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and also I can't tell if this image is seriously not posting or if my computer is trolling me alsoalsoalso I forgot how happy it makes me to be playing again. Character interaction, fights, random encounters, screaming, blowing things up oh gog why keep drifting out of this I'm going to be in this forum all day tomorrow ANDREW GET IN ON THIS DARN YOU
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Thanks to Hubert's genius idea to remind me every few hours to finish this, I finally got it done. So, I give you, Naona, Po-Koro Guard member and archenemy of paperwork.Linky 'cause of big size.Used Illustrator to color, free-hand sketch.
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>> Went to Brickcon. >> Met Kughii. >> Going to start playing in the RPG again. Will probably be sluggish as usual. >> >> >> I dunno where this entry is going. >> >> >> Also I started to get nasty cold symptoms right as we left Seattle city limits, same as last year. My body understands that Brickcon is too important to get sick and and that's pretty awesome I guess. My sincerest apologies to anyone whom I shook hands with because I didn't see it coming either. :?
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Dawn is rapidly crawling forward, and I’ve finally grown weary of letting my eyes bore into the pixelated grey ceiling that reflects the inner skies of my thoughts, stormy and cold and no end in sight to the sheer grid of mistrust and shrouded beliefs.I know the night’s wearing thin because I can turn my head to the right and watch the sundial on my coffee table, all mahogany and high-class and mocking in its obstinacy, tick slowly forward, pushing the shadow of my doubts and lusts away from eyesight and into the room.I know that the sundial really isn’t ticking, but I can hear something going at an almost break-neck pace, and it takes me a second to realize that it’s not the movement of a small Rahi on the floor – this house, just like all the others owned in my name, is immaculate, and any pest that gets in would be rapidly exterminated – or the sound of any sort of wind chimes or any natural sound.No, this is the most unnatural sound of all, the one sound that cannot truly be explained or pushed away rationally, even after days or weeks or eons of thought; it’s the sound that blares during every special moment in your life, whether good or not-so-good, and it’s a sound that, when it finally dims and fades away, carries us along for the ride as we have carried it: a heartbeat.There’s a lot we don’t quite know about the psyche of people in general. We don’t know why certain Toa are inherently good and pure, and why in certain offshoots of our race there are Toa that are such a stark antithesis to the cookie-cutter, one-for-all-all-for-one heroes that the universe has come to know and adore that they sometimes aren’t even gifted with the title that the heroes bear; they just float, nameless, as much a shadow as the slowly-shrinking dark area on the sundial.We don’t know why people feel empathy, or sympathy, or any of the chemical reactions inside a person’s head that give them such a profound sense of right and wrong, good and evil, love and hate, that they all conform to those standards and then band together because of them, forming relationships and love affairs and families because of them.One of the quirkier, less philosophical things that I’ve always been fascinated with is the palette of colors that I see when listening to music. Pianos are a bright, vibrant blue, like the shining, almost transparent tears in a new father’s eyes as he gazes on his son for the first time, while the heavy, rhythmic pumps of a snare drum or a gong resemble punches, thrown into the serenity of the music with a blinding and pulverizing force that leaves nothing in its wake but bruised bodies and rent hearts. When I hear my heartbeat, strong and quiet and beating at an increasingly rapid rate, I see nothing but a flash of green, crisp and lush like a summer leaf that kisses your forehead as you walk underneath a tree, and, even though I know this will sound ridiculously weird, I see the color - and the girl - that I fell in love with.Almost as if the flash actually rocketed through the air around my heartbeat, like an explosion bursting in the sky, like the hearts of lovers as they lean in for a trembling first kiss, the bursting of the emotional levee that a stoic keep barricaded above the rising floodwaters of his negativity, his quelled depression, the room brightens visibly and the sundial stops pushing forward because there’s no shadow left to push; the dawn finally pushes its way through the closed curtains and I open my eyes slowly but surely. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them, and I enter a repeat pattern of deep inhale exhale inhale exhale to help me focus my breathing. I’m meeting her for breakfast now, this morning, and I feel like at this moment, as I crawl out of bed and move out the window in that classic pose that every girl who loves romantic guys that love romantic poetry know and adore: all I need is a rope made of handkerchiefs as I leap from the third story and slide down the side of the wall into the Ko-Wahi snow. It’s cold outside, as it always is here in the area of Mata Nui enshrouded in permanent blizzard , but all I can think about is the previous night. ***** All I can think about is how we had played a couple melancholy, longing songs together before sitting on the bed, eating ice cream together and telling jokes and reading books and cuddling and doing all that kooky stuff that best friends do together, and all I can think about is how slowly, surely, after two decades of tension and longing and a fair sprinkling of indecision just to top things off, I asked her if she’d ever wanted something more out of a guy.“Well…” she had started, biting her lip and looking as contemplative as could be in that frail sort of cold logical way she had that I could never look at without smiling, “you know, Dorian, we as people live inside ourselves, whether we want to or whether we’re forced to. People keep secrets, people store white lies and thoughts and feelings inside themselves, let them ferment like wine. And then, when we finally dismantle that big emotional bomb inside ourselves, finally let these things out, we build ourselves another one and keep it stored. It’s a never ending arsenal. Maybe what I want…is someone who can help me disarm.”We were quiet, then, two starcrossed lovers, comets with tails and dreams and talents and fears on a path through the sky, dust in our wake; we were so close together and yet we were zooming past each other’s realm of comprehension with nary a warning flare or a siren’s call to scream out, Hey. Stop me. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.Yeah, Kynaera. I know what you mean.The reply did nothing to sate what I really wanted to say, did not tame the words inside of me gushing to come out like a carbonated love poem, and all the adjectives strung together in all the compliments in all the world couldn’t describe everything that I wished I could tell her at that moment, but I was nothing in her wake, and I couldn’t help but utter the most simple and inane responses imaginable.I was nothing in her wake, a drizzle compared to a monsoon, a gust to a tornado, and where in the wake of her toned, athletic form, her bright green eyes, her beautiful smile that could make the sun’s grin, so devious, so laced with a benign sort of trickery, turn to ash and blow away in the passing grips of the bands of her storm.She smiled sadly, as if she knew what was welling up inside my chest and my lungs, pulmonary amor liquefied and drowning my unworthy organs, and she set down her book onto the table by the sundial, already being forced back from its final stand by the creeping darkness moving clockwise across its surface. I whispered something irrelevant, inconsequential, a passing nuance of a remark on how it was getting late and if she wanted, I could walk her back home because the streets could get really dangerous at this point in the evening. Or morning; I wasn’t quite sure what time it was. All I knew was darkness, both emotional and physical; the exception was when I heard music, saw color, saw her.Without warning, she leaned in and kissed me softly, and all my metaphors and adjectives that I use to describe my thoughts and feelings went out the window with the last rays of sunlight as I leaned back and just enjoyed the ride. Green, green, a vibrant green glowed inside my eyelids, playing a springtime matinee of a pure, grassy color as my heart pumped faster, faster, so fast that it must surely burst; no man could be this happy without consequence, it was hubris, it was the worst kind of wrath incurrent to be this happy while others suffered and wilted like dying flowers in winter’s maw.Finally, we pulled away, like magnets that had finally grown tired of being attached, and she whispered quietly that she had to go, she had to get back to her family tonight, but she wanted to see me for breakfast in the morning so we could see how things go from here. My heartbeat answered for me, my dry tongue having failed me long ago, in the form of a recurring tattoo that must have purely been pushing through my skin. Briefly, it occurred to me that perhaps my heart could jump out of my skin, a skydiver without a parachute on the way to its final home on the well-furbished floors. ***** It didn’t, of course, because as my feet touch down onto solid ground and snow, I start to make my way towards the coffee shop and try to quell the green flashes that bombard my vision like artillery fire as I search every avenue, every inch of ground for a trace that she wasn’t too far ahead of me; perhaps I could surprise her, perhaps I could reach her from behind and hug her and spin her around and ask her right now the question that had been burning in my head for so long, a firework waiting to be lit in the recesses of my hopes and dreams.Kynaera. Will you let me be the one to help you disarm?As I toss around several variations of this question – most of them a lot less corny than the one I had initially poised – I finally take a right turn off the main square of Ko-Koro and find the café she’s talking about. She’s sitting there, alone, sipping pensively at a coffee that shouldn’t be hot but somehow manages to retain its heat in the presence of the athletic, graceful, slightly stiff but godlike Toa of Gravity that is holding it in her hand. She looks up and sees me, and my heart immediately shoots upwards into my throat.Ignition. We have liftoff. That’s one small step for man, one giant…My mental preparations for whatever this conversation may entail cut off as we move forward and embrace quietly, and as we sit down, I signal for a coffee lightheartedly; I have all the caffeine I need right here, and as I stare into her eyes, my heartbeat, the laughs and conversations of the crowd, and the whistling of wind against icicles on the roof above us all condense and combine into one giant kaleidoscope of colors – green and blue and a weird shade of grey - and sounds – laughter and love and peace and sounds I’d never heard before, save inside the most imaginative corridors of my eardrums.I love you.As soon as the words leave my mouth, all color, all sound, all pretense of normality and setting disappear and slide to black as I slip out of the chair. She laughs at first, quietly, but slowly I can hear the sound reaching a crescendo and fade away, and I realize that somewhere, somehow, even though it was the worst possible thing I could have done, I’d fainted.Well…maybe we can do dinner. ***** Yeah, it's another BZPRPG fanfic: this one is a character study/examination of my character Dorian and his best friend/maybe more Kynaera/Pride, back from before their descent into moral ambiguity. All credit for Kynaera goes to my compadre Legolover-361, and all critique you leave me is, again, always appreciated.Much love!-Teezy
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This Wokapu role-playing post I've been trying to write for the BZPRPG isn't as easy as I thought. I don't want to spoil what happens, but it's supposed to be rather emotional. I'm currently searching the 'net to try and see if there's a similar story out there that can give me some inspiration. Only took about a month for this to happen -- I'd say that's pretty good.
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This is the Moc of my Rpg character Vorasku.FrontSideSideBackFootFront of legSide of legBack of legPoseAs always, C&C appreciated
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You may or may not have seen my hardest, coolest, and as it seems, most successful drawing ever. If not, then here it is. Or was.Because as promised, that drawing was incomplete and has now been completed. Now, to reflect the actual environment of the fight, (An ironic one, as they are both Fire characters), I have added a background and a flame effect, plus an effect demonstrating what their battle does to the environment!So, enough of my seemingly endless pontificating, here's the actual drawing!Oh wait, it's here. If you have anything to say about this or the original drawing, post it here. Comments and criticism still very much appreciated, for this drawing and the original.
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This MOC was initially built a few months ago. It had some major problems with its torso, but I liked it enough to use its design for a BZPRPG characters, Invictus. When this contest was announced, I took the opportunity to improve its design. ----- ----- Back Torso: Front / Back / Side Arm Leg WIP ----- Notes: The upper leg is custom-built to maintain the color layering, as this piece doesn't come in dark red.I'm too lazy to remove the Exo-Force stickers. Just pretend they're not there since you can't see them in the entry pic.Canonically his eyes and heartlight are blue, but they're green here because I don't have a blue Metru eye piece.Also canonically, he bears the Mark of Caring, which is difficult to explain...Removed because it doesn't make sense out of context.Play the BZPRPG 'cause it's awesome. Thoughts?
