Legolover-361

I, of course, voted for my own entry, but I can tell this poll will be a close one. To all other competitors, I wish you good luck.

On another forum, someone posted about BZPower's forums being up. I was on the verge of telling him, "No, those are just the archives," but I decided to check BZPower anyway. Just in case, I told myself.I saw the news announcement.I think my brain did a somersault, but I blacked out immediately afterward so I can't be sure.

OOC: Oh, no. Oh, no. MicroSnipe -- why? XD You're lucky this Raknar is slightly more lenient towards runts than the previous one.IC (just outside Po-Koro bar):The door was closing when Raknar exited. He stood outside for a moment, ignoring the sand whipping around his feet and the hot sun relentlessly beating his shoulders with heat; the few wispy clouds above, pale white against a just-as-pale blue, did nothing to shield the village of Po-Koro. Raknar took a drink from his water pouch and strode into the dirt lanes of the village.

IC (Po-Koro bar):Raknar's other eyebrow rose to join his first. Who did this Matoran think he was?"Well, I know how I'll travel t' Ga-Koro," he said, standing up and jingling a pouch of coins on his belt, tied securely shut. "But you -- you'll have t' figure out your own method of transportation."And with that not-so-vague announcement, he made for the door.

IC (Po-Koro bar):Raknar raised his eyebrow. This Matoran was the nosy sort: first asking if the Skakdi of Stone would respond to the advertisement, then trying to gather his name. Either he was just like that, or he was gathering information for a reason.From years of experience, Raknar knew it was best to assume the latter.Coldly, he responded, "I never did give you my name." And I won't, he added mentally; not until I know you better.

OOC: Ghosthands... you know Raknar too well. IC (Po-Koro bar):Raknar was downing the last of his cup of beer when he noticed something: In draining his mug he turned to the right; caught a glimpse of white in his peripheral vision; turned all the way around and read the advertisement through. To his slightly-muddled gaze it seemed to speak of an opportunity to be hired on a boat.He grunted, passed the mug back over where a nervous-looking bartender caught it, and turned to scrutinize the poster closely. Yes, it was an advertisement for sailors; and, what was more, in small print beneath the larger text -- "Crew Wanted" -- he could make out, "Fighting, stealing, drinking involved.""Oi, you, there."The Matoran behind Raknar was the speaker. He gestured to the poster and asked, "Are you going to Ga-Koro, too? That's all I came here for."He seemed innocent enough; upon looking over the Matoran and finding no apparent weapons on his person, Raknar replied slowly, "Yeah. Don't imagine there'll be any serious competition, d'ya?"

My interest in Lego and Bionicle hasn't been affected at all by BZPower's downtime; after all, there are other Lego- and Bionicle-related forums on the 'net.

I support this. Mainly because I'm CCO of Mata Nui Inc., but nevertheless my statement stands.

Forum Downtime.Hah. Haha. Hahaha.

I did the same. Though...

I refer to it as "Party in the USA: Getting Jiggy With It".

DeeVee just won.Something.

IC (Po-Koro bar):The door to the bar banged open. Patrons turned; the Skakdi of Stone sauntered past them all, a wide, leering grin -- which he shared with all his brethren -- splitting his face.The bartender jumped as the Skakdi's hands struck the counter and the Skakdi himself leaned over the stone. "A pint, 'tender," he said, his accent rather striking for a Skakdi but not too unusual. "An' make it fast."A pity, thought the Skakdi, the bartender was so small; maybe that was why he hurried so quickly to the tap, then came back at a Dermis turtle's pace so as to make sure he didn't spill a drop of the beer. Handing the glass mug over, the Po-Matoran busied himself with wiping another, markedly spotless mug as Raknar took a large gulp.He'd heard rumors passed around that he didn't need alcohol to act drunk. That, in his humble, polite opinion, was a load of Muaka dung. He didn't break tables and chairs when he didn't drink, just acted like he might, and that was all the difference he needed.

