Uncle K.

Status: Once an Ocean pages 4-5 in progress THE WHAT The BZKA (as if anyone remembers) is getting a small reboot in the form of a few one-off comics, released in chunks as they are created, which can sometimes take... months. I'm busy and this is not a job. Check back semi-regularly. I think I covered it all in the first sentence, off with you THE BEEF BZKA: M.I.S.T. The Snow Ghost (4 pages - Complete) Once An Ocean PART ONE (3 / ? Pages) - New BZKA: ANCIENT GODS Spin-off Mini-series (1 / ?? Pages In Progress) ------------------------- THE BONUS Character Sketches ok bye

Thanks those who made comments. It probably doesn't even have enough juice left to warm up, let alone smoke or spark. It may be gas powered but there's absolutely nothing left after this fight... though one might be tempted to ask what's that glow far in the horizon. I always go overboard with effects and such so this time I did away with anything I felt was superficial and Tahu already has enough visual weight on the right side. Thanks for the suggestion though, I love comments like that. If you like this vote for it, that would be nice

Name: Empire/Funcle K.Entry: Fatal WoundThumb: Geez this was stressful. Still feel like I did something wrong.. haha

Fatal Wound Titans and Monsters Entry Behold: Tahu stands back as the colossus stumbled towards him, stomach bubbling with a green liquid that spills out in boiling chunks. He wonders if there are more of these creatures, nightmarish titans erupting from the earth itself... He had lured it far from the city, but in doing so abandoned his guard. He hopes the other Toa are at least having an uneventful evening. Ugh I should not have waited until tonight to start.

Oh good grief, there's two hours left? I thought I had one more day.

Oh no, not again...Definitely not entering a comic this time, hahaha.

ICHe knew he had less than seconds. The beast was still in the room, he could feel it, hear it, sense it... it was inside his mind. He gazed at the door from his position, crouched down at the side of the closest row of lockers, an empty canister clutched in his hand, retrieved in the thick of killing from where the creature had discarded it. Now he hoped to use it again, but he didn't think he'd try to get it back...The Ko-Matoran did not wish to die. Now that he had seen it, up close and personal, he did not regard death with serenity. He had what one could consider friends, if one did not have any good examples to label what makes a friend. He had watched them escape out the door, and just now let it almost close. He took heart, it had not been completely shut, and he took that moment to move. He lept to his feet and hurled himself forward, lunging toward the door. Halfway between his hiding spot by the lockers and the mouth out of this nightmare he thought he felt something cold and sharp at the back of his neck. He twisted and threw the depleted canister in his hand behind him, and it clattered back past several of the rows of lockers just as he reached salvation. If it had been a successful distraction, he did not know, the only thought in his mind was the last surge of panic as he seized open the door and fell through, the chirping screaming in his ear finally quieting.

I just want to point out that 400 would never let himself be picked up while holding his plant. This would have been completely against his protests. But as such, I'm fine with Rauta taking him wherever he goes until I post again. As long as he HURRIES.

Well I'm always up for criticism, and while these won't change they aren't the only times I'll draw these characters or types. Thanks. And I'm still looking for a better image host. I just have too many things already on Photobucket.

IC (400) The Ko-Matoran broke out of 306's grip and retrieved the dead, wilted plant from the locker as fast as he dared and shut it. He clutched the planter delicately to his chest as he began to back up, calling for the other two. "Come on, we need to b-be anywhere but here!" He hoarsely whispered. Images of the monstrosity burned in his eyes, like a terrible force that drained the will from his heart. "Turn your light down," he called to 7725, "and let's go!" He didn't know if they should go looking for the singing fool that probably alerted that thing right where they were. Maybe it's best if we go in smaller groups. He'll probably be okay... I hope.