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NO THAT'S NOT BASED ON ME WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT
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So, you may have seen the first Dervian picture. More likely is you have not, as the topic has no posts. But that wasn't the finished product anyway. Now even though none of you gave a flying Karz last time, I think I'll just post these two anyway. Dervian in full color and texture.Dervian in the Golden Age of KeretaoDervian during the Great Civil War
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THEY ARE BACK WELL, ALMOST BUT IT'S STILL AWESOME
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Liberator in Black and Gold Breathing hard, Hajia ran through the streets of Ga-Koro, leaping over obstacles, once even sliding underneath a object being lifted. Her pursuers were unseen, but certainly not unheard, for their shouts and cries of injustice could be heard from one side of the Koro to the other.Not pausing to look behind her, Hajia shot into a back alley, choosing it for its darkness and cover. Sitting down, she drew her knees to her chin, and put her back to the wall. For minutes, she listened, but her hunters never neared her hiding spot.Hajia was the equivalent of 15 or 16 years old in human measurements, but she looked a few years older. Her skin was an astoundingly eye-catching mix of Metru and Mata blue, creating a mesmerizing look. People had called her beauty an incredible gift, but at moments, when males wouldn’t take her seriously, and when everyone tried to hit on her, she felt it as a curse. Speaking of being hit on, a male, rather young-sounding voice filled the air. “Hey there beautiful.” It said, stretching out the words in a comedic manner. Soon after the sentence was spoken, a orange and yellow head peeked out from an over-hanging roof. The grin on the Toa of Plasma’s face was quickly wiped off, thanks to a large rock being thrown in his direction. After back flipping to safety, he slid down the roof, grabbed onto one of the many opposing alley wall’s bricks which stuck out, and then fell to the ground, landing on his feet. “Show off.” Hajia laughed, once again tossing the rock. “Forgot about that Mask of Rebounding.” The Toa of Plasma said with a grin, leaning until he was almost in C-shape, letting the rock hit into the wall. “Did you get anything good?” He asked, referring to her previous chase’s profits. “Yeah.” Hajia murmured, already putting her hand in her pocket. “Some Vortixx’s money purse.” She said, holding it up and opening it. Her pouting frown immediately turned into a stretched smile. “How much is in it?” The Toa of Plasma asked, craning his neck to earn a view of the object that a brought a smile to Hajia’s face (This was a rare thing indeed).“500 Widgets, that’s how much.” She said, putting the money-purse back into her pocket. As she did so, she smiled teasingly at the Toa of Plasma, who’s eyes were wide and surprised. “Oh, stop drooling, Sikrin.” She joked, giving him a little push.Sikrin quickly recovered, and set off beside her, slowly moving his arm so that it was across her shoulders, and pulling her closer. All he received for his troubles was a quick jab to the stomach.That afternoon, Hajia purchased a gigantic meal to fend off the hunger always following her, a new suit of leather armor (Form-fitting, per Sikrin’s cheeky suggestion). Feeling kind, she gave the Toa of Plasma some of her earnings, and was surprised when he swore to not spend it on himself, but on a gift for Hajia.Later that night, he disappeared, leaving behind a note in the inn room they had purchased (Two beds, per Hajia’s order), saying nothing except he was fine. All that night, Hajia stayed awake, blankets wrapped around her body. Her new-found fortune had left her feeling nervous, as if it wasn’t possible she could be this lucky. There was also the possibility that the Vortixx had been able to get a good look at her before reporting. In the morning, Sikrin reappeared, a small white box in his hands. Hajia opened it slowly, peering at the grinning Toa of Plasma all the while. Inside, there was a small, protosteel necklace, with an amulet-like, diamond shaped protosteel object. After staring at in silence, she shot forward, wrapping her arms around the stunned Toa of Plasma. That entire day, Hajia displayed uncharacteristic friendliness and kindness, confusing Sikrin beyond what he believed possible. As the two of them walked, they became less and less cautious, laughing and drawing attention to themselves, something never intelligent for one such as them, thieves and pick-pockets, to do. Suddenly, and without warning, a large, Zamor-sphere wielding Skakdi grabbed Sikrin by the shoulder, briefly showing his Ga-Koro Marines badge before slamming the shocked Toa into the wall. As Hajia beat upon the Skakdi, summoned water, and threw whatever was graspable, Sikrin was handcuffed and shoved to the ground, where he moaned softly. Turning to Hajia, the seemingly indestructible, juggernaut Skakdi grabbed her by the neck, squeezed, and suffocated her to unconsciousness. Hajia awoke, alone and bruised, in a small, damp cell. All of her question went unanswered, except for final one; “Where is my friend?”, which was met with an emotionless “At the hangings. And he isn’t viewing. Now shut up, or I’ll make you.” The sentence acted like a club to the face. Hajia sat back against the wall, stunned and silent. Tears of shock ran freely down her cheeks. As she sat there, she carefully felt her necklace, quietly promising to never forget the one who gave it to her.She never spoke as they carried her out of the cell, and towards a wagon filled with other chained, restrained female Toa, all around her age, afraid and without knowledge of where they were going. For hours, they were jostled around as the rickety wagon surged through the dusty roads of Ga-Wahi.Much later, they arrived at Ta-Koro, and were taken to a large exhibition pavilion. To Hajia’s and the other’s surprise, they were the exhibitions. The Marines had formed a deal with local slavers, sending them whatever they collected for a bargain price. Hajia was among those who were not worth the Marines’ time, and thus sent to the slave markets. Bound in chains, Hajia watched in horror as a weeping Toa of Ice was stripped of her mask, and bound to a platform. The seller, a Ta-Matoran, examined her, all the while spouting shameful and humiliating facts and comments, all to the amusement of the buyers -male Toa, Skakdi, Matoran, and Vortixx of all shapes and sizes. As the others were led to the platform, humiliated, and then sold one by one, Hajia’s fear and dread grew, but she did not dare fight the handler’s bodyguard, a gigantic and intimidating Skakdi, very similar to the one that had brought her happy, perfect day crashing down. When she was dragged, kicking, screaming, and finally whimpering, to the platform, Hajia watched in horror as a Matoran in the audience watched her with amusement, his grin growing larger as the handler spoke words such as ‘Feisty’, ‘Fiery’, and ‘Hard working’. Wide-eyed and terrified, Hajia watched as the Matoran outbid all others, purchasing her for himself.The months after that day were terrible beyond words. Hajia was abused, tormented, and tortured in every which way, but every night she was forced to crawl back to her master, the sadistic Matoran, whose fate she dreamed of every night. The dreams were often disturbing, yet she enjoyed watching him suffer. It was during these nights and day when her heart grew hard, blacked by pain. She had already lost her innocence long ago, but now she was gaining cruelty. After years of service and pain, Hajia was severely beaten for refusing to dance seductively for the master, and then dragged, bloodied and bruised, before the matoran. However, there was someone else there, before the matoran that day. A tall, impressive, yet subtly kind being, referred to by the Matoran as “Hound’.As soon as she was dragged in, he stared at her, but not as the other men in the last months had. It was a look of sadness and pity, but also one of comfort. “Now then,” The Matoran said in his raspy, unattractive voice. “I assume you have come