Ballom Nom Nom

Yes, I’d definitely second the interest in a matchmaking topic. That would be a great help!

Sounds fun!

 

... And I suppose we aren't having a third winner-only contest because there would only be two entries?

I'd also be somewhat curious what masks are still for sale.

What skillful BBCode usage here! Truly the work of a forum master!

 

As for the MOC, I definitely like the look. The Exo-Force armor, Roborider head, and cheese grater all fit together great. His feet look far too dainty and small, though. And the hand connection is a bit painful.

Yes, things are terminal, I'm afraid.

Oh yeah, I got to see this when I went to the museum a few weeks ago. It was pretty cool! Lots of sand green indeed.

Quite a a few models here so I'll keep my comments on each brief.

 

The turret and matoran are cool, I like the matorans colours. The browns and green give a good impression of tree bark and leaves. I do wish the turret could shoot. Lone turrets builds are rather drab when they're unable to fire. 

 

I like the drones colours and solid spiky and organic design motif. The fanged mouth gives this thing a very threatening techno organic image.

 

I've seen plenty of toa on this site, and unfortunately ballom does not stick out too much from the rest, but his neck thing is unique and I like that design choice. That said the neck thing does a very poor job of covering his exposed parts and I'd consider putting something flat under it to cover the spot between his chest armour , neck thing and shoulders.

 

The dwarf is okay, but his red eyes are somewhat threatening for a regular dwarf.

 

Not really sure how to comment on a bridge tbh, it's okay though. I am impressed that you managed to pull off a semicircle in lego though.

 

Not so sure what to make of the dragon head, like the barbed drone it's a bit weird but now it has some recognizable features. I think I like it but I do wonder if purple is the best choice of colour for his eyes.

The turret can shoot, from the six-shooter by rotating the Glatorian gear, as I mentioned in its description.

 

Ballom's necklace thingy isn't really intended to cover exposed bits as much as fill in the area around his neck. Like with Velzubn, I'm not quite seeing which part you think is exposed.

 

Red eyes on the dwarf come from having limited parts on hand, since it wasn't built with my own stuff. I wish I had a better, more calm-looking color that could have been used instead!

Pretty good blend of old and new parts here, and i like the bulky leg's. I'm not fond of how he armour around his neck has been done, the exposed point at the front is jarring compared to the well armoured rest of his body.

Thanks for the comment. I actually didn't consider the legs to be all that bulky, given some other MOCs I've made and that I went through some larger leg designs before sticking what what we've got here. As for the neck armor, I'm not entirely sure which part you mean. The hands at the ends of the Bohrok limbs are the parts closest to the front, but I wouldn't really call them exposed. Speaking of that segment, the idea was that those parts coming over his shoulders could be like straps or something as part of the attachment of the part of his suit with the wings.

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A member of a fly-like insectoid race, Velzubn became a trailblazer as the first non-human member of the Galaxy Federation's xenophobic Space Police. Protected by his powered armor, Velzubn's wings give him superior maneuverability, and despite his need for a breath mask, his incredible sense of smell has assisted the capture of many a criminal.

I had been wanting to make a full body for this head for a while, so here he finally is! There wasn't much medium blue to work with, but I think there was enough to get the job done.

I imagine this guy fitting into the same universe as the most recent Space Police set line, where in a galaxy full of varied aliens, at least some of them should get to be heroes instead of convicts. Maybe one day Velzubn will even topple the mighty space pimp!

So I've somewhat dropped off the radar on BZP recently, but I have actually been MOCing a fair bit (an exceptional amount for me, compared to regular rates, really), and I thought I'd finally post those things here. All but the one I really spent time on will be simply lumped together in this one topic so as to not spam the forum. Oh, and come to think of it, a few of these are from a backlog of older stuff, so I've not been quite as prolific as this may make me look.

 

Matoran Gatling Turret

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A gatling turret designed by intrepid Matoran designer Wula of Terra Nui for defense of Matoran villages through the use of continuous firepower.

 

Contains gears inside which allow the six-shooter to be fired by rotating the Glatorian gear underneath. When firing, the six-shooter itself rotates, so the shots all come from the bottom chamber. The countdown on the Glatorian gear's teeth even decrements with each shot fired.

 

Tactically Gracile Drone

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A TerpLUG MOC. Presumably a relative to the Tactically Corpulent Drone.

 

Toa Ballom

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Following his disastrous defeat on the isle of Punt Nui at the hands of Toa Chompshi, who destroyed his leg, Ballom barely escaped with his life. He eventually made his way to the land of Shakaz, where he found a curious Mask of Undeath...

 

A minor update to an old MOC for story purposes. (And man, looking at the old version, my photos sure have improved since then!)

