Jump to content

Janus

Premier Retired Staff
 View Profile  See their activity

  • Posts

    1,016

  • Joined

  • Last visited

 Content Type 

Blog Entries posted by Janus

  2. Janus
    FOR SCIENCE! 
    A Night in the Chapel (AKA: Toronto how we hate thee pt 2)
     
     
    That's right. Three nights in a row, go me!
     
    However now's the time to introduce a little something new.
     
    You may recall the original rules of FOR SCIENCE! but for those of you who do not, I shall repost them for your viewing pleasure--and add in the final piece (For now)

    Every day I will write a minimum of 2,000 words. This can be about any subject. Throughout the week I will collect comments on what people are interested in me writing about. Any subject that is BZP appropriate will be considered. Any subject I am not familiar with must be presented with enough information that I can have at least a loose understanding of it. Every Friday I will randomly select one of the choices given and write 4,000 words on that given subject. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. I will accept additional challenges on an an occasional basis. This can include length, using certain words, using a certain style, or using a certain phrase--or anyything else you can think of! However as an addition on to the last one. I will allow you to vote for the story I write on Friday! That's right, as soon as this entry goes up the voting willl begin. The two choices we have for this Friday are: 
    Makaru - Furmanisms. A candy store full. 5000 words or less, just to be nice.
    Bossman - write about being raised by moosen in the Yukon Territories
     
    So vote away, and the winning choice will be my 4,000 word story tomorrow!
     
     
     
     
    I suppose the first thing I could say about the Toronto Airport (Pearson International, for those of you playing along at home!) is that.
     
    Dude. Big.
     
    I mean wow, talk about compensating.
     
    But in all seriousness it's pretty enormous—and not particularly well staffed. Makes it fun for when you are trying to find out where to go. As a general rule of thumb, follow the SIGNS.
     
    Ah yes, the signs. A rather prevalent feature in airports, signs advertising services, boards with flight delays and arrivals, signs that direct you where to go. Ah, Signs.
     
    So I followed the myriad of signs to my eventual destination. Let's see…International Baggage, Departures, Baggage Claim, and International Transfers.
     
    Ah! The last one, that's the ticket.
     
    And so I went: Down the hallway, through the security guarded doors (Remember this, it'll be important), up a staircase, up another staircase, and finally over a bridge…like…thing.
     
    Ah, at International Transfers I get to stop in at International baggage check. Okay!
     
    Now I am a naturally observant person, so I see the people in line pulling out their boarding passes and their passports—and being the astute man I am I garner I am to do the same. No problem!
     
    And so I reached into my pocket and pulled out my boarding passes and my…wait…wait….wait.
     
    Passport.
     
    Where?
     
    In a frantic scramble that was likely akin to someone with flesh eating ants on their skin I tore into every pocket I had on my person. No passport.
     
    Oh man.
     
    Well, first we gotta find out about the status of the flight anyhow, right? And when I check on that it's sure to turn up, right?
     
    Yeah, not so much. Oh, and the flight's cancelled.
     
    GLEE.
     
    And thus began a desperate flight to my point of origin (in the airport, thanks. I have no intention of returning to the womb). I raced down the hallway, down the stairs and
     
    HOLD UP THERE SIR. THIS DOOR IS SECURITY GUARDED, WHY DO YOU WANT THROUGH?
     
    Wait, what? I just needed to get through to get my passport. And so I attempted to explain this clearly and concisely, transmitting my urgent need and panic—after all, I could still catch another flight!
     
    Instead it ended up more like verbal vomit, as I sprayed out "Ithinkmypassport'sontheplanecanIgetthrough?"
     
    She looked at me with something resembling pity, and something resembling an eye-quirk. Like an odd mixture of sympathy and what-did-you-just-say-you-strange-strange-man.
     
    However in the end I was strongly DENIED entry back in there. After all I might be a terrorist or something like that!
     
    However, she did politely inform me whereabouts I could find the lost and found and report my passport as missing. Lovely.
     
    So I strolled down another set of stairs, desperately trying not to hyperventilate (AND FAILING HORRIBLY) and walked through another set of security doors. Ah, the main foyer, crowded with bazillions of people—likely there to pick others up. Avoiding this throng of people I found the little hole-in-the-wall that was the Lost and Found.
     
    It was quiet in there, which was nice—but of course it also allowed me to focus on my incredibly rapid heartbeat and utter PANIC. (For those of you wondering about my terror, International travel via air ==IMPOSSIBLE without a passport. To put it in mathematical terms Plane + America-Passport=NO). And I reported it to the man behind the desk. He had the people cleaning the plane check aaaaaand.
     
    No.
     
    CRUD.
     
    He then said gave me a number I could phone and told me to check Canada Customs which was just down the hall. HOKAYS.
     
    And down the hallway I go to Canada Customs (Another hole-in-the-wall office WHICH HIDES A SECRET), and to make a long story short: There ain't no passport there for me. I get another number I can phone and the best words of 'comfort' I have ever heard.
     
    "It really depends when they're handed in. It usually takes about two-three hours to clean the plane, but passports can come in as late as FIVE DAYS after that." (Emphasis mine)
     
    Don't you feel so secure now?
     
    Well, with that problem being solved (supposedly) I needed to fix the second one, mainly being stranded in an airport like a bazillion miles from home.
     
    So just to complete my (first) circuit around the airport I dashed upwards towards the international baggage check, and went to one of the many "Help Phones" that were scattered around the airport.
     
    Or rather I should say I joined the line for one of the many "Help" phones that were scattered around the airport. Because there were lines, oh were there lines.
     
    Twenty miuntes ticked by, followed by forty, followed by fifty, and I engaged in conversation with my fellow stranded passengers, oh what a merry time was had by all!
     
    And then glory of glories it was my turn to hold the phone, can you believe it? I dialed the requisite three digit number to call up my airline and glory be….I got to be on hold for another FORTY MINUTES.
     
    (Protip: If you cancel a million flights, have your switchboard ready to receive A HUNDRED THOUSAND CALLS. Otherwise your customer service does indeed suck)
     
    At last I got through, and was met with a REAL HUMAN VOICE. Truly an amazing thing. They informed me that they're very sorry but all the flights to New York were cancelled, however they could get me the earliest booking coming up very soon. The first flight left at 6:00 PM Sunday, what luck!
     
    Well, I hung up the phone happy that my little situation was resolved, now all I had to do was relax, wait for my passport to be found, and wait a single night. I could wait a single night, right?
     
    Cell phone rings, pick it up. Ah, it's my girlfriend. Lovely to hear from her, we chat, I let her know when the earliest flight is. She pauses.
     
    "Sunday?"
     
    "Yep"
     
    "That's two days!"
     
    "No it's not, that's only….wait. Today's Friday, isn't it?"
     
    "Yep."
     
    "…..I'm going to need to call them again"
     
    And thus my wonderful call ended and the panic returned. However I felt that (having had a few hours pass) surely there would be some response from Canada Customs about my passport, right?
     
    And so I bolted downstairs once more, one by one my mental strings beginning to detach.
     
    To make a long story short: No.
     
    And for those of you who are thinking of the lost and found: No.
     
    Well, I guess it's time to wait in line at the phone again. But wait! The phone rings once more! Ah, it's my girlfriend again, informing me that if I BUS through the border I do not in fact need a passport. BRILLIANCE.
     
    Well, I check customs, they say I'm good to go with the I.D. I do have on me. Awesome!
     
    The phone rings.
     
    I'm informed that someone's done some checking and that my I.D. might not be valid to get through the US Border (And Canada Customs may be wrong on this, after all, they're not immigration). Well, damper on the enthusiasm, but I may as well try, right?
     
    All I need to do now I cancel that flight on Sunday, like heck I'm staying in the airport for TWO days. Ick.
     
    Long story short again: Wait in line = 35 minutes.
     
    Wait on hold = 1 hour.
     
    Flight cancelled, money refunded. Delightful.
     
    Awright, now all I need to do is get my luggage and I can catch that bus!
     
    Problem: Luggage isn't in International Baggage claim. I wait for a good HOUR looking/checking at the front desk before any real help is offered to me. By this time it is dark outside and I have received several calls from various people.
     
    Solution: Check domestic baggage claim!
     
    Problem: Luggage isn't in domestic baggage claim
     
    Solution: Crud. I got nothing.
     
    Well, this is fun. I may as well check Canada Customs again, right? Still no passport. Oh what fun this trip has become!
     
    Phone rings (By the way, this became a common occurrence), more checking has turned up the fact that I almost definitely cannot get into the states with the I.D. I have on me. Time to re-book that flight.
     
    So I stand in line at the ticket counter (You really think I wanted to go back to that dang phone?) for a good…oh, two hours. Receiving phone calls and getting to know my fellow passengers. Why am I stuck in line so long? Well because there's a line of about 50 people and there are…2 service agents.
     
    Wait, scratch that. One just left.
     
    We now have one service agent and…oh, 60 people. The line's getting bigger and the people are getting smaller. Is this fun yet?
     
    Someone complains, police are called, manager arrives and tells us that she absolutely WILL NOT put more staff on this desk, and instead invites us all to go to the ticket counter on the ground floor. There are complaints, grumbling (Who wants to lose their place in line?) but eventually compliance.
     
    After a period of getting completely lost we finally find our way to the ticket counter, and surprise, surprise: we've all lost our places in line.
     
    Ah, but there is good news! A young gentleman approaches from the counter and asks "Who is traveling to the states?" Many hands go up and he basically states the following: (Note this is not verbatim and may be tinged with bitterness)
     
    "Sucks to be you, all flights are cancelled. Have a voucher with a phone number for how to get a discounted hotel room and a number for the booking phone number. Now get out of line"
     
    Yaaaaaaaaay.
     
    There are several more check-ins at Canada Customs, none of which give off any result. Glee.
     
    Finally I cave in and call the number, after all, who wants to sleep in the Airport?
    Ring, ring, ring. Ah, there's a young man at the other end. He asks where I am, and I let him know.
     
    "The discount tonight is at the Holiday in, the per-night cost is $99 dollars"
     
    Excuse me, what? That sound you heard? That was my jaw dropping. This is a discount?
     
    "Oh, and the last shuttle left ten minutes ago, I'm afraid you'll have to take a taxi. Will you be booking a room?"
     
    Yeah, No.
     
    Phone hung up. Begin operation: Wander Airport looking for good place to sleep!
     
    Hours pass, finally a suitable location is found. The Airport Chapel's waiting room, in fact this is such a grand sleeping spot that someone is already sleeping there. Good thing there's enough room.
     
    By now I'm exhausted and paranoid (After all it's almost certain my passport has been stolen rather than simply lost. Either that or the people looking are…incompetent to say the least.) so I pull out my heavy jacket and drape it over myself. Hiding my carry-on bag, and myself from view. I'm also keeping all my valuables as close to my person as possible.
     
    I likely slept for about…oh, two hours. It's still dark, but I need something to drink.
     
    Tim Hortons is open, there's a line…a massive line, but a line nonetheless. I secure myself a spot and wait…and wait…and wait. Ah, almost at the end now, only about 20 people left in front of me!
     
    The manager comes out, they're closing.
     
    What.
     
    Well, with nothing else to do I decide I should go back to sleep. But this time I'll sleep more comfortably—my back hurts from sitting up while sleeping.
     
    I find an outlet to charge my cellphone (it's dying by this time), lay on the ground with it in my hand, and again drape my heavy coat over myself and all my possessions.
     
    I wake up about two hours later (Total hours of sleep thus far: 7, and that's being generous)
     
    I'm exhausted, it's not comfortable sleeping here and the feeling of utter terror of being completely isolated far from home is one that I do not look forward to experiencing again. I need to get out.
     
    I call my parents and my girlfriend and inform them. They understand.
     
    For sake of brevity let me simply say that after another hour on the phone I have tickets back to Vancouver, and an hour later I have established that the airport has indeed misplaced my luggage. My joy is boundless.
     
    Needless to say my boarding pass doesn't print off, I get to wait in line for another hour (around 200 people, maybe 5 people on duty out of 10-12), but finally I'm confirmed to be going home.
     
    And then my flight is delayed.
     
    By an hour.
     
    Wheeeeee.
     
    And that's about the end of it, now as I said, for sake of brevity I have not included everything (For example a report to the police, and said police acting rudely), however that's the jist of it.
     
    My luggage was found, my passport was not.
     
    I arrived safely in Vancouver, if somewhat exhausted.
     
