the attic -- impotent, redundant, kept out of misplaced sentimentality. Our lives were put on hold, dulled and faded until they were a grey canvas.
 
Many years later, a rogue Toa of the soil attacked the village, and my sword had chance to sting again.
 
And sting it did. Earth met steel, and earth was transformed to blood. My opponent fell, his life leaking back into his element.
 
Anger ignited, fear swelled, shame fell, horror took grip; I drank in those crisp, genuine, heartfelt feelings. They were deep blacks, muddy greens, vibrant yellows and burning reds splashing onto the grey space of my existence -- in a blazing moment my frustration had been replaced by fire, and my lethargy had been replaced by lust.
 
Reprimands were given; trials held. I was warned that if my actions were repeated, I would be punished.
 
That was not what I sought.
 
If I stayed on the straight and narrow path, they said I would become a hero of legends.
 
That was not what I sought.
 
More years passed, and I returned to an existence of limbo. Grey creeped back into my life, but this was a darker shade -- it was not of boredom, but of resentment.
 
History repeated itself; a mad Skakdi of the waves stormed our gates, and my team rushed to stop it. I was pushed back by my brethren, to keep me from the rapture that battle promised. But my will proved greater than their might, and the frenzied beast was reduced to red streams splashed onto shards of blue.
 
I looked back to my five brothers and sisters, as they silently conceded that the final line had been crossed.
 
How right they were.
 
Axe, scythe, shield, flail, spear...names were lost to me. Steel sang, and my old team fell one-by-one, their lives returned to their Great Spirit, their colours feeding me.
 
But five was not enough.
 
So I drowned my village in death.
 
As well as the next. And the next. And the next. And the next.
 
Some desperate men and women promised me power in exchange for mercy.
 
That was not what I sought.
 
Power was a sedentary thing, and my hunger required me to move and chase and hunt. Only my sword could give me what I wanted, what I needed.
 
It promised me life.
 
And that was what I sought.

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#19 Offline Legolover-361

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 10:41 PM

Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 750Story: FaultA scream.The Vortixx Eris awakened, a film of sweat on her face, and fumbled in the dark for the knife on her bedside cabinet before realizing she had been dreaming.Just as she had been dreaming for the past month.She sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. She would sleep no more.* * *A few thoughtfully placed lightstones illuminated the Xian inn’s hallway and stairwell. Two flights of steps down, the corridor opened into a large lobby. Eris crossed the lobby between the front doors and receptionist’s desk and entered the inn’s modest bar and restaurant.Only a few people were awake at this hour: another Vortixx, slumped over the bar; two Matoran murmuring, their heads almost touching; and a Steltian with a scar over his left eye and a grimace on his face as though his drink was too bitter.After purchasing a frugal meal (she would eat no more of the inn’s second-rate breakfast than she had to), Eris deliberately took a seat two tables from the Steltian’s and ate silently. It was amazing that no one else could hear the boiling emotions incarcerated in her gut.One of the Matoran approached the Steltian with a few terse words. His response was equally brief, and the Matoran returned to his table, unbeknownst that he gave Eris the final proof she needed. This was the one.The Steltian finished his drink and exited the restaurant. Eris counted to three before following — risky, yes, but she was impatient. Her sheath felt heavy against her thigh.* * *The air outside the inn was cold, but it kept Eris awake.She kept her distance from the Steltian, stretching her arms and yawning a couple times as if she had just woken up. It was only an act (she tried to convince herself), but her subconscious nevertheless reminded Eris to sleep in tomorrow, or at least go to bed early tonight.When the Steltian finally looked at her, she was gazing at the sky, tinted violet by dawn. In her peripheral vision, the Steltian paused by the front display of a store as if window shopping. She didn’t stop walking till she was past him and he entered the store.No stores in Xia were open at this hour.There were two obvious possibilities: Either the Steltian was obtaining something in the store — legally or otherwise — or he was using it as a shortcut into a back alley.The third possibility, which Eris realized only after slipping into a neighboring alley, was that the store was his hideout. She prayed not.The Steltian wasn’t behind the shop. Eris approached the back door and placed her head against it, listening. Even her acute hearing could barely recognize words.“...not enough. I spent more than time getting this...”More mumbling. Something about being cheap. Then a tinkle of coins.Apparently the storeowner was a customer.When the Steltian exited, Eris had resumed her position and ploy of a tired Vortixx on an early morning stroll. She could tell he was suspicious by the glance he gave her, but he said nothing as he passed.She waited till his back was to her before leaping onto it and pressing a drug-soaked rag upon his face.He struggled mutely and then went limp. Eris dragged him into the alley and out of sight and fell to a sitting position beside his body, her heart galloping.This was it.* * *Eris’s knife was out of its sheath and resting against the Steltian’s neck when he awakened. His eyes were wary, but he otherwise displayed no surprise or recognition.“You know me,” Eris prompted.He was silent for a brief time before comprehending. “Yes,” he said, his tone markedly formal. “Yes, Eris, I do.”“You know Thora?”He was silent longer this time. “I think I’ve heard the name.”“You should. You killed her.”“I don’t kill people.”Eris’s knife hand was shaking. “You killed her,” she repeated.“I did not, Eris. That was you.”“You made me!”“You had every ability to deny the job—”“That’s false, and you know it!”“Regardless, I’m not a murderer.”“If you’d told me I’d been hired to kill her—”“You never asked,” said the Steltian.The final straw.The scream replayed in Eris’s mind. She nearly repeated it aloud. On an impulse, she pressed the knife against the Steltian’s neck—And froze.Recoiled, gut churning.Pulled it away and, cursing, ran back into the street with burning eyes.

Edited by Legolover-361, Jun 28 2013 - 10:43 PM.

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#20 Offline 55555

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 11:01 PM

Member Name: 55555Theme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 413Story: A Scientist's ReverieThe Ga-Matoran scientist walked home slowly, enjoying the moonlit night. The muted sounds, the darkened sights, of these Ga-Metruan nights, she whispered poetically. Clouds blew quickly across the sky, but the full moon remained unshaded.She walked into the vast, black shadow of the Colosseum and shivered slightly. She increased her pace somewhat as she crossed the last bridge between her and her destination.Still, for a moment she paused. The gentle herald of a thunder, goes before the skies are-Suddenly a dark shape launched out of the canal below, arcing low over the bridge and carrying the Matoran into the protodermis on the other side without a hint of a splash. There was a sudden explosion above the surface, and pieces of the bridge fell into the water all around them. She feebly struck at the face of the humanoid who held her, as she was carried through the water at alarming speed. Then they suddenly halted, and through the water she could see a pair of glowing yellow eyes behind a Great Pakari, and a single finger held up to indicate the necessity of silence. Kind, though serious, eyes. Toa Naho's.She gasped as they surfaced, pulling in the air that she so desperately needed, the impact and the cold water having robbed her of what energy she had. Toa Naho kept them both low in the water, below the peaks of the small waves. The Toa scanned the surrounding rooftops and the walls of the canal. Then, without warning, submerged them both again.Projectiles splashed into the water where they had just been, sending silvery fountains into the moonlight. This time they swam a long way, Naho taking turn after turn through the canals without hesitation.They emerged in a large culvert, deep in the darkness. There was a horribly smell, and loud echoes of the water farther in the labyrinth of sewers. Surely we're safe here, she thought, her heart slowing.Release the scientist, Naho.A deep, female voice echoed into their hiding place. Naho's grip only tightened.Something fell into the water in front of them, but Naho had already made her move. They were going deeper, deeper into the sewers.You must take a deep breath, little scientist. And hold it.She did as she was told, just as an explosion brought down the tunnel, their route to safety. And they plunged again.Rushing water, black as Makuta's mind, a friend before, an enemy behind.