Note: RAKNAR GIVEN TO TYLER DURDEN.Name: RaknarGender: MaleSpecies: SkakdiAppearance: Seven and three-fourths feet tall; muscular; stone-brown armor (click for MOC)Powers: X-ray vision; stone (can only be used in conjunction with another Skakdi)Weapon: BattleaxeHistory: Raknar was once captain of the infamous raiding ship Raknar's Fist. Upon attempting a midnight raid on Metru Nui, he was separated from his crew and forced to make for the docks. However, as he had little navigation experience and was being hotly pursued by Vahki, he was forced to make for the nearest gap in the Great Barrier -- which turned out to lead directly to Mata Nui.Weakness: Raknar tends to rely on brute strength rather than exemplary speed or cunning tactics; while he is a Skakdi, and thus this gamble more often than not pays off, this is still a glaring hole in his defense. In addition, Raknar can't swim.Name: NovaGender: MaleSpecies: ToaAlignment: Lawful GoodAppearance: Novas build is similar to the Toa Metrus. His armor is light blue with silver undertones. Behind his light blue Kanohi Kakama are golden-yellow eyes that dull and defocus when Nova is distracted and brighten when hes emotionally charged.Mask: Kanohi Kakama, the Mask of SpeedWeapon: Sword with long hiltPowers: FireBiography: Nova has always wanted to be unique; his light blue armor, highly unusual for a Ta-Matoran, was but the cornerstone of that goal. Through little more than luck, he found a Toa stone that transformed him into a Toa of Fire. In a fit of wistfulness, he began pushing himself to his limits with a strenuous training schedule that left him with legs like jelly every night. One day, he pushed himself to charge a nova blast, just to know what it felt like; but the immense power required proved too much for Nova, and, afraid he would burn the island of Mata Nui to the ground if he released the fire, he reabsorbed it into his body. The action left him weakened and trapped a large amount of power within his body that he cannot release at once, no matter how hard he tries; his body is stressed from storing such power, irking Nova to no end.Personality: Unlike most Toa of Fire, Nova is generally subdued. He often fears he is on the brink of insanity: Because of the power locked up inside his body, he is often under mental stress, suffering from numerous headaches and odd bouts of annoyance. Apart from his condition, however, Nova is sociable in a quiet way. He doesnt like being in the spotlight and thus can normally be found in the corner of a room. Hes determined to correct his mistake and continues to train hard. His dream is to become a legendary Toa warrior and take down Makuta; while such a goal is lofty, Nova will do anything (within the Toa Code) that will let him reach it.Weakness: Sometimes Nova cant help but try to release all his power in one go; in doing this he drains his actually-available power and can be greatly weakened because of this. His swordsmanship is only decent, so he generally makes up for it in usage of his Kakama and hand-to-hand fighting.Name: KynaeraGender: FemaleSpecies: ToaAlignment: Lawful Evil (works for Makuta)Appearance: Somewhat on the short side for a Toa: only six feet, eleven inches. Healthy weight-to-height ratio: not skinny, not thick, but average. Sleek purple armor over flexible silver under-armor. Wears a wispy black cloak and a belt, upon which are mounted three throwing knife holsters and a carry-pouch. Keen green eyes behind a purple, more feminine variant of a Great Kanohi Matatu, complete with a much subtler, aesthetically pleasing telescopic lense. Decently attractive.Mask: Kanohi Matatu, Mask of TelekinesisWeapon: Three throwing knives on her belt; a staff with a blade on each end (the blades are retractable via a non-electronic switch).Power: GravityBiography: Soon after the Makuta took control of the island Mata Nui, Kynaera decided she would be of no use fighting him and so sought audience with him, devoting herself to servitude under his rule. However, she still refuses to kill all those except the most despicable monsters; indirect deaths she deems as out of her control, which does allow a loophole in her moral code.Personality: Cynical, thoughtful, logical. As a Toa, Kynaera was more interested in mental discipline than physical conditioning; she thus became skilled in eye-hand coordination, elemental and Kanohi techniques, meditation, and playing the eye of the storm in battle. Her focus tends to be on the subtle things -- facial expressions, small irregularities in scenes, emotions, the warning bell in the back of her mind. She often trusts her gut feeling, receiving mixed results. She has no trouble making eye contact with people and learned a long time ago to refrain from displaying emotions in her exterior inflections. Despite her general patience, misunderstandings, unneeded hesitations, and illogical thinking all easily catalyze her frustration. She has a fear of being vulnerable and compensates by exuding confidence. She prefers to work alone, but if she must work with others, she wants control so she can keep others from screwing up.Weakness: Kynaera's strength is only passable; she tends to compensate for her lack of grappling capacity with speed and acrobatics, though this can't help her if she's trapped at close quarters. When she's helpless, her fear can get the better of her.

Dovy: http://www.bzpower.com/board/public/style_emoticons/default/cool.pngAnyway, I have a Bionicle RPG I ran on another (far less active) forum as a test; I'll be upgrading it to appeal to a large-scale forum such as this.

I tried uploading another image, 200 by 200 pixels; it still didn't work. You can check my current avatar for proof of that.EDIT: Wait -- false alarm. For some reason the image just isn't appearing on the upload screen.

So I've been trying to upload a new avatar -- 64 by 64 pixels, approximately 1.3 KB -- but whenever I upload it from my computer, it does not load for some reason, though there are no error messages appearing. I also tried uploading through Google Chrome; no luck. Any advice?

Have a problem with writing? Want to get advice from fellow writers such as myself? This is the place to ask your questions and discuss with fellow writers various tips, tricks, and pitfalls to creative writing. To kick things off -- are any other writers out there planning to enter NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month)?

If nothing else, Hero Factory gave us Elmer Damaso. This is an amazing piece of art, brilliantly colored, and another piece of proof that the Lego Company hires awesome artists for their comics.

*Incoming Transmission* As a short story, it falters somewhat. There isn't much of a plot, and less of a conclusion. But since writing a plot-heavy story wasn't your goal, those things don't matter. What does matter is that you pulled off the casual writing. At least I think you did. The writing was nice, fluid, and I didn't have much trouble visualizing what was going on. I also liked how you slowly teased out some things-- for example, the fact that Mars was the setting, and the fact that the main character was wearing some type of suit. So I think you accomplished your goal. Well done. *End Transmission*

You're right, I wasn't planning on giving it a real plot, and this was mainly an experiment with a more casual writing style. I'm glad you think I pulled it off.

Only problem: Mars is closer to one third than a quarter. 38% precisely. Just nitpicking; other than that, I liked it.

I thought I'd read somewhere that Mars was about one-fourth the size of Earth... Oh well, it's not too big of a deal. I can fix that later.Thanks, though!

* Legolover-361 likes this.I'm not a blatant brony, but I have to say, this show isn't bad at all. Except for Pinkie Pie's singing; I still haven't gotten over it.

On the BZPower archives, there were winners in most, if not all, the story polls. I'm curious as to whether those winners will remain victorious, or if voting will be restarted with the forums.

I never did play long enough to get past the Geonosis level. It's a cool game, in my opinion; rather violent for Star Wars, but I'm obviously old enough to handle it.Speaking of Republic Commando, my younger brother got the novel Republic Commando: Order 66 for his birthday a few days back. I've been bugging him about reading it so I could take my turn. He says it's good thus far, but he's only in the beginning.

The new layout will take some getting used to, but the fact that we get Premier Membership abilties as a sort of apology cake made things bright. That, and the fact that the BZPRPG was restarted, leaving me free to pursue other creative endeavors.Congratulations, BZPower!