IC (400)He was no hero. But these were as close as friends a he had.He would welcome oblivion.The words came unbidden to his mouth even as he clenched the wires connecting one of the old canisters to his waist, his suit chirping and beeping in his ears."Get down! It's behind you!"The Ko-Matoran half yelled, half stuttered, his words just beginning to echo in the dark space. He ripped off the canister and hurled it in panic just over the two between him and... the thing. Without time to re-channel the charge, the static electricity in the little canister lit up both ends, effectively forming a strobing effect on the floor and ceiling as it spun through the air.oocReally 400? "get down it's behind you" is seriously the best thing you can say? What a fool.ugh just giving up on the font tags for now.

That's what I use. You'd think after how many years I'd remember the code for teal.I wonder if the recent posters in the topic know that the canister being dropped is so small it can fit in a Matoran's hand. Someone by all the zamor tubes would definitely not be able to hear it clang quietly to the ground. ooc psThey're really in for it now.... against this otherworldly demon from the abyss... this Rancor.... this alien that searches for something.... something to kill? Something to murder? Will it find what it searches for? Will it find blood or will it forever wander... searching... lost....?

lol, "hindsight" might be a skill you'd wish you had. I'll try to post, even though it's excruciatingly slow on this phone and I have to copy over my formatting from other posts amidst freezes every several minutes. This post took several minutes, expect my reply within two hours. ugh

IC (400) He concentrated as hard as he could to block out the noises. Don't... can't go crazy. The Ko-Matoran's fingers trembled as he held up one of his little canisters to his locker, the other hand busy unclasping and clicking wires together that ran out from the hexagonal panel on the back of his suit, which chirped every time he made an erroneous connection. After a few seconds, with a little hiss, the two older canisters were successfully joined together, and with a simple hook he could attach them to the others. He attached the two retrieved from the locker to his hip and shone the other canister's light into the locker. He paused on the dead plant, confused. Why would this be in a locker? He grabbed the little key, attached it beside the canisters, and rolled up the two notes without reading them. He reached up to pry off the hexagon from the door to the locker when he glanced to the side and was immediately blinded by a bright light washing over his eyes. "Aeuhugh!" OOC or whatever sound one makes when looking into a headlamp.

can i have wrist mounted guns too? my character can just tape his canisters to his arms if it's too muchActually, could Levacious include 400 in his next post? I don't want to waste space just to have him open his locker when he got right up to it in the last one I made.

IC (400) He felt a bit trapped, but realized it was to be expected. He had been whisked away as this second gathering of cohorts began to splinter, as some made their way to the end of the brighter hallway, and others remained in the room of tubes. As he plodded along down the rest of the hall, following that awful musician and 686, the only seemingly level headed one of the bunch. He looked around for the one he only knew as 7725, and spotted him a little ways ahead of him. He jogged up right as one of the Toa violently opened the doors at the end. He blinked as his eyes settled in the room. So this is what the others have already encountered. Might have been wiser to follow, I won't make that mistake again. He figured it might be best to make acquaintances. This ship doesn't seem at all as dangerous as it first seemed. "There were more of them, it appears there's just a straggler." The Ko-Matoran commented, the chirping from his suit reminding him of the parallels between his own abandonment not long ago. He followed behind the others, so these must be crew lockers... I wonder if I have one as well. I wonder what an apparent... (his suit chirped and the word gardener popped to mind) ...botanist would store in a lock box... EDIT: IC: THEN 400 walks over to his locker, enters the combination, and opens it to discover-

IC (400) He looked past the small Fe-Matoran's outstretched arm. "That guy was a..." His suit chirped faintly into his ears. "...common enemy. There was another group that left down that hall." He shrugged towards the illuminated passage. Looking back at the shattered glass from the canister from which this new Toa had emerged, he grimaced. So much noise, always so much noise. There was a handle. Why did no one see it? It had only taken him a few hours to understand how to leave the pod, it wasn't advanced engineering... something some of these others should know. His suit chirped, and he was reminded to set the little canister in his palm back to the attachment port on his waist. Better he let it charge again, if they were to leave, some of its less peaceful functions might come in handy.

IC (400) He had been really rather confused; he had just been trying to defend the other Matoran, but now looking at him on the floor, he understood the hostility from the other one as well. He held up the little canister and quickly clicked it before they could move, letting a beam of weak light splash on the floor for a few seconds."It's a flashlight for plants."