    Total hours slept over three days: 9
     
    I have no desire to ever fly with that company again, and no desire to visit Pearson Airport ever again.
     
    Hope you enjoyed my suffering.
     
    Total Word Count: 2,211

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
  3. Janus

    A Profession Of Love

    By Janus,

    Beards are hot and cool and funny
    An' nobody's got a better one than my honey.

    She twists her hair all 'round under her chin
    An' everytime I see it I get a big silly grin

    I love her beard so much, it I'd gladly marry
    But If I told her that, things would get hairy.
  4. Janus
    I've received exactly THREE reports for the ENTIRE day, guys.
     
    It really doesn't take much to report innaproriate content, and it makes my life far easier, I can't browse every section of the forum every day, I still need to teach little ones how to kick serious butt.
  5. Janus

    A Word From The Fascist

    By Janus,

    You wanna call BZP staff fascist, good for you.
     
    You actually want to talk to someone and show that you're above the age of five, feel free to talk to me.
     
    AIM - Janus262
    MSN - Prince_Janus@Hotmail.com [i made it when I was seven, deal with it >= ( ]
     
    Seriously folks, I suggest you stop demeaning the staff on this website until you do their work, we're not fascist, we're not dictators, and we're not mean-spirited. People who abuse their power are banned. Be they staff or otherwise.
     
    Seriously, talk to me about this, show you have a brain.
  6. Janus
    FOR SCIENCE! (5) 
    Well once again the week has come, and once again it is time for me to begin writing. 2,000 is the challenge and once again I've hit it.
     
    Today is a little different, as, with some advice I split the 2,000 into two seperate stories. Both very different from each other--but it's up to you as to which you enjoy more.
     
    Keep in mind that I will begin accepting challenges for Friday, and the vote will be held on Thursday night.
     
    Enjoy!
     
     

    Almost Beautiful 
    It was almost beautiful that day. The snow fell in soft gentle flakes, and the dim lights of the city glowed; illuminating the falling snow and giving it some ethereal presence.
     
    I saw all of this from my sentry post high above the city. Up here the snow was brighter, more beautiful—but also somehow tainted by the grime of the fortress. It was an odd contrast, the soft and pure snow that fell slowly onto the quiet city…while I sat watch, my gun safely stored in its holster.
     
    It had been almost a year since war had rocked the inhabitants of our city, almost a year since we of Colth had formed an alliance with our neighboring cities.
     
    I sighed and shook my head, less than a hundred years ago the idea of wars between cities would have been considered mad, and yet here we were; Once known as the Trinity, the cities of Colth, Haspen, and Talga were now in an uneasy alliance. While there had been no outright fighting for close to year, tensions were still running high, and the people of Colth demanded the military take action.
     
    And so here I was—sitting atop the Fortress Halget: a monstrosity of iron and steel that stretched upwards and reared into the sky, daring anyone to challenge its might and attack its people. I stood on the third tier of Halget, the watching tier, with nothing but cold iron beneath my feet and a walkway that led into the warmth of the fortress’ inner sanctum. Directly in front of me was my OmNIS, a strange apparatus that seemed to be nothing more than tubes and a primitive gas engine—but for someone trained in the use of the system—someone such as myself, it was a valuable ally on the watching tier.
     
    All around me were my fellow OmNIS operators, each pointing their apparatus in a different direction. Three systems to the North, three to the East, and three to the South—each pointed towards a different city.
     
    The watching tier was the third of four tiers at Halget, each tier being assigned a specific duty that it must fill out. The first was Infantry and armory, the fourth was command—and the second lay a mystery to all but the highest ranking soldiers. It was rarely opened, and when it was armed guards were posted at every entrance, and a strange hissing sound could be heard in the corridors.
     
    My thoughts turned to the second tier as I stood at the catwalk, gripping the metal bar with one hand as the other fumbled for my lighter—I didn’t smoke like some other soldiers, but the gently dancing flame helped take my mind off the bitter freeze of the wind.
     
    I allowed my eyes to roam over what I could see of the third tier; the lighter casting a pale shadow on the dark metal of the fortress. Around me I could see my fellow operators, and my replacement sitting at my OmNIS system…I knew I had nothing more than a few short hours before I would again have my head inside the Oscillating Mirror Nagivation Intelligence System.
     
    The third tier was a perfect circle, wrapping its way around the conical body of the fortress like a dog curled up around its master’s feet. I could only see the half that viewed the outside of the city walls, but I knew that the circle wrapped wholly around, and that three identical OmNIS systems were eternally aimed at the city of Colth—to ensure that no scouts from Haspen or Talga made it inside the walls.
     
    I glanced skywards, amazed at the fact that light was fading so quickly, but already I could see the dim twilight taking over the sky. It would be another long night tonight, as the snow fell softly all around and the citizens slept, we, the soldiers of Colth would guard our proud city, and protect all those who lay within it.
     
    But there would be time enough for those thoughts later. For now I ached, the heavy metal of the OmNIS shroud causing my upper back and neck to scream as they worked—now that scream had dulled to a gentle murmur, but the ache still remained. I needed to rest.
     
    The light had completely disappeared by the time I entered the fortress, bleeding from the sky like ink from a ruined masterpiece. I watched it fade, allowing my eyes the gift of real sight, rather than the elaborate system of mirrors that made up the OmNIS, then I walked into the warm light of the corridor.
     
    The corridor was dimly lit, with several small lights lining the metal near the top, next to each light was a small rivet and a patch of steel. We had all been told on our first day at Halget that these tunnels were meant to withstand an enemy assault, and that if worse came to worse we were to fall back to them and await orders. None of us had ever needed to.
     
    I thought about my family—were they proud to know that I was up here risking my life? I didn’t know. I thought about my father, would he be happy know that his little girl was helping protect the city? Would my mother still treat me like her daughter? Or was I now forged of iron and steel, another component of the fortress?
     
    I shook my head, allowing my thoughts to be clean of such mental cobwebs. I was a soldier, of that there was no doubt, but what did that really mean? I placed a gloved hand on the cold metal of the tunnel, allowing my body to lean against its smooth surface. Perhaps all I needed was a break.
     
    There was a shout, a scream, and a cacophonous rumble. Without thinking I pushed myself onto the wall and ran towards the corridor exit. I needed to get back to my post!
     
    Darkness greeted me as I exited the tunnel, my eyes adjusting to the sudden change in lighting. I looked around at my fellow OmNIS operators. They were all dead.
     
    Even without my system I could see it, jutting into the sky like a great giant of old: A Talga Mekan suit. Its sensors focused upon the fortress ahead—fortress Halget.
     
    I reached for my gun, hardly knowing what I was doing…and then I was surrounded by lights. The Mekan had spotted me, its baleful eye-like sensors aimed at me.
     
    I did not scream, I did not cry. I aimed my weapon at the suits exposed engine and fired. I thought only of my parents—would they be proud?
     
    And then the world exploded.
     
    I lay on my back, my body in agony. The suit had fired and missed its intended target, but had shattered the bulkhead directly behind me, preventing me from escaping through the corridor—and almost simultaneously my shot had miraculously hit the exposed engine, holding just enough force to penetrate the engine and destroy the suit.
     
    The explosion was immense, and my injuries severe—I couldn’t feel my body from the waist down, and I knew that my arms and torso were covered in burns. Movement was impossible, all there was for me in the minutes I had left was the sight of the sky.
     
    Though dark, the snow still fell, its gentle flakes descending through the air like glittering sparkles. It was almost beautiful.
     
    Almost.
     
    Total Word Count: 1,249
     
     
     
     

    The Flamingo 
    “Hey, hey, hey did you hear?” A shrill piercing sound grated through my ears as the perpetrator danced in front of my eyes. His boyish face alight with glee
    “Hear what, twerp?” I murmured. It was way too early for the brat to be bugging me already. In fact, I glanced at the alarm clock, it was only….Oh crud. It was two hours past my usual wake up time.
    “Flamingoes, or, by their proper classification Phoenicopterus, eat upside down!” Clearly this was the most important thing in the world to my brother.
     
    “I see, that’s fascinating. Really.” I yawned as I pushed myself out of bed. Talk about your rude awakenings.
    “there’s more!”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes, did you know that pale pink, or white Flamingoes are unhealthy? And therefore the most common interpretation in the media is completely incorrect?” His voice careened into the higher decibels as he practically shrieked the last part. Ow.
    “Really? That is absolutely terrible, a true shame. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to actually get out of the house”
    “But there’s more!” He shouted after me, his little feet scampering alongside mine as I made my way to the bathroom.
     
    At the door to the bathroom I held up my hand, the palm just inches away from his nose.
    “Nuh-uh, squirt. This is Mano-A-Mirror time. Flamingo facts wait until after I’m done. Go hang out in your room for a bit”
     
    Finally, mercifully, he relented and retreated to the confines of his (Very pink) room, leaving me in peace to gaze at my handsome visage. What would the world do without more guys like me? Well, thankfully they’d never have to find out, because I was here, and I was always finding the best ways to make myself more beautiful than I already was. Quite a challenge, as I was incredible already, if I do say so myself.
     
    I spent a good half-hour in the bathroom, curling my wonderfully silky, chestnut hair. Studying my reflection for any hint of an imperfection, brushing my teeth until my gums practically bled…and of course applying just a hint of make up—after all, Actors wear it, and what was I destined to be, if not an actor?
     
    At the end of my regime I quietly opened the door and slipped out, having my brother none-the-wiser that I was managing to escape from his endless tirades about…you guessed it, Flamingoes. I had almost made my clean escape, when, at the top of the stairs my cell phone rang. I swear you could hear a sonic boom as my brother zoomed towards me. Luckily I had the excuse of answering a cell phone. After all, you can’t talk to two people at the same time, right?
     
    I answered the phone
    “Yo, you got me”
    There was a sound, musical and high pitched, like a cross between a flute and a squawking bird. That was some weird interference. I tried again
    “Hello, this is Dave.”
    A pause, then a furious bout of that strange musical squawk—obviously they were either a complete lunatic, or they were going through some incredibly strange interference. I went with the latter
    “Listen, I can’t hear you, try again later, okay?”
    This time there was nothing but silence, obviously the interference had finally disconnected the call completely.
     
    I turned to my brother, desperately wracking my brain for an excuse for why I couldn’t listen to another one of his silly Flamingo facts, when my phone rang again. Talk about saved by the bell!
     
    I held up a finger, indicating the phone and that obviously I couldn’t talk again because…well, the phone.
     
    “Talk to me” I said, unconsciously grinning. Undoubtedly it was one of my many adoring fans.
    Pause.
     
    Squark squawk squaaawk.
     
    Oh jeese, not this again.
    “Listen, you’ve got a seriously bad connection here. Can you call back when your connection is better? I can’t understand you at all!”
     
    Squaaaaaawksquaaarkelliotsquaaawk?
     
    Wait, what? Elliot? That was my little brother—was this his friends playing some sort of weird practical joke on me—were they all total weirdos about Flamingos?
     
    Well, throwing caution to the wind I decided to play along with their little joke. I held the phone to my ear and said.
    “Yeah sure, just a sec.” I then gestured for my brother to take it, all the while making sure to look as nonchalant as possible.
     
    I gotta give my little bro credit, he could be an actor almost as good as me one day, if the look of fake confusion on his face was any indication of his talent. After all, I knew he had to be the mastermind behind this lame-brained plan.
     
    “…Hello?” He murmured, all his confidence evaporating as he held the phone. On the other end I could hear the unintelligible squawks and squarks.
     
    Elliot played his part to a T, looking completely confused and taken off guard by the whole situation. Then, when he thought I wasn’t looking I saw his eyes go hard as he nodded fiercely.
     
    With a meek “Goodbye” he hung up the phone, handed it back to me. Muttering something about how it was a wrong number, but he realized I was in a hurry so he’d let me go if I promised to talk Flamingo when I got back.
     
    I said sure, I mean, what was I supposed to say? “No, I know all about your secret joke with your friends and it’s totally lame?” Not when I hadn’t even figured out the joke!
     
    With a smile he scampered back to his room, shutting the door with a loud bang…and because of that bang he never noticed that I was almost right behind him. Breathing a sigh of relief at not getting being hit in the face with a door, I bent down to peek through the cracks.
     
    The room was completely empty.
     
    Okay, this was impossible. Throwing open the door I burst in, looking in every direction for my kid brother—but he wasn’t there. I tore open his closet and rustled around in the junk he stored in it—but he wasn’t there either.
     