Edited by 55555, Jun 28 2013 - 11:56 PM.

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#21 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 11:13 PM

Hey guys, in lieu of BZP being down for several hours, the deadline is extended for one day. However, the schedule will not change. This means that a new Bionicle theme will be posted shortly, and both the Bones and A Dark Hunt deadline is tomorrow night (June 29th 11:59 PM EST). Let me know if there are any questions!


Edited by Velox, Jun 28 2013 - 11:20 PM.

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#22 Offline Takuaka: Toa of Time

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 11:32 PM

Helloooo, Ambage! This is a cool idea, a nice little marathon for exercising the creative muscles. Hopefully I'll be able to enter all ten. All right, here's my first one.

 

Member Name: Timaka: Toa of TimeTheme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 511 (ha! A good bit under the limit this time!)Story: Creature in the Dark

 

 

Darkness clings to the city like a plague. Even the silver light that extends its tendrils into a few cracks here and there fails to penetrate the darkness. The citizens of Metru-Nui are in a state of panic and fear. Seldom were any Matoran seen traveling alone nowadays, and not a single one ever came out at night in this time of darkness. Platoons of Toa patrol every street in the metropolis, wary and tense.

 

In the very deepest shadow, two lightless eyes watch them carefully. . . Not here. Wrong Toa. Silent footsteps run lightly across rooftops, clinging to the shadows as a creeper vine clings to its host. Another platoon of Toa go by. Hungry eyes scan the small group carefully. Not here either.

 

They had to be around somewhere. The intelligence had specified that they were. If the information had been wrong, there would be one unhappy customer later on. Crossing more rooftops, heading in the general direction of the city's center. Thunderclouds gather overhead. Cold, merciless eyes scan closely the features of every Toa they come across, and frustration continues to build. True, there were hundreds of Toa roving the various Metru in this time of strife, but the eyes belonged to a very impatient nature.

 

Rain begins to fall. It becomes difficult to maintain footing. Forced to enter the city, alone, into the very den of the Toa Army, resentment grew. But the money would be good. Nearing the Coliseum now. Swarms of Toa crawl around it. Thunder flashes, forcing a creature of darkness to flee for cover. A black heart pounds wildly. No, the Toa had seen nothing. Cold anger and a return to the mission at hand.

 

Scanning the crowds of Toa. Wouldn't you know it, there were the targets, right in the middle of the crowd.

 

But what's this? A Toa of red-and-gold speaks to his companion, one of black-and-gray, and they leave the crowd, moving to a quieter area around the side of the Coliseum.

 

Excellent. But how to. . . There. Silent footsteps moving at top speed, hugging a sliver of shadow.

 

Made it! Climbing the sides of the tallest building in the city. Crowds of Toa down below, like the insects they were. Climbing higher, dodging statues and protrusions. Rain falling in sheets. Making way around the building. . . Slippng through a maze of shadows. Finally reaching the ground. Thunder flashing again. Hiding behind a wall. The Toa's backs are turned. Now is the time.

 

Stepping forward, but still under the cover of the black shadow. A grisly hand extends, sickly green light emanating from it. Power flashes. The gray Toa crumples to the ground. Grim satisfaction. One more moment and. . .

 

CRUNCH!

 

Toa Zaluk looks up from his dead companion, shock and anger in his heart, as a great Hau statue crashes violently to the ground a short distance away. A long, decrepit arm sticks out from under it.

 

A grim smile plays across the features of the Toa's mask before his gaze returns to his companion.


Edited by Takuaka: Toa of Time, Jun 28 2013 - 11:33 PM.

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This is where I'm supposed to have a signature, right? Alright, then.


Timaka: Toa of Time


I have very neat hand-writing.


#23 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 11:45 PM

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Theme #3:[/color][/font]

 

Posted Image

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]The Chronicler[/color][/font]

 

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Any interpretation is valid. Remember that this is an Bionicle theme, and your story must comply with the contest rules.Deadline: June 30th, 11:59PM EST.[/color][/font]

 

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Also, once again keep in mind the new deadlines:[/color][/font]

 

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]A Dark Hunt: June 29th, 11:59 PM EST.[/color][/font]

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]Bones: June 29th, 11:59 PM EST[/color][/font]

[color=rgb(0,0,0);][font="'times new roman', times, serif;"]The Chronicler: June 30th, 11:59 PM EST.[/color][/font]


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#24 Offline Excelsior

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Posted Jun 28 2013 - 11:52 PM

Member Name: Excelsior
Theme: Dark Hunt
Word count: 486
Story: Blind Hostilities
 
"Ow!" Nidhiki yelled, stumbling forward and colliding with the wall. For perhaps the three-hundredth time so far in his Dark Hunter career, he began cursing his imbecilic partner. (Obviously, this was still rather early in said career.)He also, for perhaps the hundred and fiftieth time, cursed the power of Roodaka's mutation spinner. The ability to crawl across walls and ceilings was all very well, but when trying to navigate a Makuta-black room he much preferred having two legs. And actual hands. 
Hissing imprecations under his breath, he had resumed his clumsy search, when suddenly a voice spoke from behind him. It was Subterranean, the third Hunter on this mission. 
"What's the matter now, Nidhiki?" he said wearily. "I've been hearing you cursing and tripping over yourself for over twenty minutes." The arachnid could hear him smirk. "And while your opinion of Krekka's intelligence is probably accurate, I don't think the Shadowed One will be happy if you actually rip him to shreds - or do any of the other things you've been muttering about." 
"Oh, be quiet, Subterranean," the ex-toa snapped. "Don't you have better things to do than eavesdrop on people three rooms away?" 
"Farther, actually. I was on sentry duty outside until a minute ago - watching out for any natives that might come by and discover our little hideout. And it's hardly eavesdropping if I can't help hearing you." The mutant's super-hearing was one of his greatest strengths, and also the reason he had been sent on this mission. Their target was guarded by a village of De-Matoran, some of the most naturally stealthy beings in the universe. "But you haven't answered my question. What's Krekka done this time?" 
Nidhiki's anger intensified at the mention of his partner. "Oh, nothing," he spat sarcastically. "That buffoon has apparently interpreted the instructions to 'show no light' as 'break all the lightstones,' that's all! So now I'm stuck looking for the mission instructions, in complete darkness!" 
Subterranean burst out laughing. "Really, Nidhiki? That's all? Honestly...if you can't handle a task like that, you shouldn't have become a Dark Hunter." He paused. "Not that you had a choice, of course - 'Toa' Nidhiki." 
Nidhiki stiffened. "I had more than you did," he shot back. "I heard you were run out of Metru Nui because of your looks. At least there's one good thing about this situation - I don't have to see you right now." 
"As if you're one to talk. Aren't you the one the Shadowed One mutated to ensure you'd be too monstrous to leave?"
 
"Maybe, but it was you who gave him the idea."
 
Subterranean seemed to have no answer to that. Nidhiki grinned triumphantly before continuing.
 
"Now if you're not going to make yourself useful, you can leave. I have to deal with the mess created by my moron of a partner. Again."
 
Subterranean silently obeyed, leaving Nidhiki to his dark hunt.

