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IC: (The Tower) As Taldrix produced her papers, Trem immediately looked to Kast, who was squinting at Crucius' signature with a furrowed brow. It might just have been a matter of literacy; however, the anxiety in Trem's eyes – in both guards' eyes – suggested otherwise. This, it was clear, was quite definitely not standard procedure. Kast looked back to Taldrix, making no effort to disguise his suspicion or his hostility. He seemed just about to say something when, instead, he moved his spear aside, and Trem followed his lead as he turned the handle and allowed the metal door to swing open. The way was clear. The first thing that hit Taldrix was a wave of cool, stale air. As she entered, the door was slowly shut behind her, leaving nowhere to go but forward, up the steep, spiralling stone staircase. It wasn't merely cool inside – it was cold, cold enough to make her shiver, as if she had stepped back into the frigid North where the Skrall had made their home. Metal pipes wound along the walls, encrusted at their joints with a thin layer of ice. There were no windows in this part of the tower; the Ghost's first order upon making it his home had been to have them bricked up. Instead, the stairs were bathed in a sickly yellow glow from some dull light source far above. All that was left now was the climb. As Taldrix ascended, she noticed salt on the stairs, crunching underfoot. It was a typical Northern solution to snow and ice, and despite the frost upon the pipes, it kept the stone steps from being rendered any more hazardous than they already were. The cold seemed less fierce the further she rose, perhaps in part because she was growing accustomed to it, but the ice on the pipes grew thinner and dripped with condensation. The light, too, was brighter this close to the source; she was almost at the top. And there, at the summit of the stairs, was another metal door. Before she had even had the chance to knock, she heard a voice call out to her from inside: "The door is open; please, do step on in." The man who spoke stood at the other end of the room beyond, his back to her. Far from the oppressive heat outside or the stifling cold below, the temperature within seemed perfectly tuned, if just a little on the cool side. The room itself seemed fit for an emperor, with chairs and tables of Tesaran wood scattered around it. One seemed to be for eating, another a desk, another again set aside for a board game, and finally there was a chairless, long table with a map draped across it. "Please, please sit – I've just put the kettle on." His voice was soft and warm, and as he turned he gestured towards a square table, across which two comfortable chairs faced one another. Semi-opaque drapes hung over the window, and the sunlight that filtered through was rendered warm and dim. Even with her eyes having adjusted to the dull illumination of the stairwell, the man's dark skin and garb made it difficult to discern his features. He didn't look all that different from any Agori – taller, certainly, but he would still come up short against most any Glatorian. His most striking feature, however, was only accentuated by the murky light: As Taldrix looked upon the Ghost, four glowing blue eyes looked back at her. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: "You know, thought I'd see what I caught." For a second Krayn throught he would have to reevaluate the Toa's intelligence. What in Nui's name was he waiting for? He was about to shout when the idea seemed to register, and the swimmer grabbed the hook and gave two distinct tugs. "Grapple's going to do most of the work," he answered, double-checking his foot's purchase beneath the cleat before he triggered the reel-in. He wasn't concerned about the weight, the only challenge was that he was supposed to be the object remaining stationary. He would have liked to brace on the railing with his left, but... His arm didn't hang uselessly at his side, but it did remain purposeless. It wouldn't help. "Just make sure I don't go over instead. Lunatic weighs more than I do right now, I think." @otter @Razgriz

IC: "You know, I do believe he's going for it." Krayn almost didn't realize he'd spoken out loud, so caught up was he with a sudden curiosity. He had been watching the coast, what little of it there was to look at. It was still a part of Mata Nui, and he had been dwelling on the great journey that loomed ahead far out into the Endless Ocean. Far away from home. The gray Toa there on the docks had only caught his attention as a matter of habit; Krayn had watched him look to the sea, to the village, and back enough times to recognize someone trying to make a decision. What he hadn't expected was the Toa to turn and sprint like Makuta himself was hot on his heels. Was he really trying to catch the ship? That was his best idea? He wasn't wearing a Kakama, or he'd have made it already. Curiosity, and a little amusement, brought his focus into the present more than anything else. He shook his sleeve a little, a motion he'd been practicing, to make sure it was clear of his new grappling hook. He thought maybe he would have to go fishing, soon. See what he caught. @Razgriz

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) A fresh smile flitted across his lips for the briefest of instants, but it was not the practised facade he had worn before – there was a hint of wryness to it that made it seem almost real. His eyes changed, too, bearing a spark of what might have been admiration (or perhaps just amusement) as he began to re-appraise her. "Three days… and here you are, lucid, articulate, and without any obvious physical symptoms of withdrawal. There may be hope for you yet; I had anticipated your affliction would be much more severe." As he returned to his seat, his false smile was back in force. "And it is an affliction. I don't hold with those who believe addiction to be a weakness of character – it is an ailment, though perhaps closer to a handicap than a disease. So you see, when I turned down Crucius' recommendations, it wasn't personal; it was merely pragmatic. I would no more trust an addict than send a lame man to walk the perimeter." He explained himself so matter-of-factly and with such easy confidence as to make his words feel obvious, a simple matter of common sense; it was easy to picture him standing before an audience of nodding heads and murmured agreement. "I believed the risk outweighed any potential value you might have as an asset, but I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong. So… prove me wrong." His perfect smile struggled to resist the urge to become a smirk. "There are gaps in the information you have provided me. I need to know everything she told you – especially if she gave examples of patients. Did she mention any age groups? Or anyone who wasn't afflicted?" IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) Cacia smiled, a tad condescendingly. "Oh, we're already fully booked until the games are over. The earliest appointment I have is for two weeks after the closing ceremony." OOC: @Toru Nui @Jesse Pinkman

IC: Karak - Celrys' Workshop A firmer grasp on these people's language would do me a lot of good. For now I have to rely on his body language and intonation, was he aiming to leave? The word 'Games' taps against the previously discussed arena. One word in a puzzle I was struggling to put together. For now I glance away. He was leaving - and if his intent was to stalk he had gained little from his excursion here. Best not to follow into a prepared trap, if there indeed was one.

IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - The Problem With Writing Competent Characters Is That YOU Have to Write Them Clever girl. Now, Lutenus could say ‘I do not’ and continue… but he needed to be in ideal condition for the actual fights. He had already taken a spear to the chest and other miscellaneous minor injuries, liable to increase even if he did win the bout. His profession as a gladiatorial combatant would be far simpler and easier if he didn’t have to bother about… “I do.” He said. His cybernetic eye squirmed a bit as he said this. @oncertainty @Techn0geist IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - Spice “...Three days.” Taldrix confessed. Even admitting that there was a problem was like pulling out one of her own teeth, but she suspected that the Ghost would do something far worse than impromptu dentistry if she wasn’t straight with him. “It doesn’t affect my work, I promise.” Which was technically true, Taldrix made sure to destroy anything she wrote down under the influence of Spice before it could be read or distributed. He wasn’t about to… tell her to stop, was he? She needed the Spice. The Spice must flow. @a goose

"Gathered friends. Listen again to our legend... of the BIONICLE." I wanted to celebrate Mask of Light's 20th. We all know, I'm sure, that it's not the greatest movie out there by a long shot: but on a personal level it's still one with incredible significance to me. It's one HUGE part of my... well, not really childhood, it just slightly missed that, more like teenagerhood? It came along just after I'd started Secondary School (i.e. UK middle-to-high school) and was feeling very self-conscious about the move up there; having something so new and fantastic from my then-favourite fandom to latch onto... I can hardly overstate what a massive help that was in keeping me grounded. Very happy 20th, Mask of Light; and an immense thank-you to all those who made it a reality just when I needed it most.