IC (400) "I would prefer having somebody watching my back.... Perhaps we will find somebody down there with answers? And it beats sitting around here." His suit chirped, there could not have been a better opening. He chose his words carefully.The Ko-Matoran straightened up from the shadows in what he hoped was dignified and slightly mysterious. Mostly it looked like he had just fallen in the dust."There is someone watching your back."

IC (400) It seemed as if even the peaceful bliss of sleep was not to last. He pulled the release inside the canister and held it down, letting the metal floor drop slowly. He scrabbled down and peered out from the gap between the lowered floor and the glass of the cylinder, when the black and golden Toa began walking down the hall after the others that had left. After watching the Toa return and hold a blade up against the newly descended Matoran, he knew that the could remain hidden no longer. Ignorance and acceptance was gone, he couldn't avoid destruction by cowering in corners. Two little canisters at his side. He had known they were there, but it hadn't registered. They stored something, though he had forgotten what. The Ko-Matoran gripped the floor paneling, unmoving. He had to get down, do something. His muscles clenched, his back arched. Frozen. He needed to help. Who was the common enemy? Steeling himself, he dropped down from the suspended canister. He felt his body cooling, his suit chirping softly in his head. He unclasped one of the small cylinders at his waist, it immediately began converting its contents from heat into static energy. In the shadows beneath the high prisons he crept closer.

Do these not function like lockers in the real world? Do you not have to return to a locker to retrieve its contents each time they are in need? Please be joking.

lol @ characters standing next to a locker asking for somewhere to store their things.

OOCSo many lockers, haha. So little knowledge actually gained...So I write long and I write dark. Too bad this is a character that doesn't really lighten up, but in a disaster or crisis similar to this, maybe it's upsetting because he acts a little close to home.IC (400)The Ko-Matoran watched as the others disappeared, too far down the hallway now to follow. He was glad, however. He did not want to have to watch them die. His suit gave a little chirp. The word "fatalist" came to mind. He wondered if his suit cared whether he lived or died. Well, it would be more lonely a world, wouldn't it? He knew he would die. It was not just a pessimistic view. The body on the floor was proof enough of that. If he looked over now, in the dim light, he would be able to see it. For a moment he wished he was with the others. None of them were friends but they were linked by fortune. He turned to look back at the rows of canisters. Origin. He moved closer. He had wanted to remain here in order to reunite himself with that mechanical womb, to feel his presence inside the safety of another. As he drew nearer now, to his rebeginning, he grew hesitant. He knew that safety was simply a fallacy he had created to keep from thinking about the end of things. The end of me. The suit chirped. The end of us.The cold Matoran passed his hand over the cool smooth glass surface of the canisters. There might have been some creature inside, he did not know. It was still sealed, the vapor within trapped like the cylinder's occupant. A lonely sleep. He knew that to slumber here was to invite despair. A sitting piece of bait. Anything with half a brain and a quarter of ill-intent would come looking through this hall of victims, strung up in lines for the ease of demise. He reached his old tube, his sanctuary, his imaginary fortress. This ship is doomed. This voyage went sour before we even woke up.A chirp from the suit.He was too engrossed in self pity to notice. Was it a warning? Was it sympathy? He reached up and pulled on the exterior release valve and then put weight on the lever. He clambored up into the small cylinder. Ignorance was better than apathy. Apathy was better than despair. The metal floor folded up under him and he was once again enveloped in his suit, in his solitude. A chirp again. Slight louder, he ignored it now.Dim lights were on this time, he could see his hands and chest and the tops of his feet in the dark. Maybe with this reentry light he was visible from outside. He thought he heard movement far from where he hid. He stained his audio receptors. He heard only the dark. He closed his eyes, let his helmet fall back against the wall. He closed his eyes, and despaired.

