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Nato G

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Posts posted by Nato G

  1. Chapter 29 – Down To Earth

    From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

    In my research, I often find myself wondering what the true limits are to a Toa’s power. It’s easy to believe that the elements of our world are clear-cut and firmly defined, but that’s far from the truth.

    Over the years, I’ve read of rare Toa capable of performing feats that are seemingly beyond what their element should allow. Toa of Stone who can control crystals, Toa of Earth who manipulate sand, Toa of Fire who were able to freeze water, Toa of Electricity skilled in summoning illusions, and many other tales even stranger still. The Fa-Toa Pahlil, from my own homeland, spent much of her life convincingly posing as a Po-Toa, manipulating rocks by controlling the trace metals within them. 

    Setting aside my own personal anecdote, the question remains: are these stories fantasy or fact? Is it only a rare few Toa destined to perform such displays of power, or do all Toa have such untapped abilities within them? Is it a matter of skill and experience, or random chance?

    Time and turmoil have changed our Toa, war and woe pushing them to limits they’d never before endured. What are they capable of, now that they’ve stopped holding back?

    * * *

    Pira

    “I don’t like this,” she muttered, spotting yet another Keerakh flitting out of sight over a nearby rooftop. “How many more spots do we have left to check?”

    They were getting uncomfortably close to the heart of the Metru, and they were still seeing the wraith-like white Vahki scuttling around in the shadows. Given how fast and fleeting their appearances were, it was impossible to tell if it was the same few individuals appearing in multiple places, or if there were dozens of the enforcers deployed throughout the Metru.

    “Only two,” Larone said. “But the fact that we’re still seeing Vahki should be cause for hope. It means they haven’t found Chavara yet.”

    “That’s assuming this Av-Matoran of yours is even still at one of the safe houses. If your people saw the Keerakh, maybe they went somewhere else to try to be unpredictable?” Ithnen suggested, “Is that how it works?”

    “I have no idea how it works,” Larone grumbled.

    “Someone once told me about a pair of Toa who tricked the Keerakh into leading them to one of the Great Disks,” Ithnen said. “The Vahki somehow knew where the Toa were trying to get to… despite the fact that even the Toa themselves didn’t know where to look… and the Vahki didn’t actually know what the Toa were looking for.”

    “That explained nothing,” Pira grumbled. “If anything I think it made me even more confused about how this predictive thing works.”

    “Yeah, I realised halfway through saying it that it wasn’t going to be as helpful as I thought.”

    “Here,” Larone suddenly said, bringing the transport to a stop. They were outside what looked to have once been a Mask Maker’s forge, now derelict and deserted. The windows were completely caked in dust, save for one, which looked to have very recently had some of the dust wiped away to form the shape of the Matoran symbol for Courage. Evidently that was the sign that had caught Larone’s eye.

    “How have the Vahki not found this place yet?” Pira wondered aloud as she clambered out of the transport, eyes sweeping her surroundings. “If they’re everywhere else why aren’t they here?”

    One of her hands subconsciously reached for the staff she normally kept slung across her back, but of course it was gone now, lost in her previous bout with Widrek.

    “Maybe they are?” Vhalem suggested, “Maybe they’ve predicted the route, and are just waiting for someone to make a break from one of the buildings? It might explain why we’ve seen them at nearly every stop along the way.”

    “It also might explain why Larone’s people haven’t moved to another safe house,” Ithnen said, “They spotted the Vahki watching and decided to hunker down.”

    “It would also mean we’ve just advertised to any Vahki watching that this is the right place,” Pira pointed out.

    “Then let’s not waste time,” Vhalem moved to knock on the door, “Hello? We’re here with Larone.”

    Something moved inside the building, obscured by the grimy windows, and then the door burst open and two Matoran ran out. One was a Po-Matoran with large clawed hands, while the other looked to be a Ta-Matoran clad in grey and yellow.

    From the way the Po-Matoran was placing himself in front of the other, blocking her body as best he could, this could only be the Av-Matoran Chavara.

    The instant the trio were out in the open, Pira caught a glimpse of a silvery flicker flashing from atop a nearby roof. A blast of air sent the incoming Kanoka careening off course, while Vhalem used gravity to deflect another disk fired from another direction, and Ithnen summoned a barrier of earth to block a third and fourth. Pira deflected a fifth a moment later with another elemental blast. Cries of fear and surprise rang out from Matoran passing by in the street, who ran for cover or hunkered in place.

    And then the two rebel Matoran were on board the transport, and Larone was turning it around. Ithnen managed to clamber aboard as well, while Pira grabbed a handhold on the side to cling onto as the vehicle lurched into motion. She glanced back towards Vhalem, already reaching out her other hand to help him only to find that he hadn’t followed.

    He was instead holding his ground, weapon at the ready. He crushed one Vahki apart with gravity, loosed an arrow into the head of a second… only for the remaining three to run right past him.

    The transport rounded a corner and Pira lost sight of Vhalem, but not the Keerakh, which had dropped to all fours for more speed. More Kanoka lashed towards the transport, and Pira once again swatted them away with waves of wailing wind. She directed a more concentrated blast towards the Vahki themselves, managing to trip up the one at the front, only for the other two to swerve around or leap over it as it scrambled to right itself.

    Before she could loose another blast Pira was suddenly slammed against the transport as it came to a jarring halt, its front legs bracing while its back swung out to slam into the side of a nearby warehouse. Pira’s arm was wrenched painfully as she tumbled off the side of the vehicle, falling awkwardly between the side of the transport and the warehouse wall.

    For those panicked moments she spent scrambling to right herself, she thought she was done for. But just as with Vhalem, the Vahki took no interest in her, instead leaping at the transport and attempting to tear its doors open. Pira didn’t give them a chance to break through, lashing out with her powers and flinging the machines away once more.