here to purchase slaves? As you can see, we have many of them, both male and female.” He paused his speech to look up at the Denuian. He followed the direction of his stare, and sneered at Hajia. “Ah. The wench. She is below you, I dare say. Now, I have a female Skakdi, strong and hard-working, used to be a gladiator-” The Matoran’s speech was broken off by a spear at his throat, it’s black blade pointed directly at his larynx. “I want no ’Slaves’,” Hound said slowly, through gritted teeth. His eyes were almost red with rage. “The idea of taking you life is the only amusement you can offer me.” He said, slowly beginning to carve on the whimpering Matoran’s throat with the point of the spear.Hajia stared at Hound with amazement in her eyes. She never saw him leave his seat, but he had, somehow… Kualsi user, perhaps? No, he wore no Kanohi. Her thoughts quickly dispersed as she listened to his words. A grin began to creep across her face. Pausing from his work with the spear, Hound lifted the Matoran bodily from the ground. At this, the two guards tensed to spring, but suddenly relaxed, for one of them had a tri-tipped arrow poking the back of his head, and the other hand a recently-created protosteel bowie knife at his neck. Tirus and Kirian stood at opposite corners of the room, The Toa of Iron chatting casually with his confused target, while the Toa of Ice remained as silent as death itself. “Now then,” Hound mocked, wiping the blood away from the wound he had caused, and revealing the cut. It was the slave mark that the Matoran had burned onto all of them. Hajia’s, thankfully, was hidden at the very bottom of her back, unable to be viewed most of the time. She smiled at the irony of the wound, making direct eye contact with the terrified Matoran. This mysterious being was clearly someone on her side, a liberator in black and gold. “About releasing your ‘Products’.” Hound continued, ripping a huge ring of keys of the Matoran’s belt. He tossed them to Tirus, who shoved the other guard to the floor, created protosteel bonds, caught the ring mid-air, and began to unlock the bewildered slaves’ rooms and cells.As Hajia moved to leave with the others, a hand grabbed her shoulder. It wasn’t a firm, controlling grip, but a gentle, calming one. Turning around, she stared up at the Denuian, awestruck. “You’re young, strong, and beautiful,” Hound said, making Hajia flinch instinctively. “These are not traits I am looking for. However, you still hold promise.”Even thought Hajia was confused by the speech, she nodded slowly. “I have an offer. Let me train you in combat and the mastery of your powers, so that you can prevent this from ever happening again. And so that you can prevent this from happening to others.” Hajia nodded, tears in her eyes. “M-my name is Hajia.” She said quietly. “This is Kirian, The White Death, and this is Tirus,” Hound said, gesturing to the silent Toa of Ice, and then to the Toa of Iron. “I, as I’m sure you know, am called The Great Hound.”***Hajia awoke with a start, gasping in surprise. She was in a dark, unlit cavern, so terrible and maddening, it seemed tangible. Blood flew freely from wounds on her forehead and leg, and when she coughed, blood flew from her mouth. A male’s voice, high and abnormal, was filling the air with words, but she paid him no heed. She was thinking about that day, that day when everything changed.“Listen!” The Toa before her roared, slapping with great strength. “Your suffering will be increased, you pitiful brakas.” Halion hissed, dragging the dagger-pommel of his hook-sword down her chest, and then stabbing it into her thigh once more. Between gasps and sobs, Hajia focused on the feeling of the steel necklace on her neck, remembering her promise, uttered in the cell, to never forget Sikrin. Thinking past that day, she whispered slowly. “My liberator… in black and gold…”, hoping and praying to Mata-Nui that he would come for her once more.
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Well, considering recent events in the BZPRPG, AKA the final battle between Tahuva Pyro and Zeltroth, AKA Optimus Prime and Megatron...I decided to make a drawing. Took me three days to finish, though actual time spent was 6-7 hours. 5 hours to color and texture. I attempted to fit in a Ko-Wahi background, which needs some tweaks, but I may update the topic with said background in the drawing soon. So yeah, here it is.As this is the hardest drawing I have ever made, comments and criticism would be very well appreciated.
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Well, here is is! The epic concerning the backstory of the Pyros/Primes. It will retcon quite a bit of information that wasn't well thought out, but will present the story in a fully chronological and sensible manner. It should clear things up for all of you RPers who brought the Aukati and Phantoms to where they are today. So, without further mind-numbing speeches and explanations...Oh, and here's the review topic. Be sure to post your thoughts!Chapter One: KeretaoThe Matoran Universe was a vast, mysterious place. The Great Beings hold secrets to this day. From Metru Nui to the Southern Islands...nowhere is fully discovered. The Southern Islands were thought to be worthless, inhabited by only the strangest, most alien creatures. Perhaps that was true. But the alien creatures were not so different from the common folk. Their worst attribute, if you must criticize...was a nasty penchant for devastating mass warfare.How did this come to pass? The Great Beings made the Great Spirit Robot, the Matoran Universe, and all that was in it. All its people. In their quest to create new and better things...a being and an idea were born. To create better, stronger Matoran. They knew from their experience on Bara Magna that flesh had its advantages...and its downfalls. They would not create pure robots, no. But it would be quite close...holding only the flesh necessary for life.First, Protodermis would be needed...but that was not all. Energon, the lifeblood of this race, was created. A form of energy that could sustain such a tipped balance of Matoran and machine, converted from the common energy upon entry into the body. It held no advantage, in truth. It was simply more fitted to their body types, allowing them to function only as the common beings did.Many entities aside from the Great Spirit that held power were created. Tren Krom, the Makuta, even things that should never be spoken of. The relevant being to this story was Primus. A truly massive being, holding greater power than any Toa. He was created to be the lord of this race, and yet...he was left alone. Like so many creations of the Great Beings, he was left alone. They did, however, as a failsafe, purge him of any darkness that could ever be in his heart. He could do no wrong, commit no crime. Even darkness, however, must go somewhere.Primus had nothing. Great power, incredible size, and yet nothing. To finish the little experiment of the Great Beings, he did something no one of the time could dream of. He transformedHe sank into the Sea of Protodermis, accepting that he could not live as both god and man. He shifted his entire body into the shape of an island...Keretao, an ancient word for robot. That was nearly what his inhabitants would be.Just as the Great Beings had made it, Keretao had the right conditions for this new life to spring up.They were the same as the rest, yet different. Toa, Matoran, Skakdi, Vortixx, and even Turaga came of this. How, then, were these beings same yet different? They, unlike others, were not 85 percent mechanical and 15 percent organic. Rather, they were 95 percent mechanical and 5 percent organic. That is the difference. The similarity was quite like that of the beings inhabiting a distant world...Earth. Are they not Russian, English, Asian, African, and yet still human? And so they were Toa, Matoran, Skakdi, Vortixx, and Turaga...but Cybertronian.They knew of their creator, Primus, and worshipped him rightly. All was well. Primus cared for them more than the Great Beings ever did, and the place was perfect.Only a darkness the size of their "god" Primus could end this happiness. A darkness, that sadly, was all too real. Even darkness...must go somewhere.