    And then I heard it, a slight rumbling that I could barely feel in my feet. Rushing to the window I gazed outside at the strangest sight I had ever seen.
     
    There was my brother in the cockpit of a bright pink (with black highlights) Jet…shaped like a Flamingo.
     
    Nowadays I let my brother ramble on about Flamingoes, after all, if he ever actually reveals his secrets to me I bet there could be a sweet movie made about it.
     
    Starring me, in the role of my brother.
     
    Total Word Count: 1,110
  8. Janus

    And Mortals

    By Janus,

    (11)
     
    Gah, this took way too long and was way too forced at points.
     
    But it's done. There, you have part two.
     
    I'm going to curl up and die in a corner now (That means sleep, mmkay?)
     
    Word count: 1,040
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    And Mortals 
    Sam and his new ‘companion’ arrived home, having decided that it would be best to retire for the day. Or rather, Sam felt compelled to leave the rapidly darkening park and without consciously willing it began to stand up and walk through the near-empty streets.
    “Was that you?” He thought, wondering if his newfound compatriot would be able to hear him.
    “Of course it was” Came the near instantaneous response. “It’s not particularly hard to control you, Sam. You’re just bits of flesh connected to muscle.”
    Sam frowned but said nothing, instead concentrating on resisting his muscle impulses…just to see if he could resist the ‘God’s’ power.
     
    His legs continued to pump mindlessly and his steps never missed a beat.
    “Nice try” Came the dark humor of the voice. Sam bit his tongue in response, thinking about what he could possibly do—and the first thing he felt was to get information.
    “At least give me a name to curse, then” he mused.
    “I have none to give, mortal. I was given none” the voice responded. Sam’s face crinkled into a frown and his mind raced—in all of the reading he had done, he’d never heard of nameless Gods, in fact every God seemed to have a name and be at least semi-well known by the humans of the era.
     
    “And why do you think that is, Sam?” The voice murmured questioningly. Sam paused.
    “Because….Gods make themselves known to humans so that they might influence their world? Like you’re doing with me?”
     
    Dark laughter echoed all around Sam’s head as the voice chuckled maliciously.
    “No Sam, you’ve got it all backwards. Gods influence the world for only two reasons: To prolong their existence or to exact revenge.”
    “…And which are you here for?” Sam asked, the question sounding tremulous even within his own mind.
    “Neither.” The voice replied simply. “I’m here to benefit my parents.”
     
    The voice fell silent for the rest of the walk, simply steering the body to where it wanted it to go. Sam, likewise, remained quiet and ceased his efforts to regain control of his body, simply attempting to stop his racing mind from overwhelming him.
     
    At last they arrived at Sam’s home, and, upon entering promptly collapsed on the nearest chair. Though exhausted, Sam immediately felt a presence in his home and warily looked over—the child from the park was back.
    “It seems my experiment was successful” the boy said in his rich, dark voice.
    “You…left?” Sam asked hopefully.
    “Not entirely.” The boy said with a smile. “I’m still there, I’ve simply allowed some of my essence out.”
     
    Sam sighed.
    “Tell me again about this, please. Explain it to me, after all if you’re going to be inhabiting my body it seems only fair.” The boy paused for a moment, averting his eyes downward. Then with a sudden movement he stared unblinkingly into Sam’s own eyes.
    “Very well, mortal.” He softly growled. “It really is quite simple…the world of Gods is very different from the world of mortals—whereas everything here is bound in physical form, the world of Gods is unconstrained energy. Unfortunately that means that in order to access this realm we must also bind ourselves in physical form.” Sam nodded, his mind racing to keep up, but not wanting the boy to stop.
    “However this binding gives us limited time and once said time has elapsed we’re immediately snapped back through into our own world—naturally the process is quite painful and some of our energy doesn’t make it back.”
    “…And using me you won’t get snapped back?” Sam murmured, faltering slightly.
    “I never said that” The boy said with a wide grin. “All I said is that using you I’m able to stay here longer—for all I know you could come to the world of Gods with me…”
     
    Immediately Sam’s eyes lit up and his mind began to fill with imagery from the many books he’d read. Massive mountains and pillars of ornate stone, gorgeous scenery and Gods milling in and out of temples erected in their honor. He smiled.
    “Not quite” The boy said flatly, interrupting Sam’s reverie.
    “Not only is it not like that…they wouldn’t be particularly happy to see you”
    “Why?” Sam said, perplexed. “I haven’t done anything to them.” The boy smirked.
    “Not you personally, no. But Gods and mortals do not get along…very few Gods enjoy spending time with their creators.”
    “Creators?” Sam said, quirking an eyebrow.
    “Yes.” The boy said. “Legends, myths. The creation of Gods, the more belief the Gods get the more powerful they get—as their believers fall the less power they have and the more they fall from grace. You mortals are responsible for the creation and decay of every God.”
     
    Sam fell silent for a moment, simply allowing everything that he had learned to sift through his brain. Naturally none of his reading had prepared him for anything even close to this.
    “Then how do you have any power?” He finally asked, unsure.
    “Because I was born while my parents were at the height of their power and in the front of worshippers minds…but shortly after the entire structure folded—far too early for any child to join the Myth.” The boy smiled slightly.
    “But that means…”
    “Yes, Sam. That means that I’m not constrained by you mortals. I don’t have to worry about your belief in me.”
    “Then why are you here?” Sam asked, mystified. Who was this mysterious God and what did he want?
    “I want what any child wants, I want to help my parents.” The boy smiled widely and vanished again, simply ceasing to be in Sam’s eyes. Then he again heard that insidious voice in his head.
    “Gods of War, you see. So you’re going to help me out, Sam. Together we’re going to cause absolute mayhem…and when the streets run with blood then my parents will be revived. Sound like fun?” Sam said nothing, finding his jaw unable to move. He thought a variety of curses but almost nothing coherent, he was scared now.
    “Like I said, Sam. You and I are going to be getting to know each other quite well. Now let’s hurry…we have plenty of work to do.”
     
  10. Janus

    Aquarion

    By Janus,

    I dare you to find me a more beautiful song.
     
    NOTE: This is taken soley from fansubs and may be incorrect--frankly I don't care because this version rocks the socks anyhow.
     
    Sousei No Aquarion - Akino (Op version)
     
    On that day the world began, under the tree of life
    The two of us heard the distant reverberation of whales singing
    Where do I wander off to now, embracing...
    In my arms all the things I have lost and loved?
     
    The answer lurks within the amber sun
    Had I not met it, I would have been able to remain an angel of destruction
    The soul which holds the twinkle of immortality...don't be hurt, my wings
    For I was born to learn this feeling
     
    For two and ten thousand years, I've loved you
    As eight thousand years passed, I yearned for you even more
    Though two thousand and a hundred million years may pass, I will still love you
    From the day I learned of you, the music has not ceased in my suffering
  11. Janus
    That's right, if you read that title up there you'll realize I'm tired of this blog and I'll be deleting it within a few days. This is the end.
     
    Haha, no.
     
    The title up there refers to The End, by master author Lemony Snicket of the Series of Unfortunate Events. In fact when we first discovered the thirteenth unfortunate book in the tragic tale of the Baudelaire orphans it was known as that At this time called The End. Frankly, upon retrospect and finishing the book myself I agree with this title more. The End conveys the finality that was had in this final volume but not the...feel of the book. It needs that more mythical feel of At this time called The End
     
    I'm still not quite sure how I feel about the final iteration in the sad saga of the Baudelaire orphans. It was certainly unlike anything I've read before, and even managed to differ significantly from the other books in the Series of Unfortunate Events in the overall feel of the book. I knew it would be something that varied from the rest but I suppose I wasn't expecting such a large distance between the twelfth and thirteenth unlucky tales.
     
    I won't spoil anything in the book, not only because I fear Puffin's wrath, but also simply out of respect for all of those who have yet to read it. It's one of those things that you need to actually read because of all that happens.
     
    I will however say that I was left feeling slightly hollow at the end of the book, whether that was because I was feeling sick, frustrated with my impended progress on computer repairs/upgrades and slightly tired is unknown at this time. Perhaps I'll give it another read-through after my mom's finished and see what she thinks.
     
    I'll also say that it's undoubtedly not what you're expecting. It is not a nice wrap-up of everything in a neat little bow. I'll give it a few more weeks before I post my actual thoughts, however. As I don't want to spoil anyone.
  12. Janus

    Atlantia

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (13) 
    I'm not sure where the inspiration for this one came from. Perhaps it was the fact that as I left the office today the sun had burned away the morning mist and left only beautiful blue sky with a brilliant sun shining down. Of course the fact that my music swelled at that exact moment could have also helped.
     
    Regardless, the entire originating point of this story comes about midway through. See if you can find it!
     
    Anyhow, as usual, gimme challenges and stuff. C'mon guys D=
     
    Enjoy!
     

    Atlantia 
    Light streamed through the trees and dappled the rough soil with a menagerie of colours, had it been any other moment he would have stopped to savour the beauty of the moment. He would have removed the tough sneakers from his feet and allowed his skin to enjoy the moistness of the damp ground, he would have stretched his back up against the rough bark of a tree and basked in the marbled light that shone on the ground.
     
    Instead he ran on, forcing his tired beyond its limits and being rewarded with the pain of aching muscles. He doubled over, gasping for breath and feeling the ragged jets of hot air blasting from his throat and into the cold, crisp air. He waited there for less than a minute, then ponderously moved his leaden muscles and forced himself deeper and deeper into the wood.
     
    The young man’s name was Elliot, a sandy-haired youth full of exuberance and an adventurous spirit—which was what brought him to the woods bordering his town. Elliot was born in a small backwater town, so tiny and so relatively unknown that he thought it didn’t even deserve a name. In fact the boy refused to refer to his hometown by name, instead he derisively called it “Nowherever.” He picked his rather unique name because he felt the town was simply nowhere, not deserving of any particular title—and because he felt that despite all of his efforts, he would be trapped there forever.
     
    Elliot had always been a dreamer and a creative spirit. He had a record of getting into trouble with various other residents of the town, because of his outspoken beliefs…or, to be more specific, his belief in things of old. In his youthful explorations Elliot had come across a multitude of strange and fascinating things, oddly shaped lines that bordered the town, strange lights that could be seen cresting the mountains all around, even mysterious writing on ancient stone. This things captured his imagination and drove his curiousity to its limit. It wasn’t long before the young Elliot had begun to find books dealing with mythology, with ancient and powerful magic…and the various disconnected events around the town finally made sense.
     
    It was that epiphany that had him running full tilt through the woods, mindful of the many dips and ravines, not minding the swinging branches and nettles that brought tears to his eyes or cut him. It was that epiphany that had him force past all of these obstacles and distractions deeper and deeper into the woods, far deeper than he had ever been.
     
    He passed the ruinous stones that he was certain had once been a tunnel, passed the borderlines that marked the edge of protected territory, and continued to run. The trees and shrubbery becoming nothing more than a mottled view in the corner of his vision, he was wholly focused on his end destination.
     
    It was sudden, the way his foot suddenly felt resistance, the way his centre of balance gradually shifted from vertical to horizontal, the way one moment he was flying through the woods as though he were Hermes of the winged sandals…and the next he was lying face down in the dirt. He sneezed angrily and tried to force himself up, his arms shaking with the effort it took and his body protesting every moment. Finally, after various failed attempts, the young man was able to heave his tired body off of the ground and roll his body over, laying down flat on his back, unmindful of the dirt now clinging to his hair.
     
    He breathed heavily, watching the slight cloud that formed, and attempted to move his foot. Pain shot through it, not terrible or unbeatable pain, but pain nonetheless. He sighed and propped himself into a sitting position to examine the damage. Elliot’s eyes widened as he looked down…he had tripped and twisted his ankle quite badly but that wasn’t what drew his attention, no, it was the piece of stone he had tripped on.
     
    It was slightly larger than his fist, brilliant blue, and almost luminescent. However it was the ornate carvings in the stone that attracted him. Shifting himself into a more comfortable position he reached down to heave it from the earth and found it stuck fast. He grunted with frustration and tired again, using all of the effort that remained in him. Instead his hands slipped from the cold stone and he was sent to the ground, arms flailing.
     
    Pushing himself rather angrily from the sodden earth, Elliot changed his tactics, grabbing a large dull grey stone from the earth he began to hack at the ground surrounding the stone. He didn’t care about the dirt and grime that was now smeared across his face and clothes, didn’t care about the large fragments of earth that he was displacing, all he cared about was the fact that the more he drove his stone into the earth the more of the blue stone he revealed.
    “In fact” Elliot thought to himself “This is more than just a stone…” dropping his own stone-turned-tool he began to dig furiously through the loosened earth with his bare hands, his fingers scrabbling across the hard, smooth, and somewhat warm surface of the strange stone.
     