The leaves whispered with the summer wind, bathed in the suns radiance. It was a pity the whispers fell on deaf ears and the sunlight on unseeing eyes.He sat silently in the dirty alley, legs curled up against his chest, arms wrapped around his knees. His eyes stared at the brick wall across from him, but he didnt really see the bricks; his gaze went so much farther, into his own mind and the question it presented him:How could I?Maybe he deserved to live as a hobo in the streets of New York. Maybe it was a rightful punishmentNo.It was a rightful punishment. He knew it. The cops surely looking for him now knew it. And Ricky... if he were here, he would know it, too.Outside the alley, the trees lining the street continued their peaceful rustling, contrasting the turmoil within his heart. He could barely take a breath without the weight of his conscience crushing his lungs, forcing the air back out; the crime was a shadow, more solid and real than the shadows of the alleyways brick walls, that set a pressure upon his mind. He didnt know who he was anymore.He did, however, have an idea.Killer... A killer, thats what I am.He could still remember why hadnt his memory shut down? Why hadnt his body turned on itself, renting his soul into a million pieces because he didnt deserve to live? Why hadnt he done it himself yet?The memory came to his conscious mind unbidden, drifting before his eyes like an all-too-real dream. He could not be hearing Rickys voice in his ear, and yet, he was. An impossibility.The sunlight gave way to a dull, gray apartment room.Dave? Man, what a night to be out. Didnt you hear? its gonna be storming like blazes in half an hour or so. Probably less.Yeah, he murmured dazedly.What were you doing out?Silence. Then:Man... theres something I oughta tell you. Its... killing me, keeping it inside.What is it? When he shook his head, looking pale, Ricky took his shoulders and shook them. Cmon, spit it out.Wordlessly he took the unlabeled capsule out of his jean pocket: small, transparent plastic, encasing three white pills.Dave, what the heck do you think youre doing with those? Passing drugs is illegal. I Ive got to call the cops. Addictions counselors. Theyll be able to help.You dont understand. I have no job, I have no money, Im stuck here leeching off youMan, its no biggieIt helps me, Ricky. It helps me get through being stuck and unable to afford a place of my own, just because my art is worth nothing. I cant do anything with it. I cant do anything with my life.Ricky tried to escape into the kitchen, but he grabbed Rickys arm and pulled him back. No. You cant, he told Ricky.Man, this is illegalI dont want to stop.You have to!I cant, Ricky, he pleaded. A tear slipped down his cheek. I... I just cant.With a powerful twist and pull, Ricky tore his arm away. The next second he was reeling from a blow to his face, falling onto the thin carpet, hitting it hard enough to feel the wooden floor beneath. Ricky looked up. His friends hands had curled into fists. Recognition surely hit then.Dave... its the drug, man. Its hurting you.It helps me, Ricky. The words came out calm, far calmer than they sounded in his head. It lets me ignore my problems and I want that to happen. I cant stop.Once again Ricky tried to reach the kitchen. Once again he was pulled back.Dave, I have to!The words seemed torn from his throat. NO! YOU DONT UNDERSTAND!Yes, I do, youre not thinking straightI CANT STOP! ITLL KILL ME! YOU WANT TO KILL ME! His face was contorted in rage. In that second all remorse left him, and he grabbed Ricky by the neck, pinning him to the floor. ILL KILL YOU!And he watched in madness as the color drained out of Rickys faceNo. He couldnt, wouldnt watch the ending. It was already engrained into his mind, a permanent mental scar; it would haunt him to his grave; he didnt need to see it againhis fingers shook but did not release their hold. His breath came quicker even as Rickys ceasedHe could see in his minds eye Rickys fearful expression, as lifelike as could be, as though he were watching it in high-definition. With an effort, he wrenched his focus to the leaves outside the alley. How they rustled, so peacefully... and the suna last gasp Rickys eyes rolled upward into his headIt was a mistake; he hadnt been controlling himself; it was the drug! He didnt need to rememberremember Rickys prone body splayed across the floorIt was donestone-coldHe knew, he told himself, the tears falling thick and fastdead.In that tiniest fraction of a second, his heart stopped.HOW COULD I!?Dave spun suddenly, smashing his head into the wall hard enough to send the pain shooting through not just his skull, but his entire body: self-retribution for the unforgiveable crime. Stars flashed before his eyes as he fell backwards onto the cold, hard pavement. Just as quickly as the madness came, it flooded out, leaving him dazed and sober.The rustling had stopped.How?His nostrils and forehead felt damp. As the world around him shifted dizzily, now out of focus, now focused again, he swiped a finger under his nose and raised it: blood.The hurt wasnt enough. He still couldnt forget. His mind and body were still his own. Why couldnt he die? What cruel punishment awaited him that kept him from exacting his own vengeance?He hated himself.He rolled onto his side. Out of his jacket pocket tumbled the capsule. It lay there on the pavement, so harmless-looking. So seductive.With numb fingers he grasped it. Bile rose in his throat, but he could not stop himself. His shaking right hand grasped the top, twisted, and rose again; the capsules lid tumbled to the ground. There were two pills left. The third hed eaten last night to chase his worries away and let him sleep.The hate swelled.His desire rose against it.Desire won.His hand twitched back, pouring the drugs into his mouth. He shut his eyes tightly. Chewed. Swallowed.Bliss came then, hand-in-hand with ignorance.

