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Excelsior

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Everything posted by Excelsior

  1. I liked #4 the best. #2 was probably my second-favorite. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  2. I voted for #1. I liked the idea of #4, but I didn't think it really fit the theme. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  3. Member Name: Excelsior Theme: Art to Fiction Word Count: 506 Story: The Flower-Ship Flower-Ships are native fauna of the planet Vogrius. Xenoarchaeologists commonly considered them to represent the zenith of the ancient Vogrians' work in the field of botanotechnology. Though all intelligent life on the planet was long extinct, their creations lived on, blooming amidst the ruins of their civilizations.No human scientists professed to understand the science behind the making of the Flower-Ships, though many human pilots had successfully controlled them. They began simply as buds growing out of the forest floor. As they grew, however, the buds developed into massive green spheres, and finally, the outer cover fell away, revealing the sleek one-man craft within. Each ship held one humanoid pilot, and though their controls were alien, there appeared to be a telepathic component to flying them which made the feat not only possible but in some ways intuitive. They were said to be the greatest individual spacecraft known to humanity. People hunted for them for many different reasons. Some were professionals, spending their lives obtaining rare goods like the Flower-Ships for the price they could get at auction. Some were hired teams, for men who wanted ships and were rich enough to get others to do the work for them. Some, like Charles Alcock, just wanted to fly.The legends concerning the Flower-Ships had fascinated the young space pilot since childhood. What's more, if he was lucky enough to actually find one, he would finally possess a ship of his very own at no more expense than his ticket to Vogrius. Interstellar law stated that any man who found a Flower-Ship and severed its stem became the owner, unless he had previously signed away his rights. So Charles, along with a ship full of fellow prospectors, had flown to Vogrius. He was now in his third week of hunting. He had found two already, but they hadn't suited him. Stories said once you had picked a Flower-Ship and flown in it, ship and pilot were inseparably bound together. He wanted no regrets when he had his ship. So he pushed on through the Vogrian jungle, searching for any sign of another ship. Was that a flash of color to the left? He turned, pushed his way forward a few more steps...and stopped dead. Before him was one of the small clearings left by an eroded bud-shield. The remaining green ribs arched inward around the edge, and in the center sat his ship.As soon as he saw this one, he knew it was his. Slim and curving, the gleaming surface seemed to be primarily orange with purple highlights, although the way the colors blended into each other made it hard to reach a definite conclusion, and its upper surfaces were covered in lighter-toned foliage patterns. A shaft of light struck the ship from above, making it almost glow in the pale sunlight, and all Charles Alcock could think as he looked at it was, She's beautiful. He ran one finger along a smooth curve. "Hello, flower," he said, smiling. "We've got some flying to do."
  4. I voted for #2. It appears I broke a four-way tie. Anyway, may the best story win! -Excelsior
  5. I voted for #1, although I actually thought it might be better without the last three paragraphs. I really liked the descriptions of the glass city. Is there such a thing as glasspunk? May the best story win! -Excelsior
  6. Member Name: Excelsior Theme: Paradise Word Count: 631 Story: Life Outside Paradise "Mata Nui, our Great Spirit, has renewed the life of this planet!" Turaga Vakama proclaimed to the crowd of Matoran recently emerged from the robot's head. "He has given this new world to us and the peoples of Spherus Magna, that we may build a new life - a life free from the tyranny of the Makuta!"Some of the Matoran cheered at that. For a thousand years, as long as they could remember, these villagers had lived under the shadow of Makuta's attacks upon them. Perhaps now, they hoped, they could finally forget his darkness.The Turaga's speech drew to a close. "I ask you, my people," he concluded, "to honor all who fought and sacrificed for this day, whether they are living or dead -" the Ko-Matoran fell especially silent then "- to do all in your power to preserve this new paradise we have been given, and, above all, to continue to uphold the Unity which has brought the villagers of Mata Nui so far." The six villages erupted into cheers.As the crowd began to disperse, a Ga-Matoran murmured to her neighbor, "Am I the only one waiting for infected Rahi to jump out of the forest?""What do you think-mean, Macku?" the green Matoran asked, tilting his head to one side. His name was Tamaru, and they had been friends since the formation of the Chronicler's Company."Oh, nothing," Macku shrugged. "It's just the Turaga's speech reminded me of the one he gave us when we first came to the island. The legend said it was a paradise given to us by Mata Nui too. It wasn't exactly perfect, was it?""True-right you are," Tamaru agreed. "But this world-place he did make to give to us, at least. And there will be no dark-slave Rahi here with him dead-gone." He did not have to specify whom he meant.Macku sighed. "Yeah, we can be grateful for that all right. But...I don't know...it just seems like people keep saying this place or that place is 'paradise', when really, they're just...places. I loved the island of Mata Nui - I still miss it sometimes - but I never thought it was perfect. There was a lot of work just to live, and dangerous Rahi that weren't even infected, and other Matoran got on my nerves and I probably got on theirs. It was just normal life!"And I heard Turaga Vakama once said Metru Nui seemed like paradise to them before. Didn't it have robot guards to enforce all its strict laws? It wasn't much like paradise when we got back there, either. I suppose it was our real home, but it was also a city-sized pile of rubble, that we had to put back together. Life actually seemed a lot worse than on Mata Nui."And I've heard that 'Artahka' place they talk about isn't so wonderful either. So I'm not really sure what the Turaga mean when they say this new place is a 'paradise,' too."Tamaru had listened attentively. Now he grinned at her. "All true, water-sister. I f you want a place free from all the evil-bad parts, I'm afraid we'll have to wait till some other life-world."He threw a stick he had picked up into the air and caught it again. "But now we've got light, fear-freeness, a world full of life-beauty and everyone from Metru Nui to work-help each other. I'm joy-happy with that."Macku smiled, bad mood blown away on the fresh breeze of Le-Matoran philosophy. "I suppose you've got a point, Tamaru." She looked around: the bright sun of her Ga-Koro days above, a lush world around her, and almost all her comrades within her sight. "Yeah. I guess this is good enough for now."