    Moments later he was rewarded for his efforts when his fingers scraped painfully against more stone, this time lying flat. Removing his now bleeding hand from the hole he had dug, Elliot peered in. It was exactly as he had expected, the stone stretched out further…it wasn’t just a stone, it was either a complete layer of strata, or some sort of strange dais…and given all that Elliot had learned recently, he wouldn’t have been surprised by either.
     
    He thought of taking out the small leather bound journal that was fit snugly in his breast pocket, but decided against it. He wouldn’t take it out until he had reached the end of the wood. Gingerly raising himself to his feet he hesitantly took a step forward, and discovered that while painful it was in fact livable. Smiling somewhat grimly to himself he set out deeper into the wood at a much decreased pace.
     
    Finally he could see it, see the light glowing brightly behind the last few remaining trees. He could hear the tranquil sounds of the sea all around him, and could even smell the harsh smell of Salt Water…he was almost there. He was mindful of the border lines all about this area, making sure to step around their intricate designs rather than risk removing whatever power they contained.
     
    Then, suddenly, the greenery vanished and he was standing at the edge of a peak that overlooked the ocean. He glanced down to check the colour of the rock and was unsurprised to find that while the stone itself was the standard dark grey, there were rivulets of crystalline blue running through it. He caught himself, although interesting, the stone wasn’t why he was here.
     
    He moved his head slowly, a gentle incline upwards. His eyes strained for a moment, the brightness of the sun causing them to work harder than they had to previously in the dark wood—then he saw it, though it was miles and miles out to sea, he still saw it.
     
    It must have been at least one hundred stories high, a massive silver apparatus that exited seamlessly from the waves below, golden light seeming to shine all around it. Elliot sat down slowly, breathlessly, and simply watched the waves roll in the ocean, and watched the monolithic tower stand as it had always stood. After a brief moment he found the journal in his pocket and slowly opened it, mindful of the symbol that had been etched into the front.
     
    He had read it all before, his eyes pouring over the transcripts contained within, but somehow he had never grown tired of it, never grown accustomed to the strange truths that were written in its pages. He flipped to a page, which, like the rest of the journal, bore no date. On it was a rough pencil sketching of the very crag on which he stood, and a detailed and labeled diagram of the tower that stood in the distance.
     
    The tower, so said the journal, was an enormous solar collector. The central spire being connected deep beneath the waves, and the golden light simply being the reflection of countless solar panels absorbing the light. In fact, Elliot thought it must have been the largest solar collector in the world, a genuine man-made wonder that the world over would be in awe of. However he knew before he flipped the page over why that would never be.
     
    His eyes darted from the page to the tower and returned to the page, following the diagram of the incredibly massive central tower and its eventual connection to its place of origin. He read the word in his mind, finding his breath catching in his throat as he did so. He studied the architecture of the buildings, somehow so modern and yet so ancient all at once, then he closed the journal, placing it down upon the warm stone beside him.
     
    His mind raced furiously as he sat there quietly; somehow within him he had always known there was truth to the words written in the journal, but he had never expected to witness it with his own eyes. To be staring at the solar collector that had been made hundreds-of-thousands of years ago, to be stumbling upon ruins of ancient technology and magic, both woven together intricately. It was unbelievable.
     
    He began to piece together what pieces he had gleaned from the journal and from his own findings, fitting everything together in his mind and forming a picture of what had happened—and was still happening today.
     
    It was centuries ago when they had decided that the peoples of the world were too deeply rooted in hatred and war. Centuries ago when the nation as a whole had decided that the world was not yet ready for the gifts they offered—yet to seal its borders and become isolated presented the risk of causing war to break out amongst the rest of the world.
     
    Instead they had decided to mask their departure with a false calamity, a display that hubris topples even the mightiest mountain…but how to pull of such a ploy? They sent scouts into any location near them and at last they found it, a location that would allow them to set forth their plans. It was his very own “Nowherever.”
     
    With the scouts called back they began sending in scientists, mages, and even a select few of the royal family who had chosen to stay behind. With their combined wealth and power they began to erect the temples and carve the runes and border lines that Elliot had become so accustomed to seeing. Then, with the task complete they destroyed the temples and left them as nothing more than ruins in the deep forest.
     
    The runes were apparently to seal the town the forest, to make it impossible to enter. Somehow anyone entering would always find themselves feeling ill it they stayed too long, only those born of the proper heritage and marked would be able to make it inside without feeling the adverse effects. The border lines, on the other hand were for a completely different purpose, they, along with the magic that had once been contained in the temples managed to create a field that shielded the massive solar array from view. Anyone viewing this area from the air, or even from the ocean itself, would be unable to see anything but the rolling waves. Only someone who had crossed the border lines would be able to see the array—and only one set of border lines existed that could be crossed. The ones just prior to the ledge that Elliot was standing on.
     
    With all those preparations made, the plan was finally set into motion and the great continent sunk beneath the waves never to be seen again. The gargantuan solar array collecting all the energy they needed to run their various life sustaining systems.
     
    Elliot sighed leaned back against the warm stone. He had already pieced together the fact that he was born of proper lineage, otherwise he would have been unable to cross the forest barrier without incident. In fact he imagined that one day his mother would have taken him and shown him the jewel of the royal family as was described in the small leather bound journal.
     
    He found it funny, though, how the scientists had been unable to let go of their proud traditions, even naming the new colony after the fallen homeland over which they kept silent vigil. He was certain that one day it would rise again, though whether it would be in his lifetime was unknown, all he knew is that it would rise again.
     
    Atlantis would rise again.
     
    Word Count: 2,169
  13. Janus

    Bionicle: Imagine

    By Janus,

    Well I must apologise for lack of living. Once again I was surfing along happily before the eldritch tentacle of real life clamped down and dragged me beneath the surface.
     
    But once again I've managed to escape that hideous unnameable thing, so with luck I will---do stuff?
     
    Really, my presence online is going to be decreasing because real life is consuming my very soul, however I felt it was time to put forth an initiative that I've been thinking about for a while.
     
    You see, one of the reasons I haven't been active online for such a long time is because I've been planning with my top secret group. Planning for what? Why, my own version of the BIONICLE storyline of course! Currently the plans are running from 2001 to 2012--but really that's just the beginning.
     
    However I figured that it's way too much fun to keep to myself, so with that said let's get to the main point of this entry...

    UPDATED: Addendum added
     
    Two armies faced each other across a trench, both resplendant in brilliant reds and firey oranges--on one side was the native people of the island of Mata-Nui; arrayed in front of the village-fortress of Ta-koro they nervously clutched their spears, perfectly aware that this day could very well be their last--and the end of Mata-Nui as they knew it.

    On the other was the fearsome invaders, covered in gleaming armor their numbers seemed to stretch on into infinity--while they had thus far made no attempt to harm the villagers, they sought the destruction of the very island.

    A Lone Tahnok-Va stepped forward, his crescent-shaped head aflame and his claws clutched tightly around a fire staff, rallying the rest of the Va around him he bravely charged forward...forward into the army of Toa that had them surrounded...

    A bad example maybe, but that's a small example of what BIONICLE:Imagine is all about.
     
    BIONICLE:Imagine is all about challenging yourself, about stepping beyond the creative boundries of the BIONICLE storyline as a whole and creating something new within it. It's about stretching your imagination to the very limit and enjoying BIONICLE to its fullest.
     
    BIONICLE:Imagine is a very simple concept, and with all simple concepts there are simple rules--there are only two here.
     
    Rule the First: BIONICLE:Imagine will accept only one-shot short stories. There will be no story threads permitted. There cannot be a sequal, prequal, or ongoing story--however you can re-use characters. Original characters are permitted, but keep in mind this is still BIONICLE, not a complete remake.
     
    Rule the Second: BIONICLE:Imagine is all about challenging ourselves to step beyond the creative boundries of the canon storyline--for that reason each short story written for BIONICLE:Imagine must be a "What If?" Story. This can be as large or as small as you want, for example the one above would be "What if the Bohrok were the original inhabitants of Mata-Nui and the Toa the invaders?"
    Some other "What If?" suggestions are:
    "What if Makuta didn't exist?"
    "What if Kapura never joined the Chronicler's company?"
    "What if Takanuva wasn't Takua?"
     
    ADDENDUM: What If's can be re-used and used multiple times, as nobody will write the exact same story. For example a "What if Kopaka got Krana'ed?" story is so generic and can go in so many different directions that it would be unfair to limit it to one person. However I reserve the right to reverse this if I find it's getting out of hand
     
    Some of these I've already used, but the idea is just to Re-imagine key (or not-so-key, it's up to you!) events in BIONICLE, to take a brief glimpse into another world.
     
    This will be an ongoing initiative with every story written for BIONICLE:Imagine going into a new content block in my blog--and later depending on the popularity we may introduce challenges and such.
     
    For those of who wish to show support for this, here's a banner.
     

     
    And the code...
     

    [url="http://www.bzpower.com/forum/index.php?automodule=blog&blogid=137&showentry=32905"][img=http://www.majhost.com/gallery/Janus/RandomJanusCorner/bionicleimagine_banner.jpg][/url]
     
    Have fun writing!
     
    Sincerely,
     
    Janus
  14. Janus
    YES. UPDATE TWO IS SEMI-ON TIME. I still have half-an-hour my by clock. Hush.
     
    I've also decided to split this group up more than I'd anticipated. This marks the Introduction to BIONICLE: Judgement, 2004 and 2005 will be covered in subsequent entries.
     
    Not much preamble this time. In fact this is it, once this sentence ends the preamble ends. Period.
     

    BIONICLE: Judgement
    A Reimagining 
    For those of you wondering, BIONICLE: Judgement is the current name of my long-standing alternaverse--or AU. An Alternate Universe (AU) as most of you know is your own private story wherein you essentially do what you want.
     
    You can design them around paticular ideas, rules, or plans--and can break them at any time, that's half the fun about AU's. However with BIONICLE: Judgement I set out with very specific ideas and rules. They are as follows
     
    Ideas

    BIONICLE: Judgement is not a rewrite of the story, rather it is a replacement of certain portions. Others are kept in their entirety, for example 2001 and 2002 are untouched by the events of BIONICLE: Judgement--or rather their direct stories are not effected BIONICLE: Judgement is my personal playground, most of my stories are incubated in here for a while before being shot into another universe, or my own original stories. BIONICLE:Judgement is all about taking the story in the directions I want it to go without altering it too heavily, as such we enter DA RULES.
    DA RULESRULE THE FIRST: Canon characters cannot be deleted, omitted, or removed for any reason. Natural deaths may occur but the character must be established ADDENDUM: This is only in place if the character has not been killed off in previous story and has only recently returned in the Official Universe.
    EXAMPLE: I cannot decide that "Botar" is a stupid name and remove the entire character from the story. I can however kill him off--the addendum to this is if Botar takes a large role in 2008 and he's already killed in BIONICLE: Judgement. I will not resurrect him.
    RULE THE SECOND: Settings must stay the same for every year they take place in. EXAMPLE: I cannot be working with Mahri Nui in 2004--I can have events HAPPEN in Mahri Nui in 2004, however they will not be expounded upon until 2007.
    RULE THE THIRD: Character personalities are fair game, changing things such as motivations and names are perfectly acceptable so long as the end character bears resemblance to the original ADDENDUM: Original Characters can be made, so long as their 'base' element is one of the canon stories.
    EXAMPLE: I cannot have Pridak be motivated by a burning love of Carapar, and also have him control an army of fluffy teddy-bear sharks. It just doesn't work that way.--The Addendum to this is that I can create 'original' characters out of canon characters: Essentially what I've done with the Inika who are no longer the 01 Matoran but are my own original characters.
    RULE THE FOURTH: Significant portions of story can be changed so long as all existing characters and backdrops are kept. EXAMPLE: Takanuva no longer being Takua, that's a rather significant portion of the story (Considering it got a movie about just that) however I had to keep all the characters and the backdrops--IE: Mata Nui, Ta-Koro, Ga-Koro, etc.
    RULE THE FIFTH: All deaths are final, none of this comic book stuff with me. EXAMPLE: Takua dies in 2003. He does not return. Ever. 
     