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The Ghost took a seat opposite her, accepting the proffered notes. "Interesting. Thank you – Taldrix, isn't it?" Even as he spoke, his eyes were scanning the papers. At first, Taldrix was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she was still being observed just as closely, as if he kept one pair of eyes on her while the other read, but it wasn't long before the notes had his full, rapt attention. His singular focus was a strange thing to behold; the speed at which his eyes moved, the slightest twitchings of his mouth as he read, it looked as if he were in some kind of manic trance. As detached from the world around as if he were dreaming, but as awake and attentive as a dune-cat eyeing its prey. This close, she could see that her initial assessment was even more accurate than she might have expected: his face was uncannily like that of an Agori, barring the most obvious difference. The eyes were real, there was no doubt about that – even that mad artificer in Tajun had yet to create a mechanical eye that could so convincingly mimic the real thing – and there was no scarring or stretching of the skin to suggest surgical implantation. He was real, flesh and blood… and metal. His hands, she noticed, were black metal, intricately built and meticulously maintained, a far sight from the jury-rigged chrome of his followers' augmentations. "This… this is… Lords. A full accounting of the progression of symptoms… fascinating, but…" Whatever he had intended to say next, the whistle of the kettle cut him off. "Ah. Pardon me for just a moment." As he stood, he left the notes upon the table. "Say – would you care for a cup? Tesaran tea; good for the nerves." OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Lorqua - Training Ground, Outskirts of Atero One more javelin. Just the one more. Lorqua, sensing somewhere deep in her psyche that she couldn't go on much longer—one way or another—did not retreat from Lutenus' assault. Instead, she stormed forward in turn, twisting her body to obscure the path of her thrust. Already once-chastised, the thrust wasn't as strong nor as well-aimed as it could have been. At least she gave them a show. Their audience of two bored Agori, at least one among whom obviously thought that she and Lutenus had some kind of angle in being there. So be it. OOC: @Toru Nui @Techn0geist IC: Escus - Precipere, Outside the Guard Post Escus, already standing, fell into step with Tueris. Outdoors, as the party make their way to the elevator, he watches the few Ash Agori who go about their business in Precipere. A furtive bunch, so far as he could tell. In his own way, Escus encouraged their mien. The Doctor had already made the majority view on Tajunites clear enough. Who was Escus to disprove the stereotype? He gave a small, wolfish smirk to any who met his eyes. Let them tell one another of his passage. Let them call him the organ-hungry Glatorian of Water. OOC: @a goose @Toru Nui @Nato G @Burnmad @~Xemnas~

IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "What the other path is. Bigger than the villages, bigger than the island." For a moment, his gaze left Krayn and found the middle distance. In the swirl that an untimely sleep following one skipped completely left the memory, the absent Captain's words needed a moment to piece themselves together from the fore. The waking moments he'd afforded himself since had all been a rush— all he knew was that he'd have gone crazy if he didn't go down the road he'd never worked up the nerve, conviction, motivation, whatever it was... to take. There was barely even any time to half-form the question that slipped into the air. "Dehkaz said that if I wasn't fit to be a good Guard, I should swing by here, and see what could be done besides wait for the trouble to come to us. I can't say he mentioned 'Aggressors', but..." His head quirked a little to the side, as if acknowledging an unmade point. "It sounds like the name fits. And I'm a pretty bad beat cop. Here I am."

IC: "If I remember right, he was a Matoran of...Lightning, I think," I replied to Pirok's questioning. Evidently, he didn't care to take any of our warnings into account. "He wore a Komau, and the name he gave us was Aerus. His health wasn't the best, and eventually we lost him. I don't really remember when, specifically—there were other things on my mind at the time than just Echelon and his people." If he wouldn't listen to reason, so be it. I had other things to do anyways, before the ship eventually left again. First, though... "Skyra, if you fall on your head, I'm making you heal the old way." * * * Eventually, dusk did come, and it was time for the ship to leave. Between my own search and what I'd asked Skyra to find for me, my cabinets were well-stocked for the coming trip. But, as I peeked back outside, I had to wonder if I'd be using my mask and supplies sooner than expected. "I didn't take you for a fisherman, Krayn. Want help pulling him in?"