 

Grðrûrím the Stout

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Some sort of generic fantasy dwarf fellow. Made in collaboration with Grayson at TerpLUG using the LUG's limited parts.

 

Arch Bridge

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Made for Disty's architecture contest. A quick little entry and nothing fancy, but I wanted to make an entry of some kind and those treads jumped out at me as perfect for a bridge. Purple tiles because I have little System and purple is a great color anyway.

 

There's a fair bit of System with the studs, cheese, and tiles, but with all the pins inside holding it together I think the System's less than a quarter of the parts.

 

Armored Dragon Head

Redesign of the Barbed Drone to be an actual dragon head. A dragon wearing gold armor, in part because I had about exhausted the decent dark tan available. Probably a WIP for the overall dragon. Once again made at TerpLUG.

Chapter Sixteen

Piles of Rahkshi armor, some marginally intact, others shattered husks, had begun to accumulate on the dark dunes outside the oasis, as testament to the abilities of Rhakjasp’s fighting force. In the time since the battle had begun, the two scores of Rahkshi had slowly shrunk to roughly one score, with only one of the band of the seven opposing Sharaku falling in battle — Wehtrab, a battle-hardened Lauxak who had acted as Rhakjasp’s advisor during past raids. When he saw his friend collapse for the last time, the Lauxak chieftain had sworn to take his revenge upon the remaining Rahkshi opposing the Sharaku, but the recent trend in the battle had complicated this promise.

Indeed, after the destruction of the first wave of Rahkshi, the fall of the last Rahkshi of Silence, and the eruption of the noises of battle, the creatures had learned caution. They had soon adopted more closely-knit defensive formations, falling into pairs and trios where one could launch volleys of energy while guarded by the staff of another. In return, the Sharaku held their distance, harrying their foes with their own innate powers or speedy weapon strikes. It was an apparent standoff. Rhakjasp knew that both sides were hoping to stall enough to receive aid from their fellows warring below in the fortress. The question, he thought as he dodged a burst of plasma from a bluish Rahkshi, if we can last the fight, and which side will get reinforcements.

Making an elaborate swing with his improvised staff in one hand, he feinted to the side and flung one of his few remaining knifes at the defending Rahkshi, whose colors marked it as controlling chain lightning. The blade stuck in its spiny backplate, to no apparent effect. Rahkskasp growled in annoyance. This exchange summed up the fragility of the Sharaku’s defense: it was not apparent which uses of precious ammunition or elemental energy actually harmed their targets. Makuta’s forces could have powers of confusion, shape shifting, and healing which would mask or, worse, reverse damage inflicted.

The two vermin before the chieftain displayed many scratches and tears in their armor, but others appeared suspiciously unmarred, particularly those in the middle of the battle. These three, who drifted casually like wraiths, sporadically glittered with the shine of new protosteel in the moonlight.

Rhakjasp had slowly watched their movements out of the corner of his eye over the course of the battle, and he knew that they held the key to achieving victory. Why would these Rahkshi purposefully shun combat to shadow their brethren? Their abilities must turn the tide in a subtle way their physical prowess cannot, the Sharaku chieftain reasoned. And the power of healing would be quite the trump card — and the most plausible explanation for their being unscathed.

Quickly ducking behind the cover of a nearby dead Rahkshi, he dropped his staff, took a moment to compose himself, and muttered a prayer for success before leaping up to charge at blinding speed. The Rahkshi of Plasma was swift to react, flinging plasma bolts as Rhakjasp rose. He blocked them with a sweep of a gauntleted arm, continuing the motion to smack the Rahkshi aside heavily. Before the second Rahkshi could counter, he brought down his other arm like a hammer, smashing the embedded knife blade through the creature’s back armor. A horrific screech told him that he had lanced the Kraata inside, and the Rahkshi collapsed as the leech convulsed within it.

Keeping the disabled creature in his peripheral vision, Rhakjasp glanced at his vambrace, finding it rendered a corroded wreck by the plasma. He unsheathed his long claws as a substitute, and darted toward the blue Rahkshi, which backed away warily. As it did, out of the corner of his eye he caught a pale form gliding toward the dying Rahkshi. Ignoring the Rahkshi of Plasma completely, Rhakjasp pivoted to hurl himself in the direction of the arriving being, claws outstretched. The Rahkshi had stooped near the injured one, and energy had begun to swirl in its hand as Rhakjasp’s tackle battered it aside.

Tumbling through the sand, Rhakjasp recovered first, pressing the Rahkshi’s torso to the ground with one hand as he slashed across its faceplate. The blow left deep gouges, but the metal rippled and reformed almost instantly, as the Rahkshi’s slits of eyes glared at him.

A Rahkshi of Healing indeed. Grinning, Rhakjasp raised his intact gauntlet for a killing blow to its head.