Long Way Down“Sure is a long way down,” the tourist remarked, his voice slightly fuzzy over the radio.Reeves shook his head in disagreement. “Only for cowards,” he quipped, tugging on his rope to be sure the stake was securely in the ground and then turning to the edge of the cliff. And tourists, he wanted to add, but didn’t: bad tour guide etiquette. “Don’t forget — the Valles Marineris Exploration Outpost, VMEO, is right below us. So we’re not too far from help.”Despite his earlier words, even without looking down Reeves knew the tourist was right. It rather was a long way down, he thought as he swung himself over the edge (much to the tourists’ amusement and bewilderment). The ground was at least a few kilometers below him now, at most several; all that kept death at bay was the rope. A good, thick one it was, synthetic material — he’d forgotten what it was called, only remembered that in the low Martian gravity it was sufficiently safe, and thus he wasn’t afraid.On Earth, Reeves weighed one hundred sixty pounds, wet. On Mars he weighed about fifty-five pounds. Big, big difference. Except the tourists never seemed to get it.He sighed, shook his head again to no one in particular, and began rappelling down the cliff. In his peripheral vision he caught a glimpse of the tourists’ heads, poking out just over the edge to watch his progress; saw a few rapidly draw back in fear; said into his helmet’s radio, “Please don’t fall; even in a fourth the gravity of Earth’s the landing’ll hurt. And terminal velocity doesn’t change, either. Just sit tight and wait. You’ll get a nice, safe lift ride down when I’m at the bottom.”The heads drew back. Almost grimly, Reeves grinned and continued his descent.Step, crunch, slide, and the cycle restarted. He tried not to look down — he’d done it before, two Mars-years ago, when the Martian Visitors’ Colony had just started up, and nearly gotten sick in front of twenty wannabe Martian citizens. Not the best way to promote that moving to the Red Planet was “out of this world!”So he concentrated wholly on the movement of the slides and where he placed his feet, perhaps a tad obsessively, but it helped keep him from thinking of the long, long drop beneath him.This went on for a long time.He came into sight of the VMEO and, according to his helmet’s HUD, one hundred meters from the ground when he finally slipped up.It was a small mistake, as far as mistakes went, but Fate pounced on it. Reeves slipped, his gloves slipping off the slides, and began to fall; jerked back upward as the rope held. For a moment Reeves swung out over the abyss, his feet kicking in empty air; then he spun back around, slapping against the cliff with a clank! as his suit collided with Martian rock, right elbow first. He scrabbled for a grip, managed to steady himself, and grasped the slides, his hands clammy underneath his gloves.For a minute he hung there, gasping, swearing under his breath.That was close.In the suffocating silence that followed, over his own madly beating heart, Reeves caught a faint hissssss...He threw a quick glance at his HUD — saw the air pressure number slowly ticking down — swore again. He could feel a faint air current over his right elbow; raising it to his faceplate, he saw the edges of a small opening in his spacesuit fluttering in the small breeze.Words floated through his head, that tourist’s: “Sure is a long way down...”Slowly, trying not to let fear interrupt his careful movements, he moved his hands off the slides and onto the rope. Then, crunch by crunch, he moved down until the rope held him up.Now was the tricky part. He took a step forward (or up?) and then leaned back, so that as he settled into a horizontal position with his face toward the pale red heavens, the rope holding him there. Then he reached into a waist pouch with his left hand, awkwardly grabbed an air patch (he wasn’t very good with gloves), and slowly, being sure not to make any sudden movements that could cause him to swing away from the cliff again, raised his right arm and placed the patch over the leak.The suit was partially inflated, so the surface gave under Reeves’s pushing. He grunted. Gritting his teeth, he raised his right arm a little higher and managed to cover the rip with the patch. He couldn’t tell if the hissing had stopped; his heart’s frantic pounding still filled his ears, deafening.So he glanced to the HUD to see the suit’s air pressure reading steady. Reeves took a deep breath, released it in a long, slow exhale. His heart was still beating a mile a minute as he pressed down on the patch once more and moved his hand from the makeshift seal.Nothing.Well, that was that.“Sorry, folks, for the silence,” he said into his radio, resuming his climb; “I had some — uh — technical difficulties, but I’ll be down in a minute.”And that, ladies and gentlemen, he added mentally, is why I’m climbing down right above the VMEO. Long way down, indeed.* * * * *This was meant as nothing more than a quick writing exercise, mainly meant as practice for a more casual style of writing. I think it turned out well, though, granted, this doesn't tell a very important story.Thoughts?