OoOoh, sweet September salutations! Fantastic Fall to all! Where to start? Is it being to real to reveal that I’m blogging from the floor? It basically became the disabled diaries here somewhere.apologies to all if I’m too real/honest and for my punctually pitiful proofreading. Oh well, of current creativity I come to tell! “You are literally Buddy the Elf” ~my mom’s reaction to what I do while she’s at work. Watermelon! From when my mom had to pay for tree removal due to their closeness to the home. I asked for the slice of tree, she kindly hauled it to the basement for me. Leftover house paints and mixes, leather jacket seeds. Now all-season shelf porch decor. Melons are Luna & Shasta attractant, apparently. Do you truly love your brother unless you visually yell at him (translation: excessively photo spam) him at all hours about your shenanigans? My slightly sloppy hanging of my Tangled +Baby Yoda 2021 dress, done for the upstairs hall wall. Clothes gently embroidery thread tied to base. From the leftover plastic from the display-dustoff covering my wings recently. White base is an old fleece throw, coversewn in an extra sheet, hung with mini-nails. *the only context in which I shall get my nails done* While bad blood pressure bumbling about I made some fall decor starting September 1st! *Vince guraldi trio jazz echoing about* inspired by me actually being forced to leave the home (doctor visits, hotel stay overnight, thus frolicking in Target and hugging every weighted plushy I could see with glee) and seeing fall stuff. Fall frolic frenzy for my mom who never had any decorations before! So many things she’s never had, like adequate house things, being unable to access the family bank account prior due to oppression. Onto a new era, where she is the queen! Still somewhat in the zone of making stuff for the home as this one was Full of Nothing. Especially exciting because my mom adores fall and Thanksgiving the most. She mourned the overlooked holiday, last year was tough, and twas time for a change! Have to chase those sunny spots of life, the sweetness through the spice! I have come to realize I’ve made our home look like a children’s library! Or an elementary school?. Do they look like this? UNC children’s hospital-school did decorate beautifully and I loved it. School there was great, 2 hours of Real work. And more often the more exciting options of: “a storyteller is here”, or “a bird man has brought you all owl pellets and has an owl with him” or “an elusive, actually employed marine biologist has brought live sea creatures to pet” or “a traveler has brought a giant circle of African drums ready to be played” or “art teacher invites all to draw a cartoon turkey” or “headband making event on floor 6!” “want to go check out the library on the 7th floor?” These amazing souls made my hospital-hostage situation unbelievably happy 🧡For the record, they let me keep my owl pellet bones (Sorry, nurse Danielle, if you’re out there..for you having to touch them..) and they are in our Lindt truffle Christmas ornament to this day. Leetle mouse skeletons. In a plastic bag though, I’m not a barbarian. Little frying pans for the alien children (mom bought measuring cups, they look too much like cast iron not to borrow for photos!) Aunt J’s hand me down blanket, little beanie baby ferret, pillow swaddled in aunt X’s orange scarf gift. I save all the greeting cards for recycling, this wreath was on one and laminated + little leaves. Masks saved and laminated from last year’s Amazon toy catalog. Must keep my Children clothes in trash, of course. Pumpkins posted prior by the wood stove. Extra carpet tiles from N&W/renovating saved for a fall rug color pop. I was last monthish years old when I realized the point of pillow covers we so they could be seasonally switched out. I had NO IDEA! Pillow covers made from pumpkin colored jersey sheet & matching Macra lace swatches. Now my mom can match the pillows when wearing the recent macaroni-necklace-quality dress as all normal humans aspire to. Buttons from grandmother’s old shirt. Pillowcase and Aunt X’s gift scarf strewn over furniture shoulders for color! Laminated leaves! Library vibes! Did not have a plan as usual and happy happened. Mid falling asleep I had an epiphany (to me): Cut up the vanilla (translation: Manila) envelopes into print paper dimensions and print monochrome maple leaf outlines on them! MS paint to the rescue. Worked happily, I added leaf veins on the backs with a sharpie. Then I found wrinkly orange tissue and got to chopping some from that, each with one simple center thread noodle. Cut, cooked & cut. The plumbing supply barnfind pumpkin from last year, & lil handmade leather returns. Wreath gold chain add-in because ideas were not flowing. Smol doll made by a wee-me as a stocking stuffer for my mom. Redressed in clothes made for my Lammily doll long ago. The company that stole my photos of my kid-created doll fashions I posted from my mom’s account (I often disclosed this because people kept trying to buy my creations), in a fan-made handmade Lammily FB group. And used the photos in ads on their foreign distributors’ doll buying sites. I accidentally discovered this myself by going on their worldwide distributor’s site to see if new releases were up in other countries first. I was shocked to find my doll photos & fashions all across them, along with a few other members’ and Etsy sellers. I, confused and crying, publicly exposed this on the group. Then the Lammily designer himself, his family members, and his PR/salesperson all joined the group suddenly and began posting. Fans were furious. I, an oblivious kid creator, busted the crowdfunded Lammily company by chance. For stealing children’s doll photos. My awesome brother wrote a cease and desist letter and we sent it. The stealing stopped and the photos were removed. The creator and their gang still stalk that group to this day. This kind of ruined the doll I’d once loved for me (I even rerooted my 2 dolls’ hair with Saran doll hair, one tiny strand at a time. The original hair was so poor quality and became a frizzball), but I had dreamy design times with her over many insomnia-sick nights, and learned from experience why people use watermarks on their photos! Maybe one day I’ll drag out some of those miniature project pictures/or retake and post here. This was how I first got into leather shoemaking, just 1/6th scale. Then Alpha-gal allergy hit months later and we had to pack up all my leatherstuff. Had a scrappy carpet tile, turned into a twisty stick tub with pumpkin beady tuft thing. Because that’s what you do in Fall. You home-alone wheelchair down by the creek, hand yank fine vines off a shrubbery, get your wheels mighty stuck in a hole, and ultimately end up unsteadily staggering back up the hill pushing the sticks in your chairseat-like you are simply a forestfairy godmother taking them on their sunny midmorning stroll. 🧡 Hummel shelf got a little late-year love. Impromptu invented some laminated hangings from an ad for plates in the pie-covered magazine, Vanilla envelopes + back mosaics from a greeting card I couldn’t part from. First attempt at wreath (base) weaving from trees/branches. Yew tree cones, wirebound feathers saved from when we had to wing-clip our Golden Comet hens (neighbor was not a hen-friend) to immobilize them. Cannot believe these wreaths are free from trees! Thanks to my mom wheeling me out and chopping stuff down for me before I hysterically had to flee from this one wicked hornet-bee. Why were these creatures given extra legs, stingers, AND wings? Terribly unfair. She cut down so much and I nearly collapsed in my chair out there trying to make bunches of wreath bases for all upcoming holidays, not wanting the dear trees to go to waste. She promised there will be others, but is this true outside of summer? I got this far before wilting entirely. It’s hopelessly 1000mph enthusiasm at any project I’m into. Acorns & Kaya. Thankful for all the tiny pinecones about the acres here! Oh! The sunflower wreaths! Van Gogh vibes! I got hopelessly unplanned obsessed with Fall-ing things for my mom and this happened. Quick crochet with a chubby hook.9 petaled and 9 per wreath. Soaked in Elmer’s and wood glue diluted and dried to stiffen (after turning my fingernails yellow using the last bottle bits of experimental Wood Hardener on them without gloves. I was out of glue, in the basement floor and too tired to care about caution. It worked well but I ran out of it!) Twist tie attached . Base is a ring cut from extra carpet tiles that I wrapped in ½-⅝” strips of shower curtain fabric. Barnyarn hung. (Random honeywand made for a doll's bee costume long ago). *You Are My Sunshine song on repeat for effect* Oh! And a little photo size sketch of my bro in Octo’ 1999 for my mom, also. 5.5hrs while in sick stupor, on a clipboard, in a car. Anxious to get obsessed with drawing again, I cannot be a bit balanced! A billion beautiful things to do! Autumn arbor from cake holder box cardboard circles and covering in PUL fabric, cork from my shoemaking stash, flooring scraps,+superglue on grandmother’s sparkle stash. And glitter paint. For the kitchen, to correlate with some other orangish round decor I’ll show below… The orange slices were a glad-ccident. I packed (for my mom to eat) oranges for the doctor stay-trip recently and they were too old and squishy. I planned to dry them in the oven for decor, but the others were surprisingly not rotten. But the want of seasonal ceiling citrus stayed, and I had more vanilla envelopes, couldn’t say nope! The juicy bits brightened with orange highlighter. Printed from monochrome clip art as printing the orange ink ones on yellow paper gave me lime slices. Saving those surprises for spring/summer! Tied to crochet chains created with my mom’s megahook. Citrus garland was a tad thin, made a Macra lace & sheet scrap garland to thicken. Corner shelf stolen from closet upstairs, free from the HUD home. Sturdy succulent stand! Oh, but I’ve not yet told of that, must scroll to get to that. Sorry for discombobulated me! Cut carpet tiles into centerpiece. Shabby lil fresh woven wreath because too tired to try harder. I tend to take out the legs of the dining set with my wheelchair. Awful to make mom’s new homey look shabby! Daring to destroy my spring chalk paintjob. It occurred to me that I should knit bulky bumpers for them! Chunky chair cozies/ leg warmers/sockies. Covered in plastic sheeting fabric scraps, cut from comforter & curtain clear plastic bags (for durability from my wheels & maybe messy meals?). Fresh on the furniture feet, finished from last Friday night to this recent Friday at 4 am! It also occurred to me that the carpet tile placemats I made prior work better as seat soft spots/pseudocushions. Good as a goose, if ever not in-use! Extra carpet tiles = me ecstatically “making” tons of faux rugs everywhere I go: A brain backburner idea from last year was carried out thanks to twenty minutes in Target. Sculpted smol succulent children for my mom! A due-to-my-dad deprived plantperson. That white pot is my mom’s mortar and pestle base with the rubber bit removed, but she doesn’t mind! The baby baskets were born before though! Saw a Pinterest paper cup weave, had a plastic one from the hotel trip and tried it with this plastic barn yarn. Then doing that caused me to instinctively figure out how to weave it from scratch, so the tube-oval two are not cheat weaves. Made from Oogoo! Have you heard of it? I did when doing DIYs from Tree Change Dolls long ago. It’s poor people’s Sugru/sculptable rubbery clay. The recipe I use is equal parts cornstarch and interior caulk. I made it a few times prior to the onslaught of my extreme allergy restrictions. You can add acrylic paints if you want colors. It’s amazing stuff! Has anyone made LEGO/Bionicle parts from this? I just mixed up a white batch in a lidded cottage cheese container, shaped, dried, brush painted with wall + acrylic craft paint mix, and sprayed them with art fixatif spray as I had that. For the dirt, I wrapped a medium rock with white PUL fabric and placed it inside for weight, then covered with brown jacket scraps. Stuck on the wrapped rock top with caulk. Similar process for this mortar and pestle turned planter. Dirt is web sewn on the underside onto the felt filled rock PUL piece. Succulents secured to the dirt with a dab of caulk. *Mom being scared to open it saying “it looks too special!”* *Me who knows the wrapping is from coffee filters, paint color chips, and a sleepytime tea box quote* I’ve recently realized I’m basically a cat. I like leaving gifts for my humans and vanishing, don’t say much/am skittish, nearly nocturnal, fall asleep in the sun, like climbing and sitting in/on things I shouldn't, and am floppy/hypermobile. But I don't have fine cat hair, mine is the crunchy texture of curls. The trio stays in the window, the big one on the corner shelf by itself. Mild Autumn attack on my mom’s room. Just flipped the bedding to red side & swirled out some scarves. Sheets were a forgotten gift from Aunt J. last year. . Added one of the sticky wreaths on the mirror with quick chain crochet colors. This messy make from millions of moons ago, paint by number canvas that I enjoyed ignoring in the utmost. Mom’s Brownie bear is finally the rightful owner of a long ago hospital knit plush sweater. Mom’s childhood doll’s green-trimmed and sleeved dress tucked & poofed into a pumpkin, twisted Cinderella style? Her face stains are from when her prisoner brother Sharpie X’s over her eyes. Ink removal we should retry. And that finished a funtastic full fall haul from September 2nd to 22nd. I am happily physically shattered! Unbelievable Autumn has come! Our first one settled here! I love the leaves, our old house had only sad pine needles-painful piles to play in and full of ticks. It’s the greatest existence I’ve known here with dear Mom. Wish she’d gotten her own place years ago, haha. So peaceful, no shouting, stress or scary-loud television. Cannot wait for bro to visit again, we hadn’t even finished the hall bathroom when he came at Christmas. Now ”Ta-da! List”ing what decor I should make at Christmas. Planning the color scheme and theme already. Cinderella aesthetic, chores + clothing little house friends…if I can call a soap dispenser my friend. Flooring scraps and leather thread, at least the poor thing is not naked! Culinary crafts! Spice crumb cake in my misfit sized cake pan stack. Chocolate chip coconut oil muffs with walnut & choc on top. Spice and sweet potato sweet squares, walnut chocolate pastry pods + brekkie granola rounds. Cheddar cheese petite pizzas, I was thrilled to figure out they fit in coffee cans for freezer storage. Olives feel luxurious. The mysterious ways of mayonnaise. It PROTECT, it expires at precisely 10:04 am. Plus the poor broccoli baby missed in a morning rush. Light and fluffy butter loaves (actually oil because $) that were altered from a Texas Riaddhouse roll recipe and this a bit stubby. Horizontal slicing to the rescue & flash frozen on trays as always. Grateful to have grabbed our four lovely loaf pans when we left. Oven Naan breads, a fan of the King’s (KAF brand) recipes I am! Onto the +3 abandoned alternate art endeavors! One sewing, one drawing, one painting. Amazing how little I am accomplishing at the moment, haha. Impromptu organizing has been happening lately, in the office and kitchen. Inspirational at 5 AM when I can’t find my Thing, that Thing. Or my mom’s Thing. We probably totally crammed & chucked stuff in after moving. Finally feeling like a proper place to live.❤️ Love and leaves to all this Fall. May your Autumn be awesome 🧡 “Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.” ~Suzanne Weyn Basically I’m low on Real art to show right now, fell for Fall, + since late July it’s been a daily battle because of hydrating and actually eating some glorious food, and trying to figure out what on earth to eat. (Spamblings below about my medical and parent stuff that I am not sure how to use a spoiler tag for: (Kind of outdated content because I am the snail.) Some of these *holds back hysterical happy screams* magnificent daily meals of 500-600 calories I’ve had the unspeakable joy of ingesting. Mostly protein (severely low BUN on labs), bullion, salty sauces (and small amounts of the miracle of Mayo, cheese & ketchup) , and beloved vegetables. It stays in my body for 0.5-3 hours. I assume some of it must be absorbing, at least every gram of glucose spikes in my blood. An apple throws me over 250 at the two hour post-first-bite prick. The persisting hyperglycemia coupled with the rapid rejection and fluid floss are a true medical freak. three years since eating adequately/more than a meal of daily broth and (celiac testing) bread, or post stroke few bites of starchy stuff + severe dehydration. I now cry from gratitude while savoring such treats, then cry from pain trying not to blackout on the bath floor for the next few hours. This trade off/post ingestion punishment has absolutely improved my quality of life. I’m old and want to eat. If I were even given the choice of “last meal or continue living with feeding tube/TPN” you all are invited to the feast. There will be pizza, hummus, salmon, ice cream, cookies and watermelon. The post drinking and eating reactions are much worse-for gory details of what that means: 0.5-2 hrs post ingestion = 15-30 (EDIT: now it’s typically 30-60) urgent GI episodes over the next 2-4 hours with low blood pressure, LUQ stabbing, face flushing, some throat constriction, tachycardia & hyperglycemia. Massive lower extremity edema. Samples tested, confirmed nonInfectious GI reactions as I already knew. Just the result of food and water. Leaving the bathroom is too risky, better to bring a floor pillow and try not to pass out. Thankfully with symptoms so severe I cannot be dismissed by doctors-they now keep telling me go to the ER for IV fluids. It’s exhausting to go to the ER with 3-4 diseases to only leave with needle wounds, and “I have no idea how to help, we are sorry, follow with your specialists and PCP” from frightened looking doctors, though. I don’t know if they’d do any useful tests/imaging. It’s been years since scans. Thus, I am surviving with concentrated lemon juice + Himalayan salt in Gatorade zero, coffee, and eating spoons of straight yellow mustard all day to replenish my electrolytes and bring up my dangerously low blood pressure. I’m drinking over 250oz water some days because of losing massive fluid amounts. I think I’m sleeping like 3 hrs a night, often? My electrolytes were perfect at the last PCP visit a week ago leaving my doctor absolutely impressed (because she told me to go to the hospital that day, but knowing I was okay, I didn’t). So apparently “bio-hacking” by ear is working. The basic blood panels did shockingly show useful info-I have idiopathic neutropenia and my BUN/protein is unsurprisingly severely low. Eggs, cottage cheese, Chicken-all so good, oh my gosh. It’s been years since I’ve eaten anything besides bread or broth. Eating so many beautiful vegetables, broths and some dairy, Mayo and proteins, I cannot wait to eat starches and fruits soon. They send me into hyperglycemia coma mode currently-even tiny amounts. I’m up to one ~600 calorie meal a day, I feel rich because it has been 3 years since eating this much (Metabolic m e s s. I, the inexplicably self-sustaining life form, haven't lost any more weight, in spite of my body rejecting everything ingested within 0.5-4 hours, so that’s a win, at least? Guessing the hyperglycemia has a role in this.). Totally worth the next three hours on the bathroom floor, haha. Finally getting some IG posts up thanks to this. I’m amazed at the skilled humans who can eat/drink (like multiple times in one day!) and function afterwards, please teach me your ways! I don’t recommend this at all. DIY glucose tolerance testing. Overnight no drinking or eating, then a breakfast of 17.3 Twizzlerschoked down (while timed) in 5 minutes (updated number from Sci papers given 2023 nutritional content/this size). I’m shocked by the blandness of the candy, was mildly improved with salt. Then glucose, BP & pulse recorded every hour for three hours. My PCP couldn’t order an oral glucose tolerance test. So I went PubMed and Mayo clinic vigilante ( https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3781564/ https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/glucose-tolerance-test/about/pac-20394296 ), conducted my own test and documented photo results/reactions in graphic detail. Test included losing consciousness on the bath floor with Gi epsiodes and sleeping almost entirely for two days. But yes! I was correct and my pancreas is pitiful. Doctor was so shocked by this she ordered a simultaneous office lab draw with my home monitor to calibrate/make sure my readings were real. They were 3pts off-highly accurate. So now recording the wacky high blood sugars I’m having in spite of barely eating & not even even any direct grainy/starch based carbs. I (& my mom when available) am taking my vitals and blood sugars through the day (at least 3x) , recording my daily intake of food and fluid and all the 10-30 daily medical episodes and symptoms. Then my mom types it into a Google doc. The point of this is so doctors can grasp how I’m actually living when sent links via the medical mychart messaging. I think I’d be horrified by it if it weren’t me in this body. Some things seem harder to watch than to live yourself. My mom is the best and I feel so bad about her dealing with all of it. Not just seeing it-all the caregiving, bills and travel stress. Ex dad got away with zero financial help for her or me-dumping all the future + old medical bills he refused to pay on my mom. The legal things were settled mostly in February. Never in my life have I longed to walk out in traffic like this. No one else in my life had made me feel so utterly worthless. My stomach turns thinking about how no one gets away with anything, and the weight of what waits for some. Guilt over the air I breathed. So my care/chronic sickness wouldn’t be even more of a burden to my poor mom any longer.. But thank goodness with every brain break and bad idea we by belief rise stronger.I am begging her to let my medical record bills go to collections, I have nothing of my own + disabling genetic incurable condition(s), so chances of future me ever being an Actual Adult and needing this “credit” thing are zero. [🎵my new (Taylor Swift) pseudo song is “I am never, ever, ever, going to be better!”..because if I can’t beat it, I’ll dance to the beat of it ✨🎵] Applying for SSI takes an eternity, even with a free-till-won disability lawyer. A lot of this is the fact that I’ve been disabled/chronically ill since a child + homeschooled, and never been able to live like others. Their “residual job functioning capacity” questions and tests are completely irrelevant, as I never have been able to fully function. I hope for Medicare/Medicaid approval. Exdad drops my insurance next year, and my mom, the full time tool cashier, cannot afford it. She’s calling the local ERs for financial aid applications. Duke keeps renewing my charity care/ full financial aid, though! Incredibly grateful. I don’t know how any of the grown up stuff works. If I have no money and never have, am incurably diseased, disabled, and soon to be uninsured, where do they expect to get paid from? I know the ER cannot refuse to treat anyone, even the homeless, thankfully. I have no idea why my mom is trying to pay them, they only grow. Exdad took the medical savings card access, too. His lawyer was so crooked and hers didn’t care. They tried to steal my mom’s inheritance. She barely got her inheritance childhood home, the abandoned puppy mill we were forced to flee to, then rebuild (but now SO love ❤️), leaving their marital home and life behind with him. He is trying to cause problems by not signing the divorce papers, so the restraining order may be renewed. He cannot stop the divorce, court can force it. It’s about him trying to keep his small retirement savings. He also didn’t sign the paperwork on the one old car my mom got, then canceled the insurance on it (this is the only car my mom got out of the total old 4 family cars-and this was her mom’s 19 year old mom inheritance car. And she was driving me to Duke hospital regularly in this) intentionally sabotaging us. Making it illegal to drive that car, as my mom couldn’t legally pay for insurance on a car not signed over to her. This was all happening late July as we were daily evaluating whether I should go to the ER. But driving there would be illegal-my mom had to short-drive to work with legal paperwork and hope not to get pulled over. She ultimately had to take the small sum she barely got from the divorce split up and buy a new used car, as she could buy insurance for it. We are terribly grateful, she loves it, and it’s so nice for the wheelchair, but wow. My mom is wise and would never ordinarily make such a purchase without being cautious. I shudder at the future of some evil individuals. Thank goodness we no longer live with such darkness. I have the noblest mom ever. Being safe and free makes up for possible poverty. Nothing in life is better than to be with companions worthy. Everything is far better than last year! It's only the uncertainty medically with me, along with the possibility of her adopted criminal creep brother being released from prison soon-we don’t know if he gets 4+ more years. He is not welcome here, nor may he drain my mom. She deserved so much better, and I trust the tide’s truly turning. I wish I could fix it all for her. But I can’t…so instead I’ll try to do the chores + cook for her between collapsing, and decorate inside these walls with the spirit of Fall! (Wheelchair power!!!) Creations can cheer countless clouds away. ❤️ Doctor visits were awesome last time given the battle royale removal of my medical-kidnapping-misdiagnosis! So weird to be treated like a human being with value instead of a worthless little worm. For some reason my PCP (who had blindly gone along with the sketchy GI doctor and fully blamed me) now seems to respect me since I explained/proved it and almost fired her too, haha. So strange not to be a scapegoat. I’m baffled for being believed and am almost crying with relief. Rheumatology successfully got me back to my endocrinologist for Carcinoid syndrome/NET. This time around I don’t have to consider falsely telling them I want to change genders just to get an appointment- three years ago I was desperately sick and considering this strategy. I instead got in due to my systemic nonstature stunting/being a human horseshoe crab. That appointment is at the end of March 2024. Three years since she hastily “doctor punted” my complex case to GI & rheumatology while I was telling her that did not explain my endocrine symptoms. I’m also on a new Duke GI doctor waitlist for a January 2024 appointment. Still nobody has/can reread my crimped artery abdominal ultrasound. The plan is to contact PCP if my fasting blood sugars get above a certain number consistently (they are almost there). I, at the time of writing this, have a test for POTS soon where I will be tied to a tilt table with the “different provoking measures we may use during the test- deep breathing, blowing into a tube, hand in ice water, and nitroglycerin.” *googles nitroglycerin*….😎🍿) So that’s life lately! I am constantly shocked at the adaptability of the human body! Grateful beyond belief. My cup is not half empty, nor half full, for I find it overflos. Random wildlife visits! The crow knocking on the window woke me up! And I went to grab the the web-stuck butterfly for decor but the poor thing wasn’t dead, flew away instead! Resident falcon visits a good bit. And when new carpenter Uncle Dave surprises you while you were gone on a doctor daytrip and patches your crumby pillars + leaves gifts of homegrown tomatoes at your door! Little metal cross created by my mom’s customer and generously chucked at her, now cherished in paperclip holder.

