Leaderboard

With the end of Premier Memberships, there's still a hope that the community will help support BZPower and keep the site running. We have to pay monthly for our hosting, keep the BZPower domain names, install an SSL certificate to secure the connection between our site and our users, and have an active license for our forum software so we can stay updated. And that's just at a bare minimum. Other things like shipping raffle and contest prizes add more expenses, and none of that even considers the time the staff donates behind the scenes. To hopefully help with all that, we are opening the site up to donations, with a goal you can see here that tracks our expenses for the year to date, plus the fees and taxes that will be removed from any payments. There's no perks for donating, just a sincere thank you from myself and everyone else who still uses and enjoys BZPower. We appreciate any and all support! Even if we don't meet our target, we will still continue to keep the site running for as long as we are able. BZPower means a lot to us all, and we'd love to see it stick around for a long, long time. If you can help, we truly appreciate it!

IC: Skrall (Markets; the Bone Hunter Stronghold) The scout glanced in the indicated direction, keeping his head still so as not to give away his redirected attention. Even so, he was caught off-guard by the singularly pitiable sight behind the bars, and felt his face contort in disgust. As if reading his comrade’s mind, he spoke quietly: “That one was broken long before it came here.” He knew the look in the not-Skrall’s eyes; living in Roxtus these past few years, he had seen such wretches more than once. They went into Skull Mountain as warriors, and came out… something else. What they did, they did for the furtherment of the Skrall race – it was the scout’s belief that this was a noble sacrifice for the good of all. These husks were the remains of heroes. But that was a belief that even he would not dare speak aloud, and it made the sight of them no less unsettling. “I don't believe in witchcraft, but such sights give me pause.” OOC: @Vezok's Friend @Mel @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui IC: The Ghost (The Tower) “Interesting.” The Ghost fixed his four-eyed gaze upon Taldrix, his wide smile brimming with condescension. “You are a quick study. Tell me, Taldrix: does it offend you, that I so easily came to control your people?” OOC: @Toru Nui IC: (Valley of Death) The cave opening yawned back at the two Glatorian, pitch-black and silent. A gentle sussuration passed along the ceiling above; bats, a small and relatively docile variety, who seemed uninterested in their new guests. OOC: @Burnmad

IC: Karak - Celrys' Workshop I am unable to catch his last sentence. Too quick, too nervously sputtered out. I fear I will never learn anything at this rate - even as I assume my understanding of the language has grown, I am humbled immediately. The tournament is my only other lead. And so I leave Del and Skyra to their flesh-meddling heretic God. I smirk to myself, remembering my own and Skyra's clash as we first met. If all Southerners fight that way, perhaps the arena would be amusing if not informative. OOC: @a goose

IC: Selamat - Iron Canyon Selamat continued to step forward into the cave, eyeing the bats that lined the ceiling warily. He wasn't familiar with bats; he did not leave the vicinity of Vulcanus often enough or for long enough to spend much time sheltering in caves. He knew that they were supposed to be harmless, but that knowledge did little to put his enhanced limbic system at ease. His implant was pumping adrenaline into his bloodstream, making his breathing ragged and his movements twitchy. Doing his best to suppress the artificial fight-or-flight response, the spear-wielding Glatorian looked back at his allies, and signaled them over with a jerky wave. "Looks clear," he said in a low tone, though his voice sounded strained. He forced himself to lower the spear's tip until it rested against the cave floor. OOC: @a goose @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @~Xemnas~ IC: Skrall - Bone Hunter Stronghold Skrall did not stop to follow the gaze of his compatriots as he walked about the wagons, trying to complete a cursory inspection before Atakus returned. It was easy enough to guess what they were looking at; those Skrall called to the Sisters' chambers had to go somewhere, since their brothers would not suffer their presence and hadn't the courtesy to put them out of their misery. It was a given that most would pass through this place, as they were suited to little else than the purposes the Bone Hunters had for them. An unbroken Skrall was already nearly incapable of surviving in the South, he knew (for such was the subject of a great deal of pondering of which all Skrall were guilty, but to which none would admit). A broken Skrall, however, was incapable of surviving anywhere that he was not given food and simple, easy tasks. The Skrall in this respect was not so different before and after the Sisters had selected him; both led lives defined by structure and authority. From wake to sleep, one's day was defined by the authority of one's superior. From the rations he ate, to the tasks he performed, he lived within a cage made from the will of another. The difference - aside from the veneer of honor to which the Skrall clung so dearly - was that the unbroken Skrall filled the cage of his orders like water filled a cracked vessel, pushing at the walls and spilling out from any gap. An unbroken Skrall would trade his rations for drugs from the South, push himself to complete his tasks early, and find a secluded spot to look up at the sky without being observed. Broken Skrall, on the other hand, were prone to standing slack-jawed when not occupied. He finished his walk about the wagons, and frowned. Atakus was still nowhere to be seen. He wondered what the Agori was talking about with the barbarians' leader. A simple exchange wouldn't take so long... That business Fero mentioned must be something more complex. Which meant it was quite likely that Skrall wouldn't learn any more details about it. OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend

IC/ Skrall/ Bonehunter Stronghold/ Markets/ The conversation had lasted long enough for her to return to the moment after her surprising revelation and to finish her ration bar. Apparently they were still on the subject of how best to conquer all that they saw before them, openly talking strategy. Maybe a bit too openly. She started to look around to see if there were any unfriendly eyes or ears nearby that were too close for comfort. All the while she wondered why they were discussing strategy in the first place - after all they already had been tasked with one. “War is not the southern way.” she chimed in. “Save it for the arenas.” That’s where disputes were settled. And when they got there they would use the South’s own honorable system to take whatever they laid claim to. Skrall would challenge, fight - and win. All is as he willed it. Just then, she felt the all too familiar sensation of eyes on her. She knew it well from home - had known it all her life. Those who knew what she was - or suspected - staring at her in all ways subtle and obvious alike. She slowly, deliberately turned and looked over to the barred window to meet the others' gaze. For a split second she thought it might have been their prisoner, already processed. But this thing was much more emaciated. Only color hinted at what had once been skrall - but was no more. Was that what awaited the unfortunate one they had just handed over? Maybe skrall could be broken after all? The possibility disgusted her and she made no effort to hide her reaction. She nudged spec-ops to get his attention, shot him a dark look and nodded her head in the direction of their observer... OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui @Mel

Content Warning: internalized victim blaming, allusions to sexual assault a slave | bone hunter stronghold Sometime in between the many cycles of sleeping and waking, you hear them. Voices. Skrall voices. Not exactly intelligible to your keen but un-enhanced hearing, but achingly familiar in their tones and rhythms. Perhaps another will be added to the not-hunter’s pen today, though surely not one as pathetic as you. Then one of the voices becomes clearer, unmistakable in its tone—a women’s voice, in the unmistakable dialect of the Skrall. Something that can only be the voice of a Sister. You are half convinced it is that voice that moves your limbs, that forces your breath out throat-drying ragged as you creep toward the barred window to get a better look, expecting the iron grasp of another will in your hands, in your body, at any moment. The others do not notice you in their equally fitful sleep, the soft-steppers in your feet doing you, at least good service. It is hard to see outside in the daytime; your night-seeing eyes spin the heat into smears and veils of color. You squint, trying to focus on the tall black figures as they move through the market. OOC: @Vezok's Friend @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @Toru Nui Someone is watching. Your choice on whether you notice or not.

IC: Skrall (Markets; the Bone Hunter Stronghold) “Most of the southerners, perhaps. But their most powerful Tribe relies on the slaves they trade for here, and they know we would be fools to continue that trade with them if we were in charge, turning them immediately into our enemies. Worse, slaves can come from anywhere; they would only briefly be handicapped. On top of this, our ambitions would be immediately made clear by the proximity to Roxtus, and though some would praise us for wiping out the barbarians they would still be suspicious of our claiming a settlement just south of our border. They would begin preparing for war, while we would still be recovering from the effort of claiming this meager prize. Our conquest would be a drawn-out war across increasingly fortified settlements, on unfamiliar territory.” He paused, and looked towards the west. “No, our first target should be Tesara. They are just as close to the Black Spikes, but lack the fortifications of the Bone Hunters. We will lose fewer men, and though the South will become aware of our goals, we will have cut them off from a unique resource vital to all the Tribes: food. Take Tesara, and we can starve our enemies into surrender, and barely lose a Skrall in the process.” He turned back to the other Skrall. “You are like a Spikit, snapping at anything that comes close. A handler approaches and you attack for a single, short-lived meal, when restraint would see that same handler voluntarily feed you for weeks. We are not beasts or barbarians; we are Skrall. All of you need to start thinking with your brains, instead of your damned swords.” OOC: @ Skrall IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) “Naturally. There aren't many Gatherers who can survive on their own, even with four functional limbs.” He relaxed his grip, and glanced briefly down at his hand. “You’ve accomplished more than most, in spite of your handicap. Perhaps even because of it.” He rolled his right shoulder and flexed his exsidian arm. “Imagine what you could do with two working legs.” OOC: @Nato G IC: The Ghost (The Tower) “I am not one to engage in idle speculation. I know. Allow me to lay out the facts:” He pointed to the blank areas on the map. “My people had a settlement somewhere in these canyons. I am fairly confident it now lies abandoned and in ruins, and while I do have an archaeological interest, far more important to me is what lay below it. “Beneath the Wastelands there lie not only ruins and tombs, but also remarkably well-preserved laboratories and research stations. I know this because I have seen them with my own eyes, and what I learned there has led me to one definitive conclusion: the single greatest technological discovery of our time awaits us beneath the canyons.” There was a hungry gleam in the Ghost’s eyes as he stared down at the map, envisioning the scientific treasure trove its blank squares might represent. “There is power in that discovery; with my knowledge and the little I have scavenged already from other sites, I have given your people weapons and cybernetics to rival anything Tajun or Vulcanus can offer. But there is far more to it than that: everything that I have discovered leads here. It is a sentence marching inexorably towards a full stop. Do you understand?” OOC: @Toru Nui

With this MOC, I've finally made at least one revamp or reimagining of all six of the original Toa!

