Velox

Yesss, both the show and movie are amazing. I, too, am really sad that the show ended, but I am glad that we got a movie to tie up a few things, at least.

Mostly just through my laptop at home, but occasionally I'll use my iPhone if I'm out and about and want to check BZP.

Polling period over; topic closed. Results & Prizes should be posted shortly. Stay tuned!

Polling period over; topic closed. Results & Prizes should be posted shortly. Stay tuned!

In the Flash Fiction Marathon Final Polls. Please go vote! Polls close tonight at 11:59 PM PST.

Assigned to Nuile.

Happy birthday, BZP. =] Here's to many more. *raises glass*

Answered and closed.

And now the Final Polls have been posted--please go vote! Voting ends July 21st, 11:59 PM PST.

And now the Final Polls have been posted--please go vote! Voting ends July 21st, 11:59 PM PST.

This is it. Vote here for your overall favorite OTC-themed story out of all the OTC themes. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 21st at 11:59 PM PST. The entry with the most votes will be the overall winner of all the OTC themes. Choice #1: Theme: Bones "Happy Hour" The bartender drew the glass from the faucet and slid the mug across the hardwood top to Kay. “Here y’go, miss. Enjoy it.” She took the glass wearily, took a sip, looked up, turned, spat, looked back, turned again, looked back again, looked down at the drink, looked up again. She cleared her throat nervously and leaned forward. “Um, excuse me.” “Somethin’ the matter with your drink, miss?” “Er, no. No, it’s just that, um, well…” she coughed. “You’re a skeleton now, and you weren’t fifteen seconds ago.” He nodded. “That I am, miss. That I am.” His appropriately-bone-white hand plucked a rag off the back shelf and began to wipe down a spare mug with it, click-clack-click-clack-click-clack. She tried again. “So, if I can ask… why are you a skeleton?” “Don’t much know m’self, miss. Sometimes things just happen.” He tapped a fingerbone on the stark-white china pate that was his forehead. Was that what you would call it now? Maybe it was a forebone. Kay didn’t know. Kay really, really didn’t know. Her eyes flicked down to the mug still in front of her. Oh no. “Oh my god, you- you put some kind of drug in here, didn’t you-“ “Miss, it’s water. You saw me fillin’ it with your own two eyes. Plus, ain’t those your friends or coworkers or what have you over at the pool table? ‘Twouldn’t be much use for me to try anything when they’d jump down my throat the minute anything went funny.” He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow that wasn’t there anymore. “Plus – I may be nothin’ but bones, but that just ain’t right.” “Okay. Water then. Right.” She took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes, and counted to five. One, two, three, four, don’tbeaskeletondon’tbeaskeletondon’tbea- Still a skeleton. A kind of faint whimpering noise escaped her mouth. The bartender shrugged. “I am sorry about this. It ain’t ever easy seein’ someone get turned into a stack a’ bones right in front of ya, I know. But ‘twasn’t a thing I could do about it. These things happen, y’know?” “No, no, no, I don’t know,” she said, her voice turning more than a little desperate. “I don’t know that people turn into skeletons sometimes. Are you dead? Oh god, am I dead?” “Probably and probably not,” he replied. He tilted his head again and clicked his teeth together in thought. “Well, actually, I’m probably not dead either. So probably not on both fronts.” “If I scream, are people going to look over and see a normal bartender?” “Wouldn’t surprise me. ‘S how these things work, don’t they? Trouble comes outta nowhere, lands right in your lap, and minute you try to offload it on someone else it slips out the back porch, and you wind up lookin’ like a crazy person. ‘What,’ they ask, ‘is possibly the matter? I don’t see the trouble.’” She leaned forward. “Mister Skeleton, please don’t start giving me life advice right now, I think I might be about to pass out.” “Drink some water then. No point in gettin’ all worked up about it. You gotta roll with the punches, right?” “Look, my boss reassigned my account this morning. My deadbeat brother took my car and didn’t say when he’d be back. My girlfriend’s not answering her texts, my dog’s vet bill is three times more than I thought it would be, and now my bartender’s turned into a skeleton. I think I’m allowed to stop rolling by now.” He shrugged, his collarbones swinging up and down like a see-saw. “Alright, alright, I follow ya. But this is what I’m sayin’, y’see? Can’t just let it all get ya down. Ya gotta take it head on. Skull on, in my case.” Kay grabbed the glass of water off the bar and began to chug it. Don’t think about the skeleton don’t think about the skeleton don’t think about it just finish the water, get up, go play pool, give Jen another text, go home, call the vet, send Jim an e-mail, get Mom to call Ted just don’t think about the skeleton. She gasped and slammed the mug back onto the bar. The bartender took it. “Y’want another round?” Primly, she stood, grabbed her purse, turned 180 degrees on her heel, and walked off towards the pool table. Behind the bar, the skeleton clacked his teeth together a few times. Sometimes you just got those customers you had to turn into a skeleton to help out. ----------------------------------- Choice #2: Theme: Character Story "The Wishing Rock" When I saw the girl sitting at Wishing Point, gazing out over the valley, I didn't think much of it right away. Then the girl made a jerking movement, flinging something from the outcropping. I paused to watch, curious. She picked up another stone and threw it. Soon she was tearing up piles of pebbles and dirt and hurling them over the precipice. Finally she gave up, fell to her knees, and began crying. I stepped off the path, blending into the dense branches of a pinewood. Half of me wanted to let her be; the other half couldn’t turn away and leave her like that. I watched, and she did nothing. It was one of the pebbles that did it. It flew suddenly back up over the precipice and landed