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  1. This originally started as me seeing what different kinds of Matoran Builds that I could make. What I ended up with sort of resembled the Matoran in the movies and that is what led me to build the Moto-Sled as well.
  2. Floral Fury Built for the "Plants vs. Horror" collab hosted by Bionilug. I know, it's not so much horror, let's say the real horror comes from the point of view of the Matoran in this specific situation. 13/11/2023
  3. Muli's a Ga-Matoran of Mata Nui, who helps watch over the docks of Ga-Wahi and keep dangerous Rahi from their shores, in-between fishing for sport. She likes to joke that her strength stems from being secretly a Po-Matoran whose copper oxidized to blue in time, but nobody takes it seriously. I always loved the medium blue hue for Kanohi, and I finally got my hands on the Ruru. Pretty good poseability! The one non-legal attachment is the 2L rods used for the elbows, split from a 4L rod. They can be swapped with a 2L axle for accuracy, but I prefer the articulation Bonus instructions here, built using Stud.iomulinew.pdf
  4. I tried to revamp the Mahri Matoran design and give them more articulation. The shoulders are a WIP but I like them. Also, Dekar got shafted in the story and should have become a Toa. Defilak is cool too.
  5. The wise and experienced leader of the Voya Nui Resistance.
  6. Water’s Wish “That was incredible!” the Matoran gasped. Tuyet smiled at the Matoran. “How did you do that, mighty Toa?” “Years of practice, little one,” Tuyet insisted. It was a simple elemental trick for a Toa of Water, but to the powerless Matoran’s eyes, it appeared like a miracle. “Who taught you? I need to know!” asked the Matoran. “If I became a Toa one day, I want to be coached by the same one that coached the great Toa Tuyet!” Tuyet frowned, slightly agitated by the Matoran’s pestering. She had hoped the Matoran would move on with her day, but she persisted to hang around. As much as she wanted, this Matoran was annoying at best. Tuyet knew a little about fate— enough to sense that this Matoran was not destined to be a Toa. A thought popped into her head. The Toa of Water smiled. “The Great Spirit, in all his wisdom, taught me,” Tuyet lied. “because of something my Turaga taught me when I was a Matoran like yourself.” “What was it?” the Matoran cried, excitement leaping from her voice. “I must know!” The impatience of the Matoran was starting to wear on Tuyet. She did her best not to snap. “It was when the twin moons of the Great Spirit were full, and his gaze was upon my island,” Tuyet began. A wolfish smile grew upon her mask as she ‘recounted’ the tale. “I went to the water in between the riptides on the beach. The beams of the moon were shining down on the water. I made my way into the ocean, and scooped it up in my hands.” “Scoop up the ocean water?” the Matoran asked, confused. “Why would you do that? Was it blessed? Tuyet held up a hand for the Matoran to be quiet. “My Turaga had told me if I scooped water and held the moon, I would have caught the sight of the Great Spirit,” she explained. “If either of the moons had stayed in the water in my hand, I would have caught the Great Spirit’s eye. He would see that I was a skilled enough Matoran to become a Toa.” “…did you?” “I stand before you as a Toa, little one,” Tuyet snipped. “Of course it did!” “My apologies, Toa,” the Matoran bowed her head. “If I may, I have one question.” “What is it?” she asked. “How did this catch the sight of the Great Spirit Mata Nui?” “It is said that the cupping of the moon gives you a month of good luck, little one,” Tuyet explained. “And in that month, the Great Spirit looked down from the stars and showed me wisdom that to this day I cannot describe. With that wisdom I was able to figure out where to find my Toa stone.” The two were silent for a moment as the Matoran reveled in the ‘magic’ of the tale. “I need to try this!” the Matoran breathed, incredulous. “If you want to be a Toa, you may,” Tuyet said softly. “But I must give you some warnings, and you must heed them carefully.” “What are they?” asked the Matoran. “I will follow them as you say.” Tuyet smiled. The Matoran was taking her advice without any question. It was ridiculous, she thought, as to what these villagers would believe. “If you want the attention and blessing of the Great Spirit, you must do so under two conditions. First, only go when the moon is full. If the twin moons are not at their fullest and brightest, then go nowhere near the water. The Great Spirit’s attention is elsewhere, and you will not find it on that night.” “That makes sense,” the Matoran supposed. “And the second?” “Make sure you go alone,” Tuyet said, her voice grave. “Go alone, and tell no one you are going. If someone comes with you or is even knows of your plans, then they will distract the Great Spirit from you. This needs to be your night and your night alone. No one else can be there. If there is someone else present, the Great Spirit will not be able to put his attention on solely you.” The Matoran bowed deeply. “Toa Tuyet, you are a wise Toa, and I hope to one day walk with you as a sister. I am forever in your debt.” Tuyet smiled and offered a fist to her. “Heed my advice little one, and we will have many adventures together as sisters of the tide.” The Matoran clanked her fist, bowed once more, and ran along. She did not happen to see the wolfish smile on Tuyet’s mask as she ran away. *** Moonglow danced along the sand in the stillness of the night, casting a silvery shine along the coast. The Ga-Matoran’s feet wove through this shine and the shadows that intertwined with it as she made her way down the beach. Excitement pulsed through her system as she breathed in the crisp air of the eve. She could hardly believe what was happening— the moment she had been waiting for was unfolding before her very eyes. To her, everything looked and felt just as she thought it should. The twin moons were brimming full as they looked upon the night shore. Their light spilled into a miraculous pool out on the horizon line, before trailing their gaze towards the beach through long, matching columns of light. The shine of moonlight sparkled as it refracted in the ocean. Long lines of whitewater toppled in to shore. They tumbled softly over the sand, before washing back into the greater ocean. The Ga-Matoran’s pace quickened as she crossed the sands and shells, making her way toward the water. Her hands were in front of her as she walked, cupped almost as if in prayer. Her breath was ragged as she stepped from the sand to the sea, so nervous with excitement as she was. The surf tumbled lightly around her legs as she waded into the water. She walked through effortlessly, not allowing anything to deter her from her goal. “Oh Great Spirit,” she called into the night. “Please let me catch your gaze in these waters tonight. Please see me out here, so I might be graced with your blessing.” The ocean glimmered with white light as she waded thigh deep into the ocean. Moonlight danced all around the Ga-Matoran, surrounding her in a nighttime glow. She took her gaze off of the sky and stared solely at the ocean. The night sky was mesmerizing, but it was not where she needed to focus her efforts. She needed to look to the sea. The reflection of the moon was there, bobbing to and fro in the waves. The Ga-Matoran cupped her hands and dipped them into the ocean. She held her breath in anticipation, anxious to see what would come with her. Her hands emerged with a hefty scoop of ocean being held so very carefully by her hopeful palms. Moonlight came with her, glimmers visible in the sloshing of the night ocean. Little pockets of white light flashed in the water in her hands as she gazed as it, the moonlight sparkling into her mask. The moon itself though did not come with her. The orbs were still only visible in the surface of the water, not coming with her hands. She let the water spill between her fingers to join the rest of the ocean. Her eyes, so filled with starlight and hope, grew troubled. Did she do it wrong? The moon had been right there. She had scooped it, but it did not come with her. She would try again, she decided. Fixing her gaze upon the reflection of the moon, she dipped her hands once more. She then lunged into the deeper waters, scooping at the sphere with her hands… But when she brought it to her mask, the water was only glimmers of moonlight again. It came up for just a moment with her that time. She had seen it in her hands. She was almost there! Toa Tuyet had not told her this would be an easy task, she understood that. The Great Spirit was not an easy being to get the attention of. He was testing her. If she really wanted his full attention, she had to try harder. She pulled herself through the water, closer to the moon once more. Putting her hands out, she reached once more, only for a wave to wash over her. The moon seemed to grow closer in her grip as she persisted. As it grew higher in the sky, the moon seemed to travel less, the Ga-Matoran had more and more of a grip on it. It was as if the Great Spirit was making her chase him, she thought. She would play his game, she decided, and in exchange she hoped he would give her what she wanted. She kicked in the water, propelling herself toward the moon. Taking a stroke, she stroked underwater and pulled herself toward the moon… A wave washed over her, tossing the Matoran back under the water. She let out a yell of surprise, only to feel the salt water rush into her mouth. Her world spun as the water toppled over her. She popped to the surface, gasping for air. Her head went in all directions, until she could see that she was very far from the coast. The shore was but a thin line of white sand in the dark. She had ventured out very far. The wave washing over her had awakened her in a way, driving all thoughts of the Great Spirit from her mind. She needed to get back to shore, she knew. It was dangerous to be this far out in the ocean at night. The Matoran started to swim in shore. She pulled herself through the water towards the land, trying with all her might only to make no headway. She could feel herself fatigued as she stroked, no longer energized as she had been moments before. The Matoran’s strokes grew more frantic, as she tried fighting whatever was keeping her from the shore. She stroked and kicked rapidly, using all of her fading might. But her limited skill in the water and her efforts were no match for the riptides that were keeping her from the shore. She moaned in despair, utterly exhausted in her fight against the ocean. She wanted to keep paddling, she wanted to kick more, but she was so tired… A glimmer of moonlight caught her eye. The moon, now at its peak in the night, reflected right next to where the Matoran swam. Her eyes went wild, suddenly remembering what she had come out here for. She could reach for it, ask the Great Spirit for a wave—something, anything that would help her get to shore… The water was pulling against her, and the moon was only a few strokes away. The Matoran had to get it, to make her wish— not for Toahood or power, but for the safety of the shore. The Matoran took a deep breath. It was now or never. She plunged herself under, ready to kick and come up right next to the moon… And after that the black water was unbroken for the rest of the night. The twin moons, eyes of the Great Spirit, beamed down to look at an empty beach and a still, uninterrupted sea. FIN *** Just a little write off exploring a couple of concepts. Every summer during the full moon I try to catch the moon in the ocean to make a wish. I have written a few fairy tale and light sided pieces about the concept, but had an idea to explore a darker side of it. I feel like Tuyet would have been the type of character to pull this. Hope you enjoyed!