    And now with that stuff out of the way, let's move on to 'altered' character profiles through the years. Please note that none of this is finalized, and is certainly not in final written format, as such I will only be giving brief outlines of each section of story. The character profiles will also avoid giving out spoilers--those will be given out in the outline quite readily.
     
    2003

    Altered characters List:
    Takanuva Real/Original Name: Takanuva
    Storyline: Takanuva is the previously nameless Toa of light. Cursed by the master of shadows to an eternal sleep in a near-death state he remains trapped his his tomb at the Kini-nui

    Story Outline:
     
    The first half of 2003 passes in the exact same way, the Kal steal Nuva symbols, Nuva gain them back and Tra-la-la-la, we go on our merry way. The big difference in this comes in the latter half of 2003--once again it's virtually the same but then we hit Mask of Light.
     
    While the discovery and quest for the Mask are virtually identical there's a few key differences:

    1. Tahu manages to take on multiple Toa and in the end is incapacitated for the final confrontation with the Rahkshi--why? Because four Toa just layed the smackdown on him, that's what happens when you have a rageful fire Toa setting fire to everything.
     
    2. Jaller is critically injured during the quest and is forced to stay with Pewku at a critical part of the journey--little does he know that this saves his life.
     
    3. As I'm sure you already realize Takua isn't Takanuva--this is the third big variation. At the final part of the journey they arrive at the same place, the Kini-nui...surrounded by all six Rahkshi. Definately a bad place to be.
     
    However the big difference is that a CAVERN is revealed by the light of the Mask, Takua leaves Jaller and Pewku (See above) and journeys down the passage by his lonesome, Rahkshi in hot pursuit. At the end there's an inscription about sacrifice--I haven't worked out exactly what it says at this time and Takua desperately pushes his hands against the stone the inscription is written on (it's a dead end, by the way)--and unknowingly fulfills the inscription. The wall drains his energy and channels it to the near-dead Toa of Light revitalizing him and allowing to break free from his tomb.
     
    Asking the dying Matoran his name the Toa takes on the prefix Tak in honor of the hero who rescued him. He then proceeds to go lay the royal smackdown on Makuta.

     
    And there you have it, the beginning of BIONICLE: Judgement--sure it doesn't seem much different, but this is the humble beginnings of something that has blossomed far beyond my expectations.
     
    Feel free to leave any feedback you like, good, bad, or ambivalent. I'm always interested in people's thoughts.
     
    Additionally, I will try and get the other BIONICLE: Judgement entries up when I'm not sleep deprived, and thus make sure that they're more coherent.
     
    Coming Soon: BIONICLE: Judgement (2004-2005)
    Triad: Gundam SEED Destiny AU
    BIONICLE: Judgement (2006)
    Apocalyptica
    BIONICLE: Judgement (2007)
  15. Janus

    Chronology

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE 2.0 (8) 
    Well I missed two days last week, one of them was because of a testing at our academy (Which I had to judge for) and the second of which was I was lazy and making excuses. Seriously people, bug me if you want stories.
     
    Is this short? Oh yes. Did I have to literally grind this one of out my brain? OH YES.
     
    But it's done now. Now I can stop worrying about it.
     
    Wordcount: 418
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Chronology 
    How then to describe it; the silvery craft that gently flowed through the air? It was sleek and smooth, vaguely oblong with a large protrusion towards the back of the craft. Or at least that’s all that I could see…it was distorted and distended, as though I was viewing it through some sort of inverted lense.
     
    The air around the craft seemed almost liquid like, waves of…something radiating off from its smooth silver hull. It stayed there in the air for the briefest of instants, hovering there and causing the air to ripple in a way that I’d never seen.
     
    Then it turned, its brilliant fuselage somehow not seeming to move…so much as simply appearing in a new place. From its new position I could see that two large sweeping wings emerged from the silvery hull. I marveled at this amazing sight before, this machine that seemed more organic that technological, this incredible wonder that floated in the sky and yet was unaffected by the suns rays. Somehow the silvery sheen of the craft was light internally—no beam of sunlight reflected off the marvelous thing.
     
    And then all at once it was gone. It did not streak off in a ray of light, it did not loop around in the sky and vanish in a flash of light. It simply wasn’t there anymore.
     
    I lowered the hand that had been shielding my eyes and simply gazed into the sky…
     
     
    How then to describe it; the land below me that stretched abundantly outward?
     
    Boring, quite frankly.
     
    It was a veritable plain of nothingness—and the miniscule matchsticks that they must have called ‘skyscrapers’ were but the things of a race in its childhood. My vessel remained temporarily frozen in this primitive time, having been flung from the deeper time space and down into this trickling stream…a time from the past.
     
    I grunted irately, taking note of the gawking faces below me. It was amazing that these people thought my ship was such a marvel—I mean I barely tolerated the lumbering hulk myself. It got me to the store and back, but it certainly wasn’t one of the more fuel efficient chronal-hoppers.
     
    Frustrated, I kicked a bulkhead—causing my ship to blink into temporal space and immediately outwards again…same time period, just a different direction.
     
    I sighed.
    “Great, just what I need”
     
    Then of course I realized I’d left it in neutral, and, mentally kicking myself sped out of that time period and back into the time stream.
     
  16. Janus

    Clox

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (12) 
    This is a ramble, this is just random jibberish. If you can make any point of the below story I truly commend you because I started writing at 11:00 PM and finished at 1:26 AM with a barely sensical story. I really should start on these earlier in the day.
     
    Attempt to enjoy!
     

    Clox 
    Tick, tick, tick
     
    The sound came from everywhere, emanating out from an immense source and echoing into the world; it resounded through streets and up tall towers, it boomed around deep valleys and water-filled ravines.
     
    It was a clock. Or rather, it wasn’t a clock.
     
    You see, those of you reading this think of a clock as a small little (sometimes rounded) object which fits snuggly on a wall or desk, and ticks away quietly in a corner. Essentially it’s a something almost always forgettable.
     
    This wasn’t any of those things. In fact if anything it was a city in the corner of a clock—in fact it was a city on the corner of a clock. The city was called Tenolck and it was a bustling hive of industry, with all sorts of people constantly bustling around doing their assorted tasks; their gears whirring and clicking smoothly as they went about their days.
     
    …What? Oh, my apologies. I had so forgotten that for the people reading this, the concept of people with gears is a strange and foreign one. Oh yes, the people of Tenolck had gears, as did all the people who resided in the various cities across the massive clock: Elevetia, Twelston, and all the rest were filled to the brim with various different shapes and sizes of geared occupants.
     
    I see that some further information is required. There are four different ‘brands’ of the people of Clox, and of those are brands they are divided into the standard male/female pairing.
     
    The first brand is the most common, they’re the Copparst: as their name implies they are coated in a brilliant copper sheen all across their bodies. Their faces are, on average, the most dented of the people of Clox and they are second-to-none in terms of being warriors for the Clox kingdoms. Unfortunately their gears are also the most exposed of all the brands, leading to the rather common and unfortunate fate of a jammed gear.
     
    The second brand is the Steelde: Shining a bright silver they are the second most common brand on Clox. While on average shorter than the Bronzst, they are also skilled craftsmen and a highly intelligent people. Steelde’s are also, unfortunately very xenophobic when left to their own devices and tend to cluster around the cities of Sixten and Forson, only occasionally leaving their cities for any other. Only the best materials on Clox are made by Steelde hands.
     
    Next is the Ironen, a proud and strong brand. Whilst they eschewed most major cities on Clox for quite some time they have gradually moved out of their primitive ways and developed into the best farmhands in all the land. The Ironen are a squat and, some would say, ugly race; their features being roughly carved out of the harsh metal that makes up their bodies. However due to decreasing iron levels in the planet, the Ironen are in far shorter supply than either the Steelde or the Copparst. Luckily the Ironen also live the longest, having the most solid coating over their intricate gears.
     
    Lastly are the most mysterious brand: The Quartzot. Very little is known about the Quartzot except that they reside only within the central continent of Clox. Unlike the rest of the brands who tend to stick to the outer cities of Onel, through Twelston; the Quartzot refuse to set foot outside of the central spite of Clox…given that few explorers have returned from this spire, it remains unnamed. However it is said that the Quartzot are summoning a particular city to dine with them when one of the massive bridges swing from the central spire. The Quartzot are also practical jokers and enjoy giving a large celebration, and announcing their plans to bridge to a certain city—and then releasing a special bridge that only stretches halfway to said city. Due to this nature the cities of Twole and Fivate have refused to allow any Quartzot ambassadors within their walls. The Quartzot are also the strangest brand in terms of appearance, it is unknown if they have gears or not, but their outer shell contains no metallic sheen, instead they are almost translucent, with light seeming to shine through their pale white bodies.
     
    And now, with that background information out of the way, let us get on with our story. Where were we?
     
    Ah yes!
     
    Tick, tick, tick
     
    The sound came from everywhere, emanating out from an immense source and echoing into the world; it resounded through streets and up tall towers, it boomed around deep valleys and water-filled ravines.
     
    It was a clock. Or rather, it wasn’t a clock.
     
    You see, those of you reading this think of a clock as a small little (sometimes rounded) object which fits snuggly on a wall or desk, and ticks away quietly in a corner. Essentially it’s a something almost always forgettable.
     
    This wasn’t any of those things. In fact if anything it was a city in the corner of a clock—in fact it was a city on the corner of a clock. The city was called Tenolck and it was a bustling hive of industry, with all sorts of people constantly bustling around doing their assorted tasks; their gears whirring and clicking smoothly as they went about their days.
     
    It was in one of the lesser traveled streets of Tenolck where a young male lay quietly. He was an Ironen by the look of him, the coarse, rusted metal of his form giving him away almost immediately. He lay shading his eyes with one hand, listening carefully to the tick that boomed all around the city. Even his gears were silenced in the face of that incredible sound.
     
    After the last tick had sounded, the young male stood up, his metal form screaming in protest as his gears whirred madly, pushing his body upwards. When at last his body had ceased its remonstration he began to move from the street and into a darkened alley, his face firmly facing downwards.
    “You hear that, Crass?” came a mocking voice. Looking up the young male saw a Steelde female leaning up against a wall, her silver joints shining faintly in the darkness and her eyes vaguely beckoning.
    “’course I heard it, Fel” came the mumbled reply from the male called Crass. “ain’t nobody who din’t hear somethin’ like that.” He continued, walking slowly into the shadows where Fel was waiting.
    “Yes, but do you know what it means?” Fel asked, her eyes glinting sharply.
    “Na” Crass replied slowly, gently lowering himself to sit cross legged on the smooth ground.
    “It means that the bridge is going to be extended to Twelston. The Quartzot are coming out of their self-induced seclusion and are willing to make contact with the world again” Fel responded with a smile, her eyes passionate.
    “An’ if s’ajoke?” Crass grunted, not bothering to look upwards. Fel sighed and made a small ‘tsk’ing sound before offering a gleaming arm to the sitting Ironen.
    “How many times have I told you not to blend words like that? You’re a perfectly educated citizen of Tenolck” she said, somewhat harshly.
    “Yes’m” Crass responded dully. Fel shook her head and grasped his hand, slowly heaving him to his feet.
    “Come on, Crass. If we leave today we can catch transport to Twelston. We can be there for the bridge!” Crass’ response was an unintelligible mumble, his eyes cast towards the ground as he spoke.
    “…What?” Fel responded, displaying all the beauty and frustration of a Steelde female.
    Crass mumbled again, refusing to avert his eyes from the smooth plastic street of Tenolck. Luckily Fel’s keen hearing barely managed to catch it this time “N’money”
     
    Fel smiled a gentle smile and stroked the top of Crass’s rough head.
    “Silly Crass, I know you have no money. But you live with me now, and I do!” Crass looked hesitantly into Fel’s silvery eyes, his own dark eyes filled with doubt.
    “You…mean it?” He said slowly, clearly enunciating every word as it came out, moving his mouth oddly in order to get out the unfamiliar sounds. Fel grinned brightly at the smaller Ironen
    “O’course I do!” Crass smiled brightly and wrapped his strong arms around Fel in a tight hug.
     
    It was a few short hours later that Crass and Fel found themselves in the transit station from Tenolck to Twelston…along with just about every other resident of Twelston—and Fel could have sworn there were even a few from Elevetia. The narrow building was crammed with gleaming shades of various different metals and filled with the noise of thousands of gears all whirring at various different speeds. After ten minutes Fel put a hand on Crass’ shoulder and they both left the incredibly crowded building.
     