beside the girl, glowing red. It glowed brighter, then stopped. A pool of dark, reddish-orange liquid bled from the rock, pooling on the ground beside the girl. She jumped up, backed away, staring in disbelief as a human woman began to rise from the pool. She was clad in coppery robes that cascaded from her shoulders like a waterfall of fabric. A jeweled turban concealed her hair. "Yes, mistress?" she droned. The girl's mouth hung open, but no sound escaped it. "You have wishes, mistress?" The girl gasped, "You're--a--a genie?" "A genius," the woman corrected. "There is a difference." "And you'll give me three wishes?" "Correct." "Well--I--" "Come, you were wishing yourself silly moments ago. I have not all day." "I wish for--a dog?" Her hearts' greatest desires at her fingertips--and she wishes for a dog! By her tone, however, I guessed she was only testing the water. The genius nodded. "Granted." The girl looked around. "… Where?" "Patience! It will come. Your next wish?" The girl squeaked, "I--I wish my mother were alive." Now we were getting to it. "I cannot bring the dead back, my child," said the genius irritably. "Oh--I--I'm sorry …" "Your next wish?" "There are so many things … A friend?" The simple, childish desperation of this request twisted my heart. "I cannot grant what you have already." "But--but I--" "Broaden your mind and you will see what you do not realize you have. Your next wish?" "I wish for a boyfriend!" "I cannot alter such things as are destined to be." The girl hesitated. "You--you really grant wishes?" "I do." The girl shuffled her feet. "I wish my big sister didn't have cancer." The genius eyed the girl. "Are you certain?" "Of course!" "I am sorry. I cannot grant a wish that is destined to be." The girl looked up. "You mean--she'll be all right?" "Your sister's cancer will not last much longer, my child. I--" The genius hesitated, as if her next words were foreign to her. "I am truly sorry." The girl hugged her shoulders. Voice shaking, she said, "I wish someone would help me!" "I cannot grant what you have already." The genius put a hand on the girl's shoulder. There was a new compassion in her flat tone. "You want help, my child. Let me give you this: You have all the help you need if you look for it." She straightened and went on monotonically, "Your next wish, mistress." The girl looked out over the valley. What she was thinking, I couldn't imagine. Probably the same as me, wondering what the genius meant by what she said. It was a long time before the girl spoke again. "I only have one more." The genius said indifferently, "If that is your wish." "Yes it is." "Will you watch the sunset with me?" There was a pause. The girl, her face unreadable, gazed up into the eyes of the expressionless genius. Finally, the woman spoke. "If it is as you wish." They sat together and watched until the final rays of the sun had faded into the starlit night sky. With the sun's last ray, the genius disappeared. Silently the girl picked up the colorless pebble, put it in her pocket, rose, and left. I followed at an inconspicuous distance until I had seen her safely home. I lingered on the sidewalk across the street, watching her front door, until a tired-looking, poorly-fed puppy padded up to the door and pawed at it, whimpering. I turned and walked away. -------------------------------- Choice #3: Theme: The Mask "The Jester" I wear this mask to hide my name, Cover my face, cover my shame. This painted grin, burden it's been; A laughing glance, cover my pain. I laugh and dance, I joke, I sing, For peasant low, for queen, for king; I make you smile, and all the while, Deep in my heart, my soul crying. I show the world a merry face, I spread good cheer all round the place: Ever after, behind my laughter, Behind this mask, sulks sad disgrace. Long years ago, I had nothing, No paint, no lies to force a grin; I walked for miles, wore joyous smiles, Now that's all lost, slain by my sin. Who knew a chain could be so weak? One small blunder, my joy could take? Hard to believe, that I should grieve, For all this time, for one mistake. One word let slip invokes a curse. A desperate try tightens the noose. For the stars sailing, all else failing, All demons, worms, and fears let loose. Buried beneath earth damp and cold, Those eyes once bright, that heart once bold: The remnants of my long-lost love; Now laid to rest like pirate's gold. Of joy and grief I've been bereft, A hopeless void, an empty cleft. I've danced and twirled, made laugh the world, But in my heart there's nothing left. I wear this mask to hide my tears. The sun is gone, shadows are here: This painted grin, burden it's been; My sad heart can still offer cheer. I wear this mask to play a fool: A puppet and a broken tool . . . Though I am dead, joy I can spread; And make this world less dark, less cruel. ---------------------------------- Choice #4: Theme: Glass "City of Glass" The skyscrapers pierce the azure sky, rising until up and up even after they reach the clouds, going up and up thousands of stories tall, up--up, always extending. The City of Glass. The Kingdom of Skyscrapers. Skyscrapers taller than any others in the whole universe. They rise, up, up, up--seemingly never ceasing in their elevation. The architecture is magical--fictitious even in this advanced age. It is only when one visits do they finally believe the stories--stories that have been passed on from father to son, from mother to daughter, from grandparents to grandchildren. It is a legend, surely--a legend and nothing more, they all say. A legend inside the homes of many--until they actually see for themselves. Until they witness the awe-striking, amaranthine beauty. Walking through the streets, below the alabaster, crystal, glass, emerald, ruby, amethyst, and sapphire towers, one walks in a fantasy. The feeling is like a dream--a dream of imagination and disbelief, where one expects to wake up and discover that it was all fake. Yet none ever wake--for it’s not a dream. The towers are real. Very, very real. And when you walk up to one, the wall of the building rises farther than