    As they started to pick themselves up off the ground, Pira took a moment to peer past the transport to figure out what had brought it to a halt. What she saw was a cracked crater in the street, caused by something breaking its way up from below. A something that revealed itself to be a burly figure clad in black and silver, his clawed hands tearing up through the dirt and rock. It was Widrek, with more Keerakh climbing up after him. As he climbed out, Pira noticed that he had her staff slung across his back.

    For the briefest of moments, Pira wondered if he’d taken it as a reminder, out of remorse. But then his gaze settled on her and he barked an order, “Kill them all!”

    The earth suddenly shifted beneath his feet, collapsing away to plunge him and his new Vahki right back into whatever Archives tunnel they’d just climbed up out of. Ithnen bounded out of the transport, joining Pira in the street while Larone tried to turn the vehicle around to find a new route.

    Torn between their old orders to specifically pursue the Matoran rebels, and their new orders to kill everyone, the three remaining Vahki spread out, one approaching the transport and the others sizing up a Toa each. Pira summoned another blast of air, trying to fling her foe into the one targeting the transport, but this time the Vahki were ready for it, digging their staffs into the ground. Pira kept up the blustery breeze, resolving to at least force the Vahki to stay in place if she couldn’t push them away.

    Ithnen, meanwhile, darted deftly towards her attacker, relying on her smaller size and greater agility – as well as the probability-bending powers of her mask – to evade the stun blasts being loosed towards her. She quickly closed the distance, ducking a swing of the Vahki’s staff and popping up behind the machine to sink one of her own blades into its head. Before it had even finished falling she was turning her attention to the other two, starting to redirect the dislodged dirt on the ground towards the two Vahki struggling in Pira’s breeze. The earth rose up, then shuddered to a stop as Widrek clambered back out of the hole once more, counteracting Ithnen’s powers with his own.

    “I see you came prepared this time,” Widrek growled, his words barely audible over the wind.

    The transport finished turning, and started advancing back down the street towards the nearest intersection. Pira caught a brief glance of Larone in the pilot’s seat, flashing a grateful smile towards the two Toa.

    Once the transport was past her, Pira let her breeze abate and snatched up one of the staves of the Keerakh Ithnen had destroyed, brandishing it towards Widrek. She could feel her elemental energy reserves dwindling; she hadn’t had much of a chance to recharge after the morning’s events, and this bout was taking its toll. The only response the Onu-Toa offered was a nod towards his Vahki, which began to charge towards the two Toa.

    This time it was gravity that halted their advance as Vhalem finally caught up with the group and brought his own powers to bear.

    “You started without me,” he joked, falling into line beside his companions. 

    “Better late than never, Brother,” Ithnen replied.

    Pira didn’t join in on the banter. Her focus was on Widrek, who had been driven to his knees by the force of increased gravity pressing down on his body. His teeth were gritted, his face contorted, but not by pain. Instead his expression was one of exertion and focus.

    Pira could feel the ground rumbling underfoot.

    “What’s he doing?” She asked, glancing at Ithnen.

    As she spoke, she fumbled with the staff in her hand, searching for a trigger or mechanism to make it fire but finding none. The Vahki had to fire these things somehow…

    “I don’t know,” Ithnen replied, frowning. “I don’t understand. There’s not enough earth here for him to-”

    “Yes, there is,” Widrek grinned.

    Behind the three Toa the transport was flung on its side as the ground exploded in front of it. But instead of a burst of solid dirt, it was lava that came spilling from the crater in the pavement. Sizzling spatters of slag rained down over the street, sizzling against brick and armour and flesh.

    Vhalem recoiled with a cry and swatted blindly at his back, losing his focus on his powers in the process. Pira too felt the sting of the searing spray, while Ithnen once again twisted probability to avoid being struck.

    “You have heart, little one,” Widrek sneered at Ithnen, “But I’ve been a Toa longer than you’ve been alive. I know things even the oldest and wisest of Turaga couldn’t teach you.”

    “Get them out!” Pira barked to Vhalem, before battering Widrek with another blast of air.

    It was a split-second decision, one motivated as much by her selfish desire to get even with Widrek as it was by some semblance of strategy. On the three of them, Vhalem was the best suited to getting Larone and the Matoran out of the flipped transport, or levitating the whole transport out of the path of the lava. Pira and Ithnen would be more useful trying to break Widrek’s focus and keep him and the Vahki occupied. 

    As Pira’s airblast sent Widrek stumbling, Ithnen manipulated the earth again, widening the hole Widrek had made in the street and sending him tumbling into the tunnel once more. This time his hands caught the edge, and he immediately began pulling himself back out.

    The Vahki that were still intact were now scrambling to their feet, and the two Toa assailed them with another volley of elements blasts, managing to disable a few of them.

    “We’ve got more incoming!”

    At Vhalem’s shout, Pira glanced back towards him. Larone and the two Matoran were safely out of the transport, none of them appearing too seriously injured, and the four of them were in the process of backing away from the bubbling puddle of lava that was swiftly beginning to spread across the street and swallow the transport.

    But it wasn’t the lava that Vhalem was pointing out. He was gesturing towards the sky overhead, where the crimson figures of Ta-Metru’s native Vahki were descending towards the street.

    Pira and Ithnen ceased their attacks on the Keerakh and readied themselves to face their new foes, only for the Nuurakh to ignore them completely and instead attack the Keerakh, descending upon the fallen machines and rending them asunder with their clawed staffs.

    “No! What are you doing?” Widrek roared, seizing one of the red Vahki and effortlessly wrenching its head from its body in a move that chilled Pira to her core. The memory of him trying to do the very same thing to her was all too fresh.

    “They’re maintaining order,” came the hoarse voice of another Toa in half-black armour who’d abruptly appeared on the scene, stepping out of the shadow of a nearby building as casually as if he were walking through a doorway, “An order that you have disrupted.”

    “Maliss, I-” Widrek stammered, sounding genuinely afraid for the first time since Pira had met him.

    “You thought I wouldn’t notice you blowing holes in my Metru?” Maliss snarled, “I know you’re used to doing whatever you please, but this isn’t a lawless battlefield.”