    It was Crass who suggested that in lieu of attempting to board the transit line, or make any other attempt to get to Twelston, they simply go to the beach instead. Fel became amicable to this after seeing the growing quantities of people who were rapidly moving to every available source of transit to the city of Twelston.
     
    From the central transit center it was but a short jaunt to the water’s edge, its empty whiteness lapping up onto the black plastic shore. On the other side of Tenolck bay they could see the industrial sector of Tenolck, large black plumes of smoke dotting the sky from all the heavy machinery.
     
    Fel lightly took Crass’ hand and together they walked onto the rounded dock which offered a nearly unparalleled view. Looking straight forward Fel could dimly see the large spire that jutted into the sky, the centre of all of Clox and the Quartzot homeland—and just south of that was the enormous bridge: Previously linked to Eighre, it was now slowly being pushed towards the bustling city of Twelston
     
    Fel and crass walked along the rounded dock for some time, simply enjoying the view of the expansive white ocean, and the hazy views of the other cities, all of them divided by the white waves. Fel smiled at the view and lightly patted Crass on the back, he grinned weakly back at her and sat down cross-legged on the hard metal of the dock.
    “Fel, why do you let me live with you?” He murmured quietly. “Ironen aren’t well-liked in this region.” Fel crouched down, her silvery faces mere inches from his own.
    “Because, Crass. You’re like a brother to me.” She sighed softly and sat down completely, her bright eyes fixed to the dark metal beneath her. “I admit, when I first found you I was looking for a skilled laborer, a hired hand. But you’re so much more than that, Crass. You’re family.”
     
    They sat there, comfortably quiet for the space of an hour before a loud blaring sound shook them from their stillness. Jumping to her feet, Fel glanced around warily and saw nothing. Crass also stood, slowly, and walked to the very edge of the rounded pier, laying his thick arms on the guard rail silently. Fel glared around her at the unseen threat, but turned gracefully on her heel and walked to where Crass was leaning.
     
    In the distance they could see the enormous bridge landing at the entrance at Twelson.
    “The alarm must have been because the Quartzot arrived ahead of schedule” Fel said quietly. Crass said nothing in return, his dark eyes peering intently at the large black bridge that stretched from the Quartzot spire to Twelson.
     
    Fel also watched interestedly as a dim procession of lights made their way onto the bridge. Then, with a sudden movement the bridge swung directly in front of her and Crass, the wind from its arrival blowing over them powerfully and kicking up waves. Squinting her eyes Fel could see that the bridge to Twelson was in fact the half bridge, and the procession from Twelson (including, she assumed, the ambassador from Quartzot) were splashing around in the water. Luckily the Quartzot joke was an old one, and water rescuers were standing by. Even Fel was aware of that.
     
    Then it boomed out again, that incredible cacophony of sound.
     
    Tick, tick, tick.
     
    Crass paused and looked up at the sky, his previously blank expression dissolving into laughter, the metal of his face crinkling as he laughed merrily. Fel watched him and laughed herself, not knowing why.
     
    At last Crass’ mirth had faded away, leaving his gears sputtering slightly and his metal warped only the tiniest bit around his mouth. Fel, experiencing similar effects simply sat next to him and breathlessly asked.
    “What was so funny?” Crass looked ready to laugh again as she spoke
    “It’s an old Iron’n joke, I ne’r thought it wa’ true.” He said, slipping into his old speech pattern. Fel gazed at him intently through hooded eyes
    “What was the joke?” He paused and thought a moment before looking skyward again.
    “That sound, it ain’t letting us know they’re ready to bridge a new city.” He said slowly, carefully picking his words and speaking properly. “It’s their laughter. They’re laughin’ at us. Isn’t it hilarious?”
     
    Fel paused a moment and allowed this to sink in, the Quartzot were not some mysterious force who would occasionally allow other cities to access their promised land. They were a bunch of practical jokers who had managed to present the veneer of sophistication to the rest of the world.
     
    She had to admit, it was pretty funny.
     
    With their energy spent Fel and Crass slowly picked themselves up and walked home in the darkness, laughing the whole way, as the Quartzot had laughed at them.
     
    Word Count: 2,272
     
  17. Janus

    Consciousness 1.0

    By Janus,

    (21)
     
    I'm a terrible person who was terrible for updates last week. I know.
     
    But I have ideas for this week, and PLEASE bug me if I don't update. I want to update on time and stuff.
     
    Anyhow this is an idea that came to me sometime earlier this week...it's rough. Very rough, I'm not really that impressed with it--however the concept isn't complete.
     
    Word count: 1,072
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Consciousness 1.0 
    Code streamed across the many monitors that lay scattered across the small desk, the rapidly scrolling text dimly lighting the large room.
     
    It was a vast expansive room, a high-topped ceiling with various chains hanging at differing lengths and a guide rail that surrounded the small recess where the screen--and the two men, were located.
     
    It was this recess that the room appeared to be constructed around--though it could have been a warehouse at one point, it was now separated into many different recesses, all linked together by the sprawling network of railing that ran the length of the complex.
     
    And it was in this small, dimly lit room, that two men worked tirelessly. Their backs hunched and their goggled faces averted from the streams of text that even now filled the screen--had they looked, they have seen the blinking lights that alternated between red for two pulses...and then switched to green.
     
    However these two men were far to enrapt in their work to notice such things. Each had eyes only for the object that lay on the table before them.
     
    At first glance it was a body...which would have made the two men a sort of twisted doctor...and in a way that was true. However once one looked past the rough humanoid shape, things would come to bare that revealed the true origin of the object.
     
    It was large: about 6 feet long and a good 3 feet wide, but more than that it was heavy and...plastic.
     
    While some exposed metal remained on its outline--which the two men worked furiously to cover, nearly the entire shape was coated in a smooth grey plastic that gave a vague human shape to the thing--all but its head. Where the face would be on a human there was nothing more than an ovaloid dome of tinted plastic.
     
    There were faint lights beneath that darkened dome, and if the men were not so focused on the machine's knee joint, they would have noticed that these too pulsed in the same order as the computer. Holding a solid red for two pulses, and then switching to green.
     
    A loud grinding sound caught their attention and the two men gasped as they rose from their work, glancing around to see where the discordant noise had come from.
     
    "A bit of a shock, eh, Fred?" Said the shorter of the two, wiping the back of a black-gloved hand against his forehead and adjusting his goggles with the other.
    "Yes indeed, Dominic" the taller said, running his fingers through his sandy hair.
    "Jeese..." the one called Dominic spoke quietly, glancing in the direction of the machine's hand.
    "Is it supposed to do that, Fred?" he said nervously.
     
    The machine's digits shook almost violently as power coursed through the arm circuits; the fingers snatched and clawed at the empty air...before finally clenching into a cold metal fist. All this time the light patterns beneath the tinted 'skull' continued to pulse rapidly.
     
    Fred watched this with a detached calmness, returning his tools to the workbench as he watched the machine's hand grope the air.
    "Don't worry, Dominic." He said slowly "That thing is strapped down for a reason...still, I wonder why it's reacting so oddly..."
     
    There was a loud shriek of metal as a door above the two men opened and a figure in a black business suit walked in, staring down at them from above.
    "Gentlemen, I trust that your project is coming along well?" the man spoke smoothly, almost offhandedly, as he adjusted his tie.
    "Yes sir." Dominic responded, removing his goggles and looking up at the man. "However there is a slight glitch, it seems"
    "A glitch?" The man frowned, drawing out a small metal cylinder and pressing it to his temple. "That's not going to make my bosses happy."
     
    Fred, face averted from the smooth-talking man on the catwalk, scowled at the attitude of the man's words. With a sigh he turned to face the man and spoke:
    "Sir, if you'd like to come down here...perhaps you could see for yourself." In response the man simply raised an eyebrow, then, with an expression of interest he descended the staircase; the metal stairs clanging loudly with his every step.
     
    "I must admit, I'm interested in seeing this glitch" the man said glibly, sidling up to the two scientists. Both Fred and Dominic chose not to spoke, instead indicating the still moving hand of the machine as it grasped the air.
     
    The man, for his part, simply smiled.
    "That's no glitch, gentlemen" he said with a wan smile. "That's exactly what we want." Fred and Dominic stared wordlessly, indicating for the man to go on.
    "You see, gentlemen," the man began, watching the machine's hand endlessly clawing the air "You're not building a cyborg or an automaton. This is not an AI operated machine."
     
    "I don't understand..." Fred muttered, removing his goggles to better see the man. The man pointed in the direction of the various computer monitors that were scattered across the table, and to the code that still streamed across every one.
    "That's not a computer program, per se." he said teasingly. "Rather it's the approximate digitization of one of our fallen comrades...a backup, if you will"
    "So this is operating off a computer program based around a dead former employee?" Dominic asked, incredulously.
     
    The man simply laughed, withdrawing the metal cylinder from his breast pocket.
    "Not entirely. This cylinder is my backup...every one of us is assigned a backup. However that is old technology--not something that we would assign two top level scientists such as yourself." Both Fred and Dominic acknowledged the compliment, but still felt a shudder of dread run through them as the man spoke.
     
    "No gentlemen, what you're creating is but the frame...the shell, if you will. And we all know that a shell is useless without a soul."
    "You can't mean..." Fred began to speak, his eyes widening slightly.
    "Oh yes. This is our first experiment in harnessing the spirit of a deceased person--to give them a new lease on life!"
     
    Behind the men the monitors ceased their constant streams of code, now only two words blinked on the green, surrounded by the pulsing green lights.
    "STATUS: OPERATIONAL"
     
    The man glanced at this and smiled at the two scientists, laying a hand on each of their shoulders'
    "Congratulations, gentlemen. It looks like it's a success."
     
  19. Janus

    Days Of Future Past

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! 2.0 (2) 
    Yes. I missed yesterday. I was so ill that I fell asleep at 8:30 PM and still felt tired and ill upon awakening. I am feeling better-ish now.
     
    I need to make some sort of header for my FOR SCIENCE entries. its got to be easier than constantly typing out all that code.
     
    Anyhow:
     
    Word count: 1,393
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Days of Future Past 
    Six mighty Toa, elemental guardians of the Matoran stood at the ready; their faces grim and their bodies tense. Though no Kanohi masks were being activated, and no weapons were drawn, the Toa were clearly gearing up for a challenge.
     
    “Together we stand” Murmured Onua, Toa of Earth.
    “Do we really want to be together here?” joked Pohatu, Toa of Stone.
    “No.” Was the curt reply of Toa Kopaka, Toa of Ice.
    “Absolutely not” Growled Tahu, Toa of fire.
    “Nooooot really” Toa Lewa of air said with a half smile.
    “I don’t know, I don’t think it’s that bad…” Toa Gali, Toa of water, said with a slight frown.
     
    “Attention!” Came a loud and shrill voice, drawing all of the Toa’s gaze towards a small Matoran clad in a black Rau.
    “Attention! Would the Toa Mata please enter the theatre!” The small Matoran shouted loudly, seemingly oblivious to the shudder the Toa gave at being called “Mata.”
     
    One by one the Toa shuffled in a grim funeral march towards the large stone construct that the Matoran referred to as the ‘theatre.’ All except Toa Gali who simply frowned at each of her despairing brothers and muttered
    “I don’t think it’ll be that bad!” One by one each Toa handed in a small stone tablet that the Matoran assured them was called a “ticket,” (They had to wait a few minutes as the Matoran chiseled half of the “ticket” away. They also had to wait longer as the Matoran needed to explain to Tahu why he needed to do this.”
     
    After the last dying shouts of “But now there’s only half!” and “I need to do it! Company policy sir!” faded, the Toa found themselves in a large, dark enclosure. Noting rough seats carved out of the stone of the building, the Toa seated themselves and…stared in silence at the large black screen that dominated the entire wall in front of them.
     
    “Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Pohatu moaned.
    “Contractual obligations” Kopaka grated out, dropping the temperature in the room a few degrees.
    “I hate contracts” Pohatu muttered in response. The rest of the rest of the Toa, minus Gali, simply nodded their heads grimly. As for Gali, she simply sat with her arms crossed and stared at the screen, seemingly ignoring all of her brothers.
     
    “I’d like to welcome all you Toa to the theatre” came a slick voice. Turning their heads the Toa could see that the screen had lit up and…what they supposed was the face of some sort of pink fleshy…thing was speaking to them.
    “I think we’ve got something very exciting for you today. As you know we’re in our first few years of BIONICLE, but through advanced time travel we’re able to show you what you’ll look like in the future. And in place of your bonus this year, that’s what we decided to do!” The last sentence was spoken incredibly rapidly, and it was a few seconds afterwards that Lewa, finally understanding piped up with a
    “Hey!” but it was too late. The bizarre pink thing was speaking again.
     