When they were first introduced in 2007, the Barraki brought with them a game-changing new backstory that completely reframed everything we thought we understood about the history of the Bionicle universe. The idea that the Matoran aren’t the chosen people, that the Toa weren’t the original peacekeepers, has always fascinated me, and it was disappointing that future years of the storyline never explored these implications. The fact that these six all-important Prime Species never really played much of a role in the story before or since 2007 is strange as well, so in this thread I wanted to explore some theories about where the Prime Species come from, and what happened to them after the Barraki were imprisoned and their armies were disbanded. From information given in the 2007 storyline, in guidebooks and encyclopaedias, and comments from Greg Farshtey, we have a wealth of information to work with. We know each Barraki was the leader of a different species, and Greg Farshtey has been adamant in the past that none of these species were ones we’d encountered in-story before, meaning none of them are Toa, Skakdi, Vortixx, Steltians, etc. A caveat to that is his statement that connections to the Dark Hunters weren’t discussed, meaning that some of the Dark Hunters of unknown origin could theoretically be members of a Prime Species. The encyclopedia gives a rough rundown of which region each Barraki ruled, though there’s some dispute over this, as Takadox’s entry completely contradicts information given in the other five. BS01 considers the Takadox account to be incorrect, so for the purposes of this thread, and my map above, I’m going with the information in the other five entries. (Note: as Destral can move, Daxia was secret, and we know from The Mutran Chronicles that Artakha and the Southern Islands weren’t conquered, I’ve left those locations unclaimed on my map. We also don’t know for sure if Karzahni was taken over, but given its proximity to Metru Nui, I’m choosing to assume it was). For the purposes of my theories, I’m operating under the assumption that most of the Barraki include their own homelands in their territories. Ehlek probably has the weirdest territory of the bunch, ruling his homeland of Zakaz, but also controlling the western island chain. This arrangement makes a little more sense if we assume he was also responsible for the oceans in general. His species is the only one we know for sure has appeared in-story post-2007, with Federation Of Fear revealing that they became servants of the Order Of Mata Nui. Kalmah was said to have ruled the Northwestern region of the universe. In my map I’ve given him the Northern Continent, but I theorise that he also ruled the island that once neighboured Artakha. The Bionicle World guidebook (written in-universe by the Order Of Mata Nui), states that the inhabitants of Artakha destroyed a larger neighbouring island that was connected to theirs by a land bridge, as part of the measures to hide their island from the rest of the universe after Makuta Kojol’s raid. The guidebook claims this larger island was uninhabited, but given the generally deceitful and villainous nature of the Order, I think this entire account is questionable. We know the Order actively assassinated anyone who knew the location of Artakha, and that Kalmah’s species, ruling the Northwestern part of the universe, would have likely known the location, so I believe that the Order may have committed genocide against the species and sunk their homeland to hide the evidence, explaining why we don’t see this species again in-story. This is further evidenced by a line from Kalmah in The Mutran Chronicles, where he says “As for Artakha, let the old fool putter among his creations,” a strangely personal insult which suggests some degree of first-hand knowledge, given that most other beings we see in-story reverentially regard Artakha as a near-mythical figure. Pridak is one of the biggest mysteries here. All we know about his origins is that he was a servant of the Brotherhood of Makuta who travelled a lot. Upon becoming a Barraki, Pridak is said to have ruled the northeastern part of the universe, with Xia being the only island specifically named. To give him a territory more comparable in size to some of the other Barraki, on my map I’ve given him Stelt, Karzahni, and the unnamed islands to the east. But given what we know of his backstory, I don’t think any of these islands are his original homeland. The best theory I’ve seen - in Click's wonderful Simplifying the Species List thread - is that he might be a member of Tobduk’s species (with his pride/vanity being the emotion he feeds on). This would reframe the Brotherhood’s decision to unleash the Visorak on that island as an act of deliberate revenge against Pridak, and/or an attempt to prevent others of his kind from taking up his banner. Takadox is said to have ruled the eastern part of the universe, which I’ve interpreted as the chain of islands that includes Odina, Nynrah, and Visorak. These islands provide a few possibilities for the origin of his species. Nynrah is said to have a native species of craftsmen, separate from the Fe-Matoran who would later become known as the Nynrah Ghosts. This doesn’t fit what we know of Takadox super well, so I believe a better candidate for his homeland would be Odina. The Bionicle World guidebook states that there was a society native to Odina prior to the Dark Hunters making the island their base of operations, who were killed off/driven out. The Dark Hunters were established after the Barraki were imprisoned, so I feel that this fits the timeline quite well, and explains why Takadox’s race doesn’t appear again in-story. Finally, we have Mantax and Carapar. Mantax is said to have ruled the central part of the empire, while Carapar controlled the south section, and made some attempts to conquer the island chains further south. Given that it’s the only landmass left, I’m assuming that these two shared the Southern Continent, with the Tren Krom river being the border separating their territories. We know the Great Cataclysm did severe damage to this continent, and likely decimated the populations of these species. Given that no other Barraki seem to originate from the same landmass, it’s also possible that the homeland of Carapar’s species is actually one of the southern islands. In this case, us not seeing anything more of his species still makes sense, since the story never really explored those islands.