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Wincing at that last spear blow, glancing but painful-looking as it was, the referee took up both his and his partner's spears, the dull clank-clank-clank of Mard bashing their heads together poorly emulating the proper ding-ding-ding of some arenas' bells. "Cease! Lorqua of the Jungle Tribe wins!" He bellowed. "That was good fighting, you two! I trust you'll bring that and more to the Grand Tournament!" Ahmoa restrained a chuckle at how Mard rolled his eyes; this was a line oft-used by him after a training bout, meant to congratulate the victor and encourage the defeated. The duo had not seen such a bout, or indeed any bout, for a time now; so entertained were they by the prowess and ingenuity of the two combatants that their supposed ulterior motive had almost slipped their minds. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite pondered the question. <<Colloquial. Status update requested.>> "...Nominal." A pause. Slowly the weight of their legs dragged them down. "...Thank you." Another, gentler thud as their torso slid off the surgery chair and to the floor. Del seemed not to notice, nor mind. After a short time and some experimental wriggling and stretching Del was able to somewhat right themself, sitting on the floor with their back against the chair's base, holding the ice to their head. "Hanging in there?" They queried, looking up at Skyra. The intonation did not betray if they were asking for the meaning of the phrase, or a status update in kind from the driver. OOC: @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Snelly @a goose