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To Take The Stars From The Sky Sweat pouring down his face, a tall, somewhat-bulky Toa of Iron repeatedly brought his hammer down on a piece of self-created protosteel, using his powers to influence the metal. Even with increased endurance, the forge’s temperatures were nearly unbearable. As he worked in the blistering heat, Tirus breathed heavily, his chest heaving every time he drew in, and released air.There had been news of a force closing in on the Ta-Wahian village of Dencry, but inside the forge, inside his element, the approaching danger was ignored by Tirus. There was only the metal before him, the sparks in the air, and the fire in the stone cubicle. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he placed the metal in the heat once more, closing his eyes as he focused, loosing the metal, softening it. Protosteel was nigh-unsmithable, but he needed the widgets. Sighing, he pulled out the metal, twirling the hammer with his free hand. In seconds, the metal was back on the anvil, and the sounds of hammer strikes filled the air. His creation’s shape was beginning to be revealed, An amulet, round and curving, bulging in the center, covered with twirling and arcing steel lines. In a few minutes, the miracle of metal working was finished, and he placed it in the water barrel, never flinching at the screams and hiss of liquid evaporating. Wiping off the sweat with a blackened rag, he managed a smile as he opened the door that connected the smithy to a waiting-room. As his eyes fell upon his customer, he blushed. A Vortixx, dressed in rather expensive clothes, sat formally, her hands clasped in her lap. The reason for Tirus’s embarrassment was simple; He only wore a pair of tattered jeans when smithing. The request for the item was delivered by messenger, he had no idea who wanted the creation, only what time they’d be showing up. Handing the amulet to her, he spoke. “That was a rather interesting request. May I ask what you intend to do with this?” The blushing in his cheeks died down as he spoke.“It… It is a gift.” She said, her voice starting out dignified, and slowly descending into something more casual. “A gift for someone I have yet to meet.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke. Sitting down in the seat opposite to hers, he grinned slightly. “Someone you have yet to met, eh?” He winced as he used improper speech, subconsciously revert to his preferred style of speaking. “Yes…” She said, now the one blushing. “For a lover.” She glanced up at him as she spoke. “Well then,” Tirus hastily replied. “I wish you the best of luck in finding that man.”After giving her thanks, the Vortixx left, and Tirus sat there, pondering on what she had meant with the last sentence.“Oh my-” He said as he slammed his palm against his forehead. “Am I daft?! She meant me!” That was the last time Tirus saw the Vortixx. Many nights, he would dream of seeing her again, but never in the flesh did it happen. In the weeks after Tirus’s smithing of the amulet, the village of Dencry erupted in war with the Onu-Wahian city of Shadefist, ruled by the Tyrant only known as Onyx. Every able-bodied male and female was drafted, and Tirus quickly made his way through the ranks, growing hard as he witnessed more and more deaths, interrogations, and scenes of despair. He lost his innocence in that war, something he could never regain, not that he tried in those times. He, a youth, able-bodied, bright, and friendly, had his soul twisted, so that he became a shining knight with a less than-shiny essence. He killed, tortured and destroyed in the name of his superiors, and he did it without hesitation. One day, when razing a farmhouse, and the surrounding fields to the ground, Tirus came upon a scene that made him question the fact his side was the ‘good one’. After burning the house to the ground, he was tasked, along with two subordinates, in finding all and any survivors. After rounding up the two Vortixx owners, he went out in search of their offspring, a male and female of age only slightly less than his. The corpse of the male was identified, burned badly, but the female was still alluding capture. His two subordinates off looking for her, he sifted through the ashes of what had previously been a beautiful structure. Their were few things that survived the fire, metal and crystal jewelry and weapons for the most part, but one family heirloom, a wooden display case, survived. Opening the badly burned construct, he discovered a single clay slab inside, carved on it, the likeness of the Vortixx family, all standing side by side, smiles on their faces. Putting the slab in his pack, he leapt onto his mount. As he began to search for the two privates who he was tasked with leading, a piercing scream filled the air. Laying flat on his mount, a Kane-ra bull, he sped towards where the sound came from. Dismounting, he came upon a horrifying scene, two Skakdi, privates in the army of his village, drawing their blades on the Vortixx female, who laid in the mud, the clothes left on her in tatters. “STEP ASIDE!” Tirus roared in anger, pushing the two stunned Skakdi away. Kneeling down, he checked her pulse. Bruises covered her arms and torso, and her eyes were wet with tears. As he gently picked her up, she managed to whisper. “You’re one of them… why would you do this?” She asked, her voice only audible to him. His mouth contorting into a frown, he spoke. “Because I feel no need for more death.” “You destroyed all I have… why stop now, after all that?” She asked. The question stunned him. “I destroyed because… because I was I told.” He replied, his thoughts being tested. “And If they told you to take the stars from the sky? To take the shine from the sun? To take the life from your loved ones, would you do this too?” Tirus remained many silent many moments after she asked this question. He had never stopped to think, never stopped to question. A single tear fell down his cheek, he spoke. “I never… I never thought-” He began, choking up as he spoke. “I… I’m sorry.” He managed to continue as he laid her limp form on the Kane-Ra. Only as he rode through the woods, did he begin to speak once more.“You… I…” He said, unable to find words to translate his thoughts. “You… You are truly sorry for your actions.” She managed to say, her voice wavering. “You are different…” Pausing her speech, she pulled something off her neck with one of her arms, putting around his. Instantly, Tirus knew what it was. The amulet he had created so many years previous, the amulet which he gave to the Vortixx of which he dreamed often. The Vortixx of which now laid in front of him, nearing death. “You… My smithy…” He began to say, tears streaming down his cheeks freely. “Yes… That was… me…” She said, tears flowing from her eyes as well. “I give you this… for you… are… my… last… friend… my… lover…” She said, her voice a barely audible whisper. “Don’t. Don’t leave me.” Tirus wept , holding her hand against his chest. She couldn’t leave. Not now. These were the only thoughts in his mind as he rode at a foolishly break-neck pace. There was no mount. No trees. No forest. Only him, her, and the words.***The words had cheated him. The Vortixx had already been dead when he arrived at the Ta-Koro hospital. He had officially been branded a deserter, and had changed his name. Tirus was the only thing he went by now. Shadefist had won the war, but he cared not. Nothing mattered after that day. After that day, he would drown his thoughts in a innumerable amount of bottles. Tears fell freely, mixed with whiskey. One day, after a particularly vicious bar-fight, he laid bloody in the street, resembling his lover from so many years ago, when a stranger appeared, dressed in a cloak. He towered over the Toa, and the words he spoke to the half-conscious Tirus were the best he had heard in a while. “Hmmm… that was quite a fight. Twelve against one, and you killed all but the last one. That mace undoubtedly packed quite the punch.” He continued as he leaned down next to him. “Oh, I know you can hear me. Know the name of your savior, Toa.” The being said as he lifted Tirus up, and began to drag him towards the nearest hospital. “Know me as The Great Hound.”