IC: Kirbraz (Staff NPC) (The Shadiest Spot on Bara Magna) Keep it together, Kirby. There wasn't far to go – the Hotel was at least twenty minutes away if he stuck to the open streets, but he could shave off five by cutting through alleys (and, better yet, stay out of sight while doing so). That made fifteen; he’d been in longer arena matches. Kirbraz would not die tonight. However, while determined, in his feverish panic, he’d failed to realize that in the past hour he’d gained another shadow. One cast from far above, faintly trailing a silent stalker. One cast by one of the most dangerous people in all the villages, at least statistically. Crouched behind roofs, nigh-invisible in Tajun’s night. At least for a time, Kirbraz’ personal ghost. The realisation came as a creeping chill, like a trickle of ice water down the nape of his neck. He didn't dare look behind him – he didn't need to, but more importantly, it would slow him down. He couldn't afford to stop now, not for anything, not when he was so close. Keep it together, Kirby. Keep it together. Beneath the mask, his pursuer’s ruby eyes slid down, a fixed scowl obscuring her expression below. Vitrum’s calloused digits grasped her crossbow - already unfolded and against her shoulder. Ears primed to hear every movement her mark would make. The ghostly green moon looming far above her, far above Tajun’s creviced walls - the only natural light in the village. In the nearby Arena Hotel, all was as still and as silent as the sands themselves. It was always like this, the night before the opening ceremony; the long held breath before the glorious battle-cry. Tarix didn't live for that moment the way some of his competitors might – not usually, at least. But tomorrow would mark his first match as Tajun’s First Glatorian, and he couldn't wait. For the first time in years, the nerves were truly getting to him, and his hotel room felt like a prison. At least out here, out in the cold night air, he could indulge a little. Sure, smoking wasn't healthy. Tarix knew that. But there were far worse habits to have, and he could work on giving it up now that Tajun would truly be relying on him. Tonight, though, he needed a little stress relief, and nothing calmed the nerves like a balcony view of his hometown rooftops and a hit of tobacco. Something tugged at Kirbraz, the same primal instinct that had won him his few arena victories, and he ducked beneath a shop tarp that had been left unfurled, backing up until he was hugging the wall. He turned his eyes to the sky, to the stars and the sickly green moon. His would-be killer was up there, somewhere; the alleys themselves were too empty, too silent, for the assassin to be on the ground with him. Already, he feared he had stalled for too long; he looked from side to side, weighing his options. He could keep running directly towards the Arena Hotel, but the fastest route was far too exposed. His every step would be bathed in moonlight. He set off again, a running start into a sprint so hard that he almost gave himself whiplash. He would take the long way around; the shadows could be his ally, too. (recommended listening: Uno (Alex Goose Instrumental Remix) (youtube.com)) Though nothing could betray it, Vitrum was right behind him, having crossed buildings in an instant. Something in the dark folded back into each of her legs as she dove into a quiet roll from a leap, and then entered into pursuit via the buildings above him. Kirbraz, concerned about his assassin’s line of sight, was being betrayed by every sound he made. Vitrum’s ears pricked upward inside her helmet as she lagged behind ever so slightly, turning her head along with her crossbow to the passageways below. Her red eyes narrowed for a quick shot. Kirbraz stumbled – and for one precious moment, his pursuer and her aim overtook him. The Lords themselves must have been on Kirbraz’s side as the bolt struck not him, but the ground just in front of him, the very spot where he should have been. Instinctively, he looked up to catch a glimpse of his assailant. Without hesitation Vitrum fired again, the crossbow’s oiled clockwork machinations dropping another bolt effortlessly. By the time the bolt took Kirbraz in the shoulder, he was already running. Any other night, it would have been agonising; tonight, he barely noticed. Pain didn’t matter, not to the adrenaline coursing through his system, not when he was so close. Kirbraz would not die tonight. Tick. Vitrum’s chase slowed even as Kirbraz’ flight quickened. Even with his eyes wide and lungs in overdrive his muscles weren’t reacting like they should - his gait was shrinking into a staggered sprint. The exhaustion was setting in, perhaps even faster than it should have been. No, it wasn’t exhaustion. His head was swimming. Something was wrong. And Vitrum knew it. Tock. Then it came to his head, like a tobacco head rush but fatal. His vision swayed from side to side across the alleyway, something was glaring up from the roof at him. Poison. Being forced into slow-motion made Kirbraz see one thing more clearly: somehow, the assassin had been following him, attacking with incredible accuracy, even when he should have been out of sight. They were working with cybernetics. What, then? Very likely visual – highly sensitive to movement, or tracking body heat or somesuch. The poison made the situation into even more of a race against time; if he didn't get help, he could be dead in a matter of minutes. He needed to lose his tail, and he had an idea. As Kirbraz stumbled and shambled along, he went crashing through a doorway. He was fairly confident the building would be empty – most places in Tajun were, especially at night. You didn't get real estate prices like these by selling to people who needed homes, after all. The clumsiness – some of it, at least – was an act; Kirbraz’s ability to hold his drink and play drunk simultaneously had always been useful in backroom dealings. Right now, he would use that skillset to keep his assailant confident and complacent. Once he was inside, his next priority was finding a hiding place, and there he finally had an advantage: he knew this place. It was one of Berix’s safehouses, and being the incompetent that he was, they all had nearly identical layouts, including places for stashing both people and drugs. He had seconds to choose a spot; beneath the floor was too risky. He’d be penned in, and worse, the assassin’s enhancements might be able to spot his movement through the gaps between the floorboards. That left the wall. Escape routes could be just as important as hiding spots, and Berix’s paranoia meant he kept plenty. Secret tunnels were a favourite; in this case, a false wall with a narrow passage leading into the next building. Kirbraz could lose his pursuer and get closer to the hotel in the process. The quiet patter of footsteps as the assassin advanced inside the breached building soon stopped. In fact, Vitrum had stopped moving entirely. Her eyes blinked behind the mask. Moments passed, and as far as Kirbraz could hear, it seemed as if she’d been stumped. Tick. If Kirbraz could have seen through walls, he would have seen his assassin staring directly at him from the other room. He breathed ragged and clumsy and although Vitrum couldn’t literally smell blood, she could certainly hear every tick of the clock towards the moment of Kirbraz’ death. Every snort, every intermittent groan and every inhale and exhale. If she was close enough, she could probably have heard his heart desperately trying to pump the alcoholic poison in his veins away from in his chest. Her wrapped feet carried her near silently towards the wall. Tock. She pushed at the wall forcibly with her leg. Kirbraz was practically crawling at this point, and he heard the wall crumple behind him just as he scrambled through the exit. She wasn't following by sight. It must have been sound. Trying to be quiet was pointless – it might even have been detrimental. With all the force he could muster, Kirbraz bellowed a veritable war-cry as he made a mad dash for the door, barreling clumsily through it. He would not die tonight. Not too far above, something gave Tarix pause. Someone, somewhere below, was shouting – no, practically screaming. He searched out the source, and saw a drunk Agori shambling out into the open street. He didn't know why, but something felt off, his well-honed combat instincts picking up on something his conscious mind couldn't identify. It might have been nothing, but he couldn't let it be; he turned from the balcony and walked to his hotel door, ready to make his way downstairs. Instead, he was met with a familiar face, his hand still raised to knock the open door. “Tarix,” the veteran Glatorian said with an easy smile. “I wasn't sure you’d be up.” Vitrum’s own blood pressure finally spiked as the Agori screamed and shambled outside, as she peered out. Not because of the risk of identification but because he was beginning to draw eyes to him. She could hear two people talking in the building nearby although she couldn’t make a word of what they were saying. A drunk Agori in Tajun is hardly a story but a drunk Agori with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder certainly is. The problem with the concoction smeared on the bolts was that they were ultimately meant to slow, not kill. That isn’t to say the poison never killed anyone but its main purpose was of utility, to make a target unable to resist capture or death. Thus it had effectively failed this task. The cybernetics in Vitrum’s legs folded outwards as the silent thrusters boosted her ever so slightly onto a nearby ledge, pulling herself up with little effort. She was back on the rooftops again, looking down at her injured mark. Kirbraz would suddenly hear a whistle from above. It took him a second to even process the sound; the poison had made his limbs and his head so heavy that he could barely even move, but it was already too late for his would-be killer. As he made it out into the street, he saw a light on in a room far above, and a figure silhouetted on the balcony. Already, the figure was gone, but the shutters on the balcony were still open, and Kirbraz knew whoever it was had recognised his plight. His war-cry, intended to deafen his hyper-sensitive opponent, had instead brought the attention of a saviour upon him. Somewhere, the Lords were looking out for Kirbraz, and a dozen prayers went through his mind at once as he struggled to comprehend why. In his short life, Kirbraz had been obsessed with ego and greed, inflicting uncountable evils upon the Wastelands in his attempts to claim power. No more – he had seen the light. He knew at last just how precious life could be! Kirbraz was a man reborn, and he would dedicate every living moment to helping- Suddenly, he remembered the whistle, and looked up. In front of the moon and the deep green sky, his pursuer had the look of a ruby-eyed shadow; still, something about her posture, and those eyes, felt oddly familiar. “Don't I… know you?” “Ackar! Don't tell me you have pre-match jitters?” “You should know by now that I never compete in exhibition matches. Can’t be giving all my moves away before the main event.” He smiled and winked, but the sadness in his eyes betrayed the lie. Once upon a time, he really hadn't wanted to reveal his strategies too early; but now, after a decade representing Vulcanus without a Second Glatorian to succeed him, Ackar had begun to feel his years. That he had won last year's Tournament was a total shock, and he would have to conserve his energy if there was to be any chance of a repeat performance. “No, I came to check on you. Mind if I come in?” “Actually…” Just as Tarix was about to tell Ackar what he had witnessed, he paused. Was whatever he had seen really that serious? Ackar didn't need his years of hard-earned fluency in body language to know something was wrong. “Tell me.” Vitrum’s stance was static, but something about the familiarity in Kirbraz’ voice pierced through her hard boiled veneer. She froze. Thoughts of his new lease on life, even thoughts of survival, found themselves set aside as Kirbraz stared up at the assassin. The way she froze – it meant something, he knew it. If it weren't for this damned poison, he could have- The poison. Reality came crashing back down on Kirbraz, and with it a fresh burst of adrenaline. Even in his compromised state, he began backing away from Vitrum, shuffling across the street. No doubt his hands would be bruised and cut up like no one’s business come morning, but if he wasted any time thinking about that there wouldn't be a morning. Not for him, at least. “It was probably nothing – just a drunk, stumbling through the streets.” “But?” “But it didn't feel right.” Every instinct in Vitrum’s body wanted her to squeeze the trigger mechanism and kill him as he backed away like a cornered dog. And then, suddenly, she put down the crossbow. Her hands grasped around the bottom of her helmet, removing it from her face. One hand grasping the discarded helmet, the other picked up her weapon again, holding it in one hand. Her ruby eyes stared at him, the rest of her face now bare. “You tell me. Do you know me?” Her voice came like a hiss, not having moved from her position. Kirbraz kept crawling back, back into the shadow of the building. He didn't know what to say, didn't know whether to nod or shake his head – she was so familiar, and still he couldn't place her. “Show me where you saw him,” Ackar said, nodding to the balcony. Tarix stepped back to let him in. “No, you don’t. You’re just drunk, and dying.” Vitrum murmured. Her hearing implants had been deactivated in her moment of distraction, her focus broken. She dropped down onto the street, the moonlight catching her face for a moment. With one hand she placed her helmet-mask back on her head, securing the clasps as she approached him and slinging her crossbow over her shoulder again. No more running, no more risks. Kirbraz shook his head. “No- No, I know, I know I’ve seen you before…” He felt the wall of the hotel press against his back. There was nowhere left to run. And then she lunged forward, easily grabbing him by his shoulder and pulling him towards her. Something metal and sharp burst through his insides and poked out of his back with little but a quick whirr. Grunting, she then pushed the man off her sword with difficulty, before the sword collapsed into itself and folded into her hand and back into her belt as she turned to leave, quickly. Kirbraz was dying. He felt cold. Had Tajun nights always been this cold? His head swam with poison and pain, and he struggled to keep his eyes open as the blurry figure began her retreat. It couldn't end like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He’d had a plan. It was Scodonius. It was always Scodonius. He just had to ruin everything. “Think of it as an opportunity.” “You think I want to profit from a man’s death?” And there he went again, running his mouth. Ruining everything. Kirbraz resisted the urge to sigh, and calmed himself with fantasies of beating his arena partner to death. Keep it together, Kirby. “No, we don't. I think what Scodonius meant to say is that this is our only chance to stand up for what’s right. If we as a people decide that this is okay, we won't be able to take that back – and doing nothing can only be interpreted as tacit approval. You knew the victim, didn't you?” Neptum nodded. “Gorum. He was a good kid. Could've had a long career ahead of him.” “Stygia allowed his killer to go free, with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Doesn't that make you angry?” “I’m sure it was more complex than that-” “It wasn't.” It was. Or, at least, it had been, before he and Scodonius had set the wheels of the rumour mill in motion. The most beautiful thing about a lie was that it was easy. ‘Hard truths’ were hard in more ways than one; a proper investigation and tribunal took weeks, weeks of impatience and gossip and attention-seeking. For every person who was actually there in the Arena Vulcanus that day, there were a dozen more ‘witnesses’ who were all too eager to tell their stories. That was another wonderful thing about lies: they were so much louder. Kirbraz had been in on the ground floor – he and Scodonius had a match scheduled for later that day, which meant they had front-row seats to the tragedy. They were the first to see what no one else could: a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This was the situation: During an exhibition match in the city of Vulcanus, a young Water Tribe up-and-comer had gone toe-to-toe with the home team’s Second Glatorian. So far, so standard; the kid would probably lose, but if he didn't he would be a shoo-in for Tajun’s own Second. Bouts like these were a denarius a dozen, which only made it more shocking when the fight turned fatal. The opportunity came in the aftermath. What Kirbraz and Scodonius knew, from their ideal vantage points, was that Tueris was unlikely to suffer any real repercussions. And what Kirbraz realised before anyone else was that there was a very convenient narrative that he could encourage to emerge: namely, that the reason Tueris got off easy was his position as Second Glatorian, and Tajun’s failure of leadership on the part of Stygia. And the best part was that their new narrative would be unfalsifiable – the arena had been utter chaos that day, and a sufficiently relentless disinformation campaign could sow doubt in the mind of even the staunchest eye-witness. As for Stygia’s part in the tribunal, any attempt to set the record straight would be coming from the exact people who would benefit most from a cover-up; no one else was in the room where it happened. Better yet, people wanted to believe Kirbraz's version of events. Everyone in Tajun was desperate to make sense of a senseless tragedy, and conspiracy was always more comprehensible than coincidence. Truth was as hard to swallow as it was to establish; lies were beautifully easy. “The people of Tajun are protesting as we speak, but Stygia won't bow to political pressure. Not while she still believes she has your support. You're our First Glatorian; if you come out against her, she’ll have to listen.” Neptum stroked his chin, thoughtfully. “You have an ulterior motive.” “I do,” Kirbraz admitted. Scodonius’ jaw fell open, no doubt thinking of all the times Kirbraz had scolded him for showing his hand; still, Neptum was the type to respond to honesty (or, at least, the appearance of it). Kirbraz knew how to work an audience. “If Stygia steps down, I’m going to stand for election. I don't expect your support, and I won't be the only candidate.” This was also technically true; Scodonius would also be on the ballot. Everyone else they would bribe or threaten into dropping out of the running, and then whoever won – which would be Kirbraz – would co-operate with the other, who would get more leeway than any crime lord had ever had before. That was the pitch, anyway; in reality, Kirbraz knew Scodonius would only get greedy and fuck it all up, like he always did. Instead, Berix would be his puppet kingpin, and Scodonius would be assigned as the Tajunian representative to the Atero City Council, a position that was technically a political office, but would also keep him powerless and far away from Tajun (and, by extension, from Kirbraz). It was the perfect plan. Until it wasn't. Kirbraz had heard before that one’s life would flash in front of their eyes in the moments before their death, but why that memory? Why now? What did Neptum or Stygia have to do with this? Was that the moment when his fate was sealed? Surely that would have been earlier, or later, not- Not Neptum or Stygia. Not even Scodonius. Tueris? No, not him – but close. Another place, another time, another death in the arena. It was so close, on the tip of his tongue- “Filia.” As the realisation dawned, even as Kirbraz finally accepted the inescapability of his death, he couldn't help but laugh. “Of course… of course he would send you. I should've… known. Exile was too… easy.” Lies were easy. Conspiracy was always more comprehensible than coincidence. “Tell him… Tell your boss, that I…” “I don't see him.” Tarix took a step forward, looking out over the balcony railing himself. Ackar could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't satisfied, but the younger Glatorian just shook his head and sighed. “I guess it was nothing. I must be more anxious than I thought.” As Ackar lay a comforting hand on his colleague's shoulder and began dispensing sage advice, Kirbraz was drawing his final breath not too far below, hidden from sight by the shadow of the balcony. Scodonius had a few questions aimed his way. OOC: A massive thank you to @Jesse Pinkman, without whom I could never have given my best material to this subplot. It's been one of the best collaborations I've ever done, in no small part because he's always bringing his A-game. And can you believe I nearly began this whole plotline after the murder? @BULiK gets the credit for convincing me not to, because again, @Jesse Pinkman made this so much better than it would have been if I were working alone. Anyway, that's a wrap on Kirbraz, and a tantalising mystery for any interested PCs to investigate during these cold Tajun nights.