    “She’s an Av-Matoran!” Widrek protested, pointing past Pira towards Chavara, “A threat, living unnoticed in your Metru.”

    “I was well aware of her presence, you fool,” Maliss snapped, “You think your fancy Kanohi is the only way to see through an illusion?”

    “If you knew, why not kill me?” It was Chavara herself who asked the question.

    “I’m a Fe-Toa, little one. I know all too well the pain of being persecuted simply for existing. You weren’t a threat, so I allowed you to live your life,” what little sympathy was discernible in his voice was swiftly replaced by a far more threatening tone, “You can choose to continue not to be a threat.”

    “I think that choice has already been made for me.”

    “Very well,” Maliss sighed.

    For the first time, he turned his attention to the rest of the group, his gaze lingering only briefly on the Toa and Matoran, before focusing on Larone.

    “On the subject of choices, I see you’ve chosen to take a more active role.”

    “I wouldn’t say I had much of a choice, either,” Larone grumbled.

    He and the others were being forced to move closer to the two fallen Toa, as the lava continued to languidly spread across the street. A nearby awning had burst into flame, and the bricks of neighbouring buildings were beginning to crack and crumble.

    “So be it,” Maliss shrugged, waving his hand and summoning a low wall of metal across the road to stem the spread of the lava. “Leave, all of you, while I still allow it.”

    “No!” Widrek roared, ripping the staff from his back and flinging it like a spear.

    Pira wasn’t sure who it was actually aimed at. Herself? Chavara? Regardless of who the intended target was, it didn’t make it anywhere close, clattering to the ground in a cloud of whirling dust. Vhalem, Pira, and even Maliss all had a hand raised, each having used their own powers on the projectile. Even Ithnen had a look of focus on her face that usually accompanied Kanohi usage.

    “Leave,” Maliss repeated, redirecting his upraised hand towards Widrek and wrenching control of the Onu-Toa’s armour to hold him in place, “You didn’t start this, so you won’t bear the consequences for it. But consider this my final act of tolerance and goodwill. When next we meet, you’ll be begging for my forgiveness… or begging for your lives.”

    He reached out to place his hand on Widrek’s shoulder, and then the two Toa were gone, vanishing into shadow. The Nuurakh remained where they were, picking at the remains of the Keerakh or moving to send gawking onlookers back to work, paying no heed to the presence of the Toa and Matoran rebels.

    “You heard the lunatic,” Vhalem said, “Let’s go.”

    As the others started to set off down the street, Pira leaned down to pick up her staff. It was a little bent out of shape, either from being dropped in the Archives or being struck with so many powers now, but it could be repaired easily enough.

    The same couldn’t be said of Widrek.

    She’d been afraid of him before… now she was afraid for him.

  2. IC: T'harrak - Fort Razorfish;Vaa

    "I'm not sure where we'd get lava, but yes to the catapults," she nodded. "I know some Skakdi would argue that anything other than punching your enemy in the face is cowardly, but in my experience, reality doesn't care about honour. Fort Garsi certainly had no qualms about using snipers and traps on us. So the next time we pick a fight with someone, I'd prefer to be lobbing rocks and bombs at them from far away." 

    @Smudge8

    • Like 2
  3. IC: T'harrak - Fort Razorfish;Vaa

    "Making better use of this island's natural resources. Between the mountains and the forest, we've got plenty of wood and stone. We can build fortifications, siege weaponry, more ships... the possibilities are endless." 

    @Smudge8

    • Like 2
  4. This just seems so strange to me. Until now, Lego has always seemed to understand that the live-action approach wasn't a good fit for their products.

    The Galidor show didn't perform very well, and plans to put a human child in Mask of Light were very quickly shot down. Lego's various animated shows have generally been successful, The Lego Movie was fantastic, and while the movies that followed it weren't quite as well-received, this year's Piece by Piece shows that a film made using the Lego style can still be successful. 

    I can't fathom why they'd abandon the one thing that makes them unique to make a generic live-action movie, much less three of them. Especially if the rumours are true and one of those will be a Ninjago film, given that the previous Lego Ninjago film didn't do super well compared to the other Lego movies. 

    • Upvote 1
  5. Chapter 28 – Choices

    From the records of Turaga Rost.

    Every day while the Matoran toil, the Odinans delve through the chronicles of old, searching for understanding. We know Mata Nui was trapped within the Mask Of Life, and we know the Ignika was cast into the void beyond our universe, but the nature of this void eludes us.

    How do we reach it? How can we traverse it? Will the Ignika find its way back to us of its own accord, or is there something we can do to aid it?

    Without answers to these questions, our hopes and our efforts are all for naught.

    * * *

    Icthilos

    “I know you’re here…” he muttered to himself as he rifled through the stacks of snow-sodden pages, “…you have to be here. Where are you?”

    He’d delved through two more Knowledge Towers and was now exploring a third, though he didn’t have high hopes for this one. The windows had been left open when this building was abandoned, and it looked like snow had blown inside and melted at least once between then and his arrival.

    Still, he had to try.

    He needed to be sure.

    He rifled through pulped pages and skimmed unfinished tablets, finding little but incomplete predictions and piecemeal prophecies. He was about to give up and move on to the next tower when he saw it: a small metal box marked with the symbol of the Red Star, tucked out of the way on a bottom shelf.

    He leaned down and pried it open, immediately recognising the distinctive scrawl of the scholar whose research he sought. He flipped the box upside down and emptied it out, picking through the pages at the bottom; the notes closest to the top of the researcher’s desk would likely have been the first to go into the box when they’d been packed away.

    And there it was, pinned beneath a stone tablet that looked to be a Toa’s journal.

    The scrap of parchment he sought was covered in the barely-legible scribblings of a determined researcher whose telescope had been cast skywards even as Teridax proclaimed his dominion over the universe, whose eyes had remained fixated on a particular point in the sky even as the war against Teridax raged across Metru Nui and the wider universe. The words were simple, almost unremarkable, a mundane observation made on a mad day.