Edited by Excelsior, Jun 28 2013 - 11:59 PM.

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My writings:

The Toa Ekara - Visions A short story. Ga-Koro Mobs My entry for the LSO Comedies Contest. Team Extempore's entry for the LSO Epics Contest


#25 Offline Click

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 12:07 AM

So glad this is back, although too bad I missed the first theme. I may try for the next tomorrow.
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~click.gif

 

kanohibanner.gif

 

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#26 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 12:11 AM

So glad this is back, although too bad I missed the first theme. I may try for the next tomorrow.

 

Actually, the deadline for the first theme has been extended one day, if you still want to enter. =] The new deadlines are:

 

A Dark Hunt: June 29th, 11:59 PM EST.

Bones: June 29th, 11:59 PM EST

The Chronicler: June 30th, 11:59 PM EST.


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#27 Offline SonicBOOM XS

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 12:14 AM

Member Name: SonicBOOM XS

Theme: The Dark Hunt

Word Count: 750 (:D)

Story: The Stains of Time

 

Eliminator wiped his hands clean with the water of the Great Sea. Just outside Metru Nui, on a small fishing boat, he had killed another of his targets. The sea, even with its pure water, couldn't wash away the stains of blood on his hands.

 

He decided to reflect on his life. He'd lived too long; anything before joining the Dark Hunters was a weak memory, possibly just fragments of a dream misconstrued as an actual event. As far as he was concerned, his life began when The Shadowed One recruited him without trial. His penchant for stealth and killing were just what made him so useful to The Shadowed One.

 

There was a cough nearby. Eliminator didn't hear it over the roar of the sea.

 

He was the hitman of choice for most. Even The Shadowed One hired him for his personal purposes: take out any rebels or incompetent Dark Hunters. He did so without prejudice or fear, attributes which all too often ruined an otherwise successful mission. Granted, the other Dark Hunters feared him and reviled him, and he personally knew of a group that plotted to eliminate him, but that didn't change anything.

 

Metal scraped against the floor. A few grunts came from behind Eliminator, still drowned in the noise emanating from the storm.

 

He'd been contracted so many times he couldn't count his missions anymore. His name popped up more often than any of his colleagues', and clients even offered to wait for availability. Of course he would be asked to work for Makuta Teridax, the leader of the Brotherhood of Makuta. Nobody knew what became of Miserix, but rumor had it he was executed in a volcano. The Shadowed One couldn't care less: he just wanted money. And Teridax was paying very handsomely.

 

Footsteps, now, along with pain-ridden grunts and moans. Eliminator was too wrapped in his thoughts to hear anything.

 

Teridax had assigned him to assassinate the Toa Mangai one by one. So far, he had killed one Toa of Water, two Toa of Ice, and was in a boat with the presumed corpse of a Toa of Air. His kills had been simple and elegant, a quick slice here, a jab there, a break here, and another dead Toa joined the ranks.

 

So why was he so drowned in thought, why did he have doubt, why did he care?

 

A dagger flew out of nowhere, breaking his thoughts. He caught it, only to be blown back by a strong gust of wind. Jurak stood, limping on one leg, a mini-cyclone by his side.

 

“Don't even bother trying. You're dead. Maybe not now, but even so.” Eliminator taunted.

 

“I know I am, but I need to know. You. I knew you before you became a Dark Hunter. We worked together, protecting Matoran, working with Toa. So answer me this. Why did you kill Kodan?”

 

That was it. Eliminator froze in place, his inner turmoil rooting him down.

 

It wasn't that Eliminator didn't remember anything before the recruitment, it was that he suppressed those memories. Or, rather, he had them suppressed by another figure. But suppressed memories can only be held for so long. After he killed Kodan, he'd nearly passed out of shock, something which should not have happened. Had another Dark Hunter been the clean-up guy, he'd be dead by now.

 

He looked down at his bloodstained hands. He remembered his fights alongside Jurak, working to protect innocent Matoran with his powers over darkness. He'd fought for them. He could never kill a Toa or a Matoran. Anyone else, maybe, but them?

 

Eliminator looked up, the rain mingling with tears in his eyes. He'd never cried before, but the sheer shock of this revelation forced them out.

 

But he had a job regardless. And even his past could not interfere with his present.

 

“I'm sorry, Jurak.”

 

---------

 

“Congratulations, you've eliminated almost all of my targets.” Teridax said as he paced up and down his chamber. Eliminator listened obediently.

 

He looked down at his hands. The rain last night, however intense it may have been, could not wipe away the stains of bloods. The tears last night, however emotional they may have been, could not wipe away the stains of time.

 

“Lastly, go and kill Toa Naho. She's our last little target.”

 

As far as Eliminator was concerned, he had no past beyond the Dark Hunters, and the only thing left to do was embark on another dark hunt.


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Undergoing Renovations...


#28 Offline Hubert

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 12:55 AM

Member Name: Toa Onarax

Theme: The Dark Hunt

Word Count: 730

Story:  The Extent of Courage

 

A lone Matoran ran in the night, fleeing from shadows constantly nipping at his heels. The Matoran knew that if he were to falter, even for a moment, he would die. Like all living beings, the Matoran wanted to live. His mind kept repeating the same words over and over. Mata-Nui please give me the courage to survive. Please let me survive. I must survive.

 

However, the more the Matoran prayed, the more frantic he became. As his mind fell further into despair, the forest around him appeared even more terrifying. The tree branches seemed to reach out, attempting to grab and devour him. The shadows of small Rahi cast themselves as though they belonged to larger, deadlier creatures. Everything about the darkness of the woods became more pronounced, more terrifying, more deadly. As the forest seemed to close in upon the Matoran, he panicked, letting out a cry for help.

 

His cry was answered by a penetrating howl, followed by another howl, and then another. Soon, it sounded as though a network had been established, as more and more howls joined the first. The Matoran froze in his tracks and suddenly everything became deathly silent. Even the wind had died down, allowing an eerie silence to descend upon the woods. For a moment the Matoran couldn’t help but wonder if the wolves had stopped, if somehow he had been saved.

 

Then he heard a slow rumble, growing louder and louder until finally it exploded into a symphony of howls and stampeding. The Matoran watched in horror as he saw Rahi, large and small fleeing from the forest behind him. They were running in terror from something, and it was only after the Rahi had passed him that the Matoran resumed his own flight of terror.

 

However, it was too late now, far too late. Already the Matoran could hear light footsteps following him, no, stalking him. Their lazy gait seemed almost mocking, as if they had all the time in the world. It was as if they were laughing at the Matoran, daring him to try and flee. They were confident in the fact that escape was impossible.

 

Just as the Matoran was about to give into his despair, he saw images of friends appear in his head. He could see the smiling villagers, men and women he had laughed and cried with. The Matoran did not want to die yet, not when he still had so much to live for. If nothing else he wanted to see his home again, tell his fellow villagers how much they meant to him. He especially did not want his death to weigh upon their hearts.

 

I WILL SURVIVE!

 

With newfound determination, the Matoran resumed running and this time a certain vigor had entered his legs: the vigor of a survivor. With every step his resolve only strengthened. He would not rest until he was home, and then he would thank every single person he knew, give everyone a hug for making his life one worth running back to.

 

None of the Matoran’s optimism slowed the wolves; as the Matoran's pace increased, so too did theirs'. The dreaded moment came: the hunt was getting boring. Toying with him was no longer fun; it was time to end it.  That was when the first Wolf leapt out of the woods, and the Matoran finally saw the face of Death itself.

