Bonkle

3/5 old Kanohi Force acquaintances

Love this, you've successfully made me feel like I've somehow got another class this semester.

>no Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Maybe it's a window. I was in federal prison for tax fraud

5/5 old buddy

Just read the prologue for Sculptors/Smelters and I really enjoyed it! I like the setting and the characters you've established so far, very unique for a Bionicle story. IIRC there's pretty much zero story information for the Civil War beyond some basic notes, so you've picked a great niche you can have a lot of fun with. I look forward to more. I also appreciate how much research you've evidently put in for the above post - although I don't have time to read it at the moment. Will do later.

And ad for a game I've heard good things about and some character profile links.

Oh man, uhhh looks like it was all 6 Vahki about two and a half years ago lol. I do plan on getting some parts for a MOC... eventually.

Some very nice art with a link to even more very nice art.

BZP's formatting is screwy, it looked fine on my document and when I pasted it here I couldn't ditch those indents

Almost nothing of note or real interest for me in the 2010s. A definite decline for LEGO on all fronts. (Not including Bionicle of course, since we are in the general LEGO section)

Remember the fight between Smith and Neo at the end of Revolutions?

VI. There are few things in this world more frightening than a Toa in battle. In their later years, the Kor Toa were mediators and defenders for the most part. But I saw them fight once, and have heard tales of them and Toa from other regions. They are the only beings anyone knows of that have elemental abilities. Nothing compares. Most threats in Kor were handled with a few punches or kicks, maybe a couple of well-placed swings of a Toa tool. If something truly required the elements, nothing was held back. Of course, Toa were considerate of innocents and of their surroundings. But to see a war waged not with strength, but sheer will, an extension of oneself, is staggering. To know some who walked among us could shatter everything with little more than a glance, but somehow kept that urge shackled, rocks the core of being. I have often wondered who abandoned this forsaken world that beings of such power could exist, unchecked. Of course, among the handful of things more frightening than seeing a Toa fight is witnessing two of them fight each other. Particularly when one of them has minimal command of his abilities and the other seemingly cares for nothing. Were I just turning onto this street now, I might have figured a meteor had found its way to the ground. That is truly the easiest way to comprehend. A thick fog of dust fills the air, through which I am only able to see thanks to the intermittent fire bursts from Arhet, which also serve to provide me with better glimpses of him; I was only able to look for a brief moment before Corvec charged down the street after him. His Suletu, once a darker color, is bleached almost white. Red eyes glow unusually bright beneath. One arm ends in a nimble three-fingered hand under a flame emitter. I am not sure if it is a replacement or merely an augment for his natural powers. The other appears normal aside from a small blade fixed to the wrist. From his back sprout several tubes and other apparatuses that appear fragile but are apparently quite sturdy. The dark armor is heavily tarnished. My view is suddenly obscured by the appearance of new fighters. I quickly realize Corvec is using his mask, trying to throw off Arhet, who clearly has the upper hand. One, then two, then three illusions are hacked away, and I hear Arhet’s genial laugh as the pitch of the battle increases. Boulders shoot up out of the sand in a blur and are batted away almost as quickly. Corvec ducks under sweeping waves of flame, parries jabs and punches with his blades. The heat becomes more and more unbearable, even for desert dwellers as us. The street rumbles and buildings start to crack, as if they’re part of a rope being pulled too tightly by someone ignorant of its tolerance. Then the stone begins to soften, melting away under Arhet’s intense heat. Coils of sand fly waywardly through the air like serpents. I fall back as one hits me square in the chest, coughing. The ground quakes hard enough to almost throw me back to my feet. There are no words. This is not the precision Toa were known for, the well-timed, relentless hammering at a problem. This is two madmen. It is all I can do to watch. It’s done like waking from a dream, gone so quickly but lingering so vividly that one wonders whether or not it was real, whether it could even be real. The dust and sand return to the ground fast as rain and the fire is gone from the air. Buildings sag as if pulled down by their own weight. They stand, breathing hard, just out of the other’s reach. Eyes locked. Staggered, hunched, but invisible energy ripples off them like stones in a pond. If a Matoran were to somehow exert the same force that has only temporarily tired a Toa, they would be swept from this plane. Perhaps this was Corvec’s plan; perhaps he knew his tenuous grasp on his powers would be best used to simply exhaust Arhet. But then Arhet smiles, and a truer and warmer smile I have not seen in Kor. “I’m so glad you responded to my call,” he says, as though we had just come pleasantly out of the hut with Ratuk and the last ten minutes up and down this road hadn’t happened. “I was hoping we could have just talked. But then again, that was a most interesting welcome. You’re the only person in this wasteland who’s bothered to give me one.” Corvec just shakes his head