Just before he could strike, an explosion of pain wracked his arm as a ball of plasma engulfed it. His vision dazzled by flashes of white from the incandescence, Rhakjasp heard a cry that he distantly realized was his own scream of agony. He reeled as the Rahkshi pinned under him surged to its feet. By some primal instinct his other hand closed tightly into a fist, clenching a protrusion of the Rahkshi’s chest armor. With this death grip, he was swept to his feet as it rose and swung its staff.

Rhakjasp tried to bring up his other arm to block it, and was dimly aware of a cauterized stump swinging by uselessly instead. Unimpeded, the staff’s blade sliced Rhakjasp’s bicep. It drew back for another blow. He watched as the barbed staff tensed in the Rahkshi’s hand, and when it sprung forward curled his arm with all of his strength. His opponent did not budge, and Rhakjasp managed to pull himself higher, up to his full height. The stab meant to sever his arm tore into his pauldron, through the flesh of his shoulder and bone, then stopped.

With a moment left, grateful for the chance to look his killer in the eye, Rhakjasp stared at the yellow monster, and spat in defiance. Roaring, it clawed at his torn shoulder, raking the puncture as it fished out the spear.

For a split second the talons sliced deeper, and then a vortex of power emanated from the clawed hand into his shoulder, knitting the flesh and armor closed around the staff. The Rahkshi recoiled as if burned, but the strands of energy continued to repair Rhakjasp’s shoulder.

The healing energy can be captured, he realized in awe.

Instinctively, Rhakjasp swung his other arm, pummeling the Rahkshi in the face with the stump of his forearm. It barely flinched, but as his limb recoiled from the armored head energy leapt to it and swirled around where his hand had been. He struck again. More energy arced, pooling into a faint shape.

He felt plasma splash over his back in a sizzling wave. At any other moment the pain would have been crippling, but it was deadened as his mind resonated with a single thought:

Contact with the Rahkshi of Healing meant life.
 

------

The shadows enveloped Hanak, the world around him seemingly winking out of existence like the extinguishing of a light. There was only darkness cocooning him in its inky shroud, its tendrils sucking warmth from his body as the Sharaku of Fire felt himself propelled forward. Cut off from the sensations of the world, it seemed as though the journey were taking an interminable time, as all the while he was clutched by the shadows.

Hanak soon felt the spreading burn in his chest from lack of air, and realized it could not have been so long a time, as he had not drawn a breath since entering the gloom. He just found himself wondering how much longer he could last without another breath when the frigid presence around him receded, and he once more felt air moving. The Sharaku of Fire gasped for breath, while his vision returned to him and his surroundings hazily coalesced into view.

Gone were the dank stones and vegetation of the preceding tunnels; before Hanak was a wide room lined with intricate technology. His gaze slowly worked its way down the room as more became visible to his recovering eyesight. Pale blue screens and armored panels dotted the walls to his left and right, while between them were numerous protodermis tubes of fluid, many of which contained the mummified remains of age-old Kraata. The extensive floor was a level, unbroken panel of protosteel, sweeping all the way to the far wall of the room, where a shadowy figure hunched over a solitary large control panel, only a few gold, clawed digits visible working beyond the expanses of its cloak. Finally responding to Hanak’s presence, it folded its arms behind its back, and leisurely turned to face him.

In an instant Hanak felt the color drain from his face, his eyes widen in terror, and his body reflexively take a half step back. For a second, he was once again a scared, diminutive Torika, facing a specter he had seen many times in his nightmares. Before him, impossibly, was the Makuta of Shakaz: the fiend known as the Dark Lord, still clad in his rusted gold armor and worn ebony Kanohi, through which his eyes glowed a baleful crimson.

Then the instant of frozen terror passed, and Hanak remembered his memories of the throne room of the Sharaku stronghold on Terra Nui, where he had watched the eight Toa Terra reduce the Dark Lord to ashes in an elemental whirlwind. He recalled his days of protecting the inhabitants of Terra Nui, both as a Torika and as new Sharaku. He was no longer the weak Torika of his past, and whatever this apparition was, he no longer had any fear of it. Fury filling him, Hanak curled a hand into a fist, and found his glowing firesword already readied.

“You died on Terra Nui!” he screamed, flinging arrows of flame from his firesword toward the dark phantom.

The figure barely raised a withered hand, summoning a tiny black void to absorb the flames. “Really, Hanak,” it murmured, “Is that the way you should treat your master once you meet him again? You should know that death means nothing to Makuta such as I.”

Hanak clenched his teeth. “You were never my master.”