 

An Iron Wolf, lean yet powerful, was running alongside him. Then, when the Matoran tried to suppress his fear, the Iron Wolf responded by quickly outpacing him and then cutting his path off. As the Matoran turned to try and escape in another direction, he found that two more wolves were now blocking his way.

 

All of the Matoran’s hope and courage was suddenly gone, replaced by a fear that no other can match. His legs locked up, his arms rigid: there was no way out, no hope, no future. The Matoran looked upwards, hoping against hope that something would appear in the sky to save him as often happened in the stories. Finally, just as the Matoran realized that nothing was coming to save him, the first Wolf pounced. There wasn’t even any glory in his death.

 

The Dark Hunt satiated, they howled in unison, warning all people with a simple message: We are the Dark Hunt, and no one escapes us.


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#29 Online xccj

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 01:47 AM

Member Name: xccj

Theme: A Dark Hunt

Word Count: 717

Story: Escaping the Fiercest Hunter

 

Kongu made his way through the jungle in the middle of the night.  There was a full moon overhead, but none of the light reached below the jungle canopy.  For those on the forest floor, it was as dark as the underground shadows.

 

Ordinarily, Kongu would’ve never been out in the jungle this late, much less on the forest floor.  But he had been flying his Kahu in the late afternoon, and his poor bird hurt its wing and was forced to land far from Le-Koro.  After making sure his Kahu was safely roosted, Kongu started off for his treetop village, so he could return with medicine for his bird.  And since the tree limbs above were filled with Fikou webs, he was forced to make the journey on the ground.

 

Kongu heard the sound of something behind him.  He knew of many predators in the jungles of Le-Wahi, and whatever was behind him was big.  It could just be one of the larger, peaceful Rahi.  Or it could be something out to get him.

 

Kongu picked up his pace, leaping over tree roots and bushes.  But then he heard the creature move, and a shadow leapt towards him.  Using his quick reflexes, Kongu came to a halt and ducked down, and his attacker sailed over his head.

 

Kongu managed to get a good look at the beast, despite the darkness.  It was a ferocious Muaka cat.  Of all the hunters in the jungle, Muaka were among the fiercest.

 

Panic began to fill him, and Kongu started off at a sprint.  He wasn’t heading towards Le-Koro or anyplace in specific; he just tried to get away from the Muaka.  Unfortunately, the Muaka turned around and continued the chase.

 

The beast was almost upon him.  Kongu took a sharp turn around a large tree trunk, and the feline missed him.  But it would be back.  Kongu tried to brush aside his fear and think.  He couldn’t outrun the Muaka, and his agility would only help him so much.  He needed a way to outsmart the beast.

 

But how could he outthink the jungle’s greatest hunter?  What could possibly stop the mighty Muaka?

 

A sudden idea came to Kongu.  He jumped into the low branches of a nearby tree, and started to climb skyward.  He was halfway up the tree before the Muaka below sighted him.  If Kongu thought climbing would save him, he was sorely mistaken.  The Muaka flexed its claws and sank them into the trees bark.  The massive beast began to climb up the tree behind Kongu, tearing away the branches and foliage that got in its way.

 

Kong climbed onto a long branch, and ran out across it.  The Muaka reached it seconds later, and with a swipe of its claws broke it free.  Kongu leapt at the last moment and snagged a vine hanging from another tree, and used it to swing to its trunk.  But the Muaka pounced and leapt through the air, landing on the branches right below Kongu.

 

Kongu ran and jumped, even as the Muaka’s claws slashed at the leaves directly behind him.  Ahead, he saw what appeared to be a clearing beneath the treetops, and he dove into the darkness.  Behind him, the Muaka leapt too.  It extended its neck, and its jaws sprang towards Kongu and threatened to close down on the Matoran.

 

Suddenly, something caught the Muaka and checked its fall.  The Rahi roared, and tried to break free, but the thin strands wrapped around its legs and stuck to it.  It had been caught in a Fikou web.

 

Kongu had just been able to see the outline of the web when he jumped, and he aimed for an opening which was wide enough for him to pass through.  The gap, however, was too small for the Muaka.  Even as it tried to break free, the Fikou spiders moved in on their catch.  They were no match for the Muaka, and the fierce cat would eventually break free.  But not before Kongu could get to safety.

 

The Le-Matoran landed safely on the ground below, and quickly resumed his journey towards Le-Koro.  When he got back, he could tell all his friends of how he had bested the fiercest hunter in the jungle... in the dark, no less.

 


Edited by xccj, Jun 29 2013 - 01:49 AM.

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#30 Offline Neelh

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 02:02 AM

Member Name: Neelh

Theme: The Chronicler

Word Count: 730

Story: Easy Shadows

 

Easy Shadows

 

There are not many stories that are fully true.

 

This is because most stories are old, and time twists tales in such a way that nobody can really be sure what happened or not. So many things happen over such a short period of time that the strings are bound to get tangled and there are so many discrepancies that someone has to sort them all out.

 

It is the job of a Chronicler to learn all they they can about the history of their assigned location or people. In such a vast world, to make sure that all the details of their history are correct and never too far-fetched.

 

This is quite difficult when you have to talk to a pathological liar.

 

The Vortixx's claw-like fingers drummed on the wooden table as she held her face in her other hand. Her name was Roodaka, and though her weapons had been removed, she was still deemed dangerous enough for the Chronicler to have guards assigned to her. However, when they realised that she wouldn't be talking to anyone other than the small Vo-Matoran, they had left the cell and locked the door.

 

"So, you probably want to know my motives for turning the Toa into Hordika first," she purred. The Chronicler shivered, but didn't let this deter her until she realised that she was too scared to speak. She nodded, knowing that if she shook her head then she would have to say something. The Vortixx smirked knowingly and looked at her with her right eye. "Their corpses would have been useful, and it was also my way of testing Sidorak. If he had accepted the idea, he would be again proved to me that he was unworthy of my time. If he had disagreed and mutated them - for almost no good reason I may add - then he had succeeded for once. Needless to say, this was yet another of my tests that he had failed."

 

As she finished the sentence in a harsher tone than before, she scraped her fingers down on the wood, tearing out a small chunk and throwing it at the wall.

 

"However, I had many plans for what happened next. If they had died, then I could have used their corpses for brokering deals and for a little thing that you know nothing of called power. But as they lived, I could use their new mental state for my own good."

 

The Chronicler leaned in, still scrawling on a piece of parchment given to her by an Agori of the Fire Tribe. Roodaka observed her haughtily before continuing.

 

"My first choice was actually Matau. He had darkness - so much that it was a shame to waste it. Nokama would have been a better choice to destroy their precious unity, but she was stubborn and unyielding. The others could have done the job, but Vakama was willing to walk straight into my web." She chuckled. "Just like a Toa should."

 

The Chronicler blinked. She should not have been surprised - Turaga Vakama had admitted it, after all - but to hear these words spoken by a known villain, and to be told how foolish their leader had been, brought a small chill to the Chronicler's soul.

 

"You know everything that happened in Metru Nui. I will not deny this, nor shall I add anything such as personal motives. I know that you want to hear about my weaknesses, so all of your new Orders and Federations can find some way to punish me.

 

"I have some advice for you, little Matoran. Rules, such as those that you live and breathe every day by, are nothing but restrictions placed on you so you don't usurp those who placed themselves in power."