you can see. But when you enter it is a different experience entirely. Some are filled with translucent stairways, circling upward and leading to different floors. Some are filled with clear boards, raised by transparent strings, all moving together and shifting here and there in perfect grace, taking people to various floors and rooms, never colliding with one another. In the heart of the city lies perhaps the most magnificent of them all. A Cathedral made entirely from pure diamonds, as clear as glass, said to rise far above all the others. Yet once again one can hardly believe it, nor can one even confirm the tale as each building rises higher than the eye can see. The top of the Cathedral holds a bell-tower--bells that ring above every other commotion of the city, a magnificent ringing that reverberates throughout the entire planet. When the bells toll, the whole population stops to listen to the beauty--the sounds that never get old or become any less amazing then the first time one hears them, ringing morning, noon, and night. They are entirely captivating and bewildering, amazing and awe-inspiring, fantastic and fanciful. They are the Glass City Bells--perhaps even more captivating than the towers themselves, for the pitches and harmonies, tolls and chimes, all create a beautiful symphony. *** But one morning, the bells miss their toll. The cityfolk slowly stop their work, looking at each other’s watches to make sure the time was right. But the bells never ring, and the first tower falls. Admist a giant uproar of shards of glass and dust, the Cathedral crumbles, shattering, showering the town with the powder and splinters of broken diamonds. People scream in panic and confusion, shrilling voices piercing the air. Some don't even move as the building falls on top of them, still stuck there unbelieving of what their eyes tell them. In a matter of moments the Cathedral has completely collapsed. The day ended. -------------------------------------- Choice #5: Theme: Artwork-to-Fiction "The Forest" A dense fog shrouded the Forest, clinging to my skin and soaking into my clothing. The branches of the gargantuan trees were slippery beneath my feet; even after years of travelling this way, it was still a challenge to find my footing in these conditions. It was difficult too to find my way forward – not only did the weather severely limit my vision, but I hadn’t come this way in… how long? Months, at least. Why I chose to travel here, I can’t quite say. Maybe I just wanted a change of scenery. Perhaps I was guided by my subconscious or some other force beyond my comprehension. Whatever prompted my journey, though, one thing was certain – I was really starting to regret it. Wandering aimlessly through the Forest in a fog such as that one is rarely a wise idea. I suppose I should introduce myself: I am the Man. Once, perhaps, I was called something else, but whatever that name may have been, it means nothing now. The inhabitants of this place know me as the Man, and there is no one to call me anything else. They refer to me as such because I am the only human being to live here, on this planet known to us as the Forest. Perhaps, in the distant reaches of space, there are those who refer to it in another way, but none here could fathom what that might be, nor do we care to. Of course, “we” is a relative term. There are several species in the Forest that whose intelligence equals mine, certainly: the apes, the wolves, the cats. The birds, too – some of them, at least. And, of course, surpassing us all is the Lord of the Forest himself. But none of these associate with me, nor I with them. Occasionally we make contact, interact in some way, sometimes as friends, others as enemies. But rarely is it long before we part ways. My foot slipped on a knot in the branch that I hadn’t seen; I lost my balance despite a quick attempt to right myself. My fingers caught a groove in the bark and for a moment I hung there, suspended in fog. Then they slipped out. Time slowed as I fell. It was surreal – all around me there was gray, gray, nothing but cold gray fog. It was impossible to tell which way was up, which was down; I has no reference point of any kind. And then I felt hard wood beneath me as I collided with another massive tree branch, this one even wider than the first. With some difficulty, I pushed myself to my feet and glanced around. Surprisingly enough, I could actually see something – off to my right, the colorless fog transitioned seamlessly to a dull reddish glow. Intrigued, I stepped forward, though I did so tentatively. I wasn’t sure how badly I’d been hurt in the fall, and on top of that, well, the Forest holds many dangers. I’d never seen glowing red fog before, but it could easily be one of them. Within moments the source of the light came into view: in the branches of the tree was nestled a nest, a nest so massive that it looked to be constructed of saplings rather than twigs. And within the nest lay three eggs, nearly identical, their coloration a beautifully marbled red-orange-purple. From each egg radiated a dull light, illuminating the nest and refracting through the fog that surrounded them. I stared at the sight before me in awe. Only one creature in the Forest could have produced such a marvel. A faint rustle of leaves reached my ears, and I slowly turned. Staring out of the fog was a single massive eye, a vibrant orange ring surrounding a pupil bigger than my head and darker than a starless night. Immediately I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. The eye blinked and moved in closer, bringing with it a beak that looked sharp enough to slice me in half with the barest scratch. Fortunately, though, the Lord of the Forest didn’t seem to be in a slicing mood. Instead, he clucked softly, offering a greeting and not a threat. I rose. “It is an honor, my Lord.” Only thrice before had I ever laid eyes on the great bird, and never had I seen him so close. He clucked again. I nodded silently and turned back into the fog. Within moments I could see nothing but gray. -----------------------------------