  7. The Matoran rendition of my self-moc, Poraru, built for a Matoran collab I did with some other builders!
  8. Metru nui, which was the most densely populated part of the matoran universe, and had about 1000 inhabitants, so if i had to guess, comoaring the size of metru nui to the rest of the universe, there would be around 5000 other matoran in the matoran universe. But that's just a theory - a Bionicle the- ok sorry about that. Let me know your opinion, if i missed something, you found a reliable source, or if you have your own theory. I also included a picture of the matoran universe so you could do your own comparison.
  9. Well, the BZPRPG is back, act 3 has begun. It’s been like a decade since I was in act 1, and things have changed both in-universe and out. For one thing, Dece has adopted the identity of Kanohi, much like in Six Kingdoms. Although actually I originally created the plot point ofKanohi for BZPRPG Act 3, it just took a while for BZPRPG to get started so I adapted him fir SKE in the meantime. And it did require some adapting, the rules are a bit different here, Mata-Nui lacks the Kanoka of Metru-Nui for one. So to help setup the Kanohi of act 3, and flesh out an off screen adventure, I wrote this short story about him. I am posting it today for the one month anniversary of act 3 beginning. It’s a standalone adventure, it’s not needed to read his adventures in Le-Wahi or vice versatile read this story. It just adds some context. I will say this story takes place three days before my first Kanohi post, for anyone following the timeline. With that said, enjoy this little story. … What do you see, Dece? Kanohi bolted upright and swiped up his Volo Lutu Launcher, his heartlight flashing and his many wooden masks rattling from the violent motion. His lungs pumped out a hacking gasp of air, as his optics darted around him. Their lens searched through the gasps in his masks, his head pivoting on its socket. There was nothing there, save the early morning sunlight that lit Le-Wahi. A beam of light had merely drifting across his head. He could hear crackling, but his optics identified the sound as a pair of Brakas chattering to themselves The cross-wired Fe-Matoran slumped against the tree, rustling the crude hammock he had made of vines and the trees branches. He lay there, tracing his metal fingers through the grooves in his masks, trying to stabilize his pounding heartlight. Another dream, another nightmare of that wicked Matoran with the Hau who thought himself the Makuta. Finally he sighed and holstered his Volo Lutu Launcher, before he began readjusting his armor, making sure each mask was secure. The straps for each wooden mask were made of braided plant fiber, each mask acted as plate of armor, greaves, shoulder pads, chest plate, he even wore one over his true mask. They can’t recognize me, I don’t look like Dece, I am Kanohi; the Mask. I help people. Dece couldn’t help people. Dece … Dece didn’t save people. I save people. He drummed his masks, trying to recenter himself. The thudding of metal fingers tapping wood centered him, helping him calm down. He was safe. He … he was safe. Kanohi sat fully up, he could hear the hammock creak and buckle beneath him, he wasn’t surprised. The rush job he made it in almost guaranteed it could not last to support the Fe-Matoran another night. It wasn’t the first time. So for now as it held, he would focus. The Fe-Matoran reached underneath a mask, pulling out of a slot a Takea’s tooth. The sharp fang had been gutted into a shell, housing a mechanism of metal and stone. He flicked it, and a small flame erupted from it. He stared into the flame, he could hear his vocal processor already beginning to sputter. S-still, he was Kanohi, he needed to help the travelers of the jungle. B-because then, maybe one day, he… The flame danced before him, rising and falling. His mechanized throat began to hack as he remembered that all consuming flame, even as the lighter’s fire seemed to grow, embers stretching from it before snapping off, like straining rope from his Volo Lutu Launcher. His heartlight was pounding again, imagining smoke gushing from the fire into his chassis. Finally the Matoran of Iron snapped shut the lighter. A vision wasn’t coming. But his visions were … it was the only thing valuable about him. It’s the only reason the False Makuta cared about him. It’s all he could offer. S-still, he was Kanohi, he would help the Matoran. He stowed the lighter away and shakily stood up, nearly toppling off the branch as he did so. Fe-Matoran were not meant to enjoy the treetops, it was not his environment. But that made it safer for him. And he could do more good here. Kanohi drew his Volo Lutu Launcher and steadied his aim at a nearby tree’s outstretched branch. He squeezed the trigger, and the iron hook hurled from its barrel. Trailing behind the hook was a tail of braided cord, linking the projectile to its launcher. Then with a thud the hook latched to a tree branch, wedged in. Springs in the Volo Lutu Launcher straining, yearning to draw close again. With a lurch Kanohi hurtled forward, yanked through the air on the rapidly recoiling rope. With a smash he smacked into the branch, the hook slotting back into the gadget. He climbed up onto the branch and fired again, launching to another tree. He was a Matoran of Iron, he could endure much more physical exertion or abuse than other breeds of Matoran, even without his armor. So he kept grappling from tree to tree, smashing through the twigs and leaves of the jungle’s canopy, the broken shards tumbling to the forest floor. Kanohi barreled through the jungle, startling Taku from their nests. He tried to call out “sorry” to the fleeing Rahi, but all that came out was a hack. Talking was still a luxury he did not possess. The jungles of Le-Wahi made up a large chunk of Mata-Nui, roughly the southern two-fifths of the island. All sorts of Rahi lived her, foraging and hunting among the trees. Le-Koro was here too, though Kanohi did not head into town much. He … there were multiple reasons why. Then he heard a cry. Immediately he grappled around towards the shouts, hurtling and smashing through sticks and twigs towards the sound. The tree branches smacked and scraped his armor, he flinched, but he had to keep going. Someone needed help. N-Nichou would understand. He had been unworthy of the Wanderer’s Company too. No, that wasn’t fair, that suggested the Wanderer’s Company was wrong. But Stannis and the other Maru, Kanohi had seen their deeds, had visions of their heroics. Had visions of … the ones who fell short. The Toa Maru were great heroes, the greatest in the history of Mata-Nui. Him not measuring up to them was because of his flaws. Not a fault of theirs. But even if he was not destined to be a great Toa, he would still help people as best he could. Because he was Kanohi, the vigilante of Le-Wahi. He slammed into a tree branch and scrambled atop it, before looking around. There, an orange Ta-Matoran was clutching his mask, screeching out a static squeal. His heartlight was pounding violently. He was in distress. The sound sent Kanohi’s heartlight pulsing, the noise making him unsteady. But he knew firsthand how overwhelming things could be, and Kanohi was “cross-wired” himself after all. He had experienced sensory overload before. It was not fun. And the simple fact was that Kanohi needed to help him. He sounded really hurt, and much pained noise might attack a predatory Rahi. Kanohi grappled down, coming to the Matoran of Fire. His first thought was to speak comfortingly, but his vocal processor was as rough as gravel, what sound he made was strained and indecipherable. The vigilante Fe-Matoran raised his hands to embrace the Ta-Matoran, then pulled back. Getting squeezed by a stranger was never comforting, he knew that from experience. And if his pain was physical, he might hurt the other Matoran. Ta-Matoran were not as sturdy as himself. What should he do? The screeching was jagged as gravel, it sent his pistons flexing with unease. He … the sound was overwhelming to the vigilante’s sensors. But Kanohi had to help. He clutched his head and drummed his mask, trying to help himself think. Okay, first, check the Ta-Matoran’s symptoms. Kanohi looked over the Matoran, he seemed fine, outside of the screaming … wait. Kanohi focused his optics, this Matoran’s chassis was not orange, his frame was actually red. The front of his torso had been plastered with some powder. A narcotic? Or pollen from a plant? Le-Wahi was home to many carnivorous plants, but could he recall one whose pollen caused pain? He was not really a botanist, but … he could vaguely remember once hearing a Le-Matoran telling the story of spores that made Brakas scream, until the Rahi