 

She stood up and walked to the cell door. There, she picked the lock and opened the door. "Come, little Matoran. I will teach you about the benefits of the places that your Turaga tell you are shadows. You will never be powerless again, and wouldn't it be wonderful to not be looking over our shoulder every day to make sure that I am not there with my knife to your throat?"

 

The Vo-Matoran looked up from the parchment, before nodding and following the Vortixx out of the door.


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I no longer need Taipu as I have achieved the impossible.

 

I have girlfriend.

 

the atlantic was born today

and i'll tell you how

the clouds above opened up

and let it out


#31 Offline Baltarc

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 06:58 AM

Member Name: BaltarcTheme: A Dark HuntWord Count: 366Story:The Toa’s body crumpled to the ground as I withdrew my blade from his back – the hunt, at last, was over. It had been a particularly challenging one – yes, that’s right, challenging, even for me. Hunting down someone who’s gotten his hands on an Olmak is no easy task. My partner would never admit to finding any assignment the slightest bit difficult, but I understood the value in recognizing my weaknesses. If I could understand them, I could conquer them, learn to succeed in spite of them. It was why I would be alive far longer than he would.Well, actually, that’s not the real reason, I guess. See, this mission had two parts. I knelt down beside the fallen Toa and wrenched the Olmak from his face; that, naturally, was our primary objective. The mask housed considerable power, power the Shadowed One wanted to ensure was in… competent hands. Phase two, well…“Excellent work,” came my partner’s voice from behind me.I turned, rising and giving a nod of appreciation. “Likewise,” I replied. He had concealed himself in the underbrush, using the powers typical of his species to cast an illusion over the clearing, distracting our quarry while I finished the job.“Lemme see that,” he said, gesturing to the mask. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.” We had planned on using the Olmak to quickly return to Odina – my partner could access the mask’s power; I could not.I tossed the mask in his direction. The moment he reached out to catch it, I lunged forward, my blade stopping an inch from his throat. To my surprise, he barely reacted, only raising an eyebrow in surprise. “What’s this?” he asked. “Treason?”“Hardly,” I said. “I’m told you’ve been compromised, that it’s my job to retire you. Personally, I’m not too thrilled about it, but you should’ve considered the consequences before you betrayed us, yeah?”Suddenly he—Laughed? “Something funny?” I demanded.He shook his head slowly, still grinning. “They told me the same thing about you.”I barely had a half-second to process the information before the Olmak in his hand exploded, a fireball large enough to engulf the entire island.

Edited by Baltarc, Jun 29 2013 - 04:54 PM.

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#32 Offline Grantaire

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 09:11 PM

[color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Member Name: Grantaire[/color][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Theme: Dark Hunt[/color][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Word Count: 471[/color][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Story:[/color]

[color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Apart from my Brothers[/color]

 

There were tears in my eyes when I fled across the plain. My massive legs churn on, throwing sand about in torrents as I run. But there was no sound in my ears, nothing to comfort that distressed sense.

 
I have never been alone, nor do I like the idea. My brothers have always been by my side: we cared for one another, we had peace. Even if we were separated, I think we would be happy if we had peace.
 
But peace is not about me, and peace is not what is pursuing me. I can throw about a Matoran, box about a vortixx while deciding what my lunch will be. But this thing that pursues me, I cannot beat down. I saw it move a little in the dark, swift in lithe as it spread its silence over me. I fear it, as mighty as I am.
 
The land around me is desolate, terrifyingly almost in the early night: the grey sand edged by the grasping claws of the rocks. It is my home, and at day charming.
 
But not at night, not with this thing hunting me. I am tired after a day’s travel. My doom is drawing closer. I look back, changing my angle. There!
 
I flee even faster as I again see the faint shape of my hunter.
 
My brothers are far behind. My cries did not wake them, nor could they have. For the cries themselves were muted.
 
I am nothing alone, I never was. 
 
A cliff approaches and I change my angle, running close by its edge. Looking down I see a deep canyon beside me. My eyes narrow. None of my brothers would kill themselves out of fear. But is it death? I am not a weakling, and my bulk tells me I have much protection. 
 
It does not matter, for my strength fades. I turn about, facing my foe. I snarl. Bracing myself for the last futile fight. Its dark form confounds me: I cannot fight in darkness!
 
It is upon me. I give one more muted cry as I feel deep claws on my back. But my cry turns, unheard, into triumph.
 
It has given itself into my power. With one muted roar I spring sideways and forwards, twisting over. Another muted roar breaks out as I fall: but there is another cry, this one not muted.
 
I lie stunned for a moment among the rocks: the world seems to be still. Lying on my back, I feel too shocked to move. I give a snort.
 
I hear it.
 
With a growl of triumph I struggle to get up. The dark form lies still and crushed beneath me, broken upon the rocks. I throw back my head, giving vent to a victorious roar.
 
I am a Kikanalo. I do not surrender.

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#33 Offline Legolover-361

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 11:11 PM

Member Name: Legolover-361Theme: The ChroniclerWord Count: 421Story: The Close of the Civil WarAny good Chronicler knows that a story is no more than a sum of other stories.If a worthy Chronicler happened upon the Makuta-led massacre of civil war leaders in the Archives, that Chronicler ought not to think of only the heres and nows — the bodies strewn across the floor, the bloodstains on Teridax’s blade, the morbid satisfaction betrayed by his grin — but of the befores and afters.Such a Chronicler might say: There lies Odipheus the Po-Matoran, his right arm separated from the rest of his body, his eyes open in an empty gaze: Odipheus, who had pleaded in his prayers for the chance to face he who dared to incarcerate him, now free from bodily pain; who had asked that blood be shed and received his wish in more ways than one. And there lies Ta-Matoran Karhi, whose fiery temper ignited the hopes and fears of his kin, intimidating in death as he was in life: who drew his sword only to serve his friends and, in the end, gave up his life for them.That Chronicler might continue and note the Ga-Matoran Kokora, who courted Odipheus for a time before being repulsed by his rebellious streak and, for the duration of the Matoran Civil War, served only as healer and assistant. He may remark in brief about the passing of Ko-Matoran Irhu, perhaps the most pragmatic among those of the coldest Metru, who preached for cool heads and was rewarded being flung into battle with the opposite.But there was no Chronicler here.Teridax was cunning. As he had determined the war would end on his terms, so end it would — along with the talks of rebellion and the songs of heroes wrongly apotheosized and villains improperly labeled, of the very essence and hubris that had caused the conflict in the first place.Oh, Miserix would be furious if he discovered, and the Matoran would cry foul.But — and here lay the inherent pulchritude, the beautiful simplicity of his plot — Teridax would have cleaned the blood off his blade by then, and he would speak with squared shoulders and somber eyes of how he had been offered no other options. He would speak of a defender backed against a wall and forced to strike out against those he had sworn to protect. And no one would correct him.For he had made certain that he, and no virtuous individual, no Matoran or Toa — only he would write the chronicle of how the civil war came to its close.
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#34 Online Al the Chicken Man

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Posted Jun 29 2013 - 11:51 PM

Member Name: Shuhei Hisagi

Theme: The Chronicler

Word Count: 541

Story: Corruption

 

 

The snow banks of Ko-Koro were some of the most beautiful parts of the island. The glistening ice portrayed a light show of epic proportions. There were many inhabitants, some Matoran, some otherwise. They could all feel the snow coming down with equal parts wonder and disdain.
 