    Unknown yellow-white light observed rising from Southward direction. Was drawn towards Red Star, converged with it, then disappeared.

    So many of the Ko-Matoran scholars had spoken of strange sights and shifting lights during and after Teridax’s takeover. Icthilos had heard plenty of their stories when he’d arrived on the island and settled in Ko-Metru. None of them had meant much to him then, and most still didn’t now. But this… this suddenly made sense, just as he’d feared.

    If the Mask Of Life truly had been flung out into the void, it would have come from the South, the direction of Karda Nui… and if Teridax had come under attack by Vhel while he’d been exiling the Kanohi, he might not have been unable to send it as far away as he’d planned… leaving it to be drawn towards the closest body of gravity in the void above.

    The answer had been right here all along, in the very Metru Vhel had ordered its people to abandon. It was within sight, but out of reach… but perhaps not out of Vhel’s reach. There was a very real possibility that a Makuta could survive a voyage into the void beyond the skies.

    Icthilos had no intention of giving him the opportunity.

    He took the paper firmly in his hands, intent on ripping it apart, but found himself faltering as it began to tear. What he held in his hands was more than mere information. It was the future, the fate of countless beings.

    The sound of scrabbling on the stairs tore his attention away from the page.

    “Stop!” A frost-encrusted Keerakh blundered into the room, and though the voice came out tinny and artificial it was still one Icthilos recognised: Orane.

    “Oh, this’ll be good,” with his free hand, Icthilos drew his flail, ready to swing at the first provocation, “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

    “Just stop,” the Vahki lowered its arms to its sides, “I only want to talk, please.”

    “Alright, spit it out.”

    Icthilos didn’t intend to entertain the conversation for long; he could already hear more steps on the stairs, as something else shuffled its way up the tower.

    “I was spying on you and Trina earlier. I heard what you said. About Destiny. About having the right to make our own choices.”

    Icthilos narrowed his eyes at the machine. There was no expression to read on its face, no inflection in the voice to gauge emotion from. But considering Orane’s willingness to throw Reconstitution disks and collapse tunnels on people earlier in the day, Icthilos was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’d come here simply to kill him, he wouldn’t have bothered with a conversation.

    “I was wrong to give up,” Orane said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it does mean something.”

    “Why follow me out here, then?” Icthilos asked. “You could’ve come straight to the Moto-Hub to say all of this.”

    “Because I heard what you said to Trina. You know something, about… I don’t know what. Something important. I’m guessing that’s it,” the Vahki’s staff raised up to point at the paper in Icthilos’ hand, “And you want to destroy it.”

    “Can you blame me?” Icthilos snapped, “What we have here isn’t perfect, but it’s a life. The Matoran can survive here, even thrive. But between your lot and our creators, I’m not convinced any of us will be allowed any life at all if we actually completed the mission we were made for.”

    “Maybe you’re right, but you could just as easily be wrong,” Orane argued, “You can’t make that choice for all of us… and for all of them, out there, waiting for us to come save them.”

    “Their world doesn’t matter. Ours does, and this city is all that’s left of it.”

    “You don’t have the right to decide that for everyone.”

    “Don’t I? Funny how you’re all happy for me to take all of the hate and blame and responsibility when it suits you,” Icthilos snarled. “And you of all people don’t get to lecture me on rights and choice. This morning you were willing to slay your own Sister.” 

    “I… wasn’t in my right mind.”

    “You sure weren’t,” came the unexpected voice of Savnu, as she finally reached the top of the stairs.

    “You’re supposed to be resting,” Icthilos growled.

    “I know,” she panted breathlessly, clutching her chest and leaning against the wall, “And if I’d known there were going to be stairs, I would’ve stayed in bed.”

    “What are you doing here? With him?”

    “He possessed a speaker near my bed, to talk to me. He told me he was sorry. He told me… things I’m not sure I completely believe.”

    “And, what? You came here to help him stop me?”

    “Yes,” Orane said.

    “Nah,” Savnu smiled.

    She waved her hand towards Icthilos, and a flicker of flame flitted to the page, evaporating it into ash before anyone could react.

    “No!”

    Orane started to move, a Kanoka teleporting into the Vahki’s mouthparts and its staffs raising to fire. For a moment, though, Orane hesitated, head flicking back and forth between the two Toa, and that moment of uncertainty cost him his chance to attack either of them. The Vahki was simultaneously engulfed in ice and flame, before its skull was shattered to fragments by a single decisive swing of Icthilos’ flail.

    “Why?” Icthilos asked, shaking scraps of metal from his weapon. “Yesterday you were convinced there wasn’t even a Makuta. If you didn’t believe Orane, then why-”

    “I believe you. And the fact that you’re here means you believe it,” Savnu said. “So I came to help.”

    “Thank you,” Icthilos put away his weapon and moved to help Savnu, letting her lean on his shoulder as they started working their way back downstairs. “Should we expect company down there?”

    “I doubt it. I thawed out that Vahki for him, and I don’t think he would have told anyone else we were coming here.”

    “What will he do now, do you think?” Icthilos asked, “For a moment there, I thought he might have been willing to return to our side.”

    “But I just pushed him further away than ever,” Savnu nodded grimly, “I know. I hope it was for the right reasons.”

    “As do I,” Icthilos sighed.

    They reached the ground floor, and started trekking back across the snow towards the border with Le-Metru. As they walked, Icthilos glanced down at the ashen dust still smeared on his hand, strangely grateful that someone else had taken the choice out of his hands. 

    “What of the things Orane told you?” He asked absently, brushing his hand against his leg to scrape away the ash, “Our origins, our purpose? You didn’t feel motivated to switch sides?”

    “100,000 years is a long time, Icthilos. Too long. Whoever made us, and whatever they made us for, doesn’t matter to me,” Savnu said. “I take responsibility for what I’ve done, and everything I’ve done has been for the Matoran, for the future of our people. Abandoning all of that over ancient history is just taking the easy way out. Maybe my faith is false… but it’s still mine.”