IC: Lorqua - Training Ground, Outskirts of Atero Lorqua is not cruel, as a rule. She likes to win. She likes the profits of victory. She just has no time for causing suffering, and rubbing it in. Even so, she can't help but smile when her strike hits home. If, after Lutenus' cry of pain, it makes her look like a barbarian. She begins to press the assault, before hesitating. There's supposed to be a procedure to these things, isn't there? Arena combat strikes again. Lorqua levels her javelin at Lutenus as he stumbles back. "Do you yield?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Techn0geist

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IC: Lutenus (Outskirts of Atero, Training Ground) - Spear Me the Gory Details Unfortunately, while the cybernetic implant lodged in Lutenus’ cranium could think faster, his body had to move at regular speed. As such, though it was predicted, he was unable to evade Lorqua’s attack. The javelin hit him in the side of his ribs, but did not go in very far. “Graagh!” @oncertainty @Techn0geist IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - The Management Oh. Taldrix sat down, as instructed. “Sorry to disturb you, erm-” Was ‘boss’ too informal? Was ‘my lord’ not formal enough? “Sir, but it’s about the item Crucius retrieved from outside Ferrum.” She offered her notes for his inspection. @a goose

Destral, leader of the Makuta Justice Management, is fanatically loyal to Teridax and has the unusual ability to talk his opponents to death. Based on Tarn from the IDW Transformers comics!

IC: "You're not," Krayn said frankly, matching pressure with pressure. The other Toa, close up, was clearly a younger man. It was in his voice as much as his face. Energy, ungoverned by the care or caution that came with even a few more years of life. But there was no deception to it. Aside from a— very passing— recollection that Dehkaz might have said something about a new recruit, he could hear it. He was an officer, a detective, with years of time on the job and he was a Toa of Sonics. Every little subtle inflection in the kid's— Jolek's— voice he could hear. It wasn't the infallible detection of a Rode, especially not without more of a background to compare it to, but it was close. If the kid was lying, he was the best liar in history. "You made enough of a scene that he'll be along when he's ready. If he offered you a job it'd be here, as part of..." The name tasted somehow unpleasant. "The Aggressors. What do you want explained?" @Razgriz

IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "Musta been as passerby," he snorted as she left, shrugging. "Whatever. Appreciate the hospitality." He wasn't totally thirsty, but despite learning certain social graces well after the fact, even a jungle boy understood the import that the gesture of offering food or drink to guest held. Having to hunt one's food each day, if anything, made it all the more pointed— sharing without guaranteed supply was a generosity so much the harder to be able to give. The twin gleams on Krayn's hip and ribcage were hard to miss, confirming Jolek's suspicions that he'd needed to be wary... But closing that range to offer a hand in turn did a lot of work to assuage the concern. Projectile weapons this close hindered more than they helped... And the De-Toa knew that. A firm gripping hand closed around his host's, careful not to crush, as he pulled himself up. "Jolek." First names it was, then— he wasn't here to coast on a reputation whose scope he didn't even know anyway. "And wherever he is, I feel like we oughta track him down— I need an explanation, and you guys need proof I'm not lying."

IC: "I doubt it, honestly," I replied to Luten, slowly working the knife back out of the deck. Trying not to bend the blade, but if I did, at least we had Kale to fix it. "If he is, then he's playing at a really strange game. I'm interested to see how that works out if so." With a creaking of the boards the knife finally worked free, and I set it next to his bag. "Skyra, be nice and get him something to drink, will you? He just tried to leap and swim half the harbor to get to us."

IC: Rynekk | The Fowadi "Spiritspeed to you, Pirok." It was amongst the last things that Rynekk had said to that young man, that young foolish man, before the ship-lines had been untied and the tide had been caught, and the Fowadi drifted out and away from the island. Pirok, standing on the docks, had grown smaller and smaller, less and less distinct, until he was a speck, a shadow, a bare hint of a man on the horizon... and then nothing at all. Rynekk exhaled heavily through his nose once, twice, and then turned from the side of the ship. Pirok's fate would be his own, a destiny made for himself, and Rynekk knew that there was naught he could have done for the boy, the man. His fingers still lingered in the folds of the belt loop that had once held that hatchet, though. Those fingers remembered the warm embrace of another good man's shoulder, and the cold touch of a grave marker, abandoned now deep in the desert. He clenched those fingers into a fist. Pirok was gone, good as. The island vanishing on the horizon. There were other things to be done. *** There was something in the newcomer's face that stirred Rynekk's memory. He had never met the man before, even in passing, that was certain. And a hard sprint and a harder swim had left the figure ragged, his breathing haggard, so that little enough could be gleaned from the motion of his body, the way he carried himself. But in the face... yes, it was something in the jaw, or in the brow, or both, that conjured in Rynekk visions of another ship. A hated ship, from a long time ago, and yet not long enough. Infernavika. That was it, yes! Another man who had served on that ship, a pirate, who had thought himself some good man thrust into a bad world. Rynekk knew the type. His name had been Perkahn, although he couldn't remember if he had heard the name said aboard the ship, or had looked it up afterwards. Accomplice to murder, he had noted in the ledger of his mind. Now that he had a name to the face, the resemblance was unmistakeable. But this man was young, much younger than Perkahn had been -- a nephew then, or a son. For now, Rynekk let Krayn take charge. He just watched from a pace away. OOC: @Razgriz@Krayzikk -Void