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Well, I guess its about time I finished this. So, I give you Auron, Toa of Fire, for AuRon the Champion. Clickable In addition to wanting it to have a bit more movement then my other drawings, I put most of the effort in trying to make it both MoC accurate without drawing the MoC itself. A sort of balance between the TLR style and a more "human" form.Colored using Photoshop CS5 [*]About 4 hours sketching[*]2 hours coloring.C & C welcome.
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As the Snow falls, as the Hail pelts Screams, so intense and terrible that only a female giving birth could make them, destroyed the silence of icy Ko-Wahi. The screams came from a small, deteriorating shack, secluded and, for the most part, forgotten. It was normally a silent, uneventful place, but tonight, as the snow falls, and the hail pelts, a new individual was being born.Inside the small, rotting-walled shack, a sweating, moaning Toa of Water was being encouraged by a tall, thin Toa of Ice. “You can do it.” The Toa of Ice encouraged, his voice uniquely beautiful and distracting. There was something in the way he moved, something hidden and dangerous. Like a beast confined, waiting to be released. A fire crackled in the hearth, but he ignored the heat.Turning her head, the Toa of Water smiled at him. “Kirian…” She said, lifting her hand to his cheek. Her touch, while gentle and feminine, had a distinguishing, strong quality to it. The grip of one who fought for what she believed in. “It’s coming…”Kirian cursed panickedly as he stepped to where he was previously kneeling, the foot of the bed on which she laid. A smile on his face, he spoke encouragingly. “One more push!” With a low-pitched scream, the Toa of Water did as she was told. Soon, her cry was overshadowed by another, high-pitched one. She stopped instantly, but the second cry continued. “Is it okay?” She asked between gasps.“She’s perfect, Ayana.” He said quietly, cleaning her as he walked over. Stopping next to the child’s wide-eyed mother, and his wife, he placed the crying baby into her arms. “My beautiful daughter…” Ayana said softly, tears of joy flowing down her cheeks. “My beautiful Gahuari.”Kirian smiled softly at the now-quiet infant, who beamed up at her father. As he leaned down next to her, a furious knocking at the door startled both him and Ayana. Cautiously walking over to the door, he spoke. “What do you want?”.A lengthy silence followed, and the knocking abruptly ceased. As Kirian waited, a few steps from the door, the sound of something heavy being picked up could be heard. As Kirian warily took another step back, a massive boulder crashed through the door.Looking up from where he kneeled, bleeding and holding a gaping cut on his thigh closed, Kirian stared at a group of two dozen bounty hunters.“Want we want, convict, is your head.” the apparent leader of the group said, holding a stone tablet in front of him like it carried a disease. The tablet read MURDER, REWARD DEAD ONLY, with a likeness of Kirian on below the headline, and the reward -a hefty 25,000 widgets- below. Silence followed the bounty hunter’s statement. Kirian looked up at the multitude of them, unsettling calm the only emotion he seemed to possess. “Well then.” He said, his voice crystal clear, as if he was addressing a crowd. “I guess this won’t end well.”“Karz right it won’t.” The leader grinned. “Come outside calmly, and we’ll give you a painless death. But for your friend there, she won‘t-”The hunter’s words were ended abruptly, for an arrow protruding through his neck, fired by Kirian, prevented further speech. With a cry of outrage, the other twenty ran into the small space, and only two stayed back, waiting for the moment to strike.Cries of pain and screams of anguish filled the cold night, for Kirian, wielding a length of steel that was formerly used for shifting logs in the fire, using his medical knowledge to strike where death, or at the least, unbearable pain would be caused. First four, then six, and then a entire dozen of them met their fate as he merciless beat them to death.As the next ten advanced, a Toa of Iron revealed himself, and absorbed the weapon. After killing him with his hands alone, Kirian ripped his sword out of his sheath, and proceeded to cut down three others. By now, the remaining hunters had learned to stay out of reach, and were spreading out, though careful to avoid the south corner of the room, where Ayana lied. The third bounty-hunter had attempted to strike her, and Kirian had rendered his corpse unrecognizable.Snarling a challenge, Kirian literally leapt at a Skakdi, his blade piercing his leather armor with ease. A Vortixx, as he attempted to retreat, had his life taken gruesomely. Only two remained, and Kirian stood a few feet in front of a terrified Ayana, who stared at the mangled corpses in disbelief. Kirian’s mind had lost all rationality.When the smarter of the two bounty hunters controlled the flames of the fire so that they disappeared, they were all plunged into darkness.The Toa of Fire created a ball of fire so that he could see. The foolish -and fatal- mistake allowed Kirian to heave a particularly heavy log directly at the Toa’s head, killing him instantly.Listening closely for the last hunter, Kirian heard the sound of breathing behind him, and he whipped around, driving the sword into flesh. Standing up, he pulled the sword back, only to whip it around again as a mighty roar sounded. The blade once again met flesh, and the true last bounty hunter fell dead.“If that was the last…” Kirian thought allowed. Suddenly his eyes went wide, and he paled. “Oh Mata-Nui…” He breathed, rushing over to Ayana’s bedside, where she lay, bleeding from a fatal wound. Before he even got to her, she died, gasping, only to never make a sound again.That night, as the snow fell, and the hail pelted, the darkness was filled with two new sounds, the wailing of a child, and the sobbing of Kirian.***Hound, his golden and black armor hidden beneath a thick, furred cloak, walked through the icy wasteland of Ko-Wahi. He walked leisurely, humming a deep, orchestral tune as he trudged through the snow.The titan-sized being seemed perfectly home in any element, and as the sound of Rahi could be heard in the distance, he continued his journey, never pausing, never tiring. In hours, which he treated like minutes, he reached the rotting, decaying shack. Silence reigned, except for the bleating of a small, goat-like Rahi, tied to the house, a lone infant Rahi next to it. “Hmmm…” Hound murmured, sounding thoroughly amused.Opening the door, Hound stared at the trail of drying blood. “His skill is as good as they say.” He said quietly, looking at the bundle of bodies, tied together, and shoved in the corner. Only Ayana’s body wasn’t there, for Kirian had spent the entire day after the tragedy burying her.“Kirian, you can come out now.” Hound said, amusement in his voice. “The Huna doesn’t stop noise. I can hear you breathing.” The Denuian continued, sitting down on one of the decaying chairs, which groaned and creaked in protest.The Toa of Ice appeared, holding Gahuari. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stared at Hound, anger and rage visible on his face.“Now, now.” Hound said, wagging a finger at him like one would at a naughty child. “Don’t give me that look. I’m not here to hurt you, I have an offer.” He continued, smiling a smile, faking friendliness. “From your silence, I’m assuming you’ve allowed my continuation. I’m gathering a team. I’m looking for people that no one will miss. I dare say that the Guards would pay me to take these beings. That’s right, I know about your ‘condition’. Your tendency to mentally snap, to lose all rationality at a moment’s notice. I dare say you’ve made a display of it here. Back on my original conversation, I have a mission, suicidal and unappealing, but I have a feeling you’ll accept it.”Pausing from his speech, Hound’s eyes wandered from Kirian to Gahuari. “What do you have to lose? Ah, yes, your child. But what would happen if she stays with you? Do you want her to live a life of bloodshed and screams? The child’s seen enough death in the last week than most see in their lives. So I a present you an offer; You’re child’s safety, in the form of a new home in Ga-Koro, for your services to me.” When Hound finished, he made no noise or move, letting the words seep into Kirian’s mind.“I accept.” The Toa of Ice said slowly, eyeing the Denuian warily.“Good!” Hound said, genuine happiness in his voice. “You start now.” With that, Hound shot forward, grabbing Gahuari from him, and then stepping out of reach of the blow Kirian intended. “I have a friend at Ko-Koro. He’ll deliver this child to her new home.” The Denuian explained to the confused Kirian. “Until then, I shall hold her. Don’t want the offer to be reconsidered, do I?”With that, the Denuian calmly walked into the cold, wrapping his cloak around the child, and taking the pain of the cold upon himself. Kirian noticed this as he walked behind, and from that moment on, viewed the Denuian with respect.
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Well, I've been thinking long and hard of how to do this right. You may remember my old Tahuva Drawing from before. You may also know that he was based on Optimus Prime, and codenamed as such when he wanted to hide his identity.And if so, you may have wanted to know what he looks like in full color. I had to use GIMP to fix the image to make it possible to color, as it was hand-drawn and quite unfortunately saved as a JPG. (I didn't know the repercussions of doing such a thing until recently.)However, through a few hours of work, I have managed the Final, Full-Color, Tahuva/Optimus Prime drawing.The coloring looks very strange if you zoom in. For the sake of your eyes I would advise not to. C&C greatly appreciated.
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This is for review of my new BZPRPG backstory epic, Psycho. Please check back regularly for an updated Table of Contents.Thanks for reading (and hopefully reviewing)!Table of ContentsPrologueChapter 1Chapter 2-Teezy
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(Click for full sizes) This is Sumiki's BZPRPG character. It's probably one of my best art pieces to date.
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Her final stare was like one of those mannequins that you see in store windows, staring down at you, daring you to turn away, creating that one static electricity moment in your brain where you're sure that if you're turn away, you'll miss something, anything, and that moment will be gone and you'll have lost something that you'll never find again.I look away. She's gone. Boom.I'm lost in a brilliant sea of green as her final, punctuating stare pierces the depths of my ego, my heart, and burrows its way into the depths of my soul and plants itself there like a flower.No.A weed.There's that old saying, "It's not really her you miss. It's the idea of her."I'd like to call bull. All those feelings, those memories, those times you spent fighting side by side with her, you can't just flip a switch and bury them. Nor can you merely just forget about her. Trust me. I have tried and tried and tried.And now that final, sad stare is stabbing through me, and then there's the familiar, aching feeling of my body being jerked back into reality, as if I'd been hooked to an electric chair and the guy goes to throw the switch and then pulls his hand back, laughing, screaming "PSYCH!" at the top of his lungs.And I'm in my bed. And I still remember.Flashback one is a go.**********The very concept of a Toa Team is an abstract one. There will always be the inevitable clash of egos, the pointless bickering over stupid, mundane points that end up getting settled by rock, paper, scissors...And there's always that girl. That one girl who tries to keep the team together no matter what and acts like the sister figure for everyone.The anchor.And she was that girl. Looking back on that final conversation, that final job, I often began to wonder who exactly triggered the conversation, and when it was triggered in the first place. You know that final time you speak to a loved one, that final time you get to sit next to her in a classroom or walk next to her on a job? You know how you look back on that moment in the past and wonder, "What could I have said?"I do that all the time.She had a lot of uncertainty. A lot of worry. The conversation was littered with a huge amount of "What ifs?" and "How's?" and that's something I could understand even then and empathize with. It's a hard knock life, being a Toa. You're pretty much thrown into a job that, from the moment of inception, tells you how exactly you're going to live your life and how you're going to end up dying. The problem is that this society has given us a set path to live on, and if you screw up that path, it's gonna destroy your entire life. A failed Rahi kill here. An argument there. Boom. Life = blown.I do not believe that life is so linear that I am defined by such individual events.She told me that she wished this were it, that she wished this was the last job, that we could be together.Wishes are a freaking joke, man. Wishes are a waste of time. Wishes are for people who look back on their lives in their twilight while trying to futilely pause the moment, trying to grab that last ray of sunshine and rope the sneaky little prick back into their lives. Wishes are for people who will inevitably look back on their lives with a remarkable amount of regret because in that moment, in that one moment, they couldn't do what really needed to be done.I love you, I said to her. She loved me, too, she said back.I smiled.She smiled.And then the ambush. Not the metaphorical, moron Toa of Air that pops up and bludgeons the moment to death with his insolence and his ego. I'm talking bona fide, Rahi on all sides, we're gonna die in this hellhole ambush.And then the blackout.When I came to, I was standing inside of a pool of Rahi and Toa blood, and my teammates are all lying mutilated on all sides, and she's sitting there, propped into the weakest position imaginable, still breathing, and for a moment, my eyes decide they're gonna screw around with my brain and erase the giant tail wound that's ripped her abdomen open and torn her guts into a sick Chelsea grin.I bent down and held her in that final moment. What did I say? What could I say?Nothing. I just held her. Then I looked away.Boom. She was gone.Timeskip is a go.