In the middle of it were two white, figures- one tinted blue and the other a sort of alabaster. The latter was tall and resonated power, but left a chill in the already-cold air of Ko-Wahi. Not that the former, short and stout, was much of a juxtaposition. 
 
"Kopaka," said the shorter, brandishing a tablet of stone and a marker, "tell me again of how you defeated the Muaka."
 
'Kopaka' was obviously not much of people person. His traveling companion had to actively work to match his gait, rather than easily fall into step beside him.
 
"I've told you so many times, you should be able to recite it word for word, Kopeke," he said, sighing deeply, "but very well."
 
He proceeded to tell the story once again as they continued to tread across the snowy plains, Kopeke etching down each part. Just as they got to the good part, however, they were interrupted by a rather hungry pack of wild Rahi. 
 
"Stand back!" Kopaka barked, leaping out in front of the chronicler and drawing his sword. They didn't threaten him, however, and with a few slashes they had all been scared off or wounded. 
 
"What would cause those Rahi to attack us?" Kopeke asked, "they're usually peaceful. At the least, not this hostile towards us."
 
Kopaka shook his head, "corruption. That would be my first guess. Of course, it could be a number of things."
 
"Hey! Hey, help!" A new voice, far off, yelled. Kopaka turned his head towards the voice and saw its speaker: a Matoran frozen upside down in the ice. Unfortunately, there was a chasm between himself and the distressed Matoran.
 
"I'm coming," he yelled, conducting his sword at the chasm, even as a bridge of ice formed. As a Toa, these things were never a problem. He rushed across, but Kopeke stayed behind- after all, he wouldn't be too much help.
 
As it turned out, he just might've been. As Kopaka freed him, he took a closer look at his mask. His eyes widened and he stumbled back- an infected mask. Out of nowhere came a flying Rahi- also infected -that knocked him off his feet. Kopeke almost rushed to help him, but the ice bridge had weakened exponentially as Kopaka fell. It seemed to Kopeke that all hope had been lost, when a green blur came into view. He tackled the Rahi straight from the air. 
 
Lewa had arrived.
 
Though in the midst of battle, they traded banter just as normal.
 
"Nice of you to drop by," Kopaka smirked, standing and steadying his blade.
 
"I was in the area-vicinity," the cheerful Toa of air replied.
 
As far as Kopeke could see, they defeated the Rahi without trouble. Then, something completely unexpected happened. The two began fighting. The chronicler squinted, and spotted a glint of color on Kopaka's face- a Krana.
 
Kopaka had been corrupted.
 
----
 
"...and they were still fighting when I left."
 
Nuju nodded, "this explains the recent Rahi attacks. However, there is nothing we can do.
 
"The Toa must fight their own battles."
 

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So pay me more AuRon.


#35 Offline Velox

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Posted Jun 30 2013 - 01:20 AM

[font="'times new roman', times, serif;"][color=#000080;]The polls for A Dark Hunt have been posted[/color][color=#000080;]! Please go vote! [/color][/font]


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"As a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake." ~ Aimee Bender


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#36 Offline Grantaire

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Posted Jun 30 2013 - 11:17 AM

[color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Member Name: Grantaire[/color][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Theme: The Chronicler[/color][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Word Count: 613[/color][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Story:[/color]

 

[color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]They say that the life of the chronicler is more esteemed than that of a Turaga, more desired than anything else a Matoran can do.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]They’re wrong. Dead wrong. Being a chronicler is like being a trophy, with no real purpose. You’re a burden and a nuisance for the mighty heroes you follow.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]Even worse is what you see. Sure, a chronicler from Metru Nui or some nice and lawful place has it easy. Maybe some vicious Rahi, maybe a criminal or two, but nothing as ghastly as the scene we walked through. Ahead my team leader stood, looking about with a grim expression. The village we traveled to was deserted; bereft of the living that is. [/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]I winced as I trod upon a limp hand, picking my way through the corpses.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]“Who did this, Toa?” My voice annoys me to no end: shaky after the sudden scare. The Toa of Stone glances down at me.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]“Piraka, chronicler. That’s who did this. Skakdi, Vortixx, who knows. They’re Piraka to the core.” His voice was harsh, and he turned away before I could answer. I was stung by his tone before—glancing at his shaking shoulders—I realized that he too was overcome by the tragedy we stood in the midst of.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]I turned away instead, hunting out the team healer, a young Lightning Toa. Unlike the rest of us she was at work, lining the still bodies next to each other rather than in the grotesque sprawling they had assumed before. I looked at her, not at the dead Matoran below me.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]“What are we going to do?” The real questions never come when they’re needed. Most chroniclers must get sick of reality sometimes when they depict the flowery speeches that go one between the Toa. She looked up at me, her soft blue eyes pained.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]“What we’ve always done these past years, Chronicler. We leave the dead and we move on.”[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]I nodded, unable to look into those deep orbs, stumbling away. [/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]I sat down in a deserted building, at an old desk. My tablet was in my hand, but I couldn’t write. A dead Ko-Matoran lay next to the desk, his hands grasping futilely at a bundle of scrolls. No doubt those were more important to him than his own life. I left my tablet on the desk then, bending over him. As I moved him into a more dignified posture I felt the tears coming. I gave in, crouching against a wall and sobbing.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]These moments were not what they promised you when they handed you the scrolls and the tablets, when they welcomed you with speeches and cheers.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]These were moments that even Toa could not face. There was no overarching evil to face, no mastermind to bring to justice. It was only another band of scum, of no worth to the world, no worth save for that which they deprived the innocent of. [/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]I don’t know how long I crouched there in my grief, but at last I staggered back to the desk.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]It was then that I began writing this with a vigor I had never known.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]Life is Karzahni when you really look into it. Recording it just adds another stage to it. Because you see these horrors, and then you relive them by writing them. And you make others live it, even if they can only glimpse it in your text. [/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]But for me, right now, it’s the best I can do. I’m not a Toa, I have no powers or weapons or fancy masks. All I have is this tablet, all I can do is write this.[/color][color=rgb(40,40,40);font-family:helvetica, arial, sans-serif;]I’m a Chronicler. This is my ordeal.[/color]


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#37 Offline Vorahk1Panrahk2

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Posted Jun 30 2013 - 01:35 PM

Member Name: Vorahk1Panrahk2

Theme: The Chronicler

Word Count: 749

Story: Treasure

 

Takua's hut was a mess. But he liked it that way. Everyone told him he needed to organize, throw things out. But he liked all of his possessions, and knew where all of them where located. Need a five inch wrench for an air tube? Look in the pile by the northeast corner. Need a leash for an Ussal Crab? Hanging on the wall right next to a Mahi horn. Sure it wasn't professionally curated, but that was a job for the archivists. He wasn't an archivist, he was an adventurer. And today he was going to have an adventure. He'd heard rumors of a valuable object floating around Ko-Metru. And if there's one thing Takua loved, it was valuable objects.

 

His first stop was to talk to a Matron named Kapura. He was supposed to be on duty, but Takua knew he preferred the company of the junk piles. He made his way over to the Ta-Metru dump, and sure enough, Kapura was there digging as usual.

 

"Hey, Kapura!" Takua called. "I need you to--"

 

Kapura brought his fingers to his lips, halting Takua's speech. "Quiet!" He whispered. "Spies could be anywhere."