    Despite the cold, Icthilos felt a strange sense of warmth well within him. It wasn’t coming from Savnu, but it was certainly because of her.

    Though he’d kept his judgement to himself – at least until his outburst yesterday – he’d often dismissed Savnu as thoughtless and rash, acting only on rebellious impulse. But he saw the truth of her now. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the consequences. She just didn’t care what others thought of her. Like Icthilos, she was willing to take the anger and blame if it meant the best outcome for the Matoran.

    “I’ve underestimated you,” he admitted.

    “I wish Ilton had been here to hear you say that,” she smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded to a frown, “Actually, no. I’m not sure he’d feel the same as we do about… all of this.”

    “It wouldn’t be easy for him,” Icthilos agreed. “Same for Orane and the others. Whatever they think, whatever they’re going through… it can’t be easy for them, either.”

    “What comes next isn’t going to be any easier for us.”

  6. 18 hours ago, Lenny7092 said:

    Some of you guys are being pessimistic about Bionicle being a long-defunct theme. I mean, it is a heartless thing to say.

    It's not pessimistic or heartless to state a fact. 

    G1 ended fourteen years ago. G2 ended eight years ago. Pretty much the entire Bionicle/CCBS catalogue of parts has been destroyed. Most of the story and design team no longer work for Lego. By every definition of the word, the theme is defunct. 

    18 hours ago, Lenny7092 said:

    Bionicle is NOT dead!

    Of course not. This community is full of wonderful creators who make MOCs and music, stories and theories, artwork and videos, custom parts, and so much more. As long as there are fans who remember and cherish the theme, Bionicle will never be completely gone. 

    If you want to keep the theme alive, be part of that. Use your talents to contribute to continuing Bionicle's legacy. 

    Lego isn't going to do it for us. 

    • Like 1
  7. I completely understand the reasoning behind removing dilapidated, decades-old statues from a long-defunct theme... but the timing (the same day as all of the Faber/Duckbrick reveals being taken down) is unfortunate, to say the least. 

    Both things happened for perfectly understandable reasons, but when two of the biggest hits this community has taken since G2's cancellation happen in the space of the same 24-hour period, it's hard not to feel like it's deliberate. 

  8.  Chapter 27 – Last Light

    From the journal of Turaga Marik.

    The more I think about it, the more I feel that our people have lost their way. We cling to a code that we bend and break as we see fit. We venerate vague virtues, and allow the light we believe in so deeply to blind us to the truths of our reality.

    The Great Spirit punished me for my transgressions, stripped me of my power for taking a life. And yet it took me until now to learn the lesson. The others still haven’t learned.

    But they will.

    In time.

    * * *

    Pira

    After her talk with Trina, Pira had headed out into one of the empty buildings outside to try to tap into the Nuva Symbols. She kept them in a pack on her back, not wanting anyone heading in or out of the Moto-Hub to see them, but even without being in physical contact with them she could feel their power. It felt like the pack was full of heatstones, radiating comforting warmth.

    For two hours she experimented with different ways of channelling or drawing upon her powers. Simple channelling exercises, attacks against the walls of the empty buildings around her, even jumping off a low roof to try to loosely recreate the circumstances of Vhalem’s fall. But no matter what she tried, she didn’t feel the exhilarating rush of energy she’d experienced in her desperate attempt to save Vhalem in the Archives. She could sense the reserves of untapped energy just waiting to be unleashed, but they remained frustratingly out of reach.

    Sighing, she leaned on the windowsill, looking out into the street. She’d seen a few figures coming and going while she’d been outside, scouts returning from their explorations, Toa who’d stayed the night elsewhere coming back to check up on their companions, Marik, Icthilos, Savnu, and a few others wandering off at different times. This time, she saw Larone passing by, heading back towards the Moto-Hub.

    “Hey!” She called out, waving to him, “I thought you weren’t coming back until nightfall?”

    “The situation has changed,” he said, hurrying over to her. The brief act of exertion left him breathless and wheezing, but he forced himself to continue speaking, “I need your help.”

    “Mine?”

    “And anyone else you can convince to help you without wasting time with talk.”

    “What’s wrong?”

    “The rogue Onu-Toa, Widrek, he’s hunting someone deeply important. Someone who could be the difference between life and death for all of us.”

    “Who?”

    The last free Av-Matoran in Metru Nui.”

    * * *

    Vhalem

    “Pira, slow down. Are you sure about this?” Vhalem pleaded.

    Pira had barely finished giving her rushed explanation of Larone’s request, and she already looked like she wanted to sprint back out the doors. 

    “If you don’t want to help me, I’ll find someone else.”

    “Shouldn’t we talk to Trina about this?”

    Vhalem wasn’t normally one to go around seeking permission for every little thing he wanted to do. Training under Savnu had that effect on people. But he didn’t want to rush into another fight. He didn’t want Pira to rush into another fight. And even though he knew he couldn’t talk Pira out of this, he hoped that Trina could.

    Hopes that were dashed almost instantly, as Pira skipped straight to the logical conclusion.

    “You know she won’t let us.”

    “She’s right,” Ithnen spoke up. She’d still been with Vhalem when Pira had shown up, and Pira hadn’t acknowledged or tried to shoo her off before bursting into her explanation. “After what happened to you two this morning, she’s not going to let you go after Widrek again.”

    “I’m not going to let him hurt anyone else,” Pira insisted.

    “He’s going to hurt you,” Vhalem protested, “We couldn’t beat him before, and we’re barely recovered from this morning. What makes you think this is going to be any different?”

    “Because this time, you’ll have an Onu-Toa of your own with you,” Ithnen said, nudging his shoulder, “I’m not sitting on the sidelines while you and the airhead fight for your lives again.”