Jovan’s Test80,115 years ago...The ocean, as always, was in motion; waves rose from its glassy gray-blue surface, letting a fine spray of moisture soak the air around Lesovikk and his Sea Sled. With a small effort he summoned a little breeze to blow the mist away. Then he turned his mind back to driving.The Sea Sled was a good nine, ten feet long, its silver metallic build sleek and aerodynamic. It could skip across the waves like no other vehicle Lesovikk had ever ridden, turning as quickly as though it were responding to his thoughts. Thank Mata Nui he had it.Still, Lesovikk was growing tired of circumnavigating the dangerous waters; and what was worse, a stiff wind was blowing in from the east. A storm was fast approaching -- and it would be near-suicide to stay out in the open, as the former Toa of Air knew full well. He was already sailing northeast at top speed, so it would be foolhardy to turn a full three hundred sixty degrees back to the southwest. Nevertheless, he glanced to the west first. Just in case, he told himself.Sure enough, there was land off to the west, barely anything more than a dark green smudge on the horizon at this point but far better than nothing.He glanced back to the east. Already a group of clouds, dark and ominous, was gathering far off in that direction. Was it his imagination, or had that been a flash of lightning?Without another thought he spun his Sea Sled to the west, relying on the east wind and his own powers over air to speed him up.* * *He had barely made it onto land when the storm hit.The winds were terrifying, easily blowing upwards of fifty miles per hour, causing Lesovikk to stumble as he sought shelter. Leaves were torn off tree branches, swirling madly in the air amidst the ceaseless roar of rushing air and pelting rain. The next several minutes were a blur -- water reduced visibility to near zero, and the waves crashing against the shore launched even more moisture toward the clouded heavens.Only with an almighty effort was Lesovikk able to half-drag, half-push his Sea Sled behind the scant shelter of a cluster of rocks inland. There the wind lessened slightly; the rain was blocked away by the gray masses behind Lesovikk’s back. But he only allowed himself a small rest: He still had to find shelter for himself. No way could he wait out the storm in the open -- if the wind shifted, these rocks would no longer provide protection, however small.Steeling himself, he launched back into the tumultuous weather.Seconds blurred into minutes as the green-armored warrior ran blindly through the storm--BOOM.Lightning, far too close for comfort. Lesovikk ducked, throwing his right arm over his head as he stumbled forwards. His left arm reached out before him, trying to find something, anything, that could save Lesovikk from nature’s mercilessness.Was that -- was that a village up ahead?Through the roar of the storm, a single thought surfaced:I must reach those buildings.Step by agonizing step he pushed through the rain; the moisture struck his Kanohi Faxon, dripping down into his eyes, half-blinding him. He was picking up speed now, his walk turning into more of a jog.BOOM.The flash imprinted itself onto Lesovikk’s retinas for a split-second, long enough for Lesovikk to take another half-step toward the village. Another roiling BOOM resounded through the sky: more thunder, but farther away this time.Almost there...BOOM.Instinctively Lesovikk threw up his hands -- though what protection his arms would serve against a lightning bolt, he couldn’t guess.Just a few more steps...With mud splashing against his churning legs, he threw himself at the first building he felt, wrenched open the door, and fell in face-first.The rain followed after him, but the wind no longer buffeted Lesovikk’s body. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to close the door.Then he saw his shadow playing across the door and realized there was a lit fire behind him.Turning, he slammed the door shut and fell into a battle stance, all in one smooth movement. There was indeed a fire there, burning lively in a stone fireplace and casting a warm glow over the bare room. But why would a fire be there without someone to light it in the first place?‘Someone’ stepped forward from the shadows to the back-right of the fireplace. Lesovikk caught his breath. It was a Toa.For a moment they both merely stood there, gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity. The stranger’s armor was jet-black, highlighted by brilliant orange-red gleams from the fire behind him. His mask was sleek yet armored-looking, with a row of spikes reaching from the stranger’s forehead, over his scalp, to the back of his head. His armor was worn-down yet still tough-looking.Dangerous was the first word to cross Lesovikk’s mind at the sight of the stranger’s armored hands curled into fists.“So,” he said, not willing to talk but just as hesitant to keep the awkward silence. “I, um, was riding across the ocean and landed here to avoid the storm.” He gestured outside to where thunder suddenly tore through the air.The stranger remained impassive.More silence, save for the pitter-patter of the rainfall outside.“So,” the Toa finally said, his gruff voice matching his appearance spot-on, “you a Toa?”Lesovikk hesitated a moment before answering, “No.”“Really? You certainly look like a Toa.”“It’s... a long story.”The hard look on Lesovikk’s face must have convinced the other not to continue on that topic. “Well,” he said, smoothly changing the topic, “you won’t be able to leave while this storm is raging. Feel up to waiting it out in here?”Lesovikk ran a hand across one of the walls. It was stone, held together by some unknown adhesive and covered by large leaves. It certainly felt sturdy enough, at any rate.“Sure,” said Lesovikk with a nod. “Thank you, um...?”“Jovan,” said the stranger. “Toa of Magnetism. And you?”“Lesovikk.”“Well, ‘Lesovikk’,” Jovan said as he walked toward a back corner, “let me show you where you can sleep...”* * *Moss and leaves didn’t make the most comfortable mattress in the world, but at least Lesovikk had a cloth to lay overtop. Even so he still couldn’t sleep, what with the raging storm outside and his Sea Sled somewhere in the midst of that chaos. So he merely laid there, eyes half-closed, listening.Jovan stayed by the fire for most of the night, poking the wood with his weapon every now and again to keep the flames roaring. As Lesovikk watched the Toa of Magnetism do so for the umpteenth time, a wave of fatigue swept over him, he closed his eyes, and...Light hit his face: warm, sweet, natural sunlight -- not the harsh blues and yellows of lightning. He opened his eyes and leapt to his feet with reflexes born of over twenty thousand years of wandering. Then he remembered there was no danger; not yet, at any rate.He barely even remembered falling asleep last night, but obviously he had slept well: Outside, the sky had already turned a pale blue. Nary a cloud floated along that dome; in fact, Lesovikk found it hard to believe a storm had raged for all of the previous night.The door banged open, interrupting Lesovikk’s thoughts, and Jovan stepped in with an armful of branches. He nodded to Lesovikk as he set the wood down by the fireplace. “Slept well, I presume?”Lesovikk nodded.