 

"Sorry," Takua whispered back. "I've heard rumors of a valuable object hidden in Ko-Metru. I know you have an ear in every rumor mill of Metru-Nui and was wondering what you've heard"

 

Kapura leaned in close and whispered in Takua's ear. "They say there's something embedded in the very top of Tower 43," he said. "Nobody wants to go after it, though. Vahki guard that place like it's a widget reserve." Kapura stopped talking, his eyes looking around panicked. "We're being watched!" he exclaimed, "Run!" And with that he took off. Takua looked around, but he didn't see anything. He carefully slunk off toward the nearest tube station.

 

-

 

He shortly arrived in Ko-Metru, and quickly made his way toward the Knowledge Towers. He noted from a map that Tower 43 was located below a cliff. Approaching from the cliff, he noticed about the tower. Unlike the rest, which ended in points, this one didn't. Instead it was capped with a flat platform. There must be something there. He went into his backpack and took out rope, stake, and hammer. Pounding the stake into the cliffside, he tied the rope around himself and made a makeshift rappel line. He breathed slowly, gathering his courage, before jumping from the cliff.

 

He climbed down quickly. The Vahki would see this. He jumped three feet from the top and immediately started to search. It didn't take long. He saw an object embedded in the ice, and without thinking grabbed his hammer and smacked the ice. The ice cracked. The object fell out. He threw it in his backpack without looking at it. He knew Keerakh were coming. He climbed the rope as fast as he could.

 

When he got to the top he just ran. The nearest tube station was a quarter kio away. Looking back he didn't see any Keerakh. But you never saw Keerakh until it was too late.

 

-

 

The tube station was in sight! Takua's lungs were burning, but he didn't dare stop. When he got to 22 bio away, he turned back. 

 

Nothing.

 

He looked ahead.

 

There was a Keerakh.

 

He sprinted. The Keerakh ran toward Takua, it's staff glowing. It swung. Takua lifted his legs, plopping to the ground like a wingless bird, and slid on the ice right under the staff. That move would have never worked anywhere else. Getting up, he continued to sprint, and  at what he figured was the last second, jumped into the tube. Takua was out of breath. He was choking on the protoermis, but he had to leave the Vahki behind. Right before he passed out, he jumped out of the tub. He landed hard, but the breath he took was heavenly. And as the green trees indicated, he was out of Ko-Metru.

 

-

 

Takua took a relaxing trip back home. When he was finally in his favorite chair, he opened his backpack and looked at his find. His jaw dropped. He couldn't breath. In his hand was the ultimate treasure: a gearbox from the original Vahki model! They should have all been destroyed, but here was one right in his hand! He guessed that it accidentally got stuck in the tower during growth.

 

He put the gearbox on his wall of fame. It sat right beside a Ga-Metru temple stone and an iron ingot.


Edited by Vorahk1Panrahk2, Jun 30 2013 - 02:11 PM.

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#38 Offline The Malicious Phantom

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Posted Jun 30 2013 - 02:12 PM

Name: Phantom Terror

Theme: The Chronicler

Word Count: 691

Story: Uniform

 

[font="calibri;"]I’ll never fit in… Hielo thought Every time I have an adventure, everyone stares at me quizzically. As if they’re judging if I really am a Ko-Matoran. Hielo wandered into his flat in Ko-Ouda. He’d never applied for a job, he never wanted one. After all, who wants to sit around all day studying or working? Oh wait, that’s right; Everybody else. Hielo thought as he sat down. He flicked on his television and watched it halfheartedly. He was distraught to say the least. No one liked him, no one appreciated his company, and no one thought that he was worth anything. Not even him. Hielo got up to go to bed when something of interest caught his attention: the chief chronicler of Ouda-Nui had been connected to a crime ring in Onu-Ouda and the Turaga was now seeking a replacement! I’m the guy for the job. Hielo thought as he grabbed his bag and set out for the central city of Ouda-Nui.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]“[/font][font="calibri;"]Hey! Watch it!” A Matoran driver yelled as he jerked to a stop. “Sorry!” Hielo yelled back. Getting through the city was hard. There were too many side streets and roads that intersected, and the traffic signals being out of sync only made it worse. One had to have sharp wits and reflexes to make it out of here with a few cuts. Here I am; the Tower. Hielo thought. The Tower was the very center of Ouda-Nui. Only the rich, the famous, and the officials lived here. After a week’s journey, Hielo had finally made it. Now to get inside…[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]Wow, they don’t like guest.”  Hielo said. He didn’t make it past the lobby. Apparently you needed a visitor’s pass, which Hielo did not possess, to get inside. Well, so much for plan A. Hielo thought. “Time for plan B” He said as he gazed upward towards the top of the Tower.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]In hindsight, this was most definitely NOT a good idea. Hielo thought as he looked down. He was thirty stories in the air and still had twenty stories to go before he reached the Turaga’s private flat at the top. By now, a large crowd of Matoran had amassed in front of the building. Great, just what I needed; extra attention.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]The Turaga of Ouda-Nui was just waking up from his afternoon nap when Hielo tumbled through a window. “What’s this?” The Turaga said, “An adventurous Matoran, I don’t come across many of those.”[/font]

[font="calibri;"]               [/font]

[font="calibri;"]“Forgive my entrance, Turaga.” Hielo said, exhausted. “I’ve come to apply for the job of chief Chronicler.” Hielo said.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]“What is your name?” The Turaga asked.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]“My name is Hielo, Turaga.” Hielo replied.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]                [/font]

[font="calibri;"]"Well then, Hielo, the title of Chronicler is not one that is given away freely. One must earn it by traveling throughout Ouda-Nui and keeping a detailed history of such an adventure.” The Turaga said.[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]“Very well, Turaga. I will return in one month with the stories of my journey.” Hielo said with a slight bow as he climbed out of the window.[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]“I would recommend that you use the lift.” The Turaga said.[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]“Nah, the welcome desk attendant doesn’t like me very much.” Hielo said as he jumped through the window.[/font]

[font="calibri;"]               [/font]

[font="calibri;"]The Turaga chuckled a little. He’s the one. I can feel it. The Turaga thought.[/font]

[font="calibri;"] [/font]

[font="calibri;"]“Every Matoran has His or Her place. Hielos does not; he must be terminatedAn ominous voice said. “Or have you forgotten, my dear Turaga, that every Matoran must be uniform. Have you forgotten you place? Must you be terminated?”[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]“No, master, I am making the call now." The Turaga said as he keyed in a com code.[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]I’m really glad that the parachute worked. Hielo thought as he walked away from the Tower. [/font]

[font="calibri;"]Now it’s time to head off to Le-Ouda.[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]“He’s on his way toward Le-Ouda” A voice crackled through the intercom. “Make sure he doesn’t make it into the city, Korvux.”[/font]

 

[font="calibri;"]“Sure thing boss, but Hielo isn’t a Matoran that’s so easily killed.” Korvux said as he assumed his sniping position in a nearby tree. He’ll have no idea what hit him.Korvux thought as he activated his camouflage.[/font]


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#39 Offline Kilgore Trout

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Posted Jun 30 2013 - 05:50 PM

[color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Member Name: [font="'courier new', courier, monospace;"]Jon Osterman[/color][/font][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Theme: [font="'courier new', courier, monospace;"]The Chronicler[/color][/font][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Word Count: [font="'courier new', courier, monospace;"]750[/color][/font][color=rgb(0,0,0);font-family:'times new roman', times, serif;text-align:center;]Story: [font="'courier new', courier, monospace;"]The Eternal Silence of A Bitter Man[/color][/font]