    “Karzahni. Okay, fine. I’m in,” Vhalem grumbled. He didn’t want to rush headlong into another fight, but he wasn’t about to let the two of them go alone. “What about Erdo or Tivni?”

    “As far as I know, Erdo hasn’t come back from Ga-Metru yet,” Ithnen said, “And I think Tivni got paired up with Pahlil for another scouting run, to try to pick up the trail of that purple Rahkshi.” 

    “Just the three of us, then,” Pira said, glancing at Ithnen, “Time to find out what you’re made of.”

    “I’m sure we’ll all find out, once Widrek’s done pulling us apart,” Vhalem grumbled, rising to his feet and readying his bow-blade. “Let’s go.”

    The three of them slipped back outside and down the street, where Turaga Larone awaited beside a small Vahki transport, similar in size to the one that had taken the Toa team into Onu-Metru earlier that morning.

    “Only three of you?” Larone asked.

    “You asked for speed,” Pira said. “But Vhalem and I have a score to settle with Widrek, and Ithnen can give us a fighting chance against him. It’ll have to be enough.”

    Vhalem didn’t say anything as he boarded the transport. Impulsive, reckless plans were a running theme among the company he’d been keeping of late, but even by those standards this felt like too much, too fast. Trina and Icthilos seemed set on calculating a very careful next move, and here he was potentially ruining their plans, putting everyone else at risk in the process.

    But even beyond his Duty to defend the Matoran, he saw the strategic sense in saving what was quite possibly the last living Av-Matoran in existence. Not to mention the possibility of capturing Widrek… or killing him, if it came down to it.

    Hopefully it wouldn’t.

    “How has this Av-Matoran managed to stay safe for so long?” Ithnen asked, as she shuffled into the transport beside Vhalem. “I thought they were all rounded up?” Pira joined them a second later, while Larone clambered into the front and set the transport moving through the streets.

    “I don’t know the full story,” Larone explained, as the transport began to trundle down the street in the direction of the border with Ta-Metru. “It seems that, sometime long ago, an unknown number of Av-Matoran were hidden throughout the universe, their memories of their true nature erased. When the other Av-Matoran came here from Karda Nui they were able to identify their kin hidden among the other tribes. But even after finding out her true nature, Charvara felt more comfortable remaining in the guise of a Ta-Matoran, and thus avoided being identified with the rest when the Odinans came calling. It wasn’t until she reached out to a resistance contact to ask for aid that we found out what she really was.”

    “So what changed?” Ithnen asked.

    “Widrek’s mask,” Vhalem was the one to offer an answer, “A Rode can see through illusions and disguises as easily as a spoken deception.”

    “Indeed,” Larone said. “He spotted her in a crowd, at a distance. Just dumb luck.”

    “Bad luck,” Pira muttered. “I know how that feels.”

    “My people rushed her to one of our safe houses, and sent word to me,” Larone continued. “But last I heard he’s still searching for her.”

    “Just him?”

    “I’m told he activated some Vahki to help with the hunt.”

    “Nothing we can’t handle, right?” Ithnen nodded to Vhalem.

    “What about the other Hagah?” Vhalem asked, ignoring her for the moment, “Widrek’s not doing this alone, is he?”

    “My sources say that Tuxar, Dhozoh, and Maliss are currently at the Coliseum, most likely planning their next move after this morning’s events. From what I can tell, Widrek is keeping this quiet and trying to sort it out himself.”

    “Why?” Ithnen asked. “I thought he was the sensible one… before he switched sides, at least.”

    “Widrek used to be at the top, when he was with us,” Pira pointed out, “Everyone looked up to him. Now he’s so unimportant they didn’t even let him in on their big meeting. I think he’s trying to win himself some favour.”

    Vhalem nodded his agreement. Pira was certainly no stranger to trying to prove her worth; he saw no reason not to trust her judgement on that topic.

    “So where are we going, exactly?” He asked Larone.

    “We have a series of rendezvous points and safehouses in Ta-Metru. If my people are on the run, they’ll move from one to the next, working their way out. We’ll work our way in, and meet them somewhere in the middle.”

    They soon left Le-Metru behind and entered the outskirts of Ta-Metru. Even here at its outermost edge there was a haze of heat and smoky smell to the air, and it only intensified as the transport moved further into the Metru. Structures of stone and steel rose high on all sides, adding to the choking sense of claustrophobia that came with being stuck in a city-sized kiln. Transports much like their own trundled around the area, transporting materials and fuel to or from the furnaces, while here and there Matoran used carts or baskets to carry around tools and Kanohi.

    Larone brought the transport to a stop outside the blackened shell of a long-abandoned building, and leaned forward to look through its empty windows into the seared interior.

    “Not here,” he said.

    As the transport started moving forward once more, Vhalem caught a glimpse of movement out the corner of his eye, a flicker of white flitting between buildings off to one side. He glanced back at his companions; Ithnen was looking out the other side of the transport, and Pira’s eyes were firmly forward, with neither of them appearing to have noticed anything.

    Vhalem pulled his bow-blade from his back and held it at the ready, plucking absently at the string. 

    The transport inched its way past a foundry building, from which echoed the sharp clanging of metal. Scalding smoke and sizzling cinders spewed from its chimney, spilling a fine film of ash over the surrounding area. For a fleeting moment, Vhalem thought he saw another wraith-like figure hunched on the rooftop, its silver-white shape barely discernible through the dark smoke. It disappeared in the space of his next eyeblink.

    Brief though it had been, he was certain now that he’d seen something. Once could have been a trick of his mind, but twice was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Still… he hadn’t seen any Mesmers in white armour while he’d been at the Coliseum, and though there was likely enough smog cover for a Rahkshi to get around, it didn’t fit with the habits the creatures had shown so far. 

    “You said Widrek activated some Vahki to help with the search,” Vhalem spoke up, now inspecting the rooftops and alleyways passing them by, “Do you know what kind?”

    “What? Why?” Larone brought the transport to a stop once more, this time leaning out to inspect an inconspicuous grate in a nearby alleyway.