silently, gasping. Then, with surprising speed he jabs with his left arm, but Arhet brings up his flamespewer just as quickly, which the blade bounces off of. Off balance, Corvec stumbles back, allowing Arhet to punch him in the gut. Stone wheezes, stomps fire’s foot with his own, and gets a weak slash in to his enemy’s breast. Fire tilts his head before ramming it into stone’s, knocking him to the ground, freeing fire’s movement. “Give it up, Ma. You’re in no danger. I spent so much time finding you, and if I wanted you dead I would have come to you. Let’s talk.” “No thanks,” he gasps, “the sooner I’m done with you, the sooner I can get out of this city.” With great strain Corvec pulls himself to his feet, groaning, glaring down an openly impressed Arhet. His Mahiki glows fiercely and he lunges at his opponent, starting to take the shape of a muaka, a strange beast from Jen’lan. Arhet catches his wrist, the half-claw at the end of it almost embedded in his chest. He twists, hard, and throws Corvec to the sand at his feet. I rush towards him when Ratuk suddenly springs to life, knocking away my hammer and tackling me to the ground with unprecedented strength. Even as Corvec struggles to get up again at least a dozen other Matoran flood the street, grabbing him and holding him down as well. “I would say you chose the hard way, but it’s really no more difficult for me than any other way we could have done this,” Arhet says, dusting himself off. I struggle against Ratuk, trying and failing to avoid looking into the many void eyes on those holding Corvec. The patchwork abomination looks down at his defeated foe again, then to me as if noticing me for the first time. I call out to Corvec, but he is already unconscious, or worse. “You are.. Sufficient,” Arhet says, “Consider yourself lucky, Matoran.” That last word is the first he’s said in a tone suggesting anything other than complete politeness, in this case, contempt. * * * I wake in the cold and dark feeling rather sore and wishing I could get a break from some combination of those factors sometime soon on this mission. I also find, to my inconvenience, that I am chained to the stone wall of the incredibly dim, torchlit cavern we are in. “We” being myself and Corvec, who is actually alive and well and staring straight ahead at a dark corner of the place. I can only guess we are deep in the center of Jok-Kor’s plateau. Arhet appears at the mouth of a passageway, smiling broadly and kindly once more. “Heard you were awake,” he says, tapping his mask and chuckling to himself. “Need someone to listen to your evil scheme?” I spit, struggling against the chains. “No, I have plenty of listeners already… although I suppose there’s no point in having them listen to what they can’t understand. It’s simply that what I need to do is easier when you’re awake. Though I’d gladly go into detail about my ambitions if you’d like.” “Spare us. Please,” Corvec says quietly. I crane my neck to look at him fully, He’s physically exhausted, clearly, but somehow he seems to have back the bite I last saw in Rar-Kor. “As you wish,” Arhet says, pausing to take in the sight of his fellow Toa. “I really must say, Corvec Ma, it is a true pleasure to have you here. We haven’t even been introduced, not… conventionally, anyways. I’m Arhet Su, and I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.” Corvec says nothing, just stares. It is not a calculated silence designed to frustrate. He is genuinely confused. I’ll admit I am as well, the exact picture of Arhet’s machination not totally clear. “Oh come on!” Arhet continues jovially. “You’re a hard man to find. I spent months chasing rumors, but it seemed you’d disappeared from Kor entirely. But then I started hearing more and more whispers about the hermit Toa of Rar-Kor, so I sent some information that way through one of my… conduits. So someone else could find you for me. A little Matoran in danger here, a little G’o’r’l’o’h there. Quite a tidy little package if I do say so. Although I musn’t forget to credit this lady. I don’t believe I caught your name?” My silence is calculated. “Can you just tell me why I’m here so we can get this over with?” Corvec sighs, not giving either of us time to let the knowledge of that manipulation turn to despair. “You are here… because you have something I want- no, something I need. And you can give it to me without losing it for yourself.” “Either way, I’m not interested in handing a liar and a traitor anything.” Arhet shrugs, approaching him. “Very well. It’s no matter to collect memories from Matoran, or even from Toa, but I figured someone such as yourself might appreciate interpreting your experiences for me rather than having me translate a tangled, cluttered life. We can try both.” Corvec glances at the Suletu inches from his own mask. “You’re not getting in my head.” “Do you think Ratuk said that too?” Corvec comes to life, his eyes flaring as he lashes against the chains. Arhet does not budge. “Minds are like doors, some have locks, others don’t. You’ve just given me the key to yours.” His left hand moves to Corvec’s throat, holding the head in place while he moves the three-fingered hand to Corvec’s mask, the thumb on the forehead, the other two on the cheeks. The cave becomes very quiet, and both of them, very still. I count the seconds in agonizing tension. They pull away from each other and gasp like they were holding their breath. Arhet sighs, not agitated, but like someone who just stepped in mud or dropped a fruit in the dirt. He rips Corvec’s Mahiki off, sending it sailing across the cave. Before it can hit the ground he is on me, wordlessly. The fingers touch my mask. I wake in the cold and dark. Review Topic