 

[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]-The Eternal Silence of A Bitter Man-[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]I never thought I would be tasked with this; I never imagined I would be asked to record the history of an entire universe. [/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]And yet, here I am, parchment in my hand, and ink stains tainting my snow-white fingers.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]I watched as my friends grew into heroes, becoming characters in the legend I humbly wrote down. I watched others aspire for greatness, achieve greatness and become something that ascended beyond mere mortality, as I merely sat and watched, content to be the recorder. I could have been a hero; I could have welcomed the Toa Mata, become one of the Toa Inika, doing wondrous things, and feeling such great rushes of emotion.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]Yet I do nothing but carry stone tablets, and I feel nothing but the rough wood of a chisel’s handle, scraping my once-delicate hands into a callous mass of bone, muscle and protodermis.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]Am I a fool for letting them do such things? Should I have seized the day, should I have spoken when I was silent, and acted when I was frozen in my own lethargy? Should I have dared to not only dream, but to act?[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]I do not know. I merely write down the doings of Destiny; I have no knowledge of the force that sets the universe in motion, giving each of us a meaning and a task. [/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]There are so many that think my life is a glorious one. They think of me not as a slave to an unseen master, but as a loyal and hardy squire, recording the doings of a brave warrior. They do not see the apparent sadness, but only the absent glory.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]I am a bitter man, having lived far too long for my own good. I have never seen the golden light of glory, but only the crimson and shadowy stain of suffering.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]It is said that the Chronicler’s occupation is a post to be respected, but I am unable to see why. I am little more than a glorified clerk, working for a cruel, enigmatic master, at best mysterious, at worst treacherous. [/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]And yet I find myself unable to stop. The cruel, heartless force known as Duty has become the sword of Destiny, striking down any attempt to rebel. I write, I record, and I listen, but I never act or think. I am a husk of a being, forged by my job, and hollow inside, an automaton, born to serve an unseen Lord by performing an unclear task.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]Only one of the Three Virtues I can claim to disown, for my role in society demands my ignorance of it. Unity, the principle that drives both Rahi and sapient beings into a stupidly gregarious mindset, is as foreign to me as the feeling of accomplishment. I can only watch as my peers work together, uniting to complete a task impossible for the lone worker, as I feel nothing but confusion.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]Even before I was appointed this accursed office, I worked unaccompanied, relying on only myself to carve beauty out of the blocks of heartless, biting ice. I was always silent, for I saw the idiocy of my brethren to be unworthy of notice.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]But I am naught but a bitter, cruel man. My intelligence may be tempered by cynicism, but it also tainted by a certain lack of empathy. My name is forgotten, replaced by my title. Perhaps if I hear the word one more time, some component of my soul will return.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]Kopeke.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]A rather nice name that belongs to a rather disagreeable man. Perhaps “Chronicler” is my proper name; I have chronicled and recorded enough to earn it. I suppose it can’t be argued; it has been given to me by Destiny, reinforced by Duty, and strengthened by a lack of Unity. [/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]I’m naught but a bitter man, with ink-stained hands, worn rough by the days of carving stone. I am the Chronicler of Spherus Magna, the recorder for not one, but two entire universes. I am a bitter writer, my words tainted with my scorn, my once delicate, beauty-crafting hands now as hard and callous as my heart.[/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]Recording the sins of a universe has done this to me. I have watched false hope after false hope die; I have seen a universe in its death throes, and I have tilled salted ground. [/font]
 
[font="arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"]But I am unable to feel. I am unable to think. I can only record, writing down these things in eternal silence.[/font]
 

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#40 Offline dotcom

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Posted Jun 30 2013 - 07:39 PM

Member Name: dotcom

Theme: The Chronicler

Word Count: 749

Story:

 

But Never Fun

 

“Why?”

 

“Now, that’s too simple a question to too complex a situation.”

 

“I don’t think you believe that. You did it because you could.”

 

“There is some truth to that. But if you thought that was all it was, you wouldn’t have asked anything at all.”

 

“Enlighten me, then. Why?”

 

“Well, it all started when—well, you should know yourself. You were there at the battle of the Rotting Gorge, were you not?”

 

“Not close enough to know what you’re referring to, and that was an enormous battle to begin with. My account was written based off other’s, too.”

 

“That seems to be how most of your work is done.”

 

“Indeed. Which makes our present situation most awkward.”

 

“I suppose. But then, a coward would be expected to think that.”

 

“I prefer not to think of myself that way. I am simply not openly suicidal.”

 

“Then why won’t you come closer? Do you really think I could hurt you in my state?”

 

“I don’t know if you could or couldn’t. As it is, I’m trying to figure out if you would.

 

“Be a little more trusting.”

 

“I would rather not.”

 

“Do you remember what happened at the Gorge?”

 

“A lot of things happened at the Gorge. Be a little more specific.”

 

“I mean the Nova.”

 

“You should have just said that.”

 

“You should have known that’s what I was talking about.”

 

“I’m not a mind reader. You should know that, at least.”

 

“…Do you remember the Nova?”

 

“Of course I remember the Nova. That’s all anyone talks about when the Gorge is brought up.”

 

“Yes…And for good reason. That devastated both sides and killed both Toa and Skakdi. It would be irresponsible not to discuss it.”

 

“Don’t make me laugh. You never had any intentions of discussing it. You probably made up your mind the second you saw it.”

 

“Oh? And what is it that I decided?”

 

“You decided it was awesome.

 

“It was probably awe inspiring. But then, that’s your opinion as well.”

 

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I would want to repeat it.”

 

“Empty words, Matoran. You do not have the power required to do it even if you wanted. Perhaps if you did, it would be a different story.”

 

“Perhaps. But maybe that’s why I am not a Toa, and why no fools like me should be, either.”

 

“You haven’t heard all I have to say yet.”

 

“I doubt your situation will improve either way.”

 

“Anyway, as you well know, that Nova ended the conflict. Our commander had been the one that detonated, while he was battling the Skakdi warlord. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of either left after the blast (Or of a few dozen others), and the front ranks were left in disarray. Truly a messy situation.”

 

“What’s your point?”

 

“Well, one of the commander’s main aides, one the casualties of the Nova, was a very close friend of mine. According to another mutual acquaintance,

she had sensed the commander’s intent before battle, but did not warn anybody.”

 

“Then she was a fool.”

 

“I thought so at first. But then I wondered why she would keep quiet about something like that. Then it struck me that none of us had ever seen anything like a Nova before. It is the grandest demonstration of a Toa’s power possible. Wouldn’t you be curious to see how much power you really had, even if the marker was only the extent of destruction you caused?”

 

“Not at all, but that aside, my question remains. You were there. So why again?”

 

“Because I wasn’t. The Rotting Gorge is enormous. All I saw was some smoke out in the distance. I only learned later that my friend had been killed.”

 

“And because you weren’t present, you felt you needed to repeat the Nova.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you are also a fool.”

 

“Yes. And now I am sure, so was she.”

 

“Her foolishness cost dozens their lives. Why would you do this?”

 

“Well, only one life is ending today, and it’s the life of a fool. I don’t see it as a great loss.”

 

“Then you are a greater fool than I thought.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You are a Toa. Without you here to protect us, how many more will fall?”

 

“That’s why you’re here, Chronicler. Tell others the story of this fool. Warn them of my stupidity. It should be fun.”

 

“It is true that that is my Duty. But if you think I will enjoy it, you truly understand nothing.”


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