IC: "Everybody relax." He didn't raise his voice a decibel, but something in his tone cut through the growing tension. A little detour in the conversation was winding everyone tighter and tighter, no one more than the newcomer. Why he was expecting a fight to start Krayn couldn't say but he could see it. The way he was tracking everyone around him, noting every sound. Skyra hadn't meant anything by it but he'd ratcheted up a few more notches once she took a circuit. "Dehkaz is the captain. Probably in his office, or up by the helm." He gestured, mostly from the elbow, in that direction and held out his right hand. There was no disguising the way his coat shifted, revealing a glimpse of leather belts and holsters underneath. Ta-Koro was too hot to have it buttoned. But unless he was completely brainless he could tell a greeting from a threat. "I'm Krayn. Have a name?" @Snelly@otter@The UltimoScorp@Razgriz

IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] "...Feel like I've seen you somewhere before." The vague sense of familiarity he was confident in, but the specifics were evading him. Her theatrically lazy circuit around him had given him time to try, in the moments she'd remained in view— but the people aboard seemed dead-set on splitting his attention one way or another. He wasn't getting much. Considering her sudden entrance from high up there, he had a feeling she could be quieter, sneakier than this— meaning the circling, in hunting terms, would be drawing the attention. Feinting worked in all Ways. He'd kept his gaze fixed on the grey toa through that time. He could hear her and feel her footfalls on the wood, enough to keep track of the space if nothing else. For a moment, the almost imperceptibly faint ring of wind chimes from the direction of the Ko-Toa joined the mental map he was putting together... And running through the short list of supplies, nothing he'd brought would jangle like that. He didn't think he'd seen any hanging low enough to propogate from there. So what gave? His gaze narrowed a smidge, looking over the grey and silver armoring below the black Sanok this "Krayn" guy wore as the Le-Toa drew up alongside him. So he had to be one of those sound elementals. That drew a frown, and with it more questions than answers. He shifted. Part of him wished he'd brought Rebellion along and found a justification for it later. Was that supposed to be some kind of cue? Why else would they be going through all this trouble? He had to play it cool here, not get sucked into their pace. "Had to be in Ta-Koro, of course. Been stuck there from the bombing till now."

IC: Rockwall had been fairly familiar, albeit populated by the strange and unknown. A coastal installation overseen by a military installation, docks, some small luxuries that grew up around any sailing village. Ga-Koro was at once more familiar than that and utterly alien. The waters were full- clogged, really, with the crystalline ships of the Dasaka. The local marines were working overtime to try and keep them organized, prevent collisions and generally avoid a maritime disaster. The flow of refugees on top of that required some kind of intake, medical attention, food... All the basic needs that a mass exodus over a nearly uncharted sea would have lacked. A foreign people required interfacing with the locals, the processing overseen by both marines and imperial Menti. A true coastal village- nearly a city- should have been even more familiar than the Rockwall. But in truth the sheer... Absurdity of it was enough to strain even Kiyaku's capable imagination. The whole village was built atop floating pads of vegetation, not unlike the water lilies commonly found in gardens across the archipelago. They were immense. One could hold a home, maybe even multiple, some held even larger structures. Where a single pad, however large, wasn't quite enough multiple had been gathered together. Similarly organic bridges connected the pads, and organic material composed the structures as well! The village held more green upon the water than almost anywhere back home on the land. She allowed herself, for a few minutes, to take in that alien landscape from the deck of her ship. Not that it had sailed towards the village under its own colors; it had not sailed to the village in its previous guise, either. The Umbralines would be here in force. It would only take one informed enough busybody to wonder why they had never heard of one of their clan's own ships, or her captain. No, the Shinushya had traded in her Umbraline livery for that of the Eiyu. Aligned with the Umbraline, but secluded enough to raise no questions among most of the refugees. In all likelihood, they wouldn't even have noticed. They had spent so long adrift, desperate, it would be the last thing on their minds. But it never paid to be careless. "Ela?" Kiyaku asked aloud, tearing her eyes away from the scene. The Menti, yet again, seemed to wear a different skin than before. Ela had been aboard for a handful of days, enough time to be introduced to the crew and travel to Ga-Koro, but in that time Kiyaku had never looked exactly the same twice. Recognizable, perhaps, but her features and build were a little different each time. "Would you accompany me into the village proper?" @Morgan Yu

IC: "Depends if he knows how to throw anything other than luggage." He'd shifted position a little, lifting his right leg to brace his foot on the railing. It wasn't nearly as difficult as it looked; the forces wanted to pull his body that way anyway. All he had to do was make sure his foot was hooked properly and allow, just for a second, that pull to gain a little ground. Much stronger position to keep. "Not sure yet, Luten." It really didn't take long to pull him in. The grappling gauntlet was meant to pull things in fast, even with the extra resistance from the water. It was a matter of moments before the swimming Toa was dangling against the hull, another moment before he was at the railing. The Toa's hands were on the cord, naturally keeping it from retracting the whole way, so he took the Toa's wrist and heaved him over the railing pretty easily. He was a little denser than Krayn was, but the relative mass didn't matter nearly so much without the winching mechanism involved. "Evening, there," He said, tone reasonable, to the dripping Toa. "Something we can do for you?" @otter@Razgriz@The UltimoScorp

IC Luten - Ta-Wahi bay? With a signature tinkling of crystal, the tiny mask spirit appeared on the railing next to Krayn, sitting precariously on the edge of the railing and kicking her legs back and forth. "Hi Mr. Krayn, hi Mr. Praggos. Whatcha doin'? And... who is that...?" @otter@Razgriz@Krayzikk

IC: Jolek [Ta-Koro Docks] As tension slowly threaded itself back into the line via some unseen mechanism (maybe pulling from further back? No, too steady and too smooth), Jolek took a moment's rest as the hook dragged him along through the darkening waters. They were chatting up there, words he could quite make out yet, but it was readily apparent that he had more than one witness to this stunt with piqued interest. That much he didn't mind... But he was, growingly, conscious of how far he'd now run himself out onto open water at night. For all he could boast of experienced swimming and comfort borne of the crystalline shallows that hugged the southeastern corner of Le-Wahi, that very same experience quickly reminded him that he was a karz of a lot like bait on this ad hoc fishing line, as far as anything big that made its home in these waters may have been concerned. He'd faced down predators before, sure... but he'd always made sure to do it on solid ground, where he was born to move upon. The sea was a place he visited. From the day his memories started, the day they had kicked him back onto shore, that was a relationship he made sure to respect. All that being enough time to catch a breath or three. His left hand reached forward, further up the line. Taut as it was now, pulling himself along would surely speed things up. He set to it like so many vines in youth, a steady progression of hand over hand, pulling with the back. By his own measure, he wasn't the biggest guy in the world— even for as thin as the crewman high above seemed (it might have been the stark angle playing weird with his height, who knows), Jolek doubted he was going to do anything ridiculous like pull him overboard. If I do, then his buddy in white over there better be dense enough for both of us.

IC: He's really trying it. His Pakari throw— for that was clearly it— wasn't perfect, but with such an improvised payload it was a little impressive that it reached the deck at all. Not that some of the sailors nearly clobbered by it agreed. For a village so new to sailing they nailed how a sailor spoke very quickly. Maybe Ember's work? In any case, with his belongings aboard the lunatic— he'd had too much success to simply dismiss as stupid— dove in with equal strength. Despite his time aboard Krayn was not an experienced sailor. He'd asked once how fast the Fowadi could move and the answer had been unintelligible. Why a ship needed to be measured differently than anything else was beyond him, but rather than solve the mystery he was content to leave sailing to the experts. Close enough to shore with objects for reference, though, and he could eyeball the speed just fine. This Toa was moving fast, father than he could in the water. Not as fast as a Kakama would allow but sheer force, it seemed, behind each stroke made a difference. He'd taken too long, though. It was only a few moments of indecision at the end of the dock but Krayn suspected those moments to be crucial. The Fowadi, unlike this desperate swimmer, was still accelerating. Without thinking too hard about it Krayn slipped his foot underneath one of the cleats on deck; it was meant for tying things down in the event of a storm, but it'd hook on his foot just fine. Strictly speaking whoever this was shouldn't be allowed on board while underway, especially not without clearance. But if Dehkaz really didn't want him on board, they could just drop him back. He released a short length of slack and swung the hook in circles to build momentum while he watched, and waited, for the point that the Toa would get closest to the ship before it began to pull away. Not quite. Not yet. There. He released the hook, casting it out at the sea with every bit of precision his Sanok allowed. It'd make contact with the water an arms length ahead. @Razgriz