“Such a temper,” the phantom chuckled, beginning to slowly creep forward, curiously making a clicking noise periodically with alternating footfalls. Its voice rose slowly, and a pale pink hue came to its eyes. “I was not your master; I was — am — everyone’s!” it shrieked manically.

As Hanak tensed, preparing to fight the evidently unhinged specter, the room behind him rumbled with an explosion, and he used a burst of speed to dash away from the detonation. The apparition did not move, merely cocking its head out of curiosity, observing a section of the wall next to the shadow barrier collapse. Protodermis, protosteel, stonework, and clouds of dust tumbled out of the hole — and then Chazok, emerging from a combat roll with his Kemet Nui blaster on one hand and a miniature rocket launcher in the other, his chain gun pivoting above his shoulder to track movement.

“Ah, Chazok.” The spectral Dark Lord barely registered any surprise, despite the explosive entrance the bounty hunter made. “I wondered if you would arrive. Have you come to kill me after all these years? I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance — I’m dead, or so I’ve heard.”

Chazok ignored its speech, examining its cloaked shape carefully though his modified helmet, whose scoping eyepiece and spiked forehead Hanak recognized as being modified parts of the Kanohi Akaku and Rode. “You are not a Makuta,” he declared, raising both handheld weapons, leveling the Kemet Nui blaster directly at the shadow’s Kanohi. Shots crackled from the gun in rapid succession, but were absorbed by pockets of dark energy right before the mask’s warped surface.

Undaunted, Chazok advanced on the figure as he unloaded the rest of the clip, whirling into a powerful kick to its left leg when he came within reach. The being caught the kick with a clang, using the momentum to cartwheel away as a single fluid mass of darkness. As it did, the bounty hunter turned his rocket launcher toward the near bank of protodermis tanks, expending his last four rockets to reduce them to smoking husks. Discarding the useless weapon in a corner, he reloaded the Kemet Nui blaster with lightning speed only to hear — laughter?

Yes, it was laughter: raspy, cackling laughter as cold as the knifelike wind over the dunes, resonating from their foe even as the shape of its body melted away in wisps of smoke to reveal a different being. Wearing black and purple, his frame was armored in silvery-black, from his necklace of metallic trinkets to his clawed boot — only one, for his left leg ended at the knee, a tangled mess of wire connecting the stump to an articulated pegleg. And, upon his face, this Toa wore a terrifying Kanohi, a frightful visage with countless horns, which appeared squeezed together out of a tangle of snakes and worms, out of which his pink eyes blazed.

“No, Chazok, a Makuta I am not,” he said. “You wish to know who I am?”

“A walking corpse,” came the flat reply, as Chazok squeezed off another shot. This bullet did not vanish, but hovered in front of the Toa in the grip of a stasis field, then fell harmlessly. The Toa smirked and turned to Hanak. “I see the recognition in your eyes. The name, it rises to the top of your mind, does it not?”

“Ballom,” Hanak supplied quietly, naming of the Toa of Shadow the Toa Terra had encountered on the island Punt Nui, who Chompshi and Vrael had defeated, with the Toa of Electricity destroying his leg.

“And this?” Ballom inquired, tapping the grotesque Kanohi.

With a start, Hanak recognized the object, and what it meant. “The Dark Lord’s Mask of Undeath,” he answered, cursing inwardly.

“The Mask of Undeath!” The Toa exulted, his body faintly glowing gold with a temporary shield of energy. “The greatest treasure of this brilliant place. When I placed it upon my face, I felt the shadow of the Dark Lord’s soul. Malice, insanity, anger at his body’s death mio away — and the strength of a lord, the will to command Rahkshi, and the vision to seize the universe! When Chompshi set into motion my arrival here, he took my leg but gave me an entire land. With the pulse of the Dark Lord’s powers from this Kanohi through my body, I have the strength of both Makuta and Toa.”

The golden glow dissipated as Ballom stretched out his empty hands, in which shadows twisted to form into broadswords. “I have seen my death long ago, and it is not in this room,” he boasted. “But when will you two meet yours?”

“Not today,” Hanak vowed, extending his other firesword. This one, as a result of its encounter with the seal of darkness, was coated with a dark film which seemed to have disabled its latent element, but he readily raised it nonetheless. Near him, Chazok had holstered his blaster, removing a cylindrical object. With a flick of his hand, it expanded outward into a staff, one end of which ignited into twin blades of sizzling energy.

“How quaint,” Ballom sneered, as he spun a blade in a glittering arc and lunged.


Review

Galidor Gen 2.

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More details available in the Flickr description.

As much as twelve-year-old me would despise me for saying this ... I miss the board messages.

And the bubble paper?

Happy birthday, Hahli Husky!