    “Did anyone else see that?” Ithnen suddenly asked, pointing to something off in the distance. She lowered her hand, frowning, “It’s gone. I thought-”

    “I saw it,” Pira said softly.

    “I’ve been seeing things as well,” Vhalem said, casting his eyes upwards as he heard something scrabbling across a rooftop above them. “Larone? The Vahki?”

    “I don’t know. I was just told Vahki. I’d assume Nuurakh, with this being Ta-Metru.”

    “But all Vahki types are manufactured here, right?” Vhalem pressed, wracking his brains for what little he’d been told of the mechanical menaces.

    “The parts are made here. They’re usually taken to Po-Metru for assembly.”

    “Usually,” Vhalem repeated, “Not always? So there could be other Vahki here?” 

    “What’s your point?”

    “The white Vahki. What’s their deal?”

    “Keerakh. They were the strategic ones… stealthy, ambush hunters… I heard they had some kind of prescience or predictive programming.”

    “That’s what I was worried about,” Vhalem grimaced, “We need to pick up the pace.”

    “Oh,” Ithnen breathed, drawing her throwing blades as she found her way to the same conclusion as Vhalem had.

    “What are you talking about?” Larone asked, speeding up the transport nonetheless.

    “If those things out there are Keerakh, the fact that we’re seeing them here means they’ve already predicted what route your people are going to take out of this Metru. The next time this Av-Matoran sticks her head out, Widrek will be waiting for her.”

  9. 1 hour ago, Master Inika said:

    31:22: Tarix's two blades were supposed to be held in one hand and partly overlap. With the final piece, that would have put pressure on them, I think. Maybe the original was supposed to be more flexibe?

    There's a thread here on BZP where the set designer talks about the original intention for Tarix. The blades were supposed to be a "stingray shield", and were actually designed to be held together in one hand. Somewhere along the way someone didn't get the memo and made the blades separate weapons, but the pieces can still fit together in the one hand as intended, as there's a slight, deliberate curve in the way the lower parts of the weapons are designed. 

  10. IC: T'harrak - Fort Razorfish;Vaa 

    "I don't know what they're usually like..." she grumbled. "But it didn't have to be that way. If we'd taken the time to scout and search instead of walking right into a trap... maybe some it could've been avoided." 

    @Smudge8 

    • Like 2
  11. IC: T'harrak - Fort Razorfish;Vaa

    T'harrak went quiet for a few moments, contemplating the question.

    She'd seen death before, plenty of times; such was the harsh reality of a life on Zakaz. And it felt disingenuous to claim she hadn't killed before; even if she hadn't personally pulled the trigger most of the time, she understood all too well that the ammo and traps she'd helped manufacture in the past had taken lives. But still... 

    "My first time on that kind of scale," she finally said, her tone bitter. "And all for nothing." 

    @Smudge8

    • Like 2
  12. Chapter 26 – Destiny’s Design

    From the notes of Chronicler Crisda.

    It’s easy to stand by and say that lying is bad. And to be sure, it often is.

    But when a Toa tells a frightened Matoran that everything is going to be okay, when a Turaga tells his people that everything is under control, when one friend tells another that they’ll always look out for each other… these lies provide comfort, and prevent panic.

    Unity requires us to protect each other, and sometimes lies offer the greatest protection. All of us have, at one time or another, falsified facts to conceal a terrible truth.

    So that leaves me with the question: are all lies truly immoral?

    * * *

    Vhalem

    “Glad to see you’re still with us, Brother,” Ithnen sat down beside Vhalem, throwing an arm over his shoulder, “I heard you and the grumpy girl made friends with a Rahkshi?”

    “Pira’s not so bad. And I wouldn’t exactly say we made friends with it.”

    “It certainly sounds like you made friends with someone. You took an airhead you barely know on two tours of Onu-Metru before your actual Onu-Toa friend?”

    “Well, when you say it like that it almost sounds like I’m trying to replace you,” he chuckled, “Good thing you know me better.”

    “How bad is it out there?”

    “Very. We’re going to have to fight for this city. I don’t see any way around it.”

    “We’re ready. Me, Erdo, Tivni. If you or Mother give the word, we’re with you. We can do this.”

    “I know. I appreciate it.”

    “How is Mother, by the way?”

    “I just got out from checking up on her. She’s on the mend, they’re saying she should be back in fighting condition by tomorrow.”

    “Good. The thought of losing either one of you…” Ithnen shook her head, “…after everything we went through, everyone we lost, we didn’t come this far to lose.”

    “No, we didn’t,” he took one of her hands in his own, “I hate to ask this, but I need to know: how far are you willing to go?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Widrek nearly killed Pira. Bihriis nearly killed Savnu. Both of them nearly killed me. So if it comes down to it, if there’s no other choice, if it’s us or them…”

    “You are my Brother, Vhalem. You’re my Team,” Ithnen said. “If it comes down to a choice between our friends or theirs, it’s no choice at all.”

    * * *

    Trina

    “There you are,” Icthilos said, running over to Trina.

    “Any news on the Rahkshi?”

    “Nothing useful. Pahlil only managed to follow it for a few blocks before it lost her. I imagine it’s hard to sneak up on someone who can read your mind.”

    “Another unanswered question,” Trina sighed, having long since lost count of all the things she didn’t know, “If you’re not busy, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

    “I was about to say the same.”

    With the possibility of Orane spying on them from the safety of spirit form, (hopefully he hadn’t been around to listen in on Pira’s conversation with Trina) they grabbed some Suletus from storage, then made their way upstairs, to the same balcony where they’d spoken the previous night. No one else was around, as they’d hoped, preoccupied as they were with their reunions and conversations.

    “Do you want to go first, or should I?” He asked.

    “You’ve got your earnest face on, so I suspect yours is going to be a longer conversation,” Trina said, “Mine’s quick, but crazy.”

    “Let’s hear it, then.”