“You going to leave yet?”The former Toa of Air considered before saying, “Yes. Why?”“Because,” said Jovan, “I’d like to spar you.”It took a moment for the words to register in Lesovikk’s brain.“‘Spar’? Why?”“I need the practice. I haven’t fought another Toa” -- here he noticed Lesovikk’s gaze had gone stony -- “eh, warrior in a long time. You fit the description. So what do you say?”With a shrug, Lesovikk said, “I guess it won’t take long, so sure. Just promise not to kill me, ‘kay?”Jovan walked back to the door; as he opened it, he remarked over his shoulder, “In my experience, most people don’t get killed by someone else. They kill themselves through mistakes of their own. Not that we’ll be fighting to the death, of course,” he added with a chuckle.As Lesovikk followed, he couldn’t help but mull over those words.* * *“Sword,” ordered Jovan, bringing his own before him to point directly at Lesovikk.Lesovikk complied, drawing his air sword and admiring its gleaming edge, shining like a second sun. He brought his hand back down to waist-level, letting his sword point drop to ever so slightly graze the ground at his right.Now that he wasn’t worrying about getting inside before a storm killed him, he got a good glimpse at his surroundings. The grass was somewhat sparse, but not badly so; at the very least, it covered up the dirt-turned-mud enough for Lesovikk to keep from getting too dirty. The rest of the village, a good half-mile off to the southwest, seemed empty; and as Lesovikk knew from close-up views, it certainly played the part. During the walk here -- a precaution, Jovan had explained, in case either Toa lost control of his powers -- Lesovikk had tried to ask Jovan about it, but had gotten only an “I don’t know, and I doubt Mata Nui does, either,” in return.Around them, a few beach trees swayed in the breeze. Not too far to the east sat the ocean, a glimmering blue mass that caught the sunlight like a thousand sapphires. The location was beautiful, a truly incredible view to take in; as he and Jovan began to circle, Lesovikk made a mental note to come back here someday if only to see the scenery.Jovan’s posture was excellent; as he circled, not once did he cross his legs, nor did he ever take his eyes off his opponent. The Toa of Magnetism’s gaze was laced with intense concentration. His body was tensed, every muscle strung up in anticipation of action.On the other hand, there was Lesovikk. Admittedly, he was a warrior of the air element, so he had an excuse for his unorthodox style. He glanced around himself every few seconds in an instinctive attempt to keep an eye on both Jovan and his surroundings. In the absence of fighting, he bounced up and down on the balls of his toes to keep his muscles warm.He had no idea what Jovan’s Kanohi was, but both warriors had agreed not to use their mask powers in the spar -- though Lesovikk felt himself itching to use his Kanohi Faxon, the Mask of Kindred, to copy Jovan’s talents.Jovan made the first move, leaping forward and stabbing with his sword -- but leaping back before coming into range of Lesovikk’s own blade. He did it twice, then thrice, each time keeping his gaze steady on Lesovikk. The fourth time he came forward, his intentions of actually attacking etched into his expression, Lesovikk was ready. He raised his sword, took a quick step forward to meet his opponent, and--Quicker than lightning Jovan leapt to his right, leaving Lesovikk’s sword to slice through empty air. The warrior of air was quick, though; he danced to his own right and around to keep the Toa of Magnetism in sight.For some odd reason, Jovan was grinning widely, as though this were all some sort of joke. Lesovikk had half a mind to whack him with the flat of his blade, if only to wipe that expression off his face.Jovan came forward again, but before Lesovikk could reach him he leapt back out of range again.Just attack already, Kolhii-head!The Toa of Magnetism complied. This time he didn’t bother with leaping aside; he and Lesovikk met head-on. Their swords clashed with a CLANG that echoed through the empty air.Jovan brought his sword around; Lesovikk parried and tried to land his own blow, which was quickly knocked aside. He tried again: no luck.Annoyance crept through his limbs. As Jovan leapt back, Lesovikk leaped into the air after him, spinning, bringing his sword down--CLANG!He fell out of the air, hitting the ground with a powerful gasp. His breath had been knocked out of him when the flat of Jovan’s blade had hit his side, and whatever air left in Lesovikk’s lungs left upon his impact with mud.But Lesovikk could recover quickly. If there was one thing his seemingly-endless wanderings had taught him, it was that lying down could be the death of you.He rolled onto his back, reaching his arms out and calling upon the wind to come to his aid. Slowly at first, a breeze began to pick up, carrying the warm salty scent of the ocean in its wake.The problem? That breeze built up too slowly. Far, far too slowly. For only a split second after he had summoned the wind, his arms were pulled down to his sides against his will; his legs stuck together as though they were glued; and his Kanohi, already secure over his face, squeezed his head just a little bit more.Through closed teeth (he could barely open his mouth now), he managed to growl, “Not fair.”As soon as the words left his mouth the powerful magnetic forces that had held his limbs together vanished. Lesovikk stood up slowly, cautious of another elemental attack from Jovan, but none came. The Toa of Magnetism had turned away, staring out at the sea; Lesovikk, being smarter than he looked, knew better than to charge him now. Getting a face full of sand wasn’t high on the former Toa’s to-do list.So, instead, he stood by the Toa, searching Jovan’s face for any sort of emotion.“Lesovikk,” said Jovan suddenly.Why had Lesovikk’s throat gone dry at the other’s tone?“Yeah, what? You won fair and square.” Grudgingly, Lesovikk added, “Good job.”The ghost of a smile drifted across Jovan’s face. “The same can’t be said for you... Toa.”“I told you,” Lesovikk growled. “I’m not a Toa. Not... not anymore.”“Exactly. This way I get to annoy you more.”Lesovikk sighed. “Whatever you’re going to say, can you just say it?”“Whatever.” He turned, his brilliant green eyes locking with Lesovikk’s orange ones, and said, “You’re staying here for a while.”A full second passed before he understood the words. Wow, he was slow today.“You can’t hold me here against my will!”“I just did,” Jovan remarked.Lesovikk couldn’t argue with that.“Face it, Lesovikk,” continued Jovan. “You need more training. I beat you in, what, fifty seconds?”“I’m pretty sure,” Lesovikk protested quietly, “it was sixty.”