So...this is the creature buried next to where it was born...impressive. I would have suggested making a custom had to produce visorak-style eye, with an LED brick, but this works out better than my idea!!! Congrats; you outdid my Deviil'torenz'zush dragon Rahi, sadly ripped apart when I was younger by the pet dog, which hates lizards and thought it was one. I never imagined to find all the pieces of its head...or torso...or located the missing wing in the yard...I now realize suddenly just how many pieces went missing that day. Still, good moc! It fits the character QUITE nicely! Which brings me to a question...how the trip can they talk in Matoran?!?!

Thanks for the comment! It's good to see someone stop by who's familiar with the stories Argentaros is from, and I'm further glad you think it fits the character.

 

How can they talk in Matoran, you ask? I don't think it's too much of a stretch to believe they'd have that ability (something about the ability to move their jaws a lot, maybe); given the details of the Quntaino life cycle as a whole, it's far from the strangest thing about them.

Man that is quite an updade, I do like how vicious he looks and the change in colour you gave him. Good job!

Thanks! I originally tried out the white fur pieces because I had fewer of the bley ones than I had initially thought, but I think it ended up working out really well with the white mane effect.

 

Quite an impressive work-it's hard to believe that head is made out of Bionicle pieces.

Thank you very much! I think a MOC's pretty successful if people can doubt parts of it are Lego, so I consider that quite the compliment.

 

I remember liking the original build way back when, but you're right, the neckless gig wasn't really working out for him, and he looks a lot better now. Loving the new head and legs, and the new color scheme is definitely bolder, keeps him from looking as flat.

Well, this version doesn't have a tremendous amount of neck either, but it is better than the previous one in that regard especially. I just cringe looking at that old photo these days. Good thing I've improved since then!

AD.AM is one of the most elegant MOCs I've seen in a while, and easily got my vote.

 

 

Okay, why did I have to follow four whole links to get here? I click on the news, go to the talk back which doesn't bring me to the page directly, so I have to click the link of the same name, so once I get there it's the same thing as the news, so I follow the link on THAT page to here, and here I am now.

The talkback links have always just linked to the talkback forum. If you'd clicked the first link in the news story you'd have been brought straight here.

 

@Ballom: On the contrary, as a one of the oldest member to have joined here in 2002.  I remember many things and i clearly remember that there was a time in bzpower's older older years where the talkback button was a direct link to the talkback topic instead of the talkback forum where all the topics for the are and you need to find the news topic you want it to get there.   

 

I don't understand why it changed, i only remember it was somewhere around  when Bionicle Rex (Rich) one of BZPower's owners and Co-Founders, and most revered Administrators stepped down from command and Black Six (Andrew) took over as head administrator. It was around then when the links were changed to how to how it works. 

 

Okay, so admittedly way back in the day it worked like that. In fact, it still did when I joined in 2006. What I left off in my post was that it's always been that way since the change when the forums switched to the new board software around 2011 or so, which I thought was a bit besides the point given that it's been a long time and Toa Imrukii joined after that switch had happened anyway.

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The unquestioned leader of the Quntaino, the strange beings birthed from the keystone eggs on Terra Nui, Argentaros is brilliant and ambitious. He desires the Kanohi Zlinj, Mask of Nature, above all else and is willing to go to any length to achieve it. As the alpha Quntaino, he possesses a peculiar extra sense that always points him in the general direction of the Zlinj. Argentaros has mammalian characteristics such as thick fur, a fanged muzzle, long claws, and powerful muscles; however, his burning crystalline eyes are a mystery, and a terror, to behold. He carries a living whiplash as a weapon.
  
A drastic revamp of a way old (and bad) MOC, viewable here. Argentaros features in some stories of mine, which you can find here.

Also kind of counts as a MOC for my tenth anniversary on BZPower, since although there was some schedule slippage I was planning this remake (reMOC?) for a while.

Congrats to the winners! There were some superb entries this time around, especially that Manas!

 

Okay, why did I have to follow four whole links to get here? I click on the news, go to the talk back which doesn't bring me to the page directly, so I have to click the link of the same name, so once I get there it's the same thing as the news, so I follow the link on THAT page to here, and here I am now.

The talkback links have always just linked to the talkback forum. If you'd clicked the first link in the news story you'd have been brought straight here.

Chapter Fifteen

At first, they had chosen not to run, instead walking forward with a clear, measured stride further into the labyrinthine expanses of the fortress. Around them, hanging lightstones stretched forward in an uninterrupted cascade of luminescent yellow. Hanak led, to allow full use of his abilities without a chance of injury to his comrades, while Vukaz and a grizzled Sharaku followed, the latter wielding the only functional specimen of Chazok’s cache of stout rifles in a clawed hand. Aware that more drones or Sharaku opponents could be lurking in the shadows ahead, the trio wisely kept silent, marching onward with the knowledge of how crucial it was to search for the control area.