  7. I also voted for #3. I did not see that twist coming. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  8. I voted for #3. I wasn't sure about it at first, but the emotion and determination in the last couple paragraphs won me over. Also, Bionicle space travel is cool. Since I regret not having sourced the quote at the end of my story (#1), I'll do it here. It's from Alfred Tennyson's "Idylls of the King." May the best story win! -Excelsior
  9. Member Name: Excelsior Theme: Glass Word Count: 542 Story: Sand and Lightning A dark figure stood on the shore of the cove, long hair falling to her feet. The waxing moon shone down clearly on the scene. Around her curved the beach of fine white sand, with jagged cliffs surrounding on all sides. Before her stretched the ocean, dark waves glittering as they rolled in. She dropped to one knee, placing a square, unfilled frame upon the beach. It was made of painstakingly fitted yew and alder wood, carved with mystic signs. Many hours she had spent speaking incantations over it and brewing spells.Now she began tracing patterns in the sand it encompassed, delicately using one forefinger. Her other hand scooped up more sand, letting the granules sift through her fingers and join their brethren in the frame. After a few moments of this, she began chanting lowly, hands never ceasing their rhythmic movements. "Gather to me, chosen grains. Gather to your brothers, separate, single grains, and become one. Pure sand, sand of power, gather to your destiny. Come! Be one! Gather together!" She lifted both hands, rising to her feet and stretching her arms to the sky. Her voice raised itself, a high cry to the heavens. "Gather in the sky, celestial energies! Come, O swift spear of the heavens, to strike these disparate elements and fuse them into one! Unite them, that their powers may reach their zenith and run freely through the whole - that all here may be completed!" Wisps of cloud began to gather, obscuring the stars. She bent once more to the sands, fingers running through them and voice chanting to them once more. She paused her hands only once, removing a tiny bag from her girdle and pouring its contents into the frame. The dark purple grains contrasted starkly with the white of the beach, and she began sifting and stirring once more. And so it continued for hours, her voice and body rising and falling between the sands and the sky, occasionally adding something to the former as the latter grew ever more threatening. The clouds never obscured the moon, however, which shone serenely down on the scene below. Finally, her chant ceased. She straightened, holding her arms in a circle at the level of her waist, embracing the air above the frame. "Now is all gathered, all is complete. Let it be finished! "Strike, O Lightning! Unite, O Sand!" And a bolt of blinding lightning descended between her encircling arms, striking directly in the center of the frame's hollow with a deafening crash. When it had ended, she withdrew her arms, pressing her hands first to her eyes and then to her ears, as if to undo the effects of the lightning's glare and noise. Then she knelt down to examine her handiwork. The frame was no longer empty. It was filled from edge to edge with a smooth sheet of glass, mainly white but with barely detectable streaks of color swirling across its still-warm surface.Picking it up, she stroked it tenderly. "I have made it, just as I intended," she whispered. "In this, all that is shall show its true nature, without artifice or concealment, whether beast or flower, star or man. This night I have created a Sight-Glass of True Sight."