This is it. Vote here for your overall favorite Bionicle-themed story out of all the Bionicle themes. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 21st at 11:59 PM PST. The entry with the most votes will be the overall winner of all the Bionicle themes. Choice #1: Theme: A Dark Hunt "The Music Box's Song" It’s often said that the most curious piece of treasure in all of The Shadowed One’s collection is a plain, wooden box with neither value nor decoration. A key juts from its front and when turned, the box begins to sing. A hollow, melancholic trill fills the room and drowns it in pensiveness. The Shadowed One has never attempted to sell it, to barter with it or even dare to gamble with it. Why he keeps this box is known to few and fewer still who would speak of it. But yet it continues to rest amongst rubies and opals, broadswords and spears, trophies and spoils of war. It exists besides them without contest and most curiously of all, it has gathered the least dust in all its years of rest. The Dark Hunter trod through the collection, his feet whispering across the stony ground with all the subtlety his name would suggest. In the distance The Shadowed One marched these halls in pursuit of a separate purpose. Whatever it was, it was of no concern to Darkness. His intent was of a different nature, independent yet important enough to allow his game to wander from his watchful gaze. The music box lay where it had always been kept, on a pedestal between two tablets inscribed with a language older than the rocks used to host them. His fingers brushed the surface and left a trail of dust in their wake. Darkness made no noise as he lifted it from its resting place and held it to his face. Something shifted beyond and The Shadowed One’s voice floated over to Darkness’ ears. Whatever those words said was left unqueried as the Dark Hunters’ attention returned to the plain box before him. He turned the key and shattered the silence with its grating groan. The gears were wound and the song began to sound. Once upon a time Darkness had made it his goal to ascend to the Dark Hunter’s throne. His plan had been to follow The Shadowed One, to watch and wait. At any moment his prey would slip, would make a mistake, would show weakness. He would wait for the moment when The Shadowed One had finally proven himself to be unworthy for rule and then Darkness would slip in and take his rightful position at the head of the organisation with a well-placed knife. Once upon a time he had thought nothing of this plan. But once upon a time was a long time ago. He had watched and he had waited. Years turned into decades and decades into centuries. Through time, Darkness had grown proficient at his job. He learnt The Shadowed One’s schedule, his plans and his aspirations. He slipped into his prey’s mind as though it were a comfortable set of armour without realising the cost. In joining the Dark Hunters he had surrendered his old self to become Darkness. In the pursuit of his goals he had surrendered Darkness and become The Shadowed One’s shadow. He was no longer an independent being. He was only an echo of The Shadowed One now. And yet, the dark hunt might have been Darkness’ life, but the box held the key to something beyond. In its hollow notes it sang a song of a time gone by when the world was different and when Shadow was something else. Something now lost, not only to himself but to the universe itself. But the music box knew and through its gentle rhythm, Darkness would know as well. The true meaning in the box’s elusive history was of course known to Darkness but it was a matter that was none of his business. He cared not for the object but for its produce. It was the music that enticed him to listen. It was the sounds it made, like a siren calling him home. Nothing could have drawn him from the thoughtful trance it cast him in, nothing besides the great shadow of The Shadowed One that loomed over him then. Darkness turned and the two regarded each other in watchful silence. Not a single word crossed between them as the box’s notes continued to unfold, for there was nothing to say. They simply stood and stared and waited for the empty desolation of silence to envelop them, and then their interaction would come to an end. Two individuals stood in this room but they would leave as one. Eventually the box fell into silence and the hunt resumed. ---------------------------------- Choice #2: Theme: The Chronicler "The Close of the Civil War" Any good Chronicler knows that a story is no more than a sum of other stories.If a worthy Chronicler happened upon the Makuta-led massacre of civil war leaders in the Archives, that Chronicler ought not to think of only