“Either way, that isn’t a ‘good job’ for a Toa. Stay here and practice, Lesovikk. To be honest” -- he glanced Lesovikk up and down as though looking over a mangled weapon -- “I’m surprised you haven’t been mortally wounded during your travels yet.”“Eh, I’ve gotten banged up before.”“So you want to keep getting ‘banged up’?”“Well...” He hesitated; but then he realized Jovan was right. Lesovikk needed the training. “No, I don’t. And before you say it, yes, I’ll stay here and train.” He didn’t add that any training he got now would help him, later on, enter the island of Karzahni and rescue his Matoran friends; but Jovan didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Not until Lesovikk had felt him out first.“In that case...” Jovan nodded to Lesovikk, his earlier brief, almost crude demeanor fading away slightly. “We’d best begin training now.”* * *That night, Lesovikk dropped an armful of wood by the fireplace and then collapsed onto his sleeping area with a groan. He ached all over; in fact, he could have sworn his aches had aches, and all those aches hurt like Karzahni.Jovan sat down with much more grace -- but then again, he hadn’t done a whole lot, had he? No, Lesovikk had been the one doing the pushups and sit-ups, collecting food, and even cutting down a tree with nothing but his sword and his strength. Ugh. Even remembering those strenuous activities made Lesovikk hurt all the more.He must have looked ridiculous just lying there, because Jovan let out a little chuckle and asked, “You up for another spar, champ?”“Shut up.” Lesovikk rolled over and clamped his hands over his audio receptors. If Jovan made one more sarcastic remark, he’d end up sailing out the door in a freak hurricane.* * *The next day wasn’t much better, nor the day after or even the day after that. The schedule -- which Jovan obviously took delight in reinforcing -- went something like this:Lesovikk was awakened early in the morning, very early, in fact, for every time he could see that the sun still hadn’t done much more than peek above the horizon. With alarming regularity, he found himself thinking every morning, Another long day...First Jovan had him do pushups: eighty, to be precise. After that, the former Toa’s arms ached so much he could barely manage to hold the bundle of firewood he was supposed to be carrying in their dwelling. Next the Toa of Magnetism had Lesovikk do sit-ups, a full agonizing seventy, even worse (was it possible?) than the pushups; they left Lesovikk’s abdomen aching enough that he would clamp a hand to it every now and again throughout the rest of the day.But that wasn’t all. No, he’d spend the rest of the morning jogging from one rock on the shore to a second and back again until he’d run a full two kilometers. At noon, he’d get a brief rest, a quick drink of water -- and then he’d be back to work, climbing trees to retrieve the fruit on their tops.Sometimes he’d find words coming out of his mouth that didn’t even seem to be his: “Can’t we” -- he gasped for air -- “take a break?”To which Jovan always responded, “Do you want to get into Karzahni or not?”For Lesovikk did indeed wish to get into the land of Karzahni, as he had told the Toa of Magnetism on his second night here, too tired to care about keeping his past secret. He had to save his Matoran friends, Sarda and Idris, not to mention all of those other Matoran that had been wrongly sent to be ‘fixed’ -- that is, if what Karzahni the being even did was considered ‘fixing’.All the more reason, Lesovikk decided, to get this training over with as quickly as possible.Through his daily fatigue, despite his frustration, every now and again he would see a glimmer of hope. Soon he could do a full eighty pushups without resting, though his muscles would always burn afterwards. He could run his two kilometers within fifteen minutes, no sweat. Through climbing trees and tossing the fruits down to Jovan, he became adept at picking out finger holds and grasping trunks with his legs as well as his arms.In a way, he hated to admit it, but there was no denying the fact that Jovan’s training was helping. Helping massively, in fact, for not only did Lesovikk’s endurance rise, his confidence rose with it. He was stronger, faster, and he sure felt it.One thing he did notice throughout his exercises was that Jovan stayed fit, as well. Sometimes, during his runs, Lesovikk would catch glimpses of him doing chin-ups on some low-hanging tree branch. On the fourth day of Lesovikk’s stay, Jovan challenged the former Toa of Air to a race, the same two kilometers Lesovikk had been working on for the past three days -- but the Toa of Magnetism was the one who won, making running the two kilometers in eleven minutes look easy.So when the morning of the final day dawned, Lesovikk wondered just how well he’d do against Jovan in a fight.* * *“No elemental powers this time,” said Jovan.Lesovikk was a little surprised at the statement. “Why not?”“Because powers aren’t everything.” Jovan paused a moment, glancing outside one of their dwelling’s windows. The sky still carried a slight reddish tinge from the sunrise; again, Lesovikk had been awakened early. “And I want to test your full improvement.”“But you used elemental powers last time!”“Not,” Jovan pointed out, “until you did.”Lesovikk conceded the point. “Whatever. Sure, I agree; just hold your end of the bargain, will you?”Again, that ghost of a smile appeared on the Toa of Magnetism’s face. Lesovikk had long ago assumed that Jovan practiced that expression at night, when the former Toa of Air wasn’t watching.“Let’s hope you’ve indeed improved.” Jovan turned to open the door to the dwelling; before Lesovikk could follow, he turned and said, “You don’t need to go through the routine today. Just do whatever you think you should do.”Then he was gone, leaving the doorway suddenly empty. Lesovikk frowned after him for a few moments. He sure seems confident, he thought. A little too confident, if you ask me...He spent the rest of the morning going through Jovan’s schedule as normal: first pushups, then sit-ups, then running the two kilometers (finally getting under fourteen minutes this time). He tried to do chin-ups the way Jovan had, but couldn’t do more than ten before dropping from the branch, fatigued.Hopefully that would be enough to beat Jovan later today.* * *Lesovikk was resting in the dwelling, eyes closed, when he heard Jovan’s confident footsteps enter the room.Without opening an eye, he asked, “You ready, then?”“Are you going to get up any time soon?” Jovan returned.Lesovikk shrugged. Then he leapt to his feet in a flash, settling into a casual stance just as quickly. “That soon enough for you?”It was about time Jovan had nothing sarcastic to say.The two walked out to the beach, not as far from the village this time as before, as they weren’t using their powers. A cold breeze blew in, chilling Lesovikk a bit but not enough to shatter the courage within his mind.I can do this.