    “The Archives mission wasn’t a complete bust. Pira managed to bring back some Toa Disks, which Ilton is going to forge into new Kanohi for us. And she found something else. The Nuva Symbols.”

    She sensed a flurry of emotions and thoughts from Icthilos, half-formed ideas whirling wildly before he forced himself to refocus on the conversation at hand.

    “The Disks are good. Can we actually do anything with the symbols?”

    “Pira thinks she might have tapped into the Air one by accident already. I told her to hang on to them for now, and see if she can get them to work.”

    “You trust her with that kind of power?”

    “I trust her to try.”

    “Who else knows?”

    “Her. Me. Now you. Possibly the Mind Reading Rahkshi, and anyone Pira decides to tell.”

    “Keep it quiet for now, if you can. Some Toa might consider it sacrilegious to mess with relics from the Nuva.”

    “What about you?”

    “I know we have more important concerns.”

    “Like what?

    “Like what happened to me in the Archives.”

    Trina tried her best not to react. She’d been ready to question him about it herself; she was glad he’d chosen to open up without being asked, for once.

    “Makuta Vhel. He ambushed me. He’s the one who gave me the staff. He said that after he defeated us he’d make me use it to fix everything, as penance.”

    “But that’s not all he told you, is it?” Trina could read his face just as clearly as his thoughts. “He told you the Truth, didn’t he? The thing he told Widrek, the thing that drove everyone crazy?”

    “He did.”

    “Should I be worried?”

    “No.”

    “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

    “Saying it doesn’t do it justice. I’d need to show you… the way he showed me,” he reached up to tap his mask, “If you’re willing?”

    “It’s not going to… turn me evil or whatever, right?”

    “It’s just information. It can’t do anything. And I trust you to make the right choice once you know.”

    She nodded, withdrawing the limited mental defence the Sulteu provided and opening her mind. Icthilos leaned forward, resting his hands on her shoulders and pressing his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, and she closed hers.

    Images and information spilled into Trina’s mind. It began with Icthilos’ conversation with Makuta Vhel, and then became the story of another world, wracked by disunity and disaster. In the space of seconds, Trina witnessed eons of war and woe, the shattering of a planet and the creation of a universe, the making of the Makuta, the awakening of the universe, and the litany of misdeeds and mistakes that followed-

    She shoved Icthilos away from her with a wordless cry, flinging the mask from her face.

    “That- what was… what the Karz?”

    “I know. It’s a lot to take in.”

    “There’s no Destiny. No plan, no purpose,” Trina sputtered, “It’s all just… random chance?”

    “No, Trina,” Icthilos picked up Trina’s other Kanohi and pushed it into her hands, “That kind of thinking is what turned Widrek and the others against us. They think it doesn’t matter, that everything we did is for nothing.”

    “It is, though,” Trina snapped, pushing the mask onto her face. The rush of energy that came with it only invigorated her rage, and she shoved at Icthilos again, “You saw the same thing I did. We’ve lost our way.”

    “No, we made our own way,” Icthilos said. “We became more than we were meant to be, more than those who made us.”

    Trina stopped, weighing his words. “We don’t know what we’re doing.”

    “Don’t we? Whether it was by malfunction or coincidence or Destiny’s design, our species gained the ability to think, and choose. We made mistakes along the way, sure, but every Toa in this building made a conscious choice to defend and serve those weaker than themselves. Our makers, whoever or whatever they were… they couldn’t manage that.” 

    He was right. In the vision she’d seen, the Great Beings had chosen to unleash killing machines upon their own people instead of seeking a peaceful resolution to the war. They’d abandoned them to their fate, created a 100,000 year contingency plan to repair the damage, instead of preventing it from happening in the first place.

    And there was something else, a detail so small yet so great in significance that it took her several moments to find the words for it.

    “Energised Protodermis,” she said. “Back then it destroyed and transformed, just like it does now.”

    “Exactly,” Icthilos nodded.

    “But it was before our creators even knew what it was. Before they made Mata Nui to decide our Destinies for us.”

    “Which means Destiny was never theirs to decide. Maybe they found a way to manipulate it to some extent, but clearly they didn’t create or control it.”

    “But what does that mean, for us?”

    “Maybe there’s no such thing as Destiny at all. Or maybe it’s everything.

    “What do you mean?”

    “Our Destinies transform us. From Matoran, to Toa, to Turaga. Who’s to say that it isn’t Destiny what gave our race and all others the gift of sapience?”

    “That’s what you think?”

    “It’s what I choose to believe,” Icthilos said, “What I am, what I’ve done, it doesn’t feel like an accident or a mistake.”

    “It feels like… it means something,” Trina nodded. “We saved lives. We helped people. It mattered.”

    “But not everyone here feels the same way.”

    With eight simple words, Icthilos brought the brunt of reality bearing back down on Trina. She understood why Widrek and Maliss and the others had changed so profoundly, maddened by despair and defiance, futility and fear.

    “We can’t tell anyone,” She blurted out, the words escaping her before she’d even fully processed the severity of her suggestion, “We’d lose others. Even those that stayed would be… shaken.”

    “It’s more than that. Maliss told me that Vhel’s followers are actively trying to find the Great Spirit and return him to power. If they succeed… if the Great Spirit completes his mission and the Great Beings restore their world…”

    “…we wouldn’t be needed anymore,” Trina felt sick, “They were willing to kill their own people to try to save their world. They’d cast all of us aside without a second thought.”

    “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

    She knew where this was going, what he was trying to say without speaking the words aloud. This wasn’t simply about saving the city. Potentially, this was about saving their entire species.

    “I don’t know what they know, but I might have a lead. Something they missed. I need to-”

    “The less I know, the better. Go.”

    “Thank you.”

    “Don’t.” Trina shook her head, “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. I don’t know if there is a right thing to do. I know we have the power to choose but I don’t know if we have the right to choose for everybody.”

    “Then I think it would be best for everyone if no one else ever knows.”

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