was attacked and eaten by a Muaka. The spores would take root in the Rahi’s chassis and grow, they needed to be ingested by the large beast. The plants would eventually strangle the Muaka’s gears and it would be paralyzed, and as it lay dying the plants would bloom and release their spores. He … did not do the story justice, it was very nice, accompanied by panflutes. But the point was, if this powder was those spores, this would not only kill this Matoran but a Muaka too, along with Kanohi if he wasn’t careful. He had to move quickly to save three lives. The moral to that folktale was not to blindly accept an easy meal, it said nothing of how to treat the afflicted. The story would not help him here. Instead Kanohi grappled to the treetops, and yanked on the branch. He was dwarfed by the strength of Po-Matoran or Onu-Matoran, but the vigilante was active these days, he had some power behind him. With a rip he pulled off a leafy branch. He hacked out an apology to the tree, before grappling back to the forest floor. He grabbed his canteen and doused the leaves, and then slowly, carefully, he began to brush the Matoran of Fire. Theoretically Kanohi could try to burn the pollen away with his lighter, Ta-Matoran after all had resistance to heat and flames. But resistance was not immunity, and if he burnt another person… The Ta-Matoran stuttered out a scream, and his optics began to focus again. The wet leaves mopped and swept away some of the pollen, helping the Matoran’s heartlight steady its glow. He was breathing heavier, but he was breathing. Soon enough the branch’s leaves were all coated in pollen. Kanohi hooked a tree’s roots and grappled away, before pulling free a chunk of moss from its roots. Coughing out an apology to the mat of plants, he returned to the Ta-Matoran and wiped him down. “Th-thank you,” the Ta-Matoran managed, his optics clenched tight. He was still in pain. But before Kanohi could wipe down more of his chassis, there was a large thud behind them. Kanohi’s masks rattled as he swerved behind him to see trees shaking. Something big was coming towards them. Quickly Kanohi crouched and pointed to the Matoran of Fire, before pointing to his back. “I … if the pollen is still on me—” But then a closer tree shook, and the Ta-Matoran scrambled onto Kanohi’s back, trying to grip the notches in he mask playing his back. Kanohi swayed under the weight, and the sensors on his back seemed to prickle. But discomfort or not, the vigilante Matoran knew he had to hurry. Shakily he raised his Volo Lutu Launcher, hooking a branch near the top of a tree. In a rush the two Matoran were wrenched from the forest four, landing in a heap in the tree. Below them was a roar, and a yellow and black shadow broke through the clearing before smashing into the tree, cracking the trunk and shattering dark wildly. Kanohi staggered but fired his Volo Lutu Launcher again, hurling away from the Muaka. He thumped against the next tree but launched his grappling hook again, barely slowing to recover. The Ta-Matoran grunted and groaned with each collision, but he still held on. There was a roar in the distance, Kanohi tried not to guess if the Muaka was still pursuing them, instead focusing on moving away and keeping the other Matoran secure. His servos and pistons strained from the weight, the leaves blinded him, his back tingled uncomfortably, and the branches slashed him. But Kanohi kept moving, he had to. “Th-thank you, again,” the Ta-Matoran managed as Kanohi continued to grapple them along, “ m-my name is Tarama. I … I was just trying to scavenge a Muaka carcass, then everything was pain. I tried to run away, run anywhere, but eventually it got too much.” Kanohi nodded vaguely. He knew how dangerous Le-Wahi could be. It’s why he stayed here, to rescue travelers, explorers, even wanderers. To be there for those Matoran and other breeds that otherwise could have been lost and forgotten in the Jungle. Finally Kanohi collapsed, thumping into a tree. He lay among the branches, heartlight pounding, even as Tarama looked around with his telescopic lens. “I … I don’t see the beast, I think we got away. Thank you, so much. Um, but who am I thanking?” Kanohi lay there hyperventilating for a time, before shoving upright. He was tired, his body ached, and his back was on fire, the pollen irritating his chassis. Still, he had saved a Matoran, helped someone. It was worth it. Shakily he lifted his finger, and pointed to one of his masks. “Ruru?” The vigilante shook his head, and pointed to his masks again, as well as Tarama’s own Arthron. “Kanohi?” the Matoran of Fire guessed, and Kanohi nodded, slumping back down. “S-should we wait a bit, Kanohi?” Tarama offered, and the vigilante nodded. The Ta-Matoran awkwardly shifted onto the branch, trying to stay balanced. Kanohi leaned against the tree, his heartlight unsteady. As he laid there, Tarama coughed, “um, I hate to ask, but I don’t do well in the cold. I know it’s not that cold but my damp armor and it’s still barely day and all. Do … do you have a Heatstone I could use?” The Fe-Matoran flinched, but helping was the right thing. Shakily they pulled free their lighter, and offered it to the Matoran of Fire. He dipped his head in thanks and ignited it, huddling around the flame. The flame seemed to shift and twist in Kanohi’s optics, the flame shooting out like the cord of his Volo Lutu Launcher. It stretched and retracted, stretched and retracted, almost mimicking the beat of a heartlight. It seemed to reach closer and closer to Kanohi, growing thicker and thicker. Smack. Kanohi tumbled as a long wind smacked into him. He careened out of the sky as a Gukko flew above him, a Le-Matoran riding atop. A caravan trailed after the four winged Rahi, knocking about its cargo of lumber. Suddenly the Rahi bucked, and a log fell from its cargo, hurtling at Kanohi’s face. He rolled away, the log smacking right where he had been laying. Shakily he stood up, even as the log ignited. He stumbled back as smoke erupted from the chunk of lumber, the inferno engulfed his sight, blinding him to reality. Fire latched onto him like tendrils, strangling him in a cocoon. As he was dragged into the binds of smoke he flailed, his chest crushed between the gas. Then suddenly the gas condensed tightening into cords of vine. He slid out of them, thumping onto the roots of a tree. Before him he could see a fallen Le-Matoran, her goods scattered like the stars in the sky, her Mount impaled on a tree. She lay limp caked on mud before suddenly jerking upright, staggering on two legs. But her movements were unnatural, and in the gloom of the swamp, he could faintly see thick strings puppeting her limbs. There was a rush of wind and Kanohi was knocked off balance, nearly tripping again. He steadying himself, before realizing in horror he stood before the Gukko. The Rahi was still impaled by a jagged tree, oozing green lubricant dripping from its pierced chassis. The vigilante stumbled backwards, only to thump into someone his height. He spun around, and his vision seemed to blur and slow. He fell to the ground as the world melted before him, standing before him was the Le-Matoran, her body raising from the ground, strange arms suspending her upright, each of the limbs holding her bursting from a tree, and each vaguely resembled a Toa’s arms— Kanohi gasped out, heartlight panting. A vision. A Le-Matoran merchant was going to fall out of the sky? He … he had to get her— He fell back down, still too exhausted. He shuddered, closing his optics. He … his visions were vague, confusing, he had no idea when this vision would occur. Nor did he know if this vision was literal. Maybe it wasn’t a Le-Matoran trader crashing to the ground. Maybe it was the Le-Koro economy crashing, or the Gukko Force failing in a future battle. Regardless, Kanohi was too drained to do anything about it now. And Tarama was in trouble right now, he still had to get the Matoran of Fire to safety. He … he needed to get his fellow Matoran to the safety of a settlement first, then look for the Le-Matoran. And to do that, he unfortunately had to rest first. Weak, failure, what kind of Fe-Matoran struggled after only this much trouble. He was too weak, he was never going to be worthy. Still, his optics drifted to Tarama, huddling around the fire. This Matoran was alive because of him. He helped save him. He had even lent him his lighter to stay warm, the one relic he had kept from his life as Dece. He … he had done good. Kanohi sighed, heartlight still unease, but steadier now. He was no Toa Maru, no Akiri, he was not a great hero. But he still was a hero, and he still could do good. And helping out in small ways, saving singular lives, that mattered too. He just wished he could believe that.