“Sword,” Jovan ordered, just like in their first spar four days ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then, blowing away memories of the past like grains of sand in a hurricane.Metal sang out as Lesovikk drew his sword, holding it before him in a defensive posture. He didn’t jump around as much now, but he sure wasn’t staying still. He had to stay warm, keep his muscles loose.Jovan cast a critical glance over Lesovikk’s form before speaking again. “Remember: If you win, you get to leave.”“Right.”“And if I win, you stay here for another week.”A week seemed like a long time -- but, then again, was it much longer than the twenty thousand years Lesovikk had spent just wandering? Not getting anything done?“Right,” repeated Lesovikk.Jovan nodded, a couple quick, vertical shakes of his head. “Then let us begin.”They circled, neither heeding the gentle rush of the ocean’s wave, ignoring a Gukko bird’s call that rang through the sky. Each one’s attention was focused solely on the other.Lesovikk shifted his weight from foot to foot, eyes moving quickly, looking for an opening. Jovan let out a chuckle at the sight.“I see your stance hasn’t grown any better.”Shrugging in return, Lesovikk replied, “Neither has yours, come to think of it.”Silence, save for both warriors’ gentle footsteps, muffled by the golden sand they trod on. The sun beat down as they continued to walk, waiting the other out, watching for the first move.This time, Lesovikk struck first. Five days ago he had considered himself quick; now he considered himself a bolt of lightning. Even Jovan seemed surprised, going by his eyes, which widened as the Toa of Magnetism hurriedly parried the blow. Lesovikk’s sword swung thrice more -- three swings that were all deflected -- and then the former Toa leapt backward, out of range.The circling began again.“Didn’t think I was that fast, did you?” Lesovikk taunted.No reply.“Face it,” he continued, “you did too much of a good job on me.”Jovan’s mouth moved, but no words were audible. Cursing?“What was that?” Lesovikk called.Then Jovan ran forward. “Overconfidence can kill, you know.”His sword rose to his shoulder; it came down in a streak of silver. Lesovikk was ready: Planting his right foot and bending that leg, he slid his left foot slightly to the side, placed his weight on that, and lifted his own blade.In a surprise move Jovan switched direction, skillfully twisting his sword around and bringing it toward Lesovikk’s abdomen.But again, Lesovikk was ready. He twisted his own sword upside-down, shifting his weight to his right foot as the two swords collided. Again, Jovan seemed slightly surprised. He tried picking up speed, switching from plain swordplay to kicking up sand with his blade. No luck. Lesovikk managed to parry or avoid any blow that came to him.He felt... empowered? Improved? No; invincible was more like it.But even so, Lesovikk wasn’t infallible. Jovan’s attack was merciless, quick, and cruel; he leapt and ducked, spun and sidestepped, swung and stabbed. Even in his improved physical prowess, he couldn’t hope to evade or block every blow -- hence the long, jagged cut along his right shoulder and his aching left hip.He knew he was tiring. His sword moved a little slower now; his steps were just a tad less confident. Jovan knew this, Lesovikk was sure, and the Toa of Magnetism seemed ready to take advantage. He was feinting now, trying to get Lesovikk to expend more energy in lifting his sword.That’s when Lesovikk realized Jovan’s advantage: He hadn’t taught Lesovikk swordsmanship. That trickster.At least the former Toa of Air had a backup plan.When Jovan came up for his next attack, Lesovikk tried a vicious overhand swing -- a swing that he knew was nowhere near ‘vicious’ from the moment he began the move. Jovan gave Lesovikk his little sarcastic grin as he lifted his sword to parry Lesovikk’s, balled his right hand into a fist, and sent it flying into Lesovikk’s face.The warrior of air spun his head with the blow, but even so its sheer force sent him to the ground. He gasped, spitting out sand.Jovan stepped toward him, his face almost directly above Lesovikk’s.“I think you like it here,” he remarked. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone down so easily.”Lesovikk said nothing, merely continued panting, trying to catch his breath.“What? At a loss for words?”Again, no reply escaped Lesovikk’s lips. He was concentrating. Waiting.Recharging.“Get up,” he said. “Let’s go back to the dwelling. You get to catch a Rahi for dinner.”Once more, Lesovikk didn’t speak.Rather, he acted.With strength borne of five days of constant workouts, he pushed out and back with his arms, lifting his body from the ground. He didn’t make it all the way onto his feet -- but that wasn’t necessary. All that mattered was that, a split-second after pushing off, his feet struck Jovan’s knee, sending him down.He didn’t wait to see if Jovan would get back up; gripping his sword tightly, he spun and pointed it toward Jovan’s chest. Both beings’ chests heaved with exertion.It was a long, long moment before Lesovikk spoke.“I think,” he panted, “I win.”* * *Midday -- low tide.Lesovikk had never been so glad to leave an island -- at least, not that he could recall. For all he remembered, he could’ve gone through such a thing just a couple thousand years ago.But he still doubted he’d felt as much satisfaction as he did now.Behind him stood Jovan, a small grin on his face. He’d explained before that he still had his duty to his own Toa team (‘Toa team’ brought a pang to Lesovikk’s chest); he was only here temporarily, he had said, training to better serve them.“Nice meeting you, Lesovikk,” he said in that maddeningly casual tone of his.For once, Lesovikk forgot to be annoyed. He nodded in return. “Likewise. I guess... I guess this is good-bye.”He dragged his Sea Sled into the ankle-high waters, swung his leg over, and took a final look back.Jovan, Toa of Magnetism, raised a hand in farewell. His voice drifted across the shore:“Farewell!”Then Lesovikk turned to face forward, gunning the Sea Sled’s engine, sending it flying out into the watery beyond as he reflected that now, he was closer than ever to entering Karzahni and saving his friends.The sun had set the water shimmering. It was truly a beauteous sight to Lesovikk’s eyes; a hopeful sight, too, perhaps.* * * * *This is my second entry to KanohiJournal Contest 5: Lesovikk's Hiatus. Including asterisks and dashes, this story is about 4,878 words long, keeping it a cool hundred words beneath the short story category's word limit.To be honest, I think this is my best Bionicle story yet -- though of course, the jury's out on that (the jury being you, the reviewers, of course). Constructive criticism is, of course, greatly appreciated.

I don't like how Xa-Kuta was removed from the RPG, but otherwise I'm glad for the reset -- I'll be able to get involved in the BZPRPG again without getting too involved like last time. Three characters was rather much, to be honest.