Dune Surfer Ronin Made as a group project with Petersheikah and DanV. I built the base, Dan the surfboard and Peter the Ronin. 11/03/24

IC: Skrall (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Marketplace) - Be Careful What You Wish For Skrall began mulling it over. The scout’s comparison of him to a poorly-handled Spikit seemed to indicate that he believed that he only wanted to crush the Renegades because they were closer, not because they were… repulsive. They treated their slaves abominably and won them through foul means. The Skrall did not do such things… not in the same way, which was the crucial difference. There was no similarly between the Legion and the Renegades apart from something of a shared origin, nothing more. Nothing. As for his proposed strategy of attacking the tribe with the food first, this too sickened him. He would have vocally objected, but the Special Operations Skrall had commanded silence, without outright saying he was commanding silence, which was also insulting. Defeating the south by starving them would lack honor, especially since… Skrall searched for the right word. It was apparent that most of them were servants, but were not slaves, but also not warriors. They had those strange circular pieces of metal with little value to barter among themselves with. How very strange. The deaths of these people would stain the Legion’s conquest. Surely, their target should instead be… He froze as he contemplated the implications of what the scout proposed. A victory through such dishonorable means was bad enough, but then there was the tribe with the water, and the tribe that forged using lava, using the metals from the other two tribes. The southern tribes could only survive independently of each other through trading and their games. His eyes go wide in realization. There was no feasible way for the Skrall to achieve an honorable victory without either conquering every tribe at once - which clearly, none of his brothers here would have any confidence in - or by striking at their hub, the city known as Atero. A city full of those who were not warriors. Skrall decided he preferred thinking with his sword. @Burnmad @a goose @BULiK @oncertainty @Vezok's Friend @Nato G @Mel IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - Her Understanding “Yes. I think I do understand.” Taldrix said, nodding her head. “You came to us, and not the tribes, because we are easier to control. None of that democracy garbage in the tribes, where you win based on how well you can lie and how much wealth you can throw around. You came to us, because if they helped you, you’d have to give them their share. They might even have tried to destroy the ruins, if it conflicted with whatever religious nonsense is being peddled nowadays. And the Skrall would never listen to you, being so far up their own backsides that their meals are recyclable.” She tapped where Ferrum is on the map. “I also understand that you were so interested in Ferrum’s plague because it happens to be close to where these ruins are. We’ll be at risk of contracting it the more we operate in this region, so we need as much information on it as we can…” She turned to the Ghost. “This would be my reasoning if I were you, at least, sir.” @a goose

IC: Selamat - Iron Canyon Selamat nodded in recognition of Tueris' words. He supposed they constituted an order, technically? He was inclined to listen to the Second Glatorian out of respect, but in these circumstances, with him being the leader of this expedition, Selamat supposed that the glatorian's authority was somewhat more formal. He stepped forward alongside Escus, advancing towards the cave. As he reached the entrance, he paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust a little. It really was a lot darker past the point where the sun's rays did not shine. He hoped his counterpart from Tajun wasn't kidding about having superior low-light vision. He stepped onto the sand-strewn floor of the cave, spear held out in front of him, ready for whatever might burst out of the darkness at them. OOC: @a goose @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @~Xemnas~ IC: Skrall - Bone Hunter Stronghold Skrall continued to watch the throng of bartering shoppers with open disinterest as he listened to Skrall's speech. He nodded along at the end, developing an appreciation for the other spec ops Skrall in spite of himself. The scout clearly had some sense, though he was far too open about it. For all that Skrall talked about them using their brains, Skrall wondered whether the scout had just started using his own after his experiences in the South-- perhaps a close call with heat stroke had somehow started it working after so many years of disuse, and he had not yet learned the dangers of being too clever too loudly? Perhaps a nasty blow to the head had dislodged some kind of implant that all Skrall had inside their skulls to make them stupid and obedient? Actually, that seemed like something the priestesses would do. Skrall filed that thought away for later. More immediately important, however, was the fact that, true as his words were, Skrall was saying them rather energetically, and in earshot of outsiders. "...And that will be an excellent thought for every Skrall to mull over while preparing for our departure," he said, voice low but firm. He glanced back at his allies, his head inclined towards the market proper in a way that might look incidental to an onlooker, but which ought to make it painfully obvious to any Skrall with sense - which he hoped was most of them - that he was telling them to watch what they say in front of the barbarians. OOC: @a goose @BULiK @Nato G @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Vezok's Friend

At the suggestion of Master Inika, I’ve edited another map of the Matoran Universe, this time to depict the known territories of the various canon Makuta. The original suggestion was to do a colour-coded map, but that ended up looking very cluttered, so I decided to go for a simpler style. According to Greg Farshtey, there were once 100 Makuta, and only a handful of them are covered by canon. Even so, based on the amount of territory controlled by the Makuta we do know of, it seems like a lot of the unknown Makuta probably didn’t have regions, or controlled islands so minor they weren’t even worth putting on the map. Starting from the top, our main man Teridax was the assigned Makuta of Metru Nui, while the Brotherhood’s alleged best fighter, Icarax, took over Karzahni. Krika was originally assigned to the north part of the northern continent, and later expanded his territory to include Zakaz after Spiriah’s fall from grace. Sharing the Northern Continent was Gorast, who is specified to have ruled the lower region known as the Tren Krom peninsula. Based on this division, it seems like at least one more Makuta must have had a claim to part of the Northern Continent. Tridax ruled Nynrah, biker bro Antroz ruled Xia, and Vamprah was responsible for Odina (I guess he sucked at his job, since he clearly never did anything about the Dark Hunters). I feel like Greg only vaguely glanced at the map when he decided on Chirox’s territory, since his region includes two completely disconnected islands that are nowhere near each other (one in the hand, one in the leg). He controls Keetongu’s and Tobduk’s homelands (the latter being better known by its current name, Visorak). (I realised after posting that I'd also made a mistake here myself, drawing a line to the wrong island). Chirox-but-with-a-better-colourscheme Mutran controlled the “central part of the Southern Continent”, which is probably intended to refer to Voya Nui. Prior to being deposed, Miserix was the Makuta of Destral. As far as we know, no other Makuta formally claimed that title after Miserix was imprisoned. Bitil is said to have controlled the west chain of the southern islands. However, the map claims that no one has explored further than Artidax, so Bitil’s territory likely ends there. It’s worth noting here that while Spiriah was formerly the Makuta of Zakaz, some pages on BS01 say that he also controlled Artidax. However, there seems to be no citation for this, and since he’s in exile I’ve left him off the map entirely. Finally, a couple of Makuta we don’t have canon appearances for: Kojol was the Makuta of Artakha, prior to raiding the place and getting assassinated by the Order Of Mata Nui, while the Makuta of Stelt is exactly what it says on the tin. This leaves a number of locations unclaimed. Given the way most territories have been divided up, there would have been at least one more Makuta for the Northern continent, and potentially two or three more dividing up the Southern. The large island above Keetongu’s homeland may have had a Makuta (unless it was also included in Chirox’s territory). The small island between Nynrah and Odina could also have had a Makuta (unless it fell into Tridax or Vamprah’s territories). The two islands up near Stelt and Xia (Nocturn’s homeland?) would have likely had at least one Makuta assigned to them, possibly two. I’m less sure about the other side of the map, since we have no information to confirm if the Makuta had any major presence at all in that entire arm. There are also a whole bunch of other islands out there that don’t appear on the map but are mentioned in-story, some of which would have likely had Makuta overseers as well. Let me know if there's anything I've missed, or if you have any suggestions. I'd also love to hear if anyone's assigned territories to their own fanon Makuta.

And/or the usual "hey world! I'm still alive!" post So where have I been? Mostly busy with life, and finally with a stable internet connection at my PC so expect some more activity from me, I guess. Occasionally, anyway. Other than that, I missed this place, a lot. And can't help but get nostalgic about the old times of lots of daily activity. Regular display name changes, especially around April 1st (my, what a coincidence) or with whatever tiny trend floated by. (On a side note, I'm delighted to see that the old emoticons are still around. Love these ) Hope you're all doing well! I'll see you around. ^^

Marching along steadily, we've hit 5/6! Just one member of the Toa Motu to go...