the heres and nows — the bodies strewn across the floor, the bloodstains on Teridax’s blade, the morbid satisfaction betrayed by his grin — but of the befores and afters.Such a Chronicler might say: There lies Odipheus the Po-Matoran, his right arm separated from the rest of his body, his eyes open in an empty gaze: Odipheus, who had pleaded in his prayers for the chance to face he who dared to incarcerate him, now free from bodily pain; who had asked that blood be shed and received his wish in more ways than one. And there lies Ta-Matoran Karhi, whose fiery temper ignited the hopes and fears of his kin, intimidating in death as he was in life: who drew his sword only to serve his friends and, in the end, gave up his life for them.That Chronicler might continue and note the Ga-Matoran Kokora, who courted Odipheus for a time before being repulsed by his rebellious streak and, for the duration of the Matoran Civil War, served only as healer and assistant. He may remark in brief about the passing of Ko-Matoran Irhu, perhaps the most pragmatic among those of the coldest Metru, who preached for cool heads and was rewarded being flung into battle with the opposite.But there was no Chronicler here.Teridax was cunning. As he had determined the war would end on his terms, so end it would — along with the talks of rebellion and the songs of heroes wrongly apotheosized and villains improperly labeled, of the very essence and hubris that had caused the conflict in the first place.Oh, Miserix would be furious if he discovered, and the Matoran would cry foul.But — and here lay the inherent pulchritude, the beautiful simplicity of his plot — Teridax would have cleaned the blood off his blade by then, and he would speak with squared shoulders and somber eyes of how he had been offered no other options. He would speak of a defender backed against a wall and forced to strike out against those he had sworn to protect. And no one would correct him.For he had made certain that he, and no virtuous individual, no Matoran or Toa — only he would write the chronicle of how the civil war came to its close. -------------------------------------- Choice #3: Theme: Find the Power "Power Source" Onua rose slowly, feeling the power of his mask flood his limbs as he pushed himself upright. The Pakari had always granted him strength far beyond the normal limits of any being, and even now it continued to do so. In fact, rather than being damaged in any way by… by whatever had just happened, it seemed to have grown in power, if that were possible – he felt as though he could lift the island itself as easily as any of the others could a pebble. He called upon the power of the Miru— He cleared his throat. The power of the Miru— Nothing. So their little bath had destroyed his other masks? Quickly he reached out for his Akaku – nothing. Hau – nope. Kakama – still no. Kaukau? There wasn’t any way to test it here, but he expected the result would be the same. He glanced down at himself for the first time. His form was bulkier, stronger, more powerful even than it had been before, which was certainly saying something. Sleek silver armor covered his body, accentuating every rippling muscle. He tapped the plating on his forearm softly – he doubted anything would be getting through that within the next millennium or three. He examined the hand he’d just used. Minutes ago, powerful claws would have erupted from his fingers at a thought, but this, too, had changed. Simply a hand, he thought, flexing his fingers. How could he protect his koro without— Slowly, instinctively, his hands drifted to his back and were greeted by cold, hard metal. He withdrew the weapons, examining them. Some kind of complex machinery – a long shaft fitted with a belt and dozens of sharp metal blades. Maybe he could… The weapons roared to life, the blades dissolving into a blur and reappearing moments later as he mentally shut them off. Certainly these would be far more efficient at tunneling through the earth than his claws had been. And with practice, they would be deadly in combat. He finally looked up, taking in the dark cavern. His fellow Toa were, like him, mesmerized by their new forms. Tahu had gotten his hands on some new blades, blades which were now engulfed in fire and whirling about in a flurry of flashy maneuvers. Pohatu was repeatedly vanishing and reappearing in another corner of the cavern before Onua could register he’d moved at all. Lewa, like Tahu, had been engrossed by his new weapons, a pair of swords that he was clearly more than eager to learn to use. Kopaka was simply leaning against a wall, looking on in disapproval – typical. Gali had focused her attention on something else. She