The fuel explosion’s muffled roar only barely reached them through the corridor walls, but in following moments each of the Sharaku had admitted to themselves that it was likely in the Brotherhood’s favor, for Chazok’s collection lacked heavy explosives. With this collective realization, their wary stride quickened into a faster pace, across they marched through branching passageways, always in the direction which seemed to slope downward most. Thukor had once been a servant Torika stationed in the fortress, before the central stronghold had burrowed away, and downward travel was the point he was most insistent about. The Sharaku of Ice had related how the Dark Lord always kept to a secure room in the bottom level, barricaded against entry by all but his most trusted warriors. This region could only be the mysterious control center of the mobile fortress.

This advice certainly appeared to be supported by their onward journey. Grey blocks from the corridors had begun to transition into darker shades: pitted black stones stained by the passing of tendrils of shadow, and dark cobbling covered by greenish scum. In some places, stagnant water appeared across the floor, which Vukaz quietly absorbed to prevent splashing as they passed. The silence was almost unnerving as they pressed on, mutely taking in the bizarre nature of their surroundings, which were unlike any of the descriptions Thukor had given. Out of the trio, the grizzled Sharaku concentrating most intensely, absorbed in examination of the flooring. To his trained eyes, the growth had a certain pattern, almost as if the levels of grime varied. Impressions were slowly appearing, akin to . . .

In an instant, he halted, barking an urgent “Stop!” The other two froze, and Vukaz reflexively threw up an energy shield before them. Yet this was futile, as the attack did not come from the front — as Vukaz projected his defense, twin shadows fell from the ceiling behind them, stabbing forward with their staffs. In a two-pronged strike, one aimed its assault at Vukaz’s reinforced backplate, the sharp weapon piercing the plating to wound the Sharaku of Water. Vukaz grimaced, but was able to pivot enough to direct a forceful water jet at his assailant. Although not damaging, this quick response still forced the Rahkshi back, dislodging the staff in the process. Glaring at the hideous creature, Vukaz readied his water daggers for a return strike.

Meanwhile, the second Rahkshi had aimed for Hanak, nimbly sidestepping the older Sharaku to flick its staff at Hanak’s face. However, it was unprepared for the crimson-armored Sharaku’s blistering reaction, as he turned, dodged the staff’s blade as it went by, and cleaved the weapon in two with a firesword. The weaponless Rahkshi pitched sideways clumsily, in time for the third Sharaku to hook the claws of his free hand around its head and hurl it at the wall, before promptly shooting it several times with the rifle. Twirling, he found Hanak and Vukaz finishing the other Rahkshi, with Vukaz delivering a finishing blow after Hanak immobilized the creature in a swirl of fire.

“Hanak,” the veteran said quickly, “They wouldn’t attack if we weren’t close. They mean to slow us. Go; we will defend ourselves!”

To prove the point, despite his injury Vukaz raised a full shield around himself and the elder Sharaku, who raised the butt of the rifle to his shoulder. “Time is of the essence, Hanak!” Vukaz cried.

“Yes,” Hanak responded, breaking into a sprint down the passage, the strange projections on the walls passing by in a blur. Briefly the piercing screeches of Kraata echoed behind him, followed by clashing of weapons, but then these sounds disappeared as he flew down the corridors. More alerted Rahkshi had begun to drop from ceiling alcoves in front of him, but compared to Hanak’s speed they moved as sluggishly as Nukepi snails. Racing by them, Hanak noticed many opportunities to slash at the descending forms, but realized he could best serve his companions by both conserving his strength and reaching the control room of the complex as rapidly as possible.

So the Sharaku of Fire dashed forward down the corridors, which ceased their branching to present a linear path, although they also in turn grew more foreboding with every passing second. What was once an uninterrupted stream of gold lightstones suspended from the ceiling became a haphazard trail of dying stones, hanging down only in the few areas which were not overgrown by tapestry of lichens. The walls themselves, which before were clearly identifiable as hewn blocks of stone, had instead gradually morphed into a black chitin-like substance lined with slime, and the grimy water upon the floor likewise coalesced into a shallow pool of shadows. Unnerved by his surroundings, Hanak slowed to a fast walk, extending again the fireswords he had retracted during his sprint. Insidious plant matter threatening to choke out the light of the scant lightstones combined with the creeping shadows on the floor to leave even his keen vision struggling to find the twisting path. Thankfully, he could hear no longer hear the Rahkshi he had encountered earlier; yet Hanak remained cautious, as the greenery above him provided ample hiding spots.