IC: Jolek [Ta-Koro Docks] The sun had sunk low as time continued on through the day, heedless of both the bustle and then the following stillness of the homestead. As it passed overhead, hours ticking by, it had only spared its attention it did for anything below its warmth— the cool golden glow that passed through the ashen haze slowly lengthening out into long lines of fiery red, orange, and pink. These lines filtered through the west-facing window slits and painted the halls within, now ghostly quiet once more after the passing of the whirlwind from hours prior. The only audience to the slow shift in hue stood solemn in the hearth, made the centerpiece by placement as it leaned against the stone that tamed a once roaring flame. His edge, still razor-keen, caught the dying filaments as they crept up to reach, spinning them into points of diamond. He would not be moving. When his owner was to return, however much time that would take, he would wait patiently. It had been decided, just as the placement of the spare key had been decided— for much longer than the man who decided had realized. For the record, there was a crook you could fashion between a loose floorboard and the potted plant that usually hid it tastefully from any prying eyes, neighborly or not. Until the time came when a worthy man had need for his strength, Rebellion would find his watch of the halls undisturbed. As it should be. ... ... Frowning around a straw in one's mouth was a surprisingly dexterous expression to be compelled to make. Before today, Suvala hadn't ever fully managed it, no matter how regularly the busywork of a Ta-Koro Guard pencil-pusher could prove inane and aggravating. The plasma toa was already proven as nothing much of a fighter when her lot was drawn from the pool of reservists in her district for paramilitary posting, so it was desk jockey or logistical work— she, in her ignorance, had chosen to work with paper and codes of conduct instead of supply crates and sore backs. It nominally was the better choice, to be fair: easier hours, more structured routine, dealing with the dumbest people in the Wahi on an impersonal bureaucratic level rather than being stuck gritting her teeth through befriending them and trusting them with heavy duty equipment, longer lunch breaks, the list was fairly expansive— Until one such lunch break brought her back from a smoothie courtesy of Jungle Jerval's into something that registered as an oncoming nightmare. She recognized a Form 2389 pretty quickly— guard-submitted request to be considered for Warrant Officer, filled out in a hasty scrawl that only her heavy experience with Salamander's kept legible. That much was fine, if annoying. The Guard often dangled these around barracks and break rooms as bait for the members that were in it for bigger reasons than hers to go out and spread the Ta-Koroan ideal of justice instead of protect home, blah blah blah, be a state sanctioned bounty hunter with a cool name. Few ever really made the cut. Judging from the chicken scratch, this PFC probably wasn't smart enough to be left to his own devices in other Koro. No, what gave her pause and started unconsciously ratcheting up the temperature of the hand clutching her once-frozen treat was the accompanying badge and sword. These were classically calling cards of a guard who'd Quit, not one looking for More Work. Already, this was looking like a kick up the line at the very best— just how in the karz was this one going to process? Was he raised by kikanalo? You couldn't even apply your jurisdiction without the— Smoke rose from the cup, and a tight, clenching pull was already forming at the base of her skull. she glanced around— Gronar, a reedy Skakdi who usually worked her shift, hadn't yet returned. Executive decision— He could deal with this. ... ... The bartender on duty at the Pumice Pord's Pub, like most any of those to don the bowtie and waistcoat, was good at getting people to pay more than they bargained for for drinks. A smooth tongued and attentive conversationalist, he fancied he could read a brewing fight, a budding romance, and an exploitable friendship all about as easily as the morning news. People were colorful, but you noticed patterns within the palettes. In the realm of art, balancing your hots and your colds was a skill coveted by ****** near anyone, generalship of positive and negative going hand-in-hand. Everyone had their personalities coloring them that way, if you knew where to look. The bag of widgets had a decent heft in his hand. Probably half the monthly salary of the man leaving— A man who was a dull gray, like any canvas sold in this ash-caked town. On one hand, this was the easiest money he'd ever made. On the other... He hated seeing guys like that walk through his doors. He'd only gotten this much by the grace of the Great Spirit, raw luck and none of his careful craft. When you couldn't even really feel if there was a person at all in there... nine times out of ten there would be nothing but trouble. The tenth was usually too stuck up to drink, and here for no reason that could be pleasant. He considered it. Well, this was a tab made quite pointedly in the name of a regular, Balian. He'd been told to pass along an apology that the drinks wouldn't be shared between the gray man (literally as well as metaphorically, he might have been a De-Toa) and the wizened mask-maker. Having never seen this guy before in his life, it was a mystery as to how he'd known that talkative old coot came by— But he'd have to take him at his word, because it was too blunt and plain to be a lie. ... ... His eyes drank in the dull orange glow, as he stopped just ahead of the docks, and Thoughts from before came flooding back into his empty head. Truth be told, his connection to Ta-Koro had long been strained. Even before he'd sublimated into the regimented guard grind, his days of vigilantism in the back alleys and rough footpaths were, save the day the Lavapool fell, every inch as aimless. The people there had been the point. It felt like they'd been long gone, now. Lost in the gears of the machine like he was, part of him argued that these conflicting feelings that assailed his thoughts were putting the cart before the Kane-ra— could you abandon the folks you never saw any more? Who had, for whatever reason, seemingly let you go? As much unfairness as it seemed to have... things went both ways, too. After all that work to pick a direction, make a decision, what was it that compelled him to turn back, away from that impossible fortress of steel that rocked upon the moorings? Towards the cage he wanted to escape? The orange dimmed into an ombre from a glow, as the sun behind the curtain slipped lower than Mangaia's jagged peak. He was supposed to be here before dusk, so it was cutting things close as it got— and he'd already seen what he was in for. If he wasn't out here to fish every once in a while, the pugilist would have found himself wondering just when the karz they'd built a fortress out by this port they couldn't care less about. Metal was dense, heavy. It sank. Even so... Nothing that size went up in a week. This had to be what the visiting dignitary and his clipped northern accent wanted him to see. This floating citadel, wrought from the forge and defiant of the waves. He stood yet, wondering which path would have proved correct— He did owe Angel, owe Balian, owe his rediscovered family. They weren't nothing. Maybe it was that this choice was wrong, too selfish, that served to answer why the dying light over Ta-Koro tugged at his lapel even now. As if his old chains were making one last effort to tie him to the duties he'd thoughtlessly taken on— Rolling through the valley, the echo of a far off beast, proclaiming its strength to the world through steam and brass, startled him out of his cyclical diatribe. The clarion call was throaty, big— He whirled. —and coming from the bay. The impossible ship was moving, the thin lines that had been attaching it to Ta-Koro's lone pier hanging at its side as a great blanket of white caught the wind from a mighty spire at its center. Leaving him behind, like so much had already. "Before Dusk" had passed. It was just "Dusk" now. Already, the metal boat was a dark spot that had begun to meld into the purples of the approaching night. Another opportunity. Except... The wind was at his back, too. On it was ash, smoke, sulfur— Ta-koro itself, telling him something. One last push. "Karz..!" Jolek Highwind swore under his breath, as he took off in a dead sprint, running after his last chance like he was good for little else.

In case anyone missed the video, Faber's youtube channel added a video from 1999-2000 showing prototypes. A lot of interesting parts like a brown 32172 But most notably are the lime Kakama on a green/lime Tarakava, the Red/Yellow Nui-Rama similar to the ones that Baraklava now owns (but these both have black arms and mata heads), Mctoran with different arm feet and head designs, recolored short turaga staffs, a throwing disk with red Miru, An actual Miru that is burgundy, a milky white Rau, orange Kakama, grey Kakama, red and Black Lewa Axes, Manas remote with green buttons on one side, why are you still reading this? Just go see the video here:

A revamp of an older MOC - Point Zero - using a colour scheme I've been wanting to try for some time now.

She did great! I like the lower lets using the Metru limb bits to convert the weird sideways ball joint into a more posable option.