stood at the center of the cavern, gazing at an object that seemed to hover in the air. It was a cube, a cube carved with odd symbols and glowing with blue light. Onua made his way toward it cautiously, both apprehensive about the object before him and worried that Pohatu might not be watching where he was going and run him over. Within a few moments the rest of the Toa had gathered. Lewa was the first to speak. “So, uh… what’s the deal with the glow-bright cube-thing?” No one had an answer. They stood in silence for a few moments before Kopaka extended his arm. “Wait,” Tahu interjected. “We have no idea what—” The Ice Toa silenced their leader with a glare as cold as his homeland and snapped his arm forward, his hand tapping the cube and then retreating to its place at his side. A brilliant flash of light flooded the cavern and the Toa backed up as one, Lewa aiming his new blades at the cube. Tahu angled his for Kopaka, a curse on his lips. Ah, priorities. A moment later the light had cleared, and, oddly, the cube seemed to be missing a side. A side, Onua realized suddenly, that Kopaka held in his hand. “What—” Pohatu began. Kopaka cut him off. “It’s cold,” he said, gazing at the square of stone. “Cold even to me. It houses power.” He looked up. “My power.” Immediately Tahu stepped forward, touching the cube and claiming a piece as his own. The remaining Toa followed suit, Onua stepping forward last. Reluctantly, he grabbed the only side left. What Kopaka said was true – he could feel his own power emanating from the symbol in his hands. Should something like this really be removed from its proper place? But he said nothing. ------------------------------------- Choice #4: Theme: The Order "Justice?" “Chaos is the law of nature; Order is the dream of man.” -Henry Adams The Le-Matoran watched as the grinning Vortixx and the stoic Ta-Toa clashed in combat. The Matoran knew his fate lay in the outcome of this battle, yet all he could do was hope and pray. His hands tightly clutched the stone that had caused this predicament. “I will gave you one last chance,” the Toa stated to the Vortixx, his voice noble and regal, “Back away from the Matoran and never speak of this encounter, otherwise I have no choice but to end you.” “Hah,” The Vortixx merely laughed in response, “We issuing threats now? What happened to the ridiculous motto of Toa don’t kill, or are you guys above that stuff now? Then again, I always did find that policy idiotic.” Even as he bantered, the battle continued to rage on: The Vortixx would leap in, his daggers locking with the Toa’s sword, the Toa would then try an elemental attack and the Vortixx would leap back. Eventually the Toa realized that the Vortixx was too fast for his elemental attacks and began focusing on weapon combat. “Do not speak of that which you cannot comprehend,” The Toa retorted back, as his blade blocked another attack from the Vortixx’s daggers. “Our outdated code restrained us from properly carrying out justice and ensuring order.” The Toa then stepped back, twisting his body away to allow his blade to swing towards the Vortixx’s side. The Vortixx, with only a moment to respond, swiftly pivoted on his foot, narrowly avoiding the attack. “What a load of Muaka dung,” the Vortixx responded as he darted in, his daggers aimed at the Toa’s stomach, only to be parried once more when the Toa slammed his massive sword into the ground. Then, taking advantage of the lull in the Vortixx’s assault the Toa smashed a gauntleted fist into the Vortixx’s jaw. Rolling away, the Vortixx spat out some blood and readied his daggers while the Toa ripped his sword from the ground. “Alright Toa,” the Vortixx snarled, “You want me to speak about what I can comprehend? Fine. What I comprehend is that your sense of Justice and Order can go to Karz.” The Vortixx stated before dashing in once more. At first it appeared his daggers were again aimed at the Toa’s gut, but when the Toa’s sword came down to intercept, the Vortixx sidestepped, swinging his daggers to the side of the Toa’s chest. Unfortunately the Toa and his Calix were faster, allowing him to masterfully swing around, rip his sword out and block the daggers. Their blades locked once more, the Vortixx continued speaking his mind. “What sort of Order requires you to kill a Matoran?” He demanded. “All I see is a bully afraid of the power that Matoran may acquire, you’re scared of a new Toa.” However, the Toa would have none of it and flames erupted from his blade to send the Vortixx flying back. The Vortixx collided with a tree next to the Le-Matoran with a sickening thud. He struggled to get up, but found only the Toa’s blade at his throat. “You understand nothing!” There