IC/ Skrall/ Bonehunter Stronghold/ Markets/ “May enough of them think that logically.” she commented. The scout was right - but so were skrall and skrall. Just because Roxtus and the tower had made a deal that wasn’t an absolute guarantee. Despite the intertwined history and rock tribe origin - the bone hunters weren’t a monolith. And come to think of it…neither were skrall. This group alone was proof, including herself. She glanced around at her companions. Cynics, true believers, outsiders…revolutionaries? The sudden thought caused the usually stoic fighter’s mouth to drop open a fraction. There was an angle to this mission she hadn’t considered before - even though they had all openly guessed at its purpose already. Revolutionary? No, not in a political sense. Perhaps…evolutionary, then? Yes, it made sense. And explained why Tirveus would send a group of volunteers like them. Maybe the tournament was merely a crucible to burn away the slag. This wasn’t about glory in battle and a name for the legends. Winning against the other tribes wasn’t the objective - or at least not the primary one. So even the possible outcome of Skrall facing each other was logical. This was about finding out what kind of Skrall could prevail in the South. Maybe Tirveus was planning to conquer it all. Maybe not. But he still would need to know what kind of soldiers he would need to ensure skrall superiority. She needed a moment to let that sink in. But standing around flabbergasted at her revelation wasn’t a good look, so she made her way over to where their Spikit wagons were being loaded, hoping her change in demeanor hadn’t been too obvious. She returned with a handful of rations and water that she started distributing among her peers. “Here. Stay hydrated. Keep up your energy.” OOC: Hope this doesn't read too much like her jumping to a conclusion. Debated making this much longer and more detailed, but in the interest of time and keeping up posting momentum I opted for the more direct version. @a goose@BULiK@Nato G@Burnmad@Mel@Toru Nui@oncertainty

IC: Zha'ar - The Crossroads She brought Solis to a stop a few metres short of the stopped bike, lowering her hand. The Agori's choice to greet her with words instead of weapons was promising, though it was clear he was still wary of her. "I am Zha'ar, conqueror of the crossed paths, taker of treasures, and, uh... scourge of... this general area," she proclaimed, wishing she'd taken the time to make up some fake titles before engaging in conversation. "Who are-" a gasp escaped her as her eyes settled on the mechanical arm gripping the vehicle's controls. “Wait, you’re him! The one they’re always whispering about. With the painful sounding name. What was it? Excruciating… Excremen-no, no, definitely not that. Sorry, what is it?” @a goose

IC: Skrall (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Marketplace) - Witchcraft! Ah, of course - their games. Skrall had nearly forgotten. But would the south really abandon their independence, something they clearly prized by refusing to truly unite under one banner, merely because the Skrall would utterly demolish them in their arenas? Though, given how demoralizing that might be, they may eventually give up purely to save themselves further degradation- Wait, what was everyone looking at? There was… what once, may have been Skrall, behind metal bars, watching them. He gave a glance to the scout, as if to say ‘see what I’m talking about?’ Wait, did he really just say he didn’t believe in witchcraft? They had a conversation about this on the way here Skrall could only half-remember - did he really not believe that existed? How had he survived this long? Something just crossed Skrall’s mind. Logically, both the Renegades and the southerners must have females - unless they grew like plants, which somehow Skrall doubted. And, just as logically, these females must have powers of their own. Hopefully, this disqualified them from raiding, or the arena. Skrall would raise this point, but he had been obliquely commanded to be silent, so he did so. @Vezok's Friend @Mel @a goose @Burnmad @oncertainty @Nato G IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - Easy Come, Easy Go Now, what Taldrix wanted to say was that she wasn’t offended at all, because she knew that the fault lied with the average Gatherer, half as smart as a Zesk and about twice as ugly, but that might not be the best thing to say to someone who shared the Zesk’s four eyes. What she was about to say may also not be the best thing, but if she pretended to be subservient too much, he might get suspicious. “I imagine you told Crucius and the others what you’ve told me - or a version of it, anyway. I can’t say it offends me. Who wouldn’t pledge allegiance to you if they were convinced of ULTIMATE POWER being their reward?” Something takes over Taldrix, as she looms over the map. “The desert would be at our mercy.” And then she snaps back to normal. “Of which there is none.” Now, if it turned out whatever was left in the canyon wasn’t as impressive as the Ghost made it sound, or if they lost too many men to the plague or the beasts known to roam that area trying to uncover it… well. If the Ghost thought it was easy gaining control, he shouldn’t be surprised how easy it would be to lose it all if he couldn’t keep his promise. Even if Crucius and those two buffoons outside still stood by him after that, they’d be significantly outnumbered by the rest of the Gatherers, and Taldrix sincerely doubted even a Great Being could survive that many angry people with sharp implements. @a goose

A very important update. We had another pic of Tahu, Olivia from Friends, Jack Stone, Nick Bluetooth from Galidor, Emily from Elves, and Furno from Hero Factory. :3 (ignore that this is at least an hour late for April Fools depending on where you live lol)

IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - That Two Minute Training Match Lasted Almost One Year “That is correct. I don’t believe we’ve wasted any serious amount of time. Although…” Lutenus’ cybernetic eye whirred around, as if taking stock of the position of the sun and clouds in the sky. “I believe it would be prudent to leave as soon as possible.” The eye then snapped to face Mard and Ahmoa, his face following after a short delay. “Thank you for your service, gentlemen.” He then trudged over to them to hand back the dulled axe to Ahmoa. OOC: I realized upon re-reading earlier posts that Lutenus asked earlier what the price was for an hour, and Mard pointed towards a sign with the prices, but at no point did Lutenus actually give them any money, though he did fetch some coin out of his pocket when he asked. I’d like to say he did give them the money, I just forgot to mention it. @oncertainty @Techn0geist IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - The Old Country “You’re looking for something in the canyons.” She said aloud, looking over the map. “You believe that there might be remnants of the old civilization out there?” Was he really only assuming control of the Gatherers just to search for answers? What happened to his people, and if he’s the only one left? What would he do if he wasn’t the last of his race, and found more of them out there? Would he abandon his position among the Gatherers to join them? No, no, anyone with his intelligence would never give up power that easily. But what if his fellow Great Beings didn’t care much for the Gatherers? After all, their very name implied that Agori were lesser beings. Taldrix couldn’t blame the Ghost for disliking that epithet. But at least it wasn’t sanctimonious slander like ‘Bone Hunter’ was. If it were bones she was interested in, she’d have stayed in Roxtus. In any case, she couldn’t trust that whatever the Ghost was spending precious manpower and resources to find existed, and that it wouldn’t be bad for her if it did. ‘Answers to the questions that plagued them both?’ Well. They’d see, wouldn’t they? @a goose

Wishing the best of fests for our feathered friend Blue, @a goose, best of BZPower’s birds. Happy honks in your honor! A bitty bluebird drawn in honor, a 3x3 graphite bite for yee. Sorry scan squares so tiny, it actually grew to two birds because, Tiny birthday bluebirds. 🪺💙 PS. This public party topic pleasantly permissed prior by an ot(t)her! https://flic.kr/p/2pKi3LX https://flic.kr/p/2pKgPzw *cue chirp chorus*

IC: Maxas and Vraek (Streets of Tajun) - If You Need Instructions on How to Get Through to the Hotel… “Oh, think nothing of it. I should…” Vraek trailed off, scanning the crowd. Where was he? He was never this late before… was he held up? Or did he have one of his schemes hatched? Vraek noted how dark and less oppressively warm it was getting. She turned back to Jeizmel. “We should retire for the night, it’s getting late.” Hopefully this time there would be less of a hassle with her reservation at the Arena Hotel. “I will see you again, I’m certain. Goodnight, and… keep yourself safe.” The Ice Glatorian then turned on her heel to leave - and almost tripped over a nervous Water Agori, who very quickly ran way. “Ah! Hrmph.” Hopeful that nobody saw that apart from Jeizmel, Vraek began wading through the crowd to the hotel… @That Matoran with a Vahi IC: Skrall (Bone Hunter Stronghold, Marketplace) - Mixing Work and Politics Skrall took only a little sip of the water ration handed to him, to conserve it. “The fact remains - the Renegades are a blight upon these sands. They may not steal primarily from the Skrall, but they do steal from the southern tribes. When Roxtus conquers the south, as it must, they will most likely begin stealing from us. Whereas, the opposite would be true - conquering the Renegades would perhaps make the southerners…” He struggled to find the right word. “Less hostile?” @a goose @Vezok's Friend @Burnmad @BULiK @oncertainty @Mel

Mother Brain - Final Form After making the first form of Mother Brain, I thought it would be cool to build the other form visible in Super Metroid as well. To make the brain texture, I used the same technique as for the standard form, then added a Dark Tan body with silver limbs. For Samus, I used a frame made by moc.cls, a very nice, poseable and small frame that I like very much. 17/03/24

....and I brought pohatu!

Technically not Bionicle, but the Hero Factory Dropship is my favourite vehicle. The shape, colour-blocking, opening canopy, controls, function (Dropping a canister), weapons, landing gear and cool stickers are factors that make it a fun toy and nice display piece.

The second place prize was changed to the following, it has been mailed!!!

I think I've got to give my pick to Mazeka's Swamp Strider. It's pretty much the only vehicle in Bionicle's run that didn't have wings or wheels, which helps it stand out. The design is solid and sturdy, and it has the best take on the Zamor launcher of any set. Honourable mentions go to the other three vehicle sets I owned: the Kaxium, Thornatus, and Jetrax.