  10. I haven't had the free time to cook up a proper entry for BBC Contest #78:The Good 20-20! unfortunately, but out of nostalgia and solidarity I was determined to participate in some way. As a result, I whipped up this quick and simple Matoran build dedicated to BZPower member and fan comic creator Dark709. Early in the history of Bionicle and BZP, as a wee lad and eager fan I happened upon Dark709's comics which introduced me to the fandom. I'd spend years lurking before joining the forum in 2007.
  11. Keep your eyes open for the end of August...
  12. https://youtu.be/8XElUAMXy0M A small preview of things to come...
  13. So it’s been a while since I posted a story here. Today however is the last day of Six Kingdoms Apocalypse, the final part in the trilogy of RPGs that brought me back to bzp. It’s been a wild time, met friends for the first time in nearly a decade, made some new ones, it’s been fun. And to celebrate, I figured I would post a new story. This one for once does not star Kanohi, this is about a PC I might use in the future for an RPG. This is a story about Matoran, and the flaws of their society. It takes place after the last canon pieces of Bionicle Gen 1, in a future after Marendar and Velika had been fought. Hopefully you folks enjoy this story, and here’s to Six Kingdoms. It’s been a fun ride. … Ko-Ka glided across the shattered streets, her feet sliding atop a cushion of ice. The cross-wired Ga-Matoran kicked her feet out as she skated, her hands outstretched as her fur-lined cloak billowed behind her. Blasts of light lit up the sky, frost covered the ground in unnatural patches. The very earth was a powder glued in place by a thick layer of ice, the city’s buildings crumbled under their own weight. Ko-Ka adjusted her hood to shield her optics from the light show as the city crumbled and cracked around her. The Matoran of Water hugged her cloak to her body with her left hand, even as she held her right hand outstretched, her servos fidgeting. Up ahead she could see a building crumbling, and she crouched to skate quicker. As she dived at it she clamped her hand around the walls, and from her hands frost erupted, plastering over the cracks in the concrete. Her vocal processor scratched as she screeched, “Get out of here, the building is collapsing.” Matoran and Agori piled out of the home, running out and tripping over their feet. She used her left hand to haul one up, shouting, “Take care, head for the south side of the city.” The Su-Matoran nodded and sprinted away, the group hurrying away. The building creaked as more of it cracked, and Ko-Ka planted both hands against it, solidifying it under a plaster of ice. Her optics narrowed as she continued to freeze over the wall commune home, even as explosive blasts of light hurled through the air. … Kofoka’s optics widened beneath her blue Noble Akaku. The Matoran of Water was crouching on her knees, pleading up to her Vo-Matoran friend. “Please, Vokarda,” The Ga-Matoran begged, “imagine if we could become Toa. Well, not Toa, but still. We could be heroes like the Voya-Nui Resistence. The Chronicler’s Company. Even Kanohi.” “Kofoka, a lot of weird people are mixed up in Project Mangai,” Vokarda sighed, “Vortixx, Dark Hunters, former servants of the Brotherhood—” “And a Turaga and a member of the Voya-Nui Resistance.” “Balta, who never even noticed one of his five closest companions was a total monster. If he had stopped Velika, maybe we would still have Toa.” “…Marendar killed the Toa.” “And Velika killed many too,” Vokarda shook her head, “no, Kofoka. I can’t join you. If you want to mutilate yourself for a chance at power, I won’t stop you. But I am not going to be experimented on with whatever they are planning. For one thing. Me and Mahrika have a date tonight, and I don’t want to risk crumbling her to bits.” “…F-fine. I will go alone,” Kofoka swallowed. … The lab of Project Mangai was a small Knowledge Tower, located on the north side of Metru-Nuva in the district of Ko-Metru. Ko-Matoran and De-Matoran eyed Kofoka as she walked through the frigid quiet streets, she was humming to herself, her wrists flapping at her sides. The buildings were marble white, with trace silver decorations. The windows were cyan, and the bulk of the buildings were crystalline, covered in harsh angles. Kofoka shivered as she walked, but was still too excited to complain. She eager clasped the door and slid it open, before happily walking into the building. Ko-Matoran eyed her as she approached, a few huffing in her direction. If she noticed their annoyance, she did not react. Instead she approached the front desk and said, “Um, excuse me, I am here to become a hero. Um, I mean, I am here for today’s K-Test.” She pulled a metal card out of her pocket, and passed it over. “Rrrrright,” the Ko-Matoran receptionist rolled his eyes as he handed the card back, “yeah, it checks out. Head back, third room—” But Kofoka was already gone, hurrying to the room. She knew the way. She hurried inside, only for someone to shout, “Hold it, Subject Ga-7.” She stopped as a Ko-Matoran technician approached her, and pointed outside, “wait out there. Subject Ce-3 is having her final K-Test now.” “Yeah, get out of here,” the Ce-Matoran spat. The blue and gold Matoran wore a dark blue Noble Kaukau, the navy translucent mask glinting. She was magnetized through electricity to a tight translucent metal container, which had a large slot in its back. A Ko-Matoran stood besides the slot, holding a large disk roughly the size of her mask. “Oh come now, there’s no harm,” offered Turaga Nuparu as he adjusted a few dials, “she’ll be undergoing the same kind of test shortly, she might as well be prepared.” “Agreed,” the Vortixx grinned a serpentine grin as traced their fingers against the Kanoka Blade that hung to their side, “but do not worry, friend. I will not let harm to to you.” Kofoka curtsied in thanks and sat cross legged on the floor, waiting. The Ko-Matoran sighed before lifted up the disk and dropped it into the machine’s slot. A lid slid over the slot, and the disk was pulled by mechanical arms into position in the machine, “Okay, beginning fusion process now,” Turaga Nuparu smiled as he flipped a few switches, and the machine began to tremble. Steam began to vent out of it as it compressed, and the disk began to to ripple. The Ga-Matoran watched with awe as the mechanical arms began to push the disk against Ce-3’s back, and she immediately let out a gasp in pain. She clenched up as tubing inside the machine began to pump a brightly glowing liquid, dripping into her body and the disk. Waves of energy emitted from inside the machine, bombarding Ce-3, the liquid and the disk. The Matoran of Psionics screeched out as the power pounded against her, and Kofoka stood up. “Is … is she going to be okay?” As Ce-3 shuddered the disk was pushed against her back, and slowly it seemed to stretch and squeeze into the cracks in her metal chassis. The Matoran of Psionics let out a moan as the disk sunk through her armor, gasping out loudly. Kofoka reached her hand towards the machine. “A-are you okay?” She asked, as Ce-3 shuddered inside the machine. “F-fine,” The blue and gold Matoran spat, even as the machinery began to hiss. Chunks of the chamber began to crack, and her body began to crack too. Her armor grew jagged as parts of it crumbled away, and her mask began to dissolve. The Vortixx lunged off from their platform, rushing to the chamber. Kofoka was not far behind, springing at her fellow Matoran. With their long arms the Vortixx forced the chamber open and tore Ce-3 free, dropping her on the floor. “Careful, friend.” Kofoka reached the other Matoran even as her mask crumbled to pieces. The dust fell onto Kofoka’s lap, and she cradled her. The Ce-Matoran’s heartlight had already began to fade. So soon? Matoran of Psionics were usually more resistant to loosing their masks. The Ga-Matoran swallowed and pulled off her own mask, wrenching it free of the magnetic pull of her metal face. She swayed, already getting woozy. It … it almost looked like the Ce-Matoran’s gold body was shining… Before she could hand her mask over, the Vortixx shoved it back onto her head. They says simply, “you need your mask, friend. I do not.” The much taller Protoderm pulled off their mask and put it onto the Ce-Matoran, whose eyes began to glow again. “What … what happened to me?” Ce-3 managed, putting her hands on the ground. Immediately