was rage in the usually stoic Toa’s voice. “We do this because we must, a new Toa would upset the balance of power, order needs to be established. Without it the entire land would be plunged into chaos. How can you not see that this is our Duty?” The Vortixx only laughed bitterly, “Don’t feed me that nonsense. There’s no justification for the murder, no, genocide you commit upon your own people.” “Then this is your end.” The Toa responded as he hefted his blade in the sky before bringing it crashing down towards the Vortixx’s neck. “STOP IT!” A new voice begged in desperation, it was the voice of the Le-Matoran. “Kill me, but please let him go. He’s only protecting me, he’s done nothing wrong!” “I cannot do that,” the Toa began to reply only to be taken by surprise when the Vortixx seized the opportunity and tackled him. “Run kid!” He yelled before being skewered by the Toa’s blade. “Fool,” the Toa grimaced as he began to make his way towards the Matoran, never noticing the barely standing figure of the Vortixx. “Hey mate,” the Vortixx coughed out as he hefted one last throwing dagger, “I’ll see you in karz.” His dagger flew straight and true towards the Toa’s heart causing both beings to collapse. ------------------------------------ Choice #5: Theme: Paradise "Passing Through Paradise" The sun blazes down, scorching the back of my neck. The sand beneath me is blistering; I feel as though I’m walking barefoot on a frying pan. My mouth burns; my throat is dry as cotton – it’s been forty-eight hours since I poured the last drop of water in my canteen through my chapped lips. The pack on my back seems as heavy as an obese kikanalo; with every step I take it threatens to pull me to the ground. But I trudge on. Where I’m going is not important – all you must know is that this desert lies between me and my destination. I have lost count of the years I’ve spent out here, pushing ever onward towards my goal. Years? you question. Yes, I know. It amazes me as well, sometimes, when I pause to contemplate it. I am no Toa; I claim no great powers to ease the path before me. I am but a Matoran, a single, weak being alone in a sea of sand. But my goal lies ahead, and I must reach it. And because I must do so, I will. I reach the crest of the dune and halt for a brief moment to observe the landscape. Sand. More sand. And, off in the distance, a small dark speck. It is not until hours later that the speck becomes a narrow swath of green in the midst of the endless tan. An oasis. A sliver of paradise in a world of endless pain. It is hours still before I reach it, but at last the sand turns to grass beneath my feet. The foliage radiates from a pool of water, deep and clear. I unshoulder my pack by its shore, dip my canteen into its depths. The water is cool and pure, life in the midst of death. I fill the vessel and seat myself beneath a towering palm, the tree shielding me, protecting me from the merciless sun. As I drink I dig my feet into the ground, relishing the feel of grass between my toes. I finish off the canteen and turn to the tree, wrapping my arms around its long, limbless trunk and pulling myself upwards. I manage the climb on willpower alone; my strength, certainly, is not sufficient to carry me to the top. I draw my knife and cut free a cluster of bananas before dropping to the ground myself. I peel one of the fruits and eat it slowly, enjoying the sweetness that fills my mouth and the fullness that barely begins to fill my belly. I continue in this manner for the remainder of the day – drinking, sitting, climbing, eating. At dusk I curl up on the ground, grateful to be able to sleep on the soft grass rather than my coarse bedroll. The next morning I wake, bathe, and begin again my routine of eating and drinking. I have gone long without water and longer without food; my energy must be replenished. I search the rest of the oasis, finding nuts, berries, and more fruits. No rahi have made their homes here, it seems, which is somewhat unfortunate – meat it would’ve been nice to have a bit of meat. Nonetheless, I gather what I can and return to the pool. The next day, too, follows a similar pattern, but with the added task of drying and preserving any food I can find. By the end of the day my supplies have been replenished. I wake the following morning and bathe quickly before refilling each of my canteens. I take a final sip of the pool’s cool water before shouldering my pack. An hour later the sun is again scorching my neck; the sand is again blistering my feet. My throat is again dry and my lips are again chapped. Again my pack threatens to drag me to the ground. Paradise is behind. My goal is ahead. ------------------------------------