IC: Jeizmel, arriving in Tajun Her eyes widened every so slightly. First-name basis with the honoured Glatorian? Jeiz supposed that after journeying together to reach this place it made sense; but it still felt uncomfortable to her. So few in high positions in Iconox were worthy of her respect these days that she wanted to make sure to show it to one of the only ones who was. But respect was better expressed by honouring her wishes than continuing to address her with titles, wasn't it...? "As you ask... Vraek." It felt as foreign on her tongue as she had expected to not at least preface the warrior's name with a title, like she'd said something incredibly disrespectful. Still, she had asked, so Jeizmel tried hard not to let her discomfort show. At least the Glatorian's following words gave her a distraction from that feeling. "Of course I..." She hesitated, the instinctive response faltering on her tongue. Given her reputation back home, she felt like Vraek was entirely right to ask. "Yeah, I will. I know I'm a loud-mouth back in Iconox, but that's because I care about our tribe so much. Anywhere else, though, I've got no reason to go looking for trouble." Famous last words, perhaps. But she did mean them in the moment; even if her principles may couple with her recklessness to demand otherwise of her in the future. She smiled, genuinely, at the warrior. "Maybe I'll see you again before the tournament is over. Thank you for everything." @Toru Nui

IC: Zha'ar - The Crossroads Zha'ar's embarrassment over almost insulting such a famed individual two seconds after meeting him evaporated when Crucius asked his question. Rare was the day when someone could make Zha'ar shut up once she'd started babbling, but Crucius had just managed it. She blinked blankly at him for several seconds, jaw hanging open, before finally finding her voice again. "You've heard of me?" @a goose

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) Lords above. She was a comedian. “Crucius,” he growled. Then again… Zha’ar. Where had he heard that name before? No. Not heard. Read. She was on the list. It all started to come back to him – the lone wanderer with the lame leg, and a truly impressive suite of skills to compensate. “You're the nomad who doesn't kill, aren't you?” His voice was surprisingly free of judgement. OOC: @Nato G

For our fine online friend and artist finest, the yearly fest had been too long put to rest! @Taka Nuvia A very tiny honorary Taka fairy for yee, a meager mite 3x3 Graphite Bite, unfit for so accomplished an artist’s sight, but made with mirth for your day of birth! https://flic.kr/p/2pKi6ov May your magic day be full of confectionery and friendly fairies! Thanks be for your spirit, ever a gift, when to these old lands your wings again lift!

Prologue – Dying Of The Light From the notes of Chronicler Crisda. Deep down, everyone’s afraid of the dark. It’s a powerful, primal thing, an instinct born long before any of us were created. In the dark, anything could be waiting. A ravenous rahi, a roving Rahkshi, Karzahni or Irnakk or Tren Krom or any one of the other nightmares of legend. But now we know there’s nothing waiting for us in the dark. Nothing at all. And somehow, that makes it even more frightening. Two years have passed since everything changed. Two years since the Turaga of Metru Nui sent the universe’s greatest Toa heroes to Karda Nui to reawaken the Great Spirit, a mission from which they never returned. Two years since the day that the stars formed the shape of the Kanohi Kraahkan and Makuta Teridax proclaimed his dominion over creation. Two years since war and strife wracked our universe. Two years since the terrible earthquake, and the even more terrifying stillness that followed it. Two years since the lightstones started to die. It started small, at first. Old stones fizzling out, as they sometimes did. But then newer stones started to die as well. Even the fresh ones dug out of the mines seemed dimmer. And then, within only a few weeks, there were no functioning lightstones left to be found. We could still hook them up to the city’s generators and charge them that way, but whatever had once empowered them naturally no longer worked. Soon, the same thing started to happen to our heatstones. And it wasn’t just Metru Nui. Boats began to arrive, ferrying Matoran, Turaga, and Toa from shores far afield, where the dark and cold had rendered entire lands unliveable. I myself was among them. Only the heat of the Great Furnace and the lifegiving light of Twin Suns still shining high overhead had kept Metru Nui from meeting the same fate. The city welcomed the refugees with open arms, of course. More Matoran meant more workers to help keep the city functioning enough for us all to continue surviving. More Turaga meant more wisdom to aid in navigating our new situation. More Toa meant more protectors. However, we soon learned of one land that our fellow Matoran had been unable to leave. Though those who sailed past or docked to resupply said its streets remained busy and its foundries still spewed smoke, Xia hadn’t sent a single ship our way. A team of Toa were sent to meet with the Toa of Xia and arrange the relocation of their Matoran, but of the six who departed, only three returned. The tidings they brought were grim: the Vortixx of Xia had slain their city’s Toa team and taken the Matoran as slaves, forcing them to work the power plants to keep their city alive. And when they’d learned of new Toa in their midst, the Vortixx had promptly tried to kill them as well. Debate raged for days, but the decision was never in doubt. The last fifty Toa in existence departed for Xia, intent on liberating the trapped Matoran. Weeks passed, and a lone boat limped back to Metru Nui, bearing four injured Toa and a few dozen rescued Matoran. Their report on the situation in Xia was a dire one. Embroiled in a battle to liberate the Matoran, the Toa had found themselves caught in an unexpected crossfire. From the South had come the Dark Hunters, intent on taking the city’s technology and power for themselves. And from the East had come the Skakdi hordes, seemingly motivated by nothing more than a defiant desire to end their lives fighting in the universe’s last great war, instead of dying quietly in the dark. We waited for our Toa to return. We prayed to our absent Great Spirit. Some even offered prayers to Makuta Teridax. Neither god answered us. A few brave Matoran even boarded a boat and set sail for Xia. They didn’t return either. And still, the rest of us waited. And waited. More than a year passed before the Toa finally came home, but the world they found was not the one they had left behind. And the world they made was not one any of us expected.

It's the 20th anniversary of the Metru Nui saga's beginning. So this years theme is the entire Metru Nui saga! Toa Metru, Hordika, Vahki, Dark Hunters. Not just characters, locations, items, or even vehicles! Rules: Your design must be a simple design, one color, and must be medium sized. Your design must also be black on a clear white background. This makes it easier for the screen printing process. You may post your entries in this thread, and have until the end of May to submit your design. The Prize: The maker of the winning design will receive a free T-Shirt! ADDITIONAL INFO: The winning design will be chosen through a voting process of the members of BZP. Colors will be suggested and chosen by the members as well. Feel free to ask any questions if needed. That's all for now. Have fun, and good luck!

Happy birthday!

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) “Your techniques for mounted archery alone make you stand out, not to mention your skills in animal handling and the use of poisons. Also…” He paused, considering his next words carefully. Crucius was not a man who liked to tip his hand; it was a matter of habit as much as it was a mechanism for survival. There were only two beings he believed had ever truly known him, and Crucius had killed one of them himself. Showing vulnerability was an easy way to get oneself killed, and being seen was a singularly unsettling experience. Still, this was a new world, and the rules were changing; sacrifices would have to be made. “The Ghost knows what it means to be ostracised. To be… alone.” He took a breath to steady himself; his left hand was shaking. He balled it into a fist, and began to speak with a soft, seething passion, never once raising his voice. “You’re worth a hundred of your would-be clansmen, and I believe there's a part of you that knows it – that little whisper that you drown out by quoting everything the rest of the world has said to deny it. But that whisper is right. The world is wrong. Those fools forced you into the desert to fend for yourself, and they only made you stronger; you found new ways to survive, better ways. They live in a prison of their own making, and in forcing you out, they have freed you. Perhaps you can't see that yet, but I can, and He can. And if this is what you’ve accomplished alone and unsupported, I for one am eager to see what you can do with our resources at your disposal.” OOC: @Nato G

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) “If you know who I am, then I’m sure you’ve heard of the one I represent. He understands the value of loyalty… which is to say, He understands that it doesn't come cheap.” Crucius smirked. “You have skills that many others don't, and I share His view that we should have them on our side. If you’re willing, you could even teach some of your techniques.” OOC: @Nato G

Well, Furno's and Speeda Demon's bikes are pretty sweet as well

tahu ready.mov

pohatu really liked the hoover dam! he says he built it to get back at gali but I don't quite believe him... 🙂

Go for casts. They're excellent, work for what most people want, and honestly are relatively affordable for what they are. I go for resin casts, since most filament based prints are gonna need more finishing to get into a nice smooth shape. Most masks I've gotten have been around the $15 mark - some custom painted, some cast in the correct colors, some unpainted for me to finish myself. There's also scores of 3D models for masks, so if you have them in mind you can get them typically. I've gotten official masks, and custom 3D prints for "canon" masks - such as the Mask of Creation, and the Great Kanohi worn by the Hagah, and recently even Helryx's mask. Injection molding is not necessary, especially for display items. If you're interested though - several people already go through companies to do so. It's likely not worth your time or effort to navigate this yourself. SocketBall is a great one, as many have said: though due to the limited nature of production, prints go fast (I managed to get their last few Rau's by waiting for them to drop LOL). Etsy is also full of people - the two sellers I prefer are there. I'm not sure if I'm allowed, but I do have recommendations on a few people I've gotten masks from. Primarily, this was for my Hagah, but I've also gotten some very nice ones: such as this Blue Rau for my Kotu.

Welp, I'm gonna be subverting expectations. I'm surprised to not hear anything about Nuparu's Boxor. I know it's a very simple build compared to future vehicle sets like the ones released in '08 and '09, but y'all gotta admit it still looks cool. I'd argue it even looks better than the Exo-Toa.

Thornatus V9 by far. It's one of the most rewarding builds in all of BIONICLE and (as a long-term owner) the land vehicles stay intact much longer than the sky vehicles. My Rockoh, Jetrax, and Axalara all have broken pieces in the landing gear from years of being displayed. The land vehicles' weight is evenly distributed on the wheels, so they're still good. Plus, I love the Ben Hur aesthetic. Not that the Skopio is a bad set, but it's a repetitive and somewhat frustrating build, and it's not as poseable as it could be. (Having legs in addition to wheels implied a certain degree of posability versus just wheels.) Cendox, Kaxium and Baranus meanwhile all feel a little too bare-bones. Thornatus feels like the highest version of BIONICLE vehicle design.