the floor began to crumble, only stopping when she lifted up her hands. “Replacement mask of friend is not crumbling,” the Vortixx noted as they eyed her, “the initial empowerment may have been the cause. Friend’s chassis seems heavily damaged, will need repairs—” “No,” the Ce-Matoran answered quickly, shoving them away, though with their massive size she failed to move him. Ce-3 stood up and walked forward, cracks appearing in her steps. But with each step, the cracks diminished. She paused in front of a mirror, looking at her jagged rusted armor. She traced her finger in her reflection, only for the mirror to crumble. Ce-3 smiled. “It’s perfect.” … “No, we are not continuing this experiment.” “Vican, I know you are nervous, but the Kanoka machine is fixed and had been reinforced.” Turaga Nuparu explains as he leaned against his drill-shield, “It was just a minor miscalculation. Please understand Kanoka are not a new technology, Matoran have had them for over fifteen thousand years. This is just a variant on the Kanoka Blades of the Vortixx.” “It’s completely different when you give that kind of power to a monster,” snapped the mutated Le-Matoran, his claws flexing, “Giving the power of a Kanoka disk to a sword is completely different than fusing the power of a Kanoka to a Matoran. Matoran don’t even have the mental strength to use Kanoka Blades. We just hurl disks at each other.” “You didn’t object before,” Balta said quietly, “in fact you were the one to suggest using Kanoka technology instead of Viruses. What changed?” “Well you clearly didn’t vet the Matoran you tested on.” “Is something wrong with Kra?” “Is something wrong with ‘Kra?’” Vican was incredulously, “she…” He paused and said quickly, “well she enjoys her power too much for a start. First thing she does with it is shatter a mirror, refuses to have her armor mended. and she’s had a Jutlin as her replacement mask. She clearly loves destruction.” “We only have five test Kanoka, Protodermis is too tightly regulated. The Disk of Weakening had to go to someone. And she’s a Matoran, barely tougher than an Agori. She’s just unused to having power.” Vican scowled and said, “I will fight you on this.” “As will I,” a voice said in the room, though the speaker was not in sight, “I know too well what happens when Matoran experiment on people with no care for sense.” “Phantom and Vican vote to stop. Nuparu, Collector?” The Turaga said, “I trust in our Matoran. The work continues.” Collector nodded as well. The purple Vortixx’s fingered their Kanoka Blade, whiffs of frost coming off the cyan sword. Balta sighed, “I vote to continue too. We are too vulnerable right now. Without our Toa, we need something.” “You once said you don’t need to be a Toa to be a hero. Voya-Nui existed without Toa for a thousand years.” “I still believe that. But people still need heroes. The Matoran need hope. And the Kanoka Mangai will give them hope.” … “I am surprised you agreed to come back,” Turaga Nuparu said as Kofoka stepped into the machine, “No one would have blamed you if you left.” “I-I know, but I want to be a hero. Like the greats. Kanohi, Balta, Piruk, Macku, Tanms, Solek, Dalu, Kazi, Takua…” She forced a smile as she continued though her fingers drummed against the metal nervously. “Hey, you can’t be in here—” “Shut it,” A familiar gold and blue Matoran walked into view, looking up at Kofoka. Ce-3 eyed her and said “you ever punched someone before?” “Um, n-no, but I used to pretend I had claws like the great scout Piruk.” Ce-3 rolled her eyes, “okay, weirdo. Remember how it felt to tense up your ‘claws,’ holding them back to prepare to slash someone’s throat? And then how it felt to slice them through the air?” “U-um, yes?” “Tense up to hold your power in, remember the sensation of slashing to release it. There, we are even now,” Ce-3 marched off as quickly as she entered. “W-wait, thank you.” “We are even,” Ce-3 retorted as she left Kofoka’s sight, leaving the Ga-Matoran alone. “Activating the current,” Collector interrupted, and a surge of electricity set Kofoka’s jaw rattling beneath her mask. Her biomechanical fingers magnetized to the handholds, and her body rigidly locked into place. She was lifted into the air, as the machine locked into position. Behind her she could hear arguing, one of the Ko-Matoran was fighting with a Nynrah Ghost it seemed. “…She doesn’t deserve this power.” “None of your breed have wanted to take the risk, not after Ce-3. So until a Matoran of Ice is willing to take the risk, this Matoran is the closest to a match we have. So, are you volunteering…” Kofoka winced, she wanted to drum her fingers, to fidget and burn off her growing anxious energy. But her body was magnetized shut. Thump. She could hear the machine clung behind her. She wished she could turn around. Fluid began to pump into the chamber, the harsh glow of Energized Protodermis beat into her optics. She tried to close them tight, but the magnetism had locked them open. She couldn’t flinch, couldn’t brace herself, couldn’t even cry. She wanted to shuddered as she felt lukewarm liquid oozing into her, only for the fluid to suddenly drop to a harsh cold. Then came a blinding light as energy pounded into her. Her optics begged for release, to cry from the overstimulation. Then she shivered as cold embraced her. It was a harsh chill, making her biomechanical muscles stand on end. She felt frost creeping across her hands, chest, and mask, plastering them white. Her jaw chattered from the cold as ice began to form over the translucent wall of the room. Finally the machine slide back down and released her. Kofoka tumbled to the ground, her eyes leaking frozen tears as frost spread out of her like a web. There was a large crash besides her as Collector slipped on the ice, falling on their back. Shakily Kofoka tried to stand up, only to slip on the ice and fall too. Her mask hit the floor first, she felt it urgently, was it broken like Ce-3’s? “R-right,” she swallowed as memory hit her, and tried to tense up her body. She imagined herself in a dense jungle on Voya-Nui, hunted by the Piraka. The thick brambles locked her in, she would need to cut through them with her claws. She held her arms back in preparation, and the frost lofting off her diminished. The cold decreased. Shakily she crawled on the floor towards Collector, even as they stood up. “Are you alright, friend?” “I think so.” Cold air still embraced her chassis, but her tears no longer were froze, dripping as vented fluid. “I … I think I have a hold of it. And um, you can call me Ko-Ka.” The Spirit of Ice. … Ko-Ka imagined herself a spring as she released her tense and then restrained it again, frost emitting from her feet as she attempted to skate across the test track. Away from her Ce-3 was sculpting a slab of rock by weakening it in key areas, crumbling away chunks of it to shape it. The design was beginning to twist into a bat-like visage. “You are doing great, Jutlin-Ka,” encouraged Ko-aka as she skated past. “Just call me Ce-3,” the Ce-Matoran answered, “I’m not ‘the Spirit of Weakening.’” “I don’t know, you break that rock with such ease, folks might think you were a Turaga.” Ce-3 huffed in annoyance, right as Ko-Ka slipped on the ice and smacked on her back. Ko-Ka lay there dazed, before feeling a hand clench hers and lift her up. “Focus,” muttered Ce-3, “you are giving us a bad name.” “Oh um, sorry,” Ko-Ka looked away, shaking her hands in a frenzy. They felt numb, though not as numb as her feet, “it’s exciting isn’t it? Getting the chance to be heroes.” “Don’t want to be a hero,” muttered Ce-3 and she released her grip, dripping Ko-Ka to the ground, “this wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s all.” “Well, okay.” Ko-Ka stood up, before shaking out her numb feet, letting the frost shake off of them, “Thank you again for teaching me how to—” “Shut it, just focus on skating,” answered Ce-3 as she went back to sculpting, her fingers tracing lines in the statue. … Ko-Ka skipped across the sidewalk of Metru-Koro, dancing to herself as her rings strummed the air. Finally she was allowed to go home. It had been long enough, they had done so many tests. And she needed to return to Project Mangai first thing tomorrow. But for now, she was free to see her roommate. Boom. She stumbled as a rush of heat even penetrated her wall of cold air. Ok-Ka turned to see smoke billowing out of Av-Kofo, the small neighborhood for Matoran of