OOCWow it's darn near impossible to prevent typos when doing this on a phone. Hope I got them. IC (400)Eventually he realized that these strange creatures, Toa, Matoran, and beasts alike, were generally friendly. They had apparently banded together, and he guessed that the broken body on the floor had been a common enemy. They were powerful, no doubt. It might be prudent to stay with them, though, from the sound if they were planning a little exploration expedition that he wished to take no part in. He wondered if he would ever become a common enemy.Eventually it breached the thick barriers in his mind that they all had some sort of identification number. It wasn't a name, but apparently some of them had adopted it a such. Still unsure what 400 actually meant, he was a bit reticent to let it represent his identity. He guessed it wasn't up to him, at any rate. He did not want to just become another number: easily forgotten, vulnerable, like an exposed vein.The current talk about leadership and directions was worrying him. He didn't think any of them should be nominated to lead a bunch of panicked crew members around in this nightmarish place. We are all going to die soon here anyway, why go seek out a quicker means to an end? The darkened hall looked just as dangerous as the one with a few lights. If there are more common enemies like the one this lot already dispatched, possibly they would be alright, however. As long as that's the only other thing out there, he told himself, though he knew otherwise. His suit kept a running tally of the votes for the lit hallway, and calculated the percent of how likely it was that they would end up on that course of doomed pursuit.His suit chirped faintly in his ear. He realized that a newcomer had approached the group, walking quickly into his fields of vision with a hand outstretched. Lest this one add to the archaic votes that promised them certain death down that abandoned hall, he spoke up."I'm staying in here, in case more of the crew wakes up, and because I have no desire to seek out destruction. It would be nice if someone else stayed as well, but I am not going down any hallways unless it leads to a pleasant garden, or a way out of this trap."

OOCWas waiting for a lull in the action to put this in- as you can tell, this little guy doesn't get far.edit: fixed strange typo ICHe breathed in more of the gasses again, feeling the cold seep into his lungs. He embraced it, or rather, tolerated it, well enough. He was built for volatile temperatures anyway. He let his head fall forward, felt the dome of a helmet press against cool glass. More vapor swirled up to obscure his vision. He closed his eyes so it would disappear.How long had it been? The first darkened moments he had awoken had been filled with terror, but eventually he grew accustomed to this small space. It was confining, yes, but also safe. Controlled. He had been lulled back to sleep, prey to the little canister's soporific gas. This time, however, when he awoke he felt neither safe nor tired. He was perhaps more calm than the situation called for, but he had no way of knowing this. He let the cramped, round passage smother him, envelop him in its hard embrace.He knew from earlier exploration that he was standing on some sort of metal floor, built into the canister. At his back was metal and molded protodermis that almost seemed contoured to his shape. Above him was another floor of metal, marked only by a small inlet where he could feel a little handle built into the surface. Surrounding the rest of him was darkened glass, only visible from the the illumination his eyes made over its lustrous surface.He was not sure why he had awoken so suddenly this time, as if jolted awake by some force felt, rather than seen. He blinked, the glass darker than what he remembered. Perhaps outside his protective prison the world had grown darker in his mind's absence. He tried not to think about it. There were muddied sounds then, noises and high rumbles that he could just barely register. His mind processed the data but gathered no useful evidence or observation. The noises sounded as he was listening from underneath the surface of water, though he wasn't sure if he had ever been submerged before. He could not remember.A final blast faintly echoed in his chamber, and he set himself. This calm could not last forever. At some point he would be forced to leave, that much he knew for certain. He widened his eyes, and in their glow he could make out his faint reflection in the glass. An unfamiliar face loomed at him, orange eyes piercing, steely. A small number was printed beside his neck, he knew it was stamped on the surface of the helmet he wore. 400 400th what? Did it mean something? He knew he would have to find out. As much as he craved the seeming protection of his glass canopy, there was a pull deep down inside his chest, not pulling up or down in any certain direction, but out. Out somewhere. Somewhere out there. He knew the answers lay somewhere out in that deep abyss that beckoned back to him, feeding off his fears and desires and bravado and curiousness. He reached upwards and fumbled with the handle, pulling out the latch. He gave it a tug, and the beyond opened up to wholly swallow him.