@ Reznas ~ Yeah, unfortunately it's not a touch screen, though at the same time, I don't really care much. =P I was thinking about getting the 14" touchscreen version (M5-481PT), but with tax and the savings I got on this one, it would've been nearly $300 more. =P But yeah, the SSD was one of my favorite things, too, and I won't really be gaming at all, so the graphics card (or lack thereof =P) didn't bother me. I did like how it has dedicated video memory--basically all I use my computer for is writing, browsing, and watching videos (don't have a TV so I use my laptop). @ Baltarc ~ I'm not completely sure which would be the better choice for my uses, but I know that the U is definitely fine for me, at the very least. =P I definitely wanted less power consumption (and therefore longer battery life), but I wasn't even really looking in to U vs. M. I did like how it'll go to 2.7GHz and slow down if it overheats. And yeah, hopefully I'll be able to. GSR works for Microsoft and he's looking into things for me, and I can always try taking it places as well. Fingers crossed!

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

So my old laptop died, and it looked like trying to fix it would cost a fairly good amount, plus I needed a new laptop anyway, so my dad decided he'd get me a new one. Ended up being able to get this: Acer Aspire Ultrabook M5-581T-6405 Really, really happy with it. Ended up costing ~$100 less too because it was a display model. I was originally planning on actually waiting 7-10 days for them to ship one to a nearby store (as no one had it in stock), but when visiting my local BestBuy they found out that a store ~45 minutes from my house had this last one, so me and my dad drove up and got it. Windows 8 is taking a little getting used to, but I'm still loving the computer so far--so much better than my old laptop, fairly thin and lightweight, fast, backlit keyboard, etc. (and it has a DVD player ^^) I wanted this one specifically because a friend from school has an older version and completely loves it, plus I had seen her laptop before and used it. And for just the basic stuff that I'm using it for, it's definitely nice. Hopefully going to be able to recover all of my files...if not, at the very least I had a few of my main things (mostly large writing projects) saved onto Dropbox, so I still have those, plus I backed up my computer a few months ago, which means I'll only lose some recent things if I'm not able to recover them.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

Polling period over; topic closed. Final polls should be up tomorrow, hopefully.

What do you get when you take July 14th, 2013 and add 5s? John (55555)'s 19th birthday! Despite the lies of his profile, today is 5s' real birthday, so let's all wish him the best! ^^ Happy birthday, bro! Hope you have an amazing day. : D