Eventually, when Hanak’s eyes could scarcely piece together any of his surroundings, the corridor stopped. Not in a door, or any other type of discernible portal, but merely in shadow. Hanak raised one of his swords to probe forward, and felt intense resistance as he plunged the weapon into the darkest shadows. Frowning, he tried to pull back the firesword only for the gloom to cling tightly to it.

Realizing that his physical strength would likely prove insufficient, Hanak concentrated his thoughts on retracted his outstretched tool. In the past, this psychic process would happen almost instantaneously, yet with the sword so encumbered, its blade only inched back into its housing in the vambrace. Hanak held the vambrace tightly with his free hand, and concentrated more strongly. Bit by bit, the rest of the firesword withdrew into the crimson armor. The Sharaku let out a sigh of relief, and then regarded the shield of shadows before him once more. Perhaps if a physical weapon could not damage it, elemental powers would suffice. Summoning tongues of flames in his hands, he projected a blast of fire at the aberration’s center. Yet, the elemental discharge winked out of existence as soon as it encountered the mass of shadow. Undeterred, Hanak took a few steps back and knelt, gathering his power within his body. For a few moments the air in the corridor remained cool, and then it began to suffuse with intense warmth, until tiny embers danced in the air around the Sharaku of Fire, lighting the passageway with a ruddy glow.

In a single fluid motion Hanak came to his feet and thrusts his palms outward, propelling a fireball forward. It collided with the dark barrier, and then a plume exploded outward in a vermillion gout of flame that billowed past Hanak down the passage. His eyes were momentarily blinded by the enormity of the flash, and as the afterimage receded, from the light of the blazing vegetation around him he was able to clearly see that the wall of shadows which ended the corridor was completely unaffected by his fiery assault.

Hanak hissed in exasperation. Undoubtedly the command center of the fortress lay beyond this fiendish barrier. But the shadows were impervious to physical and elemental harm, unable to be marred even the slightest by either. Instead, anything that they encountered was greedily sucked into the void, and—

He paused. Perhaps, there remained one option yet untried. If he were to be wrong, this would likely prove to be his last action. But now that he was trapped within the fortress depths, with his friends and comrades struggling and dying around him, there really was no decision to be made. Hanak steeled himself, took a deep breath, and stepped into the absolute shadows.
 

------

Back in the cavernous drone storage facility, Bokoch used a moment of respite to observe how numerous melees continued throughout its long expanses. Although piles of scrap that once formed mechanoids were strewn about, large contingents of the tenacious machines still assaulted the Sharaku and Torika forces. Admittedly, the warlord noticed that they appeared much more calculating and vigilant than during the initial fray. Perhaps this change in strategy towards caution marked a small victory. Regardless, the robots had now become a more dangerous adversary. Bokoch would have to exercise more care himself, particularly with his only semi-healed wounds.

Maneuvering himself out from behind the pair of drone carapaces he had used as a momentary cover, the Skakdi readied his acquired rapier, scanning the immediate surroundings for motion. It appeared suddenly on his left: two drones dropping down from the nearest catwalk. Not wielding melee weapons, they instead strafed, each launching multiple micro-rockets. In a flurry of motion, Bokoch blasted two of the projectiles apart with his heat vision, flicked his wrist to slice apart the third, and weaved to dodge the last few.

“Pitiful,” he growled, hurling himself at the nearest drone with a shoulder charge before it could react. The blow struck it like a sledgehammer, and the robot crashed to the floor as Bokoch rolled to his feet. Stomping on the downed unit’s head, he tensed for another barrage of rockets. Instead, a series of piercing darts sprayed across his chest. His tempered chestplate deflected most, but a single needle struck through a gap in the plating. Snarling, the warlord hefted the collapsed robot, hurling it in an explosive motion. As it landed, it toppled the other drone, and Bokoch lunged, delivering a strike with such strength that the rapier shattered in his hand.

Once more free of assailants, he carefully reached into the gap in his armor, tweezing out the needle with two fingers. Revealed in the light, its blade shone with a greenish film. Poison, no doubt, he thought bitterly; another attacker for his besieged body to handle. It would be a deadly one, no doubt of that, and caught up in the conflict he would be hard-pressed to produce an antidote. In fact, he only knew of one being in the vicinity that could be relied upon to have one — Zerakura. As well-informed as his operatives had made him about her habits, Bokoch knew that she often applied poisons to her knives, and carried a wide variety of antidotes. A bitter irony, that his greatest rival held what could save him.

Casting his gaze about, Bokoch searched amid the chaotic clamor of battle. Soon enough, he found the other Skakdi warlord partway across the room beneath a large balcony overhang, single-handedly engaging an entire group of drones. He staff and daggers were a brilliant blur as she fended off multiple rapiers and blades. Bokoch began to make his way toward her, mentally wondering how he might force an antidote out of the hands of his nemesis. He had made only a handful of steps when an inferno of pain racked his chest, leaving him clutching it and gasping for breath. The toxin was more potent than expected; he needed to move fast. With herculean willpower Bokoch drove his ailing body forward, managing a fast pace. Before him, Zerakura remained fortunately unaware of her extended surroundings, knifing apart two of the drones.