A fan, or roughly half a ship's steering wheel with leaves stuck to it.

The vast and varied elements of a Bionicle creator

Representation for some of my favorite Lego subthemes + Bionicle + creative and unique builds. I love.

Halak tries empathy, doesn't like it

V. In the hours leading up to dawn, Corvec has seen everything and absolutely nothing. After I gave a grunt agreeing with his sarcasm implying the difficulty of facing a Toa, and after his responses to a few more of my jabs and prods, he fell silent. At first, he stared up into the night sky, stars dimmed by the moon’s brightness. And then his gaze fell on the passage wall opposite the one we were leaning against, and stuck. For a moment I was confused considering he had the Mahiki at his disposal, and then I realized the mask was the reason he was staring at a wall. Who knew how long it had been since he actually slowed down and took the time to see something through his own eyes, not those of a Jaga, that wasn’t an illusion? Not long after, he reached across the narrow channel, placing the tips of his fingers against the stone. He was, again, silent when I asked what he was doing. Kor is not so cold at night. Now the sun is almost at the horizon and Corvec’s hand is still pressed to the stone. The night passed in silence, a silence finally broken as he lets out a shaky breath and slowly draws back his hand. There is nothing, and then a deep cracking as the face of the rock begins to fracture rapidly. Before I can react, Corvec is on his feet. He grabs me, hauling us off down another passage as the channel collapses behind us. “What in the name of the sun were you trying to do?” I hiss, wrenching my forearm from his grasp. “Fikouweb fracture,” he sighs. “I wanted to see if I still knew how to be precises enough to create just the tiniest crack.” “It took you all night to figure out you don’t know after all?” I retrieve my hammer from its sling on my back, getting a good grip on it. I swing hard at Corvec, who jumps to the side. The head connects with the stone behind him, leaving a small rupture on the wall. “There. Easy. Now let’s find another way out of here.” With limited light to work with, it seems to me we are quickly moving even deeper into the canyons. Corvec offers little help, simply turning abruptly when he feels it is appropriate. I do something I have never done before; I consider how he is feeling. Truthfully, I can’t quite imagine being so disconnected from a fundamental part of myself the way he is. It must be like losing a limb, or function of it at the very least. I glance ahead at Corvec and push these thoughts from my mind. He ranks as an enemy, up with Arhet and the Westings. He is simply a useful one. Any further debate of mine is cut short by a hollow cry that sounds just enough like a steady tone to be disturbing. From atop one of the nearest stone walls jumps a Matoran, who lands on Corvec’s shoulders, knife in hand. He begins making light jabs into Corvec’s armor, no longer screaming. “Halak?” Corvec grunts, flailing and trying to reach back and grab for the attacker. I eye him, and then the Matoran, each in turn. Then I wind up and smash my hammer into the back of his knees. He cries out and falls, landing on the Matoran, who continues to writhe about and stab wildly. I grab his wrist, hauling him out from under Corvec even as the larger of the two stands with a groan. “Did you have to do it like that?” “I’m not as smart as a Toa-hero.” The Matoran is still lashing out in all directions and I am barely able to dodge his knife over and over. “Uh… hello. We didn’t mean to intrude or anything. We’re just looking for a way out,” Corvec says. The Matoran doesn’t respond, in fact this only seems to make it angrier. I growl as he nicks my armor and then let go. Corvec looks to me and we both start to back away. He follows us at a distance, swinging wildly even though we are out of his range. I am starting to wonder if maybe he is backing us out of here when my feet suddenly touch sand instead of rock. I turn and there is Jok-Kor in the distance. When I look back into the passage, the Matoran is gone. Corvec shrugs. “Crazed hermit?” I stare down the tunnel a moment longer and then shrug as well, and we begin making our way across the sand to the city. * * * Scarcely any time has passed since our sneaking back into Jok-Kor before I hear a voice calling, “Toa Corvec! Corvec Ma!” It is a sound I am growing tired of hearing everywhere. Coming towards us is yet another Matoran, this one wearing a solid gray Kaukau he’s evidently carved eyeholes into. Like so many other stone Matoran the rest of his body nearly blends in with the rock and sand around