"Move along" by All-American Rejects, "Bye Bye Babylon" and "Closer to the truth" by Cryoshell

execute order 66! (have to love the irony there)

Recently in the Bionicle-Based Creations subforum, BZPower member (and LEGO Model Designer) Pohaturon shared his latest MOC: Gali - Spirit of Water. He wanted to make use of the new hook element introduced in Ninjago and came up with a great model that combines contraction and system elements. The creation definitely captures Gali's elegance, grace, and power, and showcases the ultra-rare mask from G2. Make sure you check out the neat base with a little nod to the Toa Nuva as well!View the full article

IC: Crucius (The Crossroads) Crucius chuckled mirthlessly. There was a grim, all-too-predictable irony to it; of course he would be ambushed. On his own, he looked like any other traveller. Still, his would-be assailant appeared to be one of his own, if their decision to wave to him before they began shooting was any indication. He pulled his Cendox into a sharp turn, its front blades kicking up sand as it ground to a halt. He did not return the stranger’s gesture; his exsidian hand remained exactly where it was, ready to rev up the engine should the situation turn hostile. “What's your name, Gatherer?” OOC: @Nato G

IC: Zha’ar – The Crossroads Like most predators that prowled the desert, Zha’ar relied on sound as much as sight. She was currently positioned on the West side of the crossroads, her gaze aimed in the direction of Atero, watching for the metallic shimmer or dusty plume that would indicate the presence of another incoming traveller. But her ears were listening out for sounds that were closer still, the echo of engines or baying of beasts that would signal the arrival of travellers coming from the direction of Vulcanus. There were more direct routes from Vulcanus to Tajun, for those brave or foolish enough to take them, so Zha’ar hadn’t seen as much traffic coming from that direction in recent days. But she wasn’t one to let opportunity pass her by, and it sounded like one was on approach right now. At the sound of a distant vehicle she turned her head, her eyes alighting on the sight of a lone Cendox creeping along the road from Vulcanus. As it drew closer, she was surprised to see the bike continue Northwards, instead of turning towards Tajun like most travellers had been in recent days. Caution and curiosity were two instincts that so often came into conflict for Zha’ar. But today, she saw no reason not to indulge in the latter. It was just one Cendox, nothing to be overly concerned about. She whistled sharply and pointed to the Cendox, prompting Solis to rise to his feet and break into a steady sprint across the sands, moving on an intercept course. As she drew close enough to make out more details, her curiosity only grew. This was no ordinary traveller. The driver wore the dark, archaic armour of a rock Agori, which meant they were likely a Skrall villager, or a fellow Gatherer. Either way, they were a lone traveller, like her, which meant they might be more willing to trade supplies or information. She left her bow stowed at her side as she closed in, instead waving her hand to wave at the other driver, hoping to attract their attention. @a goose

Aaand many weeks later, here we are. First off, Scott is on the list of characters to do! Have I ever mentioned that it's like, 2-300 characters? Been a minute since I last looked at the list tbh lol. Now, far as this little round, we got: Dareth, Skylor, Ronin, Beatrix (all from Ninjago), Azure Lion (Monkie Kid), Mr. Oz (Dreamzzz), Good/bad/scribble Cop, President Business, Rex Dangervest, and a redrawn Emmet (all The Lego Movie), and finally, Mata Nui should need no introduction on this forum lol. I'd like to think my Mata Nui interpretation looks a lot like his toa form but at GSR scale. I've done it! I've drawn 100 of these! I'm taking suggestions on the next character. I admit I haven't been great with getting to in-demand characters, but since 101 is like a new cycle, I'm taking major input from others on this one. I think it should be a theme I haven't covered yet. Hero Factory? Friends? City? Oh also one last pic since now these make a nice 10x10 layout Thank you all for the support ❤️