Light. Was it a fire, she had to help. Quickly she began to skate over, ice propelling her across the ground. She ran forward as Av-Matoran retreated, some of them flying away on their jetpacks, others, blasting the ground with bolts of light to dig a trench to prevent the fire from spreading. Ko-Ka skated over the trench and began to sweep her hand over all the fires. Her fingers winced where the burn of the flames met her frost bitten fingers, and what ice she spread immediately melted. But despite the heat, the melted ice still extinguished the flames. She skated along, dousing the fire, before spitting a familiar sight. “Ce-3, good to see you. Quick, can you help deepen the trench? Sever some structures that could spread the flames?” The Ce-Matoran flinched, before grunting, “yeah, sure.” As she ran down the trench, her feet and hands widened and deepening it, Ko-Ka smiled. Good to see another empowered Matoran had responded to this crisis. And Ce-3 had said she did not want to be a hero. Ce-3 continued to widen the break in the ground, as Ko-Ka skated about, extinguishing more flames. She pirouetted as she went, happy to burn herself as she helped her fellow Matoran. Av-Matoran were the strongest Matoran. Not only could they change their colors to disguise themselves as other breeds, but they were the only Matoran to have any access to their elements. They could fire bolts of light, not as strong as a Toa, but still, it was impressive. It was strange that no Av-Matoran were allowed at Project Mangai, it seems like they would be a natural fit. The skating Ga-Matoran dived suddenly, her chest producing ice to slid on. With a scoop she caught a falling Av-Matoran, before lowering him to the ground. “Um, thanks you. How did you do that?” “Ko-Ka,” she smiled, “I’m a hero.” And then she skated away. Finally the fire sizzled out, and Ko-Ka skated over to Ce-3. “We did it, sister,” she shouted, holding out her hand for a fist bump. Ce-3 sighed, but fist bumped her regardless. “Excuse me,” a Av-Matoran squeezed forward, wearing a Noble Akaku, “Chronicler Solek here. Who are you? How did you do those things?” “I am Ko-Ka, and this is Ce—” “Jutlin-Ka,” interrupted Ce-3 suddenly, though she kept her head down and looked away. “Right. Anyway we are part of Project Mangai, an attempt to infuse Matoran with the power of Kanoka disks. I have Freezing, she has Weakening, there are three others, though they aren’t ready to leave the building yet.” “Incredible,” Solek clapped his hands, “a new breed of Toa, saving Av-Kofo. This is just like the Toa Mata saving us from the Avohkah. What can you tell us about yourselves? Why did you want to heroes?” A few Av-Matoran shook their heads at his excitement, but he ignored them. “Oh well, I am a Ga-Matoran from the isle of Mata-Nui. Used to have the name Kofoka, but ‘Little Spirit,’ doesn’t quite fit me now. Jutlin-Ka—” But as Ko-Ka turned Jutlin-Ka was already gone from sight. … “Part of your contract was not to reveal your powers. That was up for us to reveal,” Vican said angrily, “now every Matoran will be demanding powers.” “There was a fire, I had to do something. Turaga Nokama and Gaaki would be at the other side of. Metru-Nuva, I couldn’t wait for them.” “You did more than save them, you had an interview, boasting of your powers. You probably caused that fire in the first place.” “I … I would never.” Ko-Ka stumbled back. Did … did he really think so little of her? Had she done something wrong? “You are as cross-wired as they come. There is no limit to the justifications you could invent.” “Vican, she may be cross-wired, but she is not you,” Turaga Nuparu said quietly. Vican flinched, and looked away, his bat-like wings tucking behind him. “Sorry,” the Le-Matoran sighed, “Despite what our wise Turaga thinks, we still don’t understand most of this technology. It would be too easy for it to get out of control, or for it to be abused. We need to be careful. Understand?” “R-right,” she nodded, then swallowed, “b-but if people need help, I will help them. It’s what heroes do. But I won’t take more interviews.” “The cross-wired freak could have done worse,” interrupted a voice. Ko-Ka turned to see a solid white Ko-Matoran approaching, wearing a Great Akaku. “Councilor Konui. I was not expecting you,” Vican said as his claws stretched. “No? The stunt was across every telescreen in Metru-Nuva, and several outside it. Everyone has seen the power of Ice.” Councilor Konui did not match eyes with Ko-Ka, though he glanced at her curiously. “I believed we agreed a Ko-Matoran would receive the power of the first element.” “Ice was not the first element,” Collector interrupted, “the first Matoran were Av-Matoran, the first Toa was a Toa of Water.” They were crouching, struggling to fit in the Matoran sized hallway. “Silence, schemer,” Konui said, and Collector winced, their hand going to their Kanoka Blade, “Mata-Nui is dead, the Great Beings died in their Civil War. I only trust in the Cold Truth of science.” He thumped his staff to the ground, making the snow globe in his Spector shake. “It … if you check the records and date all Matoran—” “That is lie! Told by your kind, Vortixx. The first Ko-Matoran were silenced, to prevent the Cold Truth from being known. Even in the records, the first to make a Kanoka was a Ko-Matoran, and the only basic disk to have an influence of an element is Ice. Ice is the core, from the cold all life began, until cold engulfs the world.” Phantom interrupted, “Your cult aside—” “We are no cult, unlike the mad scientists who made you. The Cold Truth are the only reason your project exists. It is the only reason you have access to any Protodermis, let alone disks. Shall I revoke our support, and put your Protodermis towards making the Great Mothers?” “Yes.” Phantom answered simply and firmly, like a sledgehammer to an opened hand. “No,” Konui said slowly, “no. No, I should just remove you from the project. We don’t need a former Dark Hunter in our midst. In fact yes, you are gone, silenced! Begun from my sight, heretic.” “Fine. I needed to resuming guarding the city anyway. Since until your project is done, I am the best protector this city has.” Heavy footsteps echoed away, not with anger but with a coldness. “Now, where was I?” “I-I had not screwed up too badly?” Ko-Ka swallowed as she looked at Konui’s chest. She couldn’t match eyesight on her best days, and his anger, his many words, she’s felt suddenly very small. “No,” Konui muttered, “though I appreciate how even a Ga-Matoran with agony leave, of frost is more useful than the Matoran of Light. Then more clearly he said, “I remember, tell me, why was she given the power of Ice?” “Freezing is not true Ice, it lacks elemental energy,” then before Konui could interrupt Turaga Nuparu continued, “and it was because no Ko-Matoran were willing to undergo the enhancement. Not after one of our test subject’s mask turned to dust from the power.” “You lie again. Any noble Ko-Matoran would have trust in the Cold Truth. Let me first. The next Matoran you empower will be a Ko-Matoran with the power of Ice. If fact, I will go first.” “Fine. If you can supply us with more disks.” “I have been saving a level eight disk of Freezing for this purpose.” Collector coughed, their hand still grazing against their Kanoka Blade, “friend—” “You are no friend of mine. And if you try to strike me with the oversized knife, you will find your exiled to the Vorox.” “I … I understand. But a Level Eight Kanoka is as strong as a Great Mask. A Matoran cannot use the power of any masks, a Turaga can use Noble, and Toa, Makuta, and Vortixx can use Great masks.” “I know how masks work.” Collector seemed to shrink and looked away, but now Bakta was speaking, “Do you? Level eight disk are as powerful as a disk can be. Only a Great Disk would be stronger. That much raw power, you would not handle it.” “But I can, and I will. If a mere Matoran of Water can wield Ice, I can master it.” … “Hey Jutlin-Ka,” Ko-Ka skated up, though Jutlin-Ka did not turn around. “Yeah um, what do you know about the Cold Truth?” “Don’t mess with them,” Jutlin-Ka cut her off. “Yeah, Konui seems … intense. I know they were a recent religion—” “Ha. They are a bunch of idiots desperate to be important,” Jutlin-Ka laughed bitterly, “their god not only got usurped by the Makuta, but under this real sky they can’t ‘see the future.’ They are terrified they don’t have a purpose, that they are as weak as any Agori. People like Konui gives them meaning, tells them they matter. A higher purpose. He gives them someone to blame, ‘the other Matoran lie, they are just jealous. ‘Have you ever seen an Av-Matoran until the Makuta took control? They are imposters and usurpers, robbing your glory. They drain resources from Ko-Metru with their light shows, and they are arrogant, think they are better than you.’” She shook her head, “he’s not lying there.” “Point is he gives them a target and a meaning. Ans they would do anything for that meaning.” She paused, “Lot of folks are like that I suppose. Desperate to belong. Or maybe just to lord power over others. Av-Kofo is a bit smaller for the number of Matoran living there.” She gestured to the cramp complex of communal houses. “Well, is it so bad to want to belong?” “You want to belong, huh? Be a hero, be important?” Jutlin-Ka laughed, “trust me, you that desperate to be important, you’ll fall for anyone who promises you that kind of glory. Anything that contradicts that importance you reject, violently.” “They are violent?” “Don’t go in Ko-Metru at night is all I will say. They tolerate De-Matoran because they are quiet, but you start showing off your command of ‘their element?’ They won’t take it well. Not when their only connection to their element is ‘resistance to low temperatures.’” She laughed again. “I … I mean, I just have better lungs and better swimming skills,” she paused to shake out her numb metal feet. That cold resistance did not feel that dismissible to her. She continued, “All Matoran have pretty limited ties to our elements. Except Av-Matoran.” Jutlin-Ka was silent for a time. Finally she said with a coldness far sharper than Ko-Ka’s frigid feet, “…Why did you try to give me your mask?” “Well you are a Matoran, you need your mask.” “And so do you. So, why? You did not know me. All you have seen of me is a freak who hates everyone and loves destruction. Why care?” Ko-Ka paused, “well, I am cross-wired. I am a freak too.” “You have a condition. I am just a jerk. Why care about me?” “I don’t know. Because it’s the right thing to do, I guess.” “Right thing to do,” scoffed Jutlin-Ka, “well that’s not in my nature. I don’t do the right thing. Just make things worse for everyone else. You should avoid me.” “You saved Av-Kofo.” “Yeah, and I broke the generator to start the fire.” “…Don’t joke about that.” “Karzahni, you really are cross-wired. I served the Brotherhood of Makuta. Willingly. I served the Makuta when he usurped your ‘god’ Mata-Nui. And if the Makuta returned, the proper Makuta, I would serve them again.” “A-a lot of people served the Makuta. S-so did Vican, if the rumors are true—” “Look, I am evil!” Shouted Jutlin-Ka and a scorching light erupted from her hands. Burning radiance slammed into Ko-Ka, knocking her to the ground. There was a quiet gasp, but it did not come from Ko-Ka. The ‘Spirit of Ice’ groaned as her chest ached, before pushing herself upright. In the distance she could see Jutlin-Ka sprinting away, her armor a bright gold and pale white. … Ko-Ka stood up as Solek approached. She had been helping cool the backup generator of Av-Kofo, it had suffered damage in the fire. Or maybe it had been damaged before that event. “Amazing, do you tire of doing that?” “Not really. It’s pretty easy I … I am not supposed to talk about my powers, that’s supposed to be for Project Mangai to announce.” She stood up and shook out her hand. Not just to fidget, but because the frost had started to plaster over her servos. “Hey I am the Chronicler, I record history for all of Metru-Nuva. New heroes are my business.” “I … Chronicler, do you know of an Av-Matoran who might have done this?” “An Av-Matoran? Pretty sure we aren’t to blame,” he sighed, looking to a group of Ko-Matoran laughing as they threw rocks at the district’s edge. Ko-Ka flinched at the sight, her hand reaching towards them. B-but a hero wouldn’t fight Matoran. Would they? And they weren’t hurting anyone, just breaking windows. “Whoever did it vanished though, they could have changed color.” “Rather not blame my own,” he sighed, “but I know of one Matoran of Light who would. Unless she had a disk of weakening though, she couldn’t get far. And disks are harder to get nowadays, we are still hoarding the remaining Protodermis for the next generation.” “M-maybe she got one though. Who was she?” “Gavla. She always was an outcast in Karda-Nui, quick to anger, a bit weird. Most of the Matoran of her village avoided her, kept her busy away from them.” “She was friendless?” “I suppose so. Then the Makuta came. She was the first of us drained of our light, converted into a monstrous Shadow Matoran. She led all the Shadow Matoran, raiding our villages to convert more of us into monsters. Without the Toa Nuva, the element of Light would be extinct.” “…So she had been corrupted, she wasn’t in control.” “That’s a nice thought. But when Takanuva cured her, she rallied against him. She said she had finally found a place to belong, the Makuta found her useful. Treated her better than we did.” He sighed, “maybe we should have been more understanding of her.” “Do you think she could change? For the better?” “Only if she had the chances and took it. Can’t force people to be better.” Ko-Ka was quiet, thinking “If you want to know more, there’s a Le-Matoran who could help. His name is Vican, he was the first Shadow Matoran to be cured, though he refused to have his physical mutations undone. He had agreed to be mutated by the Makuta in order to have adventures, and I think he kept them to remind him of his past mistakes.” “…Thank you,” she nodded, then paused. “Chronicler?” “Yes?” “I constantly produce freezing temperatures. If I don’t want to freeze everything I touch, I have to hold the power in. I have to use a special heated bed, so I don’t get frostbite.” “You aren’t immune to the cold?” “I am a Ga-Matoran. Not a Ko-Matoran.” … “Oh um, Jutlin-Ka,” Ko-Ka’s optics widened as the ‘Ce-Matoran’ walked out of the training hall, “you … you are still here?” “Don’t talk to me,” Gavla huffed and pushed past her. Her body was blue and gold, still disguised as a Matoran of Psionics. “Um, okay. Sorry I was weird about it,” Ko-Ka waved after her, “if you need someone to talk to, I can try my best.” “What, trying to ‘play Agori?’” remarked a Ko-Matoran, “disgusting.” Ko-Ka winced, but then bit her metal lip. “It c-costs little to b-be nice. She seems very lonely.” “Yeah, so you can squirt fluids on her. What a Ga-Matoran. That power is wasted on you,” he walked away, and Ko-Ka slumped to the ground. She shivered. She … she didn’t like rejection. B-but she shouldn’t just cower. She should be willing to stand up and fight cruelty. Even if it m-made her an outcast. Th-that’s what being a hero should be. She walked into the training hall, to see Kualsi-Ka teleporting around the chamber, vanishing in a flurry of light before reappearing elsewhere. As he blinked across the room he grunted in frustration, and she nodded in sympathy. Disks of Teleportation teleported the user randomly. Controlling it was difficult. A bamboo disk hurled from a launcher at him, and he punched into it, teleporting the powerless disk away. Back down the hall she heard a large crash, before shouts of anger. “H-hey,” she walked up, “you doing okay?” “No, Kohlii-head,” the Su-Matoran grunted, “can barely control this power.” “Oh, um, is there a way I can help?” “You know anything about disks? Masks?” “Well no but—” “Then don’t bother,” Kualsi-Ka teleported away, before reappearing five bios off the ground. He fell with a thud, muttering, “you know, not all of us won the lottery like you and Jutlin-Ka.” He gestured to a nearby stone wall. Small handholds had been gouged out of the stone, Jutlin-Ka was a strong climber. “Y-yeah,” Ko-Ka swallowed, “s-still, if you want someone to talk to.” “Don’t need you finding weakness of mine,” he answered. “Weaknesses? Why?” “You really think all five of us are going to get to be in the limelight? We are just the prototypes. If they get test subjects who respond better, or are more charismatic, we probably end up sent to some backwater Koro to protect. Me, I’m not getting exiled to some Karzahni-forsaken village like a Spiriah.” “It … it would still be being a hero, helping people.” He marched over to her, his feet clanking on the hard floor. Finally he said in a cold voice, “I’m going to be part of the new breed of Toa. I’m not going to