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The corners of his mouth twitched briefly downwards, but the icy glare with which the Ghost met Taldrix was unwavering. “Would it surprise you to learn that Crucius speaks rather highly of you?” He did not leave her time to answer. “He tells me you’re fastidious, intelligent, trustworthy. Such traits are in short supply around here, as I’m sure you know. Better yet, you’re a born sceptic – a quality I greatly admire.” He took another sip of tea; his eyes did not move. “Mindless obedience has its uses, of course; still, I have a great deal more respect for those who show real initiative. The nerve to question orders, to question authority, is something I consider to be invaluable. Crucius knows this about me, and he has – on more than one occasion – suggested you be brought into our circle of trust on exactly that basis. He believes you are able to think for yourself; you and I, of course, know better." He stood, still holding his teacup, and walked to the window as if to gaze out upon his kingdom, though the drapes still obscured much. "I know everything that happens in this compound, Taldrix. See everything. Were tea your only vice, you would likely have found yourself up here much sooner. So I ask again:" He turned and fixed her with four cold eyes, any pretense of a pleasant smile abandoned. His voice, though just as soft as before, became a shard of ice which pierced her and held her, frozen in place. "How long has it been?" OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Taldrix (Bone Hunter Stronghold, the Tower) - Teatime Taldrix shuffled nervously. She almost always had her spice on her, but - oh, he meant tea. He did mean the tea, right? How would he even know- “I cannot say for certain, sir.” Taldrix tentatively takes a sip of the vaunted Teseran tea. @a goose

This is beautiful. I was seven years old when Mask of Light came out and it was the same year I got into BIONICLE. I loved it and always know I can return to it when I need a quick fix of pure happiness. There are not many things in the world that I have zero negative associations with and BIONICLE, especially Mask of Light, is one of them.

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) As he sat back down, his smile was warm and his eyes were calculating. He was taking her measure – more than that, he wanted her to know that he was. He slid Taldrix's cup and saucer across to her, and took a sip from his own. "That ought to keep any jitters at bay, for the moment. How long since your last hit?" OOC: @Toru Nui

It seems pretty clear that these are the same thing. The Mask Of Destiny announcement came first, and then the Tiktok guy, the Facebook guy, or both, have misunderstood the nature of that announcement. I actually hadn't heard about this before now. Between the GWP set, Cryoshell getting in on Essenger's recent song, that concept artist guy talking about the 2007 and 2008 waves, Christopher Gaze participating in the Bionicle Day stream, Christian Faber delving into early G2 plans, and now Greg consulting on a fanfic project, this has been Bionicle's biggest year since 2016. It's pretty exciting seeing all of the enthusiasm people still have for this weird, wacky story even after all these years.

(Click for more) Initializing.... Connecting to server.... Downloading memories.... All systems online. Now commencing operations. Instagram Twitter

Let us not forget the events of twenty-two years ago today. We were here at Kanohi-Power and BionicleZone back then, and we all lived though 9/11/01 as a community. Twenty-two years later, we are still here, members are still here - and although it's been over two decades it's important to remember what happened in the hopes that we can keep it from ever happening again. The world is now different, as is our community that has lived through a difficult time - it is important to remember all those who lost their lives.View the full article

No one cares?

IC: "You're not quite that lucky," Something in Krayn's tone took on just a small hint of amusement; like there was a joke he was in on, and Jolek wasn't. Not just yet. "You're still junior to almost everybody here. You might not have been a very good guard, but that doesn't mean you're all set to be a good Aggressor yet either. But I expect we can fix that pretty quick." @Razgriz

IC Luten - Fowadii Another soft chime relocated Luten to Praggos' back, and she peeked up over his shoulder, and whispered to him, "Is he a bad guy, Mr. Praggos'?" @otter

IC: Jolek [Ta-Wahi, Fowadi Aft Deck] In the moments where his arc over the railing offered him respite from the exertion and adrenaline, Jolek realized that these desperate, prodigious bursts of explosion and speed left his lungs feeling like they'd been filled with sand— and he spent the first couple seconds breathing ragged, deep, filling himself with fresh air again. Or, well, as fresh as air got downwind of an active firepit. "Yeah... You can... tell me something." whether by stride or by stroke, a sprint was a sprint, and he felt it through the whole body even after he'd gotten enough wind in him to get some words out. Golden eyes flickered between the assortment of bodies he was confronted with— the more seasoned fighters among them (and they were seasoned. everything about this was way more placid than normal people would be about the knife thrown at them and the charge sent their way, even after they'd gotten the cards all over to their table by hauling him up and surrounding him) likely to recognize the direction his brain was going on automatic. The tall one who hauled him up was, height aside, every bit Khyrilik's opposite. Gaunt, too much for his frame, and favoring his left arm. Not a person that exuded command or raw power, but... Highwind pulled himself to a seat, legs crossed and hands planted on his knees. From the base of his spine, something flowed through each nerve as he locked eyes with his interrogator. "I'm here for the job offer. Does this boat have a Dehkaz Khyrilik on it?" he spoke again, all but a moment later, his breathing cadence recovered. It had taken a little time to reset, but he wasn't sparing much thought for it beyond the sense that it'd be necessary. Despite appearing a wounded animal, the Toa'd coolly kept him well out of the distance where his superior condition (to say nothing of technique) would break him in half. He was reedy where Jol was lean, but similarly rough around the edges. Injured where Jol was in proper fighting shape, but no less efficient in the mechanics of hauling him up, in moving the weight around, or in keeping his presence of mind through any of this budding exchange. A hungry wolf was a vicious one. An animal that knew it was wounded would be twice as ready to keep itself safe. Calmly accepting him aboard was more than it looked on its face. "Not like I'm spoiled for choice when it comes to 'dock at sundown', but he's hard to miss and I don't see him."

This is incredibly rad. Like, rad enough for me to post here for the first time in four years. The shading, the line work, every bit of it is incredible and I feel deeply honored. Thank you, Mushy. Edit: This singular message also earned me a new post rank. Incredible.

IC: Somehow, I didn't think that would work out very well, but I decided to just nod and keep my mouth shut for the moment. At least whoever it was Krayn was dragging in had started dragging themselves along the line, rather than just be dead weight getting pulled along. That was good; it meant there was less likelihood I'd have anything to worry about. Content with the situation for now, and knowing that Krayn wasn't so stoic or prone to understatement that he'd let himself be taken overboard without calling my attention back, I turned to look back at the deck. I'd heard something land before I came up, and I wondered what it— "Huh." There was a knife buried almost to the hilt in the deck near the rear mast. With a pack tied off to the handle. I turned back, squinting out at Krayn's catch. "You sure we need any of the disk launchers if he's got an arm like that?"

IC: Jolek [Ta-Koro Docks] The gunmetal and silver glimmer on the docks felt his lungs burning as he surged out onto the rickety wood of the pier, reinforced by enough steel to handle the thudding impact of each stride without giving in where it cracked. He'd had extra ground to cover even before the horn sounded, cluing him into the ship setting off— by the time the balls of his feet had touched dead tree and not ash, the ship was already well on its way out. He was gaining that ground back, certainly, but there was only so much time left before the hulk slipped out of the "port" entirely— A strained baring of teeth on his face, a wordless snarl, as he skid to a halt, shoulders rising and falling like much rougher seas. A chip of wood knocked loose by the sudden stop fell into the drink. Dully, he heard the splash beneath, eyes still affixed. The ship continued on, slinking further into the murky night that approached. Unlike him, it didn't need to stop with the dock. He didn't have a Kakama. He'd been far enough to still see a glimpse of Ta-Koro through the haze when the horn hit his ears— Now, as it sounded again, it seemed to have a clear message, one that rung between his ears rather than within them. This is a test, the hulking vessel's retreating form seemed to say in Khyrilik's voice, If you don't want it, I don't want you. One breath. Two. It was leaving. The third. Something. Anything. It wouldn't stop for him. He couldn't stop either, then, or he'd go back home, tail shamefully tucked between his legs. The Fa-Toa unslung his pack from his shoulders, untying it and drawing the knife from his belt. His eyes flickered across the sea, at the receding stern, at the edge of the pier, calculating distances. Now or never. His mask glowed, surging impossible strength through his muscles as he reared his hand back, gleam of steel catching the last embers of evening light— His first, last, only chance. — and every fiber fired in accord as he launched the knife, payload hastily tied off to the handle, at the rear mast. It streaked through the air in a high, fast arc. If nothing else, he was pretty sure he'd at least get his stuff aboard. He couldn't wait to track it the whole way, didn't have time, had to get going after it— Pulling back two, three, four strides, Krayn would see the curiosity he'd clocked take no more than two lungfuls of air, before that Pakari sent him sailing forward in a running dive for distance of his own, slicing through the placid surface in the ship's wake.

It would be fundamentally useless from a narrative standpoint. If it's so far in the future that no one remembers, and it doesn't affect the plot or setting, there's no purpose. Making a connection to serve no purpose adds nothing to either world, in my opinion.

Again - no need for spam posting. Edit the original post with new information if you're adding on. This is otherwise qualified as spam. As ToaDume has also pointed out - this information is also already catalogued in more specific places. Bricklink keeps automatically updated price charting and has all known BIONICLE sets in it's inventory. Many other websites also perform this function.

This track came out of my newly ignited love for Bionicle as a whole thanks to Essenger & Cryoshell's collab. I let my inspiration go wild, I hope you will like it as well. Audio in WAV. Bionicles.wav