The Ash Tribe History A distant offshoot of the Fire Tribe, the Ash Tribe were driven out by their kinsmen many generations ago, following an irreconcilable disagreement around funerary rites and treatment of the deceased. With metal and exsidian being scarce across much of Bara Magna, some families in the Fire Tribe took to “recycling” these resources from the remains of their dead – removing their implants, reforging their armour, even using their bones to make simple weapons and tools – a practice they saw as the ultimate way to honour one’s ancestors. Fallen friends and family could “live on”, in a sense, continuing to serve their communities and defend their descendants well into the future. When the rest of the Fire Tribe discovered this practice, however, many of them saw it as nothing more than the disgraceful desecration of the dead. The families who followed this tradition were exiled, and went on to found their own fledgling tribe. Although their practice of taking bones and belongings from the dead is performed only on deceased blood relatives (or on fallen friends, with permission), this hasn’t stopped the spread of reprehensible rumours about them mutilating the remains of their enemies, or robbing the graves of other tribes. Such acts are deemed as vile by members of the Ash Tribe, and anyone caught actually conducting such defilement would meet with exile, or worse. Village The Ash Tribe reside in the village of Precipere, located East of Vulcanus, on the opposite side of the volcano. Their village is perched atop the cliffs, overlooking Iron Canyon, with the village accessible only via a sturdy staircase carved into the canyon wall, and a small makeshift elevator – a simple wooden platform connected to a system of ropes and pulleys – being used to carry larger cargo to-and-from the canyon floor. A treacherous network of trails and tunnels also lead directly West, back to Vulcanus, though the volcanic terrain and bitter enmity between the two villages means these are rarely used. Precipere’s architecture is simple and utilitarian, with basic structures constructed using the abundant stone of the surrounding region. Deep trenches have been dug around the base of the volcano over the years, to redirect the occasional lava flows safely away from the village, while subterranean shelters exist in which the villagers can hide in the event of gas or ash being released from the mountain. Ancestral arms and armour with no remaining family members to forge them anew or carry them into battle are housed in the Hall Of The Honoured, a catacomb cavern beneath the village. Though the village of the Ash Tribe rarely play host to Glatorian battles, with their warriors usually travelling to other villages to fight, Precipere does still house an arena. Known simply as the Maw, this simple round arena has a coarse dirt floor, and is filled with stone slabs and columns of varying sizes, ringed by a rim of jutting, jagged obsidian. Culture The Ash Tribe have a profound appreciation for history, and a passion for art. Their entire village is a monument to their past, with families adorning the exteriors of their homes with history through sculptures, carvings, or paintings. The tribe’s official colour is a smoky grey, though most of its members express their artistic natures by decoratively adorning their dull armour with other hues. The people of the Ash Tribe have a highly-developed understanding of Agori and Glatorian anatomy, making them adept surgeons and doctors, though the distrust directed towards their tribe means their skills are rarely sought. Among their more common “customers” are scavengers who’ve stolen cybernetics from slain foes and seek to have them installed by someone who won’t ask any questions. Many members of the tribe are also artisans of some kind, specialising in sculpture, smithing, jewellery, or painting, though the market for these goods is also limited in the wasteland. Outside of their artistic crafts, the tribe’s primary trade material is obsidian. Though less durable than metals, this volcanic glass is sharp and strong enough to serve in the making of certain kinds of weaponry, being especially sought-after for making fine blades such as scalpels, knives, and arrowheads. Present The Ash Tribe’s relative isolation, lack of resources, and the grim stigma that surrounds them, have meant the group have in the past gone relatively unscathed by raiders, and unbothered in conflicts between the villages. Small arable tracts in the nutrient-rich volcanic soil and well-trained hunting parties allow the villagers to grow and scrounge enough food to support their small population most years, with water being the main resource they fight and trade for, along with exsidian and metal. Their current leader is an aged, ailing Agori known as Somok, though many expect he won’t last more than another year or two in the role. With the recent troubles in Iron Canyon leaving them even more cut off than usual from the other villages, and their new prime Glatorian Kehla currently away, the people of the Ash Tribe are at the most isolated and vulnerable they have been in many years. Though they have faced adversity before, there is a sense of apprehension in the air, as many find themselves fearful of what the future may bring. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Somok Species: Agori. Description: A soft-spoken Agori with green eyes and grey armour, Somok has led the Ash Tribe for five of his seven decades of life. While time has taken its toll on his body, his mind remains sharp, and his devotion to his people remains as true as it was the day he first took up the mantle of leader. Weaknesses: Somok is physically frail, and tires easily even from everyday activities. With his best years well behind him, Somok is terrified at the prospect of fading into obscurity if he were to retire, and clings desperately to power to the point of paranoia. Where he once wisely considered the counsel of others, he now views even simple suggestions as attempts to undermine his authority. Equipment: Somok’s constant companion is a crooked crimson staff, as much a badge of office as it is a necessary walking aid. The staff is by far the oldest item in the village, hailing back to before the Ash Tribe split off from Fire. He also carries a simple bone knife, fashioned from the remains of one of his ancestors. Background: A career politician, Somok earned his position by campaigning on a policy of conservative values, clinging to historical traditions and practices, and only dealing with outsiders when necessary. The Ash Tribe have remained safe and stable throughout his rule, but also stagnant and isolated, with innovations and pleas for greater diplomatic ties with other villages being routinely opposed under his leadership. In the face of new generations of villagers and a drastically changing world, Somok has struggled to retain relevancy, with many believing that he will soon be usurped by one of the tribe’s emerging younger, more progressive leaders. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Kehla Species: Glatorian. Description: A lean, limber Glatorian clad in grey, Kehla is in her early-twenties, but carries herself with the youthful exuberance of a teen. Her armour is somewhat evocative of the style used by the Fire Tribe, though grey in colour, decorated in hues of soft purple and adorned with symbols from her tribe’s history. Weaknesses: Though capable enough in training, Kehla has never travelled beyond her village or been tested in real combat, rendering her naïve and overconfident in the face of the true dangers of the wastelands. Despite her outward confidence, internally Kehla is still coming to grips with the newfound responsibilities that have been thrust upon her, struggling with the burden of suddenly having her village’s entire future resting on her success in the arena. Equipment: Kehla’s weapon of choice is Heritage, a kusarigama passed down through multiple generations of her family. The metal used in each component and link in its chain is sourced from the armour or weapon of a different ancestor. The main part of the weapon consists of a modified scythe with two points rather than one, to make it more effective for catching an opponent’s weapon. A length of chain is attached to the bottom of the haft, with a heavy weight at the end. She also carries a basic knife hewn from the bones of her deceased older brother Behjen. Simple and sturdy, this tool is meant more for utility than combat. It’s true purpose is to serve as a reminder of the legacy she’s trying to live up to. Her cybernetics are a paired set of augmentations nicknamed the “leapers”. Integrated into her lower legs and feet, these implants allow her to jump great distances even without a run-up, and double as shock absorbers, allowing her to survive the subsequent landings without harm. Much like her weapon, these implants have been handed down through several generations of her family, a testament to their durable design. Her other equipment includes standard supplies such as a waterskin, bedroll, rations, a basic medical kit, and a battered leatherbound notebook with charcoal for sketching. Background: Kehla’s upbringing was equal parts sheltered and pampered. Her line had long been the tribe’s most prominent warrior family, and as such she was afforded the best training and education. But from the moment she was born Kehla lived in the shadow of her older brother Behjen, owing to her family’s designs to elevate him to the position of Prime Glatorian. As the two siblings grew older, the divide in their treatment and training grew ever wider. While Behjen was out hunting in the Iron Canyon or visiting other villages, Kehla was at home studying her tribe’s other specialties of medicine and surgical techniques. When Behjen’s combat training was advanced to facing captured beasts and Vorox, Kehla was still permitted only to spar with other warriors (and she was usually the one made to tend their wounds afterwards). When Behjen finally got appointed to Prime Glatorian, the role of Second went to one of his friends, leaving Kehla sidelined once more. Then came the day when Behjen, his Second, and several other senior warriors set out on a hunt in the canyon… a simple task, not without its dangers, but one they’d performed on countless occasions… but this time they didn’t return. Their remains were found days later, so ravaged by animals that there was no telling how they’d actually died. And with the sudden loss of the tribe’s most experienced warriors, Kehla went from being her family’s unappreciated spare to the tribe’s new Prime Glatorian, despite no real-world experience in the role. With the Atero tournament fast approaching, Kehla was sent to take her brother’s place in the listings, to see the world and gain the experience she so desperately needed. It was only after crossing paths with other travellers that Kehla learned of the troubles surrounding the Iron Tribe, and realised that her brother’s demise may have been part of a far larger problem brewing in the confines of the Iron Canyon. But with home now far behind her, all she can do is continue her journey, and hope she still has a home to return to when the tournament is over. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Skrall Species: Glatorian. Description: A standard soldier-class Skrall, this warrior wears the customary red-and-black armour of his caste. He has a more wiry physique than most of his kin, having adopted a combat style that favours speed and agility over strength. Weaknesses: Skrall is eager and ambitious, dreaming of the day he can bear a name of his own, wishing for the status and station that would grant him command over his kin in crimson.This desire for individuality and recognition manifests in a stubborn refusal to back down from confrontations, and reckless, glory-seeking behaviour. Equipment: Skrall carries the traditional saw-edged shield utilised by most Skrall warriors, but has forgone the usual sword in favour of the additional reach offered by a spear. Both of these tools are made wholly of metal, to be more easily utilised in combination with his cybernetics. His implants are electromagnetic devices integrated into the palm of each hand, capable of swiftly repelling or attracting metal objects. Skrall most often uses these to throw his spear or shield with horrific force, then retrieve them just as swiftly. Background: Skrall is a Skrall. A nameless nobody, destined to do his duty then die as one more forgotten face among thousands of others. But Skrall is determined to defy this fate, to do something meaningful and become someone who will be remembered forever more. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Gayle Species: Agori. Description: A brawny Agori clad in green and teal, Gayle approaches life with a boisterous, happy-go-lucky demeanour. Over her storied life, Gayle has seen and experienced much of what Bara Magna has to offer, and is always eager to see something new, regardless of the danger, openly stating that she’d rather perish in the jaws of some beast than die a dull death in old age. Weaknesses: Gayle is perhaps a little too carefree, not stopping to consider that a situation might be beyond her capabilities until she’s already in over her head. She’s also suffers from an anxious, almost phobic reaction to her former tribe, refusing to go anywhere near Tesara, and being nervous and uncomfortable in the presence of other Jungle Tribe members. Equipment: Gayle’s weapon of choice is a simple hand axe, perfectly good for hacking apart enemies and obstacles alike. Her vehicle is a standard Cendox model, coloured green and black, its only noteworthy feature being a launcher and motorised winch mounted on the front rather than the traditional Thornax weapon. This launcher can be loaded with a harpoon or net, depending on what prey Gayle is pursuing, with the winch allowing her to reel in the projectile. Background: A decade ago, Gayle was a simple explorer, until one of her expeditions landed her in the nets of Bone Hunter slavers. After two years in captivity, every miserable day spent hoping and praying that her Jungle Tribe kin would save her, she was able to escape on her own. But, wracked with resentment towards her tribe for abandoning her, she could never bring herself to return home. Utilising skills learned from observing her captors, she now lives as a hunter of a different kind, taking contracts all across Bara Magna to track down criminals, animals, or treasure. The only contracts she won’t take are for recapturing escaped slaves, for obvious reasons. Similarly, she won’t have any dealings with Bone Hunters. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Avinus Species: Glatorian. Description: A veteran Glatorian of Tajun, Avinus is a woman strangely absent of ambitions or aspirations, believing she already has everything she needs in life. She spends her mornings sleeping, her afternoons training, and her evenings drinking, before starting the cycle again the next day. Although dour and withdrawn in the mornings, her unflappable, frivolous personality usually emerges by midday, and she’s earned a reputation for partying long into the night. Weaknesses: Avinus fights with agility in mind, dressing in lightweight armour that only partially covers her torso, upper thighs, and left arm. The armour is sparse, with the gaps between covered only by simple clothing, while her lower legs and right arm are entirely unprotected. Psychologically, Avinus is a more lonely and aimless soul than she lets on, already having everything she thought she ever wanted, yet still feeling unfulfilled. Equipment: Avinus fights in the retiarius style, wielding a trident in one hand and a sturdy rope net in the other, large enough to fully entangle a grown Glatorian. Like many in Tajun she’s also taken to using some of Celrys’ more creative cybernetic technologies, being equipped with the following implants: Auditory Amplifier – an implant integrated into Avinus’ throat which can amplify her voice in a manner akin to a loudspeaker. Useful for being heard over a crowd, or for disorienting an unsuspecting opponent with a sudden shout. Pocket Sand Dispenser – a small compartment in the palm of her right hand, capable of being filled with a small amount of a liquid or granular substance, which can then be swiftly and violently expelled by a powerful blast of pressurised air. Although the compartment can be refilled by hand, the air used for the blast function is siphoned off from the user’s respiratory system, requiring around 20 seconds to refill and making breathing more difficult in the interim. Depending on the circumstances, Avinus fills this compartment with confetti, metal filings, or sand snatched up off the arena floor in the midst of a fight. Background: Avinus has lived for forty years, twenty of which have been spent as a fighter in the arenas. She entered into service as a Glatorian with a vain, youthful craving for fame and glory, and found exactly that, rising to prominence as something of a crowd favourite. She lives what equates to a celebrity lifestyle, publicly partying several times a week and frivolously throwing her earnings away on drink and merriment. But in recent years, fears have begun burrow into the back of her mind. She’s seen fellow veteran Glatorian age out of the arena, or suffer debilitating injuries that left them unable to fight, or be upstaged by younger fighters, and a few close calls of her own have left her dreading what might befall her if she were to suffer such a fate. She has fame and popularity, but few true friends and no prospects beyond the arena. What life awaits a Glatorian who can no longer fight? Avinus is in no rush to find out. ________________________________________________________________________ Name: Zha’ar Species: Agori Description: Zha’ar has the traditional appearance of an Agori of the Rock Tribe, save for the splotchy smears of orange clay warpaint marring her ebony armour. Zha’ar is known for being more honourable and merciful than most Gatherers, taking no slaves, and always giving her prey fair warning and a chance to peacefully surrender their goods. Unless forced to fight, she always leaves her victims with their lives, and enough food and water to get to the nearest settlement. Though some of her comrades see her as soft for these behaviours, she asserts it to be a sensible survival strategy; a bandit who butchers or enslaves everyone they come across is a threat to be destroyed, whereas one who takes only a little and lets their victims live is a tolerable nuisance. Zha’ar is almost never seen far from the saddle of her Rock Steed, Solis, named for the sun whose path through the sky is her guide across the Wasteland. His scaly hide is a mottled tan in colour, helping him blend in more easily while traversing the sandy terrain. Weaknesses: Zha’ar suffers from longsightedness, which makes her both a perfect scout, and a terrible one. Though she can identify prey and landmarks from afar as capably as a counterpart using telescopic lenses or a spyglass, she’s unable to read maps or messages, nor appraise most goods, and so tends to stick to familiar areas and steal only items of obvious value. When travelling, she must navigate by landmarks alone, and can easily become disoriented when terrain is changed, such as after a sandstorm or stampede. Physically, Zha’ar suffers from a severe limp in her left leg due to her knee being severely injured years ago, reduced to a hobble while on foot. As such, she stays to the saddle most of the time. Lonely from her lengthy periods of isolation, she has a habit of talking a little too much when she has the opportunity to do so, whether her conversation partner is a fellow Gatherer she’s seeking to trade with, or an unfortunate traveller she’s intending to rob. Equipment: Zha’ar’s weapon of choice is a hand-crafted shortbow suited to her stature and strength, allowing for fast and accurate fire at mid-to-close range. Her preferred arrows use obsidian broadheads, being ideal for inflicting horrific flesh wounds, but near-useless against armour. Due to the fragility of obsidian, these arrows often break apart on impact or within a wound, so can’t be reused. As such, she carries a hefty supply of these arrows in her saddlebags. For armoured targets she also owns a much smaller number of metal-tipped bodkin arrows, though these are harder to source and replace, so she uses them sparingly. With easy access to the paralytic poison of her Rock Steed, she often coats her arrows in this substance to more easily subdue her victims. For foes foolish enough to close within melee range, Zha’ar also has a simple metal catchpole, useful for parrying the weapons of attackers and ensnaring their limbs. The pole is connected by a secondary rope to Zha’ar’s saddle, allowing her mount’s strength to supplement her own in a struggle against a stronger opponent. Background: In her younger years, Zha’ar was much like any other Bone Hunter. She trained in Gatherer traditions, learning the ways of the blade, listening to the stories of her kin, and shadowing more experienced warriors on hunts and raids. But then came the day for her to battle a Rock Steed and become its rider. Though she succeeded, it came at a cost, with her left leg being crushed and broken at the knee in the battle. The limb never recovered, leaving her lame and useless, unable to stand beside her brothers and sisters in battle. She was ultimately abandoned by her tribe, left to fend for herself in the unforgiving wasteland. She nearly died, many times over, in the years that followed. But slowly she learned new skills and strategies to help her scrape out a modest living in the wilderness. She became skilled at archery to engage enemies from a distance, learned how to safely harvest her steed’s venom to make her arrows more effective at disabling victims, and developed hands-free techniques for guiding her mount so she could fire while riding. She learned how to avoid attracting too much attention, leaving her victims with their lives, and never lingering in the same place for too long. Nowadays, Zha’ar continues to wander, lacking any ambition beyond stealing or scrounging enough to make it through the next few weeks. She remains on good terms with other Gatherer clans, maintaining small stashes of stolen treasures which she trades to other clans when she crosses paths with them. Though she’s done her best not to draw too much attention to herself, the story of the merciful, clan-less Gatherer has nonetheless spread over the years. But where that story will go next remains a mystery, even to Zha’ar herself.