  10. Member Name: Excelsior Theme: The Order Word Count: 725 Story: Change Vakama sighed, looking out over the island below him. He stood high on the slopes of the Mangai Volcano.It was from here he had first planned Ta-Koro, a fortress amid the lava. Now he saw the bustle of working Ta-Matoran, and the slowly forming outlines of walls.He smiled for a moment at their work. But then another picture rose up before his eyes - Ta-Metru, glowing not with flowing lava but the controlled fires of the forges, with the Great Furnace and the massive protodermis plants - and he sighed, leaning more heavily on his staff."Mata Nui," he whispered. "Why did this have to happen?"Three months ago, I was a Matoran. We had Metru Nui - we were a people of crafters, scholars, scientists. Dume was the Turaga and the Mangai were our Toa. Life was right. It was the proper order of things.And then it was all destroyed. The Mangai are dead, the Turaga has left us, our city is a heap of rubble we cannot return to. Everything and everyone that defined our way of life are gone!Now look at us. We six are the Turaga. Our friends and co-workers - our superiors, some of them - look up to us as the wise ones, the guides. I went from a maskmaker to an elder with his prime behind him in less than a month.There are no Toa at all here now, no protectors. We are alone and undefended.And we who once belonged to a great city are now trying to carve out a living in a savage wilderness. The Matoran of Metru Nui are degenerated into malformed farmers and miners and trappers!He stared at the island below with angry eyes, seeing only the glories of Metru Nui. "Why, Mata Nui?" he said between clenched teeth. "WHY?""Turaga!" a cheerful voice called from below, interrupting his black thoughts.He looked down again. Directly below him was a small red-and-yellow figure, with a distinctive light-blue Pakari.Of course. Vakama rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Do you have an actual reason to be here, Takua, or were you just looking for an excuse to avoid work?""Umm...a little of both?" Takua glanced away. "Jala wanted to ask you something about construction...""So you took off up here without bothering to check if he actually wanted you to ask me?""It's just so...boring lugging rocks, Turaga!" He paused. "But how did you know?""Because I'm your Turaga." Because I've known you for fifty-nine thousand years. He supposed that was one advantage. He knew every inhabitant of Ta-Koro, if only slightly."Should I assume you also neglected to find out what exactly Jala's question was?" Vakama shook his head, but couldn't help smiling. "Never mind, I should go back down anyway. Just try to stick to your work after this."He nodded soberly. "I'll try, Turaga."Vakama lingered a moment, wondering what to do about Takua. He did mean well, but it was too much to hope his work ethic would improve now. How would Turaga Dume have handled him? he wondered. By siccing the Nuurakh on him and shutting down his mind, his brain replied.He realized suddenly how grateful he was that this island had no Vahki. Surrender or Run seemed better suited to Makuta than to the leader of the Matoran.He supposed Dume had seen no other way to keep the thousand Matoran under him orderly and efficient. And it wasn't as if he had had any personal exposure to the Vahki's enforcement techniques.But here, Vakama thought, maybe here, we can all work together. Maybe he'd been too caught up in nostalgic memories of Metru Nui to realize the bright sides of their new life.Maybe he needed an unbiased perspective.He turned back to Takua. "Takua," he asked, "what do you think of the island?"His face lit up. "It's amazing!" he said enthusiastically. "Actually, it's probably too amazing - I just want to explore all the time." And he grinned at his Turaga in a way he never would have dared to with Dume.Vakama smiled, looking out again. Now he saw beauty as well as wildness. The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfills himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
  11. I had to choose between #3 and #4. I ended up voting for #3, because while #4 was impressively well written, as poetry entries go (significantly harder to write than prose, IMO), I didn't understand the backstory part at all. Regardless, may the best entry win! -Excelsior
  12. #1 and #3 both had their good points, but in the end I preferred #1. #2 was mine, and I only vote for my own story if I really can't choose another. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  13. I also had to choose between #2 and #3, but I liked #2 slightly better in the end. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  14. #4 and #5 are my favorites. Of the two, I ended up voting for #5. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  15. Member Name: Excelsior Theme: The Mask Word Count: 473 Story: Three Forms of the Mask Once, in three different cities, there lived three brothers, who all had become superheroes. They each took their own approach to the problem of a secret identity.The eldest brother was named Lawdog. He performed his heroic deeds unmasked and under his own name, scorning any secret identity. Man and hero were both Lawdog, with no separation of personality. The second brother was named Tyrannis. When he had moved to the city he protected, he had changed his name, and constructed a quiet, average life as James Blackwell, salesman. But when he donned his black and deep red mask, he became the hero Tyrannis, guardian of the city, and his true self.The youngest brother was named Cosmas. He had developed a civilian life under his true name and as the person he truly was, and did his duty as a hero under the name and silvery mask of the Protector. In this guise he spoke as little as possible and suppressed all individual character. Each of them thought his own solution best. None of their solutions were perfect. --- Cosmas considered his best, for no criminals would be able to gain a personal advantage over such a characterless adversary, and in his own time he could simply be himself.Of course, he felt stifled whenever he wore his mask, and it was only when he took it off that he considered himself free. And even unmasked and himself, he carried the secret of the Protector with him. Tyrannis considered his best, for he had his secret home to retreat to when life as Tyrannis became too much, but formed no attachments while living the lie of normality. His "normal" persona led a solitary and uneventful life, while, as a hero, he showed his personality freely, concealing nothing about himself. However, his method meant any true friends he made could be targets for his enemies. Also, he loathed his bland, dull life as a salesman with all his heart. He could never be himself then. It was only when wearing his mask that he felt without disguise. Lawdog considered his best, for he had refused to live two lives and make either a lie. He had said, when he first revealed himself to the world, "I refuse to wear a mask."But in that move he had lost privacy. He had a secure base, but every robber and hitman knew its location, and he was too exposed to risk many friendships. Moreover, in the attempt to live his entire life as a crime-fighter, some aspects of himself were inevitably lost, sacrificed to the necessities of being a hero. The suppression of these traits was a mask he could never remove, but must wear permanently. --- And so, though all the brothers tried to live honestly, it seemed none of them could entirely avoid the mask.