    “We’ll start with your first transformation. Circa 2002 you’ll be dealing with a new threat, the BOHROK. Sounds scary, eh? But fear not, you’ll be turned into a new form at the end of it…hmm, guess I kind of spoiled that storyline, huh? Oh well, on with the show!” The screen flickered briefly and faded to black while some heavy drums kicked in. The Toa unconsciously began to nod their heads in time with the music, being unexpectedly pumped up by the event going on around them. Then the first slide appeared.
     
    “What the heck is that!” Pohatu shrilled, pointing one of his two fingers at the screen, his mask practically falling off his face.
    “Pohatu Nuva” a different announcer spoke “Toa Nuva of Stone, he wears the Kakama Nuva, the mask of speed”
    “…A moment of silence for Pohatu” Lewa said with a small laugh, patting his brother of stone on the shoulder.
    “I really hate contracts” Pohatu sighed, putting his face in his hands.
    “Next slide!” Lewa shouted loudly, a large grin on his face.
     
    The screen responded in kind, bringing up the image of a White-clad warrior.
    “Kopaka Nuva. Toa Nuva of Ice, he wears the Akaku Nuva” The announcer said clearly. Kopaka analyzed the screen, the various different booms of his telescopic lenses clicking in and out as he gazed. Finally he spoke.
    “Not bad. Where’s my sword?” said coolly, his single visible eye showing relief at not having a repeat of Pohatu’s fate. Lewa on the other hand was anything but pleased and grumbled “next!”
     
    Again the screen switched, bringing up the image of a Toa wielding two large weapons.
    “Wait…are those?” Pohatu questioned, eyes wide.
    “….Chainsaws?” Onua finished, clearly aghast at what he was seeing.
    “Onua Nuva. Toa Nuva of Earth, he wears the Pakari Nuva.” There was a pause in the theatre as the various Toa turned to face Onua. Even Gali looked sympathetic and simply put a hand on his shoulder while mouthing the words “I’m sorry.” For his part, Onua took the news like a real Toa. Only once screaming
    “CHAINSAWS?!” before turning and staring at the floor. Even Lewa wasn’t able to crack wise about this, and so the burden fell to Tahu to angrily demand “Next!”
     
    The screen seemed happy to oblige and changed again, the earthy hues of Onua’s land morphing to the bright greens of the jungle.
    “Lewa Nuva. Toa Nuva of air, he wears the Miru Nuva” At this announcement even Kopaka couldn’t hold back his snicker.
    “Your mask looks like a chipmunk.” He said with a snort of laughter.
    “…He’s right, you know?” Tahu said, staring intently at the image.
    “….I hate you all” Lewa murmured before looking at the image himself and screaming loudly.
    “MY MASK!” was all that he was able to get out before Gali put a hand over his mouth and glared
    “Shh! It’s not over yet!” Lewa simply whimpered in return.
     
    This time the screen changed without urging from the audience, the verdant greens of Lewa’s jungle being replaced by rivers of fire and high mountains of volcanic rock.
    “Tahu Nuva. Toa Nuva of fire, he wears the Hau Nuva.” Came the soothing tones of the announcer. The Toa simply stared at the image.
    “It’s…not bad, actually” Kopaka stated plainly
    “Why does Tahu get to look good?” Lewa whined plaintively
    “Well your sword certainly seems big enough” Gali said, eyeing the picture warily.
    “…I like it” Tahu said, surprising himself. Then he and Kopaka turned to each other and high fived over the heads of their brothers, large grins on their faces.
    “We don’t suck!” they both said, clearly relieved.
    “Shh!” Gali said “It’s my turn next!”
     
    And indeed it was. The screen changed for the final time, altering the intense reds for a softer palette of blues, and in the midst of those blues was a figure swimming serenely.
    “Gali Nuva. Toa Nuva of water, she wears the Kaukau Nuva.”
    “I….I….what?” Gali mouthed wordlessly.
    “I’m so sorry” Pohatu said with a sigh.
    “On the plus side, you got propellers” Lewa said with a grin. “I’d kill for some propellers”
    “All in favour of not letting Gali Transform?” Kopaka grunted. The Toa raised their hands unanimously. As this happened the screen faded again, and the pinky fleshy thing came back on screen.
     
    “I hope you all enjoyed this peek into the future, Toa! We’ll be testing these in focus groups soon, so don’t be surprised if the weapons get bigger…oh, you might get some guns too. Just a heads up!” And the screen went blank.
     
    The Toa walked wordlessly out of the theatre, past the black Rau’d Matoran and into the jungle that surrounded the large stone building. Various mutterings of
    “I want my money back” and “I hate contracts” could be heard through the thick foliage as the Toa wandered dazedly back towards their home Koro’s. As the Toa faded from view the Matoran took out a small walkie talkie and pressed it to the side of his mask.
    “It’s me lord Makuta, our plan worked perfectly.”
     
    On the other end of the walkie talkie a dark voice growled in response.
    “Wonderful. That’ll show those execs for making me look so terrible as a set!”
     
     
  20. Janus

    Decisions

    By Janus,

    It finally happened to me. I found my Mass Effect Dilemma.
     
    Everyone tells me about their Mass Effect Dilemma, where they didn't know what to choose--and while I know I still have a doozy coming up (I spoiled myself years in advance) I found my first one last night.
     
    I've been completing loyalty quests for fun, and so far I've done: Miranda, Jacob, Jack, and Tali. I was in the middle of Garrus'--or rather at the end.
     
    Spoilers inevitably follow:
     
     
     
    And I'm going to be honest I didn't know what to do. On the one hand I needed to secure Garrus' loyalty, I can't let my mission against the collectors fail, it's life or death for humanity. On the other hand I don't want that Garrus. I don't want to let a friend become that. Additionally I don't think what he's doing is right--do I risk standing up to him and thus lose him as an asset in the war against the collectors? Or do I allow him to go through with what he wants and have a guilty conscience for what I allowed him to do?
     
    Or do I cheat, minimize, go check the wiki, and then answer?
     
    (The answer is the last one, by the way)
  21. Janus

    Delay

    By Janus,

    'lo all.
     
    I will be updating with TWO (That's right, two) stories tomorrow. I'm stuck at a friends and have only limited time and access. And also no ideas, and it's late.
     
    And when it's late I maaek speallign aerrrors.
     
    Okay, those were deliberate, but you get the idea.
     
    See you tomorrow!
     
    -Janus
  23. Janus

    Deprivation

    By Janus,

    (16)
     
    Late. I know. I'm a terrible person who has been busy and lazy lately. This story came to me last night before I went to bed and is probably better than what I'd had planned beforehand.
     
    I hope to have a second story up today, and then both days missed will be made up for.
     
    Yarr.
     
    Word count: 1,040.
     
    Enjoy!
     

     

    Deprivation 
    To say I was afraid of the dark wouldn’t too far from the truth, but I was never the darkness itself that frightened me so. Even the thought of things lurking in it did not perturb me. Instead, somehow, it was the thought of what wasn’t there that caused me such fright. The absence of light was the obvious fear, but my nights were filled with vague horrors of myself grasping blindly about in the blackest of night, reaching and groping for something that no longer existed.
     
    And just to add on to those existing fears was the pervasive knowledge that there was no way to escape the darkness. No matter what it would come. Even the brightest of lights would eventually flicker and die—leaving me alone in the darkness, where things moved on their own and I vainly struggled to find what I would never be able to.
     
    You can imagine, then, how I felt when I awoke to find myself in a brightly lit cell. The floor had deep recesses in between crisp white tiles and dotting the walls and high-anchored ceiling were powerful floodlights. It wasn’t a painful amount of light—all it really did was make me aware of just how large the holding area was.
     
    I stood there, washed in the powerful lights that shone all over the room, and felt that prickle of fear. I could only identify one exit and it was magnetically locked. I knew that much.
     
    “How are you this morning, Doctor?” came a slightly garbled female voice from the loudspeaker. Of course they were observing me.
    “Quite well, and yourselves?” I managed to get out with only the slightest quaver in my voice.
    “We’re quite eager, Doctor. You were doing some truly fascinating work on light deprivation…” I heard snickers in the background, her comrades no doubt. I heard papers being flipped over…those cretins were looking through my work! For an instant my fear was forgotten as rage took over—First these insignificant snots hold my staff and I at gunpoint and forcefully take over our lab—and now they’re stealing my research?
     
    “I’m especially interested in this one, Doctor” Came the female voice again.
    “And which one would that be?” I bit my tongue, holding back a choice name.
    “The theory that the human brain can be so very disturbed by darkness that it can seem like objects are moving. I’m most eager to test this.” I could hear venom dripping from her voice—I only hoped that my other staff were managing to escape torment like this.
     
    “And how do you suggest you do that?” I asked meekly, disgusted with my own cowardice.
    “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way.” As she spoke, the magnetically locked door snapped open and two men dragged in a large couch with some very lumpy pillows. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
    “I’ll let you get acquainted” She said maliciously, then the loudspeaker went dead.
     
    I’m not ashamed to admit that the second the loudspeaker was turned off I let out a stream of venom and curses the likes of which I’d never uttered before…These impudent brats deserved every word of it. It was then, gasping with breath, that I moved to investigate the strange couch—and jumped back in shock and revulsion as the lumpy pillow began to thrash and convulse. Sickening though it looked, I swallowed my fear and moved forward…finally catching sight of a zipper. To say I was shocked and disgusted didn’t even come close, one of my staff was in that!
     
    Angrily I grabbed the zipper and pulled it down, revealing a familiar form.
    “…Martha?” I gasped out, seeing my wife before me—I hadn’t thought that these sickos would stoop so low! Martha for her part was silent, and it took me some time to discover that was because of a gag roughly stuffed into her mouth. Gently cradling her with one arm I undid the gag…just in time to see the lights go black.
     
    “Fred!” I heard Martha cry, but to say that I was slightly frightened wouldn’t have been accurate. I was terrified, and in that terror it was all I could do not to hold Martha in a vice-grip.
    “Shhh, hon,” I murmured, attempting to quell her fears…and with luck my own. “we’ll be fine, let’s just move to the door…maybe we can get out of here when they open it!” I spoke, sounding far more confident than I felt. Martha for her part, had always been a strong woman and giving my hand a tight squeeze she moved from the couch and to the tiled floor, with me not far behind.
     
    About midway through the room (I estimated, it was impossible to see anything…or gauge distance in the thick darkness) I paused, frowning.
    “What is it, Fred?” Martha whispered, sensing my reticence.
    “The couch.” I muttered. “I just can’t figure out what the point of the couch is…surely they could have just dropped you on the floor?” Martha made a small noise of indignation at this, bringing a smile to my lips.
    “If it’s bothering you that much, why not go investigate it?” She said softly. “I can make it to the door on my own, and then we’ll meet up, okay?”
     
    Hesitantly I agreed and set off toward the direction I thought the couch was in. About twenty minutes later I became aware that I was hopelessly lost…but that didn’t make sense. Martha and I had moved in a straight line from the couch…and I had just reversed that…it should have been here…unless…
    “Martha!” I cried, panic gripping at me. “Martha!”
     
    There was no response. I searched the room for hours but it was exactly as I had expected…not just the couch, but Martha too…had vanished forever. Visions of my wife reaching blindly in the darkness came to me, I saw her fingers groping for something, anything before…before whatever it was that happened. I knew it couldn’t have been the door, because not only would I have heard the magnetic lock, but the light from the corridor would have been near blinding.
     
    Though it defied all logic, my wife had simply vanished into the darkness…and I was left.
     
    Alone.
  24. Janus

    Enough!

    By Janus,

    Okay guys, that's it. It's time to sit down, simmer down, and just CHILL.
     
    I (as in I as a person, rather than I as a Global Moderator) am SICK of the constant bickering and back-and-forth going on all over the forums. Including right here in my own blog.
     
    I FULLY support debates, and enjoy them quite a bit, truth be told. But this isn't debating, there is nothing respectful or even civilized. This is a constant nattering between two groups who refuse to listen to each other.
     
    So stop talking.
     
    That's the answer, guys. I have my opinion, you have your opinion. We are all entitled to our own opinions and should be encouraged to vocalize them, be they positive or negative. Vocalize them in a CIVILIZED manner, though.
     