As Bokoch neared within close eyeshot of Zerakura, he took a few precious seconds to circle around out of her line of sight, and then readied for further approach when an explosion blossomed on the balcony above. The entirety of the outstretched overhang crumbled, pouring piles of protodermis rubble and machine wreckage down toward Zerakura and the mechanoids. More nimble than they, she attempted to backflip out of the way. She only made it halfway – the tumble of masonry caught her from the waist down before she could escape. When the dust settled, the drones were revealed to have been entombed, as Zerakura scrambled in vain to free herself.

Thus given the chance to safely advance, Bokoch dragged himself over to her, as she failed to notice him in her single-minded desire for freedom. When his shadow fell upon her, however, she glanced up, scowling at the towering figure.

“Come to gloat over the wounded, eh? Begone, fool! I would rather perish than receive any aid from you!” she shrieked, clawing at Bokoch’s feet.

Bokoch shook his head. “Poison,” he croaked, indicating the pulsing green wound in his chest. “Need your antidote.”

She paused, and a crafty gleam came to her eyes. “I recognize such a wound. If you let me die you will not have the time to save yourself. A trade, then; the right antidote for you in exchange for aiding me. We each live to kill each other another day?”

Hardly in a position to refuse, Bokoch nodded, and reached to move the protodermis hunks. They fell away cleanly under his prodigious strength, revealing Zerakura’s wounded legs, one of which was evidently broken, twisted at a grotesque angle. Cursing violently as she saw the severity of her injury, she nevertheless kept her side of the agreement, reaching into a hip pouch to retrieve a variety of obscure plants and dried Rahi parts. Taking this, she kneaded them into a ball, which she then chewed on briefly, before handing the completed concoction to Bokoch.

“Place that in the site of the infection, and hold it there,” she instructed.

By now, Bokoch knew he had to trust himself entirely to her goodwill; every gulp of air sent paroxysms of agony through him. He dutifully squeezed the poultice against the site, and held his breath. The response was practically instantaneous — convulsions seized his chest, rippling toward the wound with force that seemed enough to crack bone. Mentally cursing Zerakura, he tried to swing his free hand at her, but found he could not move, his body locked in place like a statue. His vision warped in front of him, the world a twisting kaleidoscope, fading into darkness.

The next sensation he was aware of was Zerakura leaving heavily against him for support, as she tore the antidote from his side. Bokoch’s eyes snapped open, taking in surroundings once more in crystal clarity. Involuntarily, he took a breath, which to his surprise passed easily through his lungs.

“What did you use?” the warlord marveled as he felt a rush of strength suffuse his body.

“Steltian sponge, mostly,” she replied, discarding the purple, inflated sphere she had torn from him. “Now, support me as we move out. I cannot walk; to fulfill your end of the bargain you must help.”

Bokoch inclined his head. “I gave my word.” Stepping around Zerakura, he wrapped a thick arm around her waist, as she grudgingly placed an arm on his shoulder for support.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she snapped.

“My dear, the only idea that might occur to me would be to snap your neck,” Bokoch replied, surveying the area around them. With the destruction of Zerakura’s attackers, the other robots seemed too occupied to directly assault them, with the nearest being wrapped up in fighting a Torika. Noticing this, with her free hand Zerakura drew a dagger and prepared to throw it, while Bokoch gathered his heat vision.

For an instant, Bokoch felt a mysterious power flowing through him. Then, the dagger flew from Zerakura’s hand, propelled by a column of water crackling with electric current. Bokoch was thunderstruck — somehow, with their physical contact and temporary truce, he and Zerakura had unleashed the combination of their respective latent elemental powers, water and —

“Electricity?” he bellowed. “Why is it not the glorious warmth of fire?”

“Electricity is exactly what we need!” cried Zerakura, as the fried drone collapsed in a heap. Raising her hand, she summoned a whirlwind of lightning-imbued water in her palm. “Let the rest of them fall before us!”


Review

I was a fan of it. The first year was Bionicle by any other name, and the later years had the awesome new CCBS system, which I'm quite fond of.

An intriguing start to an epic. Dare I hope that this will be a Bionicle epistolary story, or is the introduction the main part that's in such a form?

Wow, this was unexpected. Disappointing that Bionicle wasn't pulling its weight enough to get that third year of sets. Ah well. Requiescat en pace and all that.

 

Welp, better start buying the rest of the Uniters before they're gone from stores!