him. “I think this is our guy,” Corvec mutters as he approaches. “So Davik did get my message then,” he says, a little winded. “Oh, sorry. I’m Ratuk. You remember me, right?” Before Corvec can respond I interject. “Tell him something only Ratuk would know.” The Matoran regards me for a moment and then turns back to Corvec. “Um. Let’s see. How about the time we met? There was a dispute between the carvers’ guild and that band of merchants from Nal-Kor. When things started getting bloody, your team was brought in to settle it. I wound up getting hurt in the crossfire, and-” “And afterwards I got you patched up and took you down to that one restaurant on the north end - the owner imported too much mukau so it was cheap… and tasty.” Ratuk nods, smiling. “That day really let me see what a Toa could be.” “Me too,” Corvec says quietly, his gaze growing distant. I clear my throat. “Right. Well, I’m assuming this is Ratuk then. Do you have somewhere we can go?” “Oh! Yes, follow me.” Ratuk begins leading us through back alleys and mostly empty streets, jogging ahead of us. “Oddly cheerful for someone desperate enough to call on you for help,” I grumble. Corvec shrugs. Soon enough we spill out of another alley onto a deserted street, a residential area quiet during the morning. Ratuk runs across the street, opening the door of a small stone hut and standing aside for us. Corvec doubles over to get in, I follow. Ratuk comes in last and shuts the door behind us, plunging the room into darkness aside from the beam of early morning sunlight filtering in through a small window carved into a wall. Our informant’s demeanor changes entirely. “Okay. Let’s do this quickly. There’s no telling how many… watchers Arhet has. What do you know already?” I shoot an annoyed glance at Corvec, who is sitting on the floor but still hunched over, trying to find a comfortable position. “He’s here, and he’s causing trouble. And he’s a Toa. That’s really about it.” “And he wears a Suletu,” Corvec adds. Ratuk blinks, and then nods. “Okay, so just the basics floating around. Well, he’s a Toa of Fire, specifically, No one knows where he came from exactly. He’s not a Kor Toa. I believe you have the honor of being the last of those,” he nods towards Corvec, who turns away and hits his head on the ceiling. “What does he want?” I say, already feeling impatient. Every moment in here puts me more on edge. Ratuk sighs, “We don’t know. But he is behind the Matoran disappearances, and the… off… ones who are still here. I don’t know if you’ve run in to any of them, but there are a lot of people around here almost acting like zombies.” I nod, thinking in particular of the Matoran being attacked in the alleyway. “I’m not sure what it is exactly, but it involves mind control or something like that. He traps consciousness deep in the mind, not so deep to cause death, but enough to allow… something else in.” “But he has a Suletu, not a Komau,” Corvec says, and I simply nod in agreement. “He can read minds, not control them.” In the darkness, I can almost swear Ratuk grins. “Well, here’s the thing. Some time ago, Arhet had just about the closest brush with death possible. Three guesses who brought him back from the brink.” Corvec and I are silent. “The Westings.” I clench my fists at the mention and Corvec leans forward, careful not to his his head again. “They… augmented him, let’s say. Repaired the worst of the damage to his body with implants and saved him from near-brain death with their foreign technology. It gave him… a new perspective, to say the least.” “So he serves the Westings now?” I ask. “No! No, no, no, no, no. He is… so far beyond the Westings. And anything else in this forsaken world for that matter. Arhet serves no one and nothing but his own destiny.” “How do you know all this?” I breathe, and I am afraid I already know the answer. Ratuk looks me in the eye and then laughs. It is harsh and mocking and artificial but it soon devolves into something real. And it seems like it is tearing him apart. Then, just as abruptly, he is completely still, and I see in his eyes the void in those I saw in the canyons and the alley and een back in Rar-Kor. I jerk my head away and look at Corvec. His arms are stretched out towards the door, and I can only guess he is trying to use his powers to widen the exit. He quickly gives up and springs forward, smashing the front of the hut to pieces. He rolls and then springs to his feet, freezing as he looks down the road. I grab my weapon and rush out to join him, leaving Ratuk still as a statue. Ahead is a horrible figure that can only be Arhet, Toa of Fire. He smiles, hands on his hips. Knowingly, he asks, “Speak of the devil?” Review Topic