    Attacking someone for hating something, or for liking it--is frankly immature. Condescending to someone because they don't like something you do/like something you don't is utterly ridiculous.
     
    Basically I'm issuing a call to reason. Use your brains and stop this pathetic conflict. Everyone is entitled to their own opinions.
     
    We can do better than this.
  25. Janus

    Enter The Gurlfren

    By Janus,

    FOR SCIENCE! (7) 
    Yes, yes. It has taken me far too long to get back into FOR SCIENCE! But the past is past, let's move on with the future, yes?
     
    Good.
     
    Truth be told, I don't actually feel that bad because I still wrote. Those of you who've seen my Streams of Conciousness entry know that, but I also spent most of yesterday writing a 7 page MONSTER of a story--those of you wondering why it's not going on here...well, let's just say it's not exactly BZP appropriate, and only those who know me well enough to know where I lurk and what I like will be allowed to see it. If they even want to.
     
    NINJA EDIT:
     
    I realized upon reflection today that "If they even want to" looks like me being a sobby whiney preteen angsting about how nobody wants to read my stories. NOT EVEN MY FRIENDS MY LIFE IS SO HAAAARD.
     
    That wasn't my intent, I more meant to say that it deals with subject matter that not everyone who knows me wants to read about. Let's just say it's a Slash.
     
    Yes, I've written a slash. I'm unsure if this will attract or repulse fangirls
     
    Regardless, with such a long break I believe it's time for a refresher on the rules of FOR SCIENCE! So here we go.
     
    Every day I will write 2,000 words on any subject of my choice, throughout the week I will collect various suggestions for what I should write about on Friday. Votes will be opened on Thursday in an entry prior to my story and the winner will be the subject of my 4,000 word story on Friday.
     
    We up to speed?
     
    Now, in order to be fair I feel that I should include the two suggestions from days of old (Or a few weeks ago)
     
    bio djinnie: Also, how about a story involving Furbies, Death-rays, and an ancient orginization of ninjas?
     
    Bossman: Write a 4,000 word essay on the topic of your choosing without using a single pronoun.
     
    And now on with the story! (of questionable quality!)
     
    Enjoy!
     

    Enter The Gurlfren 
    “Incoming!” My friend shouted as the red blip lit up my radar screen. Panicking I pressed down hard on the control panel and watched as my Mobile Suit just barely avoided the crimson flash of energy.
    “That was way too close…” I muttered to myself, re-aligning myself to better glimpse the fierce battle going on all around me.
     
    The mission was simple—or was supposed to be. We, as two Zeon soldiers were meant to attack the AEUG’s primary ship, the Argama, as well as an escape shuttle they had. Well, the shuttle had gone down quickly under a barrage of fire from my own Gaza-C class Mobile Suit, and my friend’s own Gaza-C was able to begin intercepting the lone defending suits they sent out, nothing more than some Nemo’s.
     
    Unfortunately now things weren’t going exactly as we had hoped. The ]Argama had defenses superior to what we had expected, and worse yet, they had an Ace Pilot who was piloting the brand new state-of-the-art suit the Rick Dias. Barely dodging another shot I saw my radar light up with even more red blips, indicating more enemies entering the conflict. Just great.
     
    “Cover me” My friend said calmly, his Gaza-C’s verniers lighting up with bright blue flames as he streaked towards the Argama and its rapidly firing cannons. Nodding mutely I selected a Nemo as my target and double-checked my battery charge for my laser cannon. 2 shots remained on this battery—that should be just enough for a Nemo.
     
    Taking careful aim I fired: Once, twice, and….contact! Brilliant red flames burst from the wrecked suit, drifting slowly in the cold vacuum of space before exploding in a flash of light. One target down I selected the next, another Nemo that was using its boosters to great effect, dodging and weaving around and forcing me to be quick with the controls of my own suit.
     
    “We’re running out of time!” My friend shouted as he began to engage the Ace in the Rick Dias, I could see that he was right, my mission timer counting down rapidly in the corner of my viewscreen. We had exactly 1:30 left to scuttle the Argama and her defenses…and that Ace pilot wasn’t making it any easier.
     
    Lost in reverie I was woken rudely as two blasts smashed hard into my Gaza-C, bringing my critical warnings up on screen. I hoped I was going to be able to make it of this situation alive. Taking aim I fired with my replenished laser cannon, piercing the Nemo’s cockpit directly and turning the suit into a flaming ball of wreckage. Giving my radar a cursory glance I discovered that only one hostile suit remained—the Rick Dias.
     
    Firing my verniers I launched myself into the conflict, targeting and firing on the Dias as it weaved about the space fighting fiercely to protect the Argama. I could see that the battle had taken its toll on all of us, the Dias’ reaction time was slower than before, and bright blue sparks of light leapt from its body in multiple place—likewise my friend’s Gaza-C was showing the same signs of damage, and of course I barely needed to look at my critical warnings to know that my own suit was heavily damaged.
    “Look out!” I shouted as a blast from the Dias rocketed towards my friend’s Gaza-C. There was no way he would be able to survive a direct hit like that. Firing madly from my laser cannon I fired my boosters and launched myself towards the Dias. Unfortunately it happened to be firing its own lasers at that time.
     
    “######, I’m dead” I muttered to my friend, watching as my suit floated lifelessly in space, sparks leaping across its shattered body.
    “Yeah, me too” He grunted
    “Again?” I asked, watching as the mission failure screen appeared on my PSP “ZEON IS DISSAPOINTED IN YOU” it read. Great, glad to know.
    “Yeah, may as well. She doesn’t land for another few minutes. Plus customs. We’ve got a bit” he said, glancing at the flight times on the screen above.
    “Sweet” I grinned. “But shouldn’t we move closer over there, so we can actually see her when she lands?” I said, nudging my friend. With a groan he stood up and stretched, his silver PSP catching the light shining down from above.
     
    Grinning I stood up, carefully replacing my own PSP in my pocket and glancing at the screen above. Two more minutes for her flight to land. I couldn’t wait.
    “Oh, she’s going to call when she’s landed” I said offhandedly, taking my usual large strides towards the central area of the airport where everyone was waiting on semi-comfortable padded chairs.
    “That’s good, that way she won’t walk in on us playing Gundam. What a way to welcome her to Vancouver, huh?” He said, laughing.
    “Yeah, and given that she’s not much of a Gundam fan…” my train of thought trailed off. I didn’t think she’d be upset, but I still wasn’t sure.
    “Well, regardless, I’m going to be stealing you at least a bit so we can beat this stupid mission” he said grimly. I laughed at this and continued to walk, finding a pair of unoccupied chairs away from the incredibly cold wind blowing in through the automatic doors.
    “If she has a problem, she can take it out on me” He said with a laugh, seating himself.
    “She can, yes.” I began slowly, powering up my PSP again “But she’ll likely take it out on me. With her fists” My friend merely raised an eyebrow in response, powering up his PSP as well.
    “You go select the mission this time, I’ll use one of my powerful suits” He said, eyes still glued to the opening screen of Gundam Battle Universe
    “Sure.” I murmured, my eyes on my own screen.
     
    It was another five minutes before the call came, just as I was being pelted by the enemy suits (of course), my phone began to vibrate erratically in my pocket. I quickly grabbed it and flipped it open.
    “Hay” I said, watching my suit take many point-blank shots.
    “Hey” she responded, sounding both tired and excited. “We’ve landed and I’m in the line for customs, it’s not that bad of a line, so I should see you soon.”
    “Cool, I can’t wait” I said with a smile. “My friend is here as well, we’re watching for you but in the off chance we don’t see you, you’ll probably recognize us.”
    My friend looked up from his PSP, his Sazabi having destroyed everything on the screen and won the mission.
    “Say hello for me too” He said offhandedly. I nodded and passed along his greeting
    “Say hello back for me!” She said, sounding happy. “I’ll see you in, like, fifteen minutes!”
    “Kay” I responded, then, grinning maliciously said “We’ll be the ones playing on our PSPs”
    “….What?” She sounded slightly confused.
    “To recognize us. All you need to do is look for the two grown men playing PSP”
    “Oh goody” she said, laying on false sarcasm thickly. “See you soon”
    “Definitely. Love you” I said quietly, holding the phone to my ear.
    “Love you too” She murmured, then the line went quiet.
     
    “She’ll be out in about fifteen minutes” I spoke to my friend, dragging his attention away from the upgrades he was doling out.
    “Got it. Fifteen more minutes to play” He said with a boyish grin, I returned his grin and looked to my own upgrade screen.
    “At least.”
     
    It was approximately fifteen minutes (along with multiple wins, and deaths) later that she actually walked through the automatic doors. After my head snapped up from the PSP for the thousandth-and-first time I was finally able to say
    “There she is! For real this time!” completely oblivious to the fact that I was in fact being murdered most viciously by the Marasai swarming all around my poor Gerbera Tetra. My friend (under equal assault from various different aces) looked up as well and we both shared a glance that said “I won’t say we were getting our butts kicked if you won’t” and then turned off our respective games, moving to meet her at the exit of the walkway.
     
    “Hey gurlfren” I said with a grin, hugging her tight.
    “Hey gaifren” she responded, gripping me in an equally tight hug. After a few seconds we broke the hug and she said hello to our mutual friend and we were on our way….for all of ten seconds, before the first of many mock-arguments broke out.
     
    “Aren’t you going to carry my luggage?” She said with mock impatience, indicating her wheeled bag.
    “I thought you were a big enough girl to carry it yourself” I grinned back.
    “Dude, you’re going to be sleeping outside” my friend murmured ahead of me.
     
    After a resolution had been worked out (and by resolution I mean she frowned at me until I took the bag, feeling terribly guilty and horrible) we walked out the automatic doors into the nice chill wind—and of course rain.
    “It’s freezing!” She whispered, shoving her hands in her pockets. I just laughed, clad only in a T-shirt and light jacket (AND PANTS OF COURSE. JEESE). Then again, I was used to the cold weather…she most certainly wasn’t. But being the kind gent I am I naturally offered to warm her hands up, and being the wonderful lady she is, she accepted.
     
    Then she yelled that my hands were freezing—setting off another laughing session from me (with my friend joining in so we could make it in stereo!). Of course her mock-anger was perfectly justified as my hands were indeed blocks of ice—that’s just naturally how they get, I guess.
     
    All mock-fights and freezing cold forgotten (Or mostly forgotten, she was still shivering like a leaf) we loaded ourselves into my friend’s car, where both of them began to berate me on not yet being able to drive.
     
    Of course I reminded them that I could drive, there was just the minor technicality of it being legal driving. This was met with groans and disapproving stares. And then we were off, our adventure in the airport complete it was time to set out onto the open road.
     
    She stared out the window, drinking in the beauty that was the city, and being quite shocked at the amount of snow (“Real snow!”) still left on the roads—luckily by this time it had stopped snowing otherwise the adventure would have been far more ‘interesting’ than it was.
     
    The miles ticked by, and various comments were made by both my friend and my lovely lady. My favourite of which being a passing comment about a large temple:
    “Is that a giant bouncy castle?”
    “…I think it’s a temple”
    “…Does it have a bouncy castle inside of it?”
    I squeezed her hand and smiled, showing how much I adored her. This conversation naturally dovetailed into a discussion about how much better temples would be if they contained bouncy castles, but as it is religious in nature (What with the temples and all) it is hereby stricken from the record.
     
    We drove on, passing various different buildings and landmarks, until my friend said what would spark a great adventure.
    “…Um, can you get us back to your house from here?”
    “…I think so, yeah. Go straight for now” I responded, wracking my brain. I knew how to get back from a certain point but we were well outside that point, time to see if I knew what I was doing.
     
    Ironically it was well inside the area that I knew well that our adventure occurred. Driving up an incline we found ourselves on one side of a two lane highway, with one lane curving away into the darkness. My friend asked which way and I responded (Foolishly)
    “Go straight”.
     
    He did.
     
    We took the curved path and drove in a straight line for some time, finally coming a tiny little spit of land that led to a tinier spit of land in America. We quickly turned around and drove back, ending that little adventure.
     
    Naturally all of this was filled with conversation of the most wonderful sort, and me making googly eyes at my lovely gurlfren, but really, did you need to know that?
     
    I didn’t think so, that’s why I wasted so much time talking about Gundam.
     
    Which, by the way, is way less cool than my Gurlfren.
     
    Yeah, you read that right.
     
    <3
×
×
  • Create New...