  16. Member Name: ExcelsiorTheme: Find the PowerWord Count: 750Story: Choices and the World He stumbled into the chamber, falling to his knees at the entrance, overwhelmed by the power residing within. A light shone on him, and he looked at it almost in awe. Before him on a pillar rested a golden Kanohi, the Ignika itself. Was it truly glowing, or was that merely the immense power flowing from it? It seemed to him that in another moment the power would overwhelm him, destroying the intruder of its sanctuary - but then it retreated into itself, merely resting before him. He could till sense its presence, but now it seemed...inviting? Hesitantly, the Toa reached out and touched it. Instantly, his mind was flooded with images and sensations - so many, many memories of things now gone. Its creation, the tests of its power, all its experiences of the Great Beings and their doings around it - things alien, breathtaking to the Toa passed into his mind in an instant, up to the moment the mask had been left in its chamber. It showed him all its purpose and its power, and then stopped. Then he felt a clear thought from it. Its purpose was to save the Toa's world. But it knew nothing of that world, and it was curious. In exchange for its memories, it wanted the Toa to share his own. Then it would accomplish its destiny and his. Very well, he thought. A small enough price to pay for the life of the universe. He opened up his memories. First came his days as a Matoran, in his little village surrounded by the wilderness. Tending the village herd of Mukau. Solitary walks in the forest. Friendly conversations in the square. Calm, peaceful memories filled with contentment and appreciation of the beauties of the world. Then he was made a Toa, and things changed. His village did not need him, so he began traveling. Wandering, helping anyone he could, never settling down. He had begun to see more of the world then, but those were lonely memories, and he was glad they only spanned a few years.After that, he met Jovan, a Toa of Magnetism, and his team, and was invited to join them. Traveling and adventure as a group; protecting the Matoran and each other from all dangers; forging bonds that could never be broken. That filled a thousand years, and he showed it all - every joy, every fear, every sorrow- until he reached their present mission. It was during the Civil War in Metru Nui that the world began changing. Plant life was dying, Rahi were decreasing and weakening. And then the stars began fading. Fear. Everyone afraid, afraid because the world is going wrong and they can't fix it. Even Jovan shows it. And Jovan had decided to do something about it, researching, tracking down rumors, legends...anything their team could find. The team called together, told for the first time about the Ignika. Hope. Finally, something to be done to save the world. Traveling to the site of the legend. Searching for any sort of clue - and then running into Axonn and Brutaka. Being told the whole, complete truth -being told one of the team would die. The Toa relived all the battles and traps as they descended the stairs, every one. Finding the Chamber of Life. At last. At last the power that will save our world is found. But...which one of us will it take? Let it be me, don't let it be me let it be me don't let it be- And then they felt the power, reaching out, evaluating them, and it settled on the Toa. It's me.The Toa left his memories, reaching the present. Is that enough, Kanohi Ignika? He asked. Are you satisfied with my world? The mask was...intrigued. There was so much in his world, so much good and evil mixed, so much life. And he sensed it also found him intriguing. It had seen throughout his memories that he had a strong fear of death, and yet here he was asking to use it. He knew the consequences... He flinched. Yes.It's because of my world. I love it too much to want to leave it, but I also love it too much to let it die. Dying is my best choice, but still a bad one. He paused. Does that satisfy you? The mask decided that it did. The Toa was granted permission to use its power for his beloved world.
  17. I voted for #1. I don't understand how #2 and #3 fit the category at all, and I didn't really get the ending of #5. #1 and #4 were both good, but of the two, I preferred #1. May the best story win! -Excelsior
  18. They're all good in this poll, but I ended up voting for #4. May the best story win! -Excelsior
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