Pretty much, yeah. Must be lousy to be that guy

I hate dialogue

IV. We expect our enemies to be, in all things, at once both their best and their worst; the former so our victory over them may be all the sweeter, the latter to justify our hatred for them. The sentiments Davik has shared with me over the past few years could only be recalled in full in the same span of time a trip from Ror to Jok takes, but this one in particular stands out to me now. Here is Corvec standing over a foe who can neither be his greatest nor weakest any longer. He is just nothing as the nighttime breeze blows through empty eye sockets. I almost feel sorry for him. There is a very long near-silence punctuated by the distant clanking and cracking carried from Jok-Kor on the wind. Finally, without turning or moving at all, he says, “Did you know?” It takes me a moment to even comprehend what he said, to realize that the plan may be falling apart. Then I simply say “Yes,” without hesitation. He looks back at me over his shoulder. “Then why?” “There’s someone called Arhet,” I say quickly. We were hoping to ease him into this later, but unsurprisingly Corvec turned out to be uncooperative. “And he-” He cuts me off, scoffing as he turns his gaze up to the moon. “You lied to me so you could get me to come take care of a problem for you?” I’ll admit this arrogance stuns even me, momentarily. “...do you think that even if this really was about Gorloh, we were just giving you a courtesy call? Letting you have first crack at him if you wanted it because you had a score to settle? No. We came to you because we need your help.” “Then why did you lie to me about this if it’s so desperate?” “Oh, Davik didn’t want to, believe me. But I convinced him we had to - because I knew this exact conversation would take place. I knew the second the scope of this went beyond the little world inside your head you would deflate and go back to burying your head in the sand -literally- because you don’t think it’s your problem.” “This isn’t my problem. I came here to fight G’o’r’l’o’h.” “You came here because you wanted out of that cell and Gorloh let you justify it to yourself. And it doesn’t matter if it’s your problem - it’s your job. ‘Toa’ means ‘suck it up and help people who can’t help themselves’.” He shifts, finally turning to face me. “This is no longer the way for me. This is not what I am supposed to do. Not without my team.” I let out a growl that ends in a frustrated roar, paying no mind to whatever might be lurking in the canyons, listening for prey. I explode. “In your two wasted years in the desert did you ever ONCE consider that the reason Kor is falling apart -if you even knew it was- is because you decided the loss of your team was a free pass for you to just give up? Did you ever think that people who aren’t you were ALSO affected by the loss of three Toa? Matoran are disappearing into the night, cities that have stood for centuries are turning to dust and rubble, and no road in Kor is safe to walk, sun out or not, because you ran away when things got hard. It wouldn’t matter even if you were squaring off with Gorloh right now. You gave up on your destiny. He already won.” There is a blur and a sharp crack and breath flees from my lungs as I slam into the wall of the clearing. Corvec approaches swiftly but evenly, ready to deliver another blow. I have struck a nerve. “Don’t presume to know anything about me,” he says, and all the idle warmth is absent from his tone. I will admit it is frightening. I retrieve my hammer from the ground and send him back with a blow to the gut before stepping away from the wall. He sends his fist at me again and I block with the broad side of the hammer. “I have no destiny!” He shouts, bearing down on me. “Fate is the result of sloth on entropy’s part. And believe me, you could scour Kor for an eternity and never find anyone who works harder than entropy.” He is attacking mechanically yet furiously, but though his gaze is intense there is no anger in the weary eyes. Soon enough he has worn me down, knocking the hammer away. Off balance, I stumble and fall to the ground. “You are