*******Anyway, I'm sitting in bed, still trying to figure out if this is all some sort of joke, some kind of sick, twisted game my mind's been playing on me all alone. I blink a couple times and stretch, and as I turn to see if she's beside me, I catch a glimpse of a small, ornate, cool blue shape on my right shoulder. My Mark. The Mark.It wasn't a dream, after all.I'm still Dorian Shaddix, psychopath extraordinaire and the butcher of thousands.And I'm still a failure.Hear me, my chiefs. I am tired. My heart is sick and sad.From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.*******This story was based off the past of one of my BZPRPG chars, Dorian, who's a really screwed up dude. I kind of wanted to give some background into his story, try and explain things from his point of view. This is my first real first person story, so feel free to call me out on my screwups!-Teezy
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Her final stare was like one of those mannequins that you see in store windows, staring down at you, daring you to turn away, creating that one static electricity moment in your brain where you're sure that if you're turn away, you'll miss something, anything, and that moment will be gone and you'll have lost something that you'll never find again.I look away. She's gone. Boom.I'm lost in a brilliant sea of green as her final, punctuating stare pierces the depths of my ego, my heart, and burrows its way into the depths of my soul and plants itself there like a flower.No.A weed.There's that old saying, "It's not really her you miss. It's the idea of her."I'd like to call bullcark. All those feelings, those memories, those times you spent fighting side by side with her, you can't just flip a switch and bury them. Nor can you merely just forget about her. Trust me. I have tried and tried and tried.And now that final, sad stare is stabbing through me, and then there's the familiar, aching feeling of my body being jerked back into reality, as if I'd been hooked to an electric chair and the guy goes to throw the switch and then pulls his hand back, laughing, screaming "PSYCH!" at the top of his lungs.And I'm in my bed. And I still remember.Flashback one is a go.**********The very concept of a Toa Team is an abstract one. There will always be the inevitable clash of egos, the pointless bickering over stupid, mundane points that end up getting settled by rock, paper, scissors...And there's always that girl. That one girl who tries to keep the team together no matter what and acts like the sister figure for everyone.The anchor.And she was that girl. Looking back on that final conversation, that final job, I often began to wonder who exactly triggered the conversation, and when it was triggered in the first place. You know that final time you speak to a loved one, that final time you get to sit next to her in a classroom or walk next to her on a job? You know how you look back on that moment in the past and wonder, "What could I have said?"I do that all the time.She had a lot of uncertainty. A lot of worry. The conversation was littered with a huge amount of "What ifs?" and "How's?" and that's something I could understand even then and empathize with. It's a hard knock life, being a Toa. You're pretty much thrown into a job that, from the moment of inception, tells you how exactly you're going to live your life and how you're going to end up dying. The problem is that this society has given us a set path to live on, and if you screw up that path, it's gonna destroy your entire life. A failed Rahi kill here. An argument there. Boom. Life = blown.I do not believe that life is so linear that I am defined by such individual events.She told me that she wished this were it, that she wished this was the last job, that we could be together.Wishes are a freaking joke, man. Wishes are a waste of time. Wishes are for people who look back on their lives in their twilight while trying to futilely pause the moment, trying to grab that last ray of sunshine and rope the sneaky little prick back into their lives. Wishes are for people who will inevitably look back on their lives with a remarkable amount of regret because in that moment, in that one moment, they couldn't do what really needed to be done.I love you, I said to her. She loved me, too, she said back.I smiled.She smiled.And then the ambush. Not the metaphorical, moron Toa of Air that pops up and bludgeons the moment to death with his insolence and his ego. I'm talking bona fide, Rahi on all sides, we're gonna die in this hellhole ambush.And then the blackout.When I came to, I was standing inside of a pool of Rahi and Toa blood, and my teammates are all lying mutilated on all sides, and she's sitting there, propped into the weakest position imaginable, still breathing, and for a moment, my eyes decide they're gonna screw around with my brain and erase the giant tail wound that's ripped her abdomen open and torn her guts into a sick Chelsea grin.I bent down and held her in that final moment. What did I say? What could I say?Nothing. I just held her. Then I looked away.Boom. She was gone.Timeskip is a go.*******Anyway, I'm sitting in bed, still trying to figure out if this is all some sort of joke, some kind of sick, twisted game my mind's been playing on me all alone. I blink a couple times and stretch, and as I turn to see if she's beside me, I catch a glimpse of a small, ornate, cool blue shape on my right shoulder. My Mark. The Mark.It wasn't a dream, after all.I'm still Dorian Shaddix, psychopath extraordinaire and the butcher of thousands.And I'm still a failure.Hear me, my chiefs. I am tired. My heart is sick and sad.From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.*******This story was based off the past of one of my BZPRPG chars, Dorian, who's a really screwed up dude. I kind of wanted to give some background into his story, try and explain things from his point of view. This is my first real first person story, so feel free to call me out on my screwups!-TeezyNO NO NO NO.I accidentally double posted this topic. :cReporting to a staff member.-Teezy
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So, after a not-so-long wait (And no one was waiting) I finally finished sketching one of my newest characters in the BZPRPG: Embok.Clicky!(Large-ish image)C & C extremely welcome. So, anything I should change/add/get rid of before I ink/color it?
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A Ko-matoran trapper, Kreigero goes to the drifts to do her hunting.Drew, scanned, darkened, rescanned, uploaded.It may be a bit big, though.
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Overdue RendezvousOriginal sketch drawn with pencil ~40 minutes, scanned and digitalized with a tablet ~20 hours. No custom brushes were used.I'm happy that I managed to finish this, and am happy with how it turned out.Next up my AC #18 entry.- 55555