nothing, then. Directionless. A grain of sand on a breeze, littering the wind.” I can tell this, too, slinks under his armor. He snorts, putting his boot to my chest. He leans in, bringing the precious blades close to my neck in an x-pattern. I steel myself and offer, “Go ahead, then,” with a whisper. “I don’t want to die. But if I do, at least it’ll be because I was actually trying to get something accomplished.” He seems then to come back into his own body, like he is just now aware of what he is doing. He pulls away quickly, hesitates for a moment, and then offers me his hand. I ignore it and pull myself to my feet. I was ready for something like this to happen. “Now if we’re done with that, let me just say, I was honest with you where it counts: I despise you, but I truly do need your help,” I say. “Yes, that has been clear from the beginning,” he mutters. There is another long silence before he adds, meekly, “I’m… sorry for... that.” I blink but otherwise do not acknowledge it. “So are you going to help me or not, Corvec?” “Corvec Ma.” I shake my head. “Maybe you can get that back after this.” The honorific suffix, the first syllable of a Toa’s mask, is intended as a sign of respect for their power - it’s only worth noting what mask someone wears if they can actually use it. It is a deference I have consistently denied him. He smiles wryly and I allow myself to as well. Even though he did just attack me I find my opinion of him not necessarily hardening any further. It is something beyond requiring a basic decency for the sake of the mission, and my already incredibly low view of him. I get the sense there might be something else about him I do not understand after all, loathe as I am to admit it. “Give me one reason why I should.” “I’ll break your ankles and leave you here with your friend if you don’t.” “A different reason.” I sigh. He’s already made up his mind one way or another. This is just to irritate me. “Be honest. Do you have anything better to do?” * * * We are waiting in the canyons for morning to come. Not exactly welcome in Jok-Kor as it is, approaching the city in the dark, from the canyons, would be the perfect excuse for a guard, or anybody really, to kill us on sight. Corvec has been sitting quietly for some time. I think Gorloh’s death is finally setting in for him. In his mind, anyways, killing Gorloh, or at the very least fighting him, would have fixed everything. I wish it was that easy. But if fate were to let us walk easy paths, fate’s guidance would not be needed after all. I am tempted to ask if he really did plan to kill him, even if it might anger him again, when he finally speaks. “So you said we’re dealing with an… Arhep?” “Arhet.” “You’re one to correct me when you can’t even say G’o’r’l’o’h right.” “You’re saying ‘Arhep’. That’s entirely different from ‘Arhet’. ‘Gorloh’ is the same as… ‘Gorloh’. You can’t hear apostrophes.” “Yes you can. You have to know what to listen for.” “Whatever. Arhet. Everything I told you before holds true, just for this guy instead. Matoran are disappearing all the time. Westing sightings have increased. And something is just… off in Jok-Kor. All information points to this Arhet being behind it.” “That’s it?” “We were going to hear more from your friend until you decided to run out on me.” “...Fair enough.” “I already am aware of your… disinclination for action, so I’ll warn you now: this is really not going to be easy. All the rumors point to this being just one guy. He’s causing all these disappearances by himself. At best, he might have some Westings as allies somehow. But that’s not very reassuring either.” He nods grimly, and I shift against the rocks to try and find a more comfortable position. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see two more eyes watching me; when I turn that way, there is nothing. Corvec shows no indication he has seen anything. I sigh, looking up to the thin strip of stars afforded by the high narrow walls of the passage we now rest in. “There’s one other thing.” “What’s that?” “...Technically, his name is Arhet Su.” He lets out a long, exasperated breath. “Oh boy, it’s a Toa.” Review Topic

Brutaka