be some footnote.” He punched her in her frost-coated chest, and she teleported away. … “S-stop,” Ko-Ka skated up towards a few Ko-Matoran. They were chucking rocks at an Av-Matoran who had fallen on the ground, the Matoran of Light looked bruised, their chassis dented by the hurled stones. A rock chucked her way and she flinched, starting to tuck into a ball. But she resisted she … she should stand up for people. “Wh-why are you hurting them?” “It intruded where it did not belong,” one of them said, picking up a stone and facing her, “I’m a reasonable man, if these lying freak keep to themselves, I ignore them. But when they start parading in public, opening flaunting the upgrades the Makuta gave them. Well, I “I-I didn’t even use my light. And it’s not from the Makuta, they tried to wipe us out..” “Oh sure everyone believes your lies, but we are smarter. Never saw one of your breed until the Makuta took over.” One of them kicked the Av-Matoran. “S-stop,” Ko-Ka skated between them, her arms outstretched, “they did nothing wrong. And I r-remember seeing them before the Makuta took over. I am from Mata-Nui, our Chronicler was an Av-Matoran who became a Toa of light.” “Sure, a savage Mata-Nui girl would say that” a Matoran of Ice laughed, “you folks can barely use stone,” then his eyes narrowed, “you are that heretic who stole our powers aren’t you?” She swallowed and said shakily, “I-it’s not really ice, just Freezing. “Yeah? You even know what freezing is? You know how it differs from Ice? You know the temperature differences” She shivered, her kind was struggling to think as the Ko-Matoran advanced on her, cocky sneers on their faces. “You stole our birthrights, polluted our Destiny, we aren’t going to let you go,” There was a glint in one of their hands and she skated backwards, just as a knife sliced the air. She backed up further and further, shaking. Behind the Matoran of Ice, the Av-Matoran had shakily stood up, and was limping away. G-good. She could bait the mob away. As one swing she ducked and picked his mask, forming a layer of frost on his Anthron. He staggered and snarled, his fingers flexing like claws. She skated away slowly, and they pursued, hurling stones at her back. Some tripped on her ice as she led them away, others merely staggered on it. Few of them refused not to run on her trail. … “Um, Collector, do you have a moment?” The genderless Vortixx spun around and swung open the door, nearly tripping on their long legs. Ko-Ka stepped in, eyeing him. He was more than twice her height, it … she didn’t see many Vortixx in Metru-Nuva. At least, see them outside of Ta-Metru. They frequently worked in the technological districts. “What is wrong, friend?” They smiled creepily as they bent over to fit in their own room, but she chose to ignore that. She had her freezing powers, though her back was still bruised from the hurled rocks. She had plastered first behind her as an icepack though. And even if she was far weaker, she still remember how they rushed to help Gavla and herself. “I … are you okay? When Vican was lecturing me, and Konui came, he was … very unkind to you. I … I should have spoke up then. But I will speak up now.” “Oh um, I am okay. It’s not like he spoke wrongly. I’m a conniving thief, selfish and obsessed,” he laughed, but Ko-Ka didn’t. “You really think that?” “Of course. Vortixx are the lowest of the low, cruel and ruthless in pursuit of money and prestige. No one wants to be a Vortixx. Save monsters.” “You didn’t seem ruthless when you rushed out to help me when I had no control over my powers. You moved so fast you slipped on the ice.” “I … I did not realize you would remember that.” “It was very scary for me. It felt good that someone tried to help,” she paused, “why did you want to make us Matoran stronger?” “Because I want to be a Toa.” “You … you want to be a Toa?” “I know, it’s impossible. Vortixx are not part of your breed’s lifecycle. We do not transform as you did. But I want to be a Toa. And Project Mangai could let me do it.” They licked their lips with their long formed tongue. “Why do you want to be a Toa?” “Matoran love Toa. Toa are the greatest heroes, the greatest people. They have statues, stories, friends. And friendship cannot be taken from you. Not even if you are a freak.” They smiled eagerly, and drew their Kanoka Blade. Ko-Ka tried not to flinch as they showed her. “Toa Kopaka was a Toa of Ice, as cold as they come. But he still had a dear friend. Pohatu and him were always together, supporting each other, never abandoning each other even in the worst moments. Some say they were such dear friends they understood Agori emotions.” “You wanted to be like him?” “I want to be a Toa of Ice,” they nodded, “and through the hard work of Noble Matoran like you, it’s possible.” They beamed, before sheathing their blade. Though they still fidgeted with it, their fingers tickling the glove that was built into the Kanoka Blade, eternally gripping the hilt. Her optics eyed that gestured, and she understood. “Hey, if you ever want to study me when I’m trying to help the city, maybe you could tag along. Maybe help some people too?” “But I am not a Toa.” “Neither am I. You don’t have to be a Toa to be a hero. And it would be fun to hang out with someone who also wants to be a hero. And Vokarda, my roommate, she loves like Agori too. Maybe she would want to hang out with you?” “Fun. Um, okay. Sure. I um, Sure,” their face turned maroon beneath their Great Akaku, and they could not match her gaze. “Alright. Sounds good. I look forward to hanging out, friend.” … Ko-Ka skated down the sidewalk, dressed in a thick fur coat, with heaters strapped to her torso. Her mask, chest, and hands were permanently bleached white, she looked like a Vo-Matoran. But at least now more of her body wouldn’t suffer the same level of damage from the cold. Besides her Collector walked, their legs taking massive strides. The telescopic lens on their Akaku adjusted and focused on everything they passed, even as the mask let them see through the many walls and buildings on the village. “Do you know if Konui wears a Akaku to be like Kopaka?” She asked abruptly. “I … I don’t know. I did not think to wonder. Though given what he is planning I doubt it … ignore that.” “Okay,” she nodded, “how is my body holding up?” “Less burns, there is overall less corrosion from the ice. My apologies, I knew you were suffering damage, I did not realize it was constant. And I am sorry for making Vokarda uncomfortable, I will consider trading my Akaku for a Pehkui. I might be less imposing shrunken.” “It’s okay, you are helping now. And it’s not your fault. I forget sometimes she’s from Xia.” “Poor Vo-Matoran. No one should live in Xia.” She cleared her thought, trying to change the subject, “so, have you ever tried using your Kanoka Blade to skate?” “Um, no. Too clumsy.” “So was I at first.” “...” “Sorry, don’t worry about it. If you want to try, you can, but don’t let anyone pressure you until you are uncomfortable, okay?” “I don’t understand this very well,” Collector admitted, “we are friends. You own me, and I own you. Why are not you forcing me?” “Friends are not possessions.” “They aren’t? Then what are they?” “They … they are a lot of things. They are part of the Virtue of Unity, they are sisters and brothers. They are supporting someone through rough times. They are being willing to tell someone when they are wrong, and help them when they are in trouble. They are respecting that they are not an extension of you, but without them, you aren’t complete.” “I don’t understand. But I wish I did.” “Well, maybe we can figure it out together.” … “And Ga-7 isn’t asking you for information?” For anything?” Vican rubbed his brow. “No, I am learning a lot with our time hanging out. About friends, and about harnessing the power of Kanoka, the drawbacks and the like.” “So she doesn’t know what Councilor Konui wants?” “No. Well, I suppose she remembers he wants freeze powers. But she is unaware of his adjustment to the plan.” “Two disks,” Vican shook his head, “what kind of maniac wants to put two level eight disks inside him?” “It makes sense to a degree, Toa have both a mask power and an elemental power. The best successes we have had is with Weaken and Freeze.” “There are variables he doesn’t know about,” snapped Vican. “I know, it is dangerous. Fusing disks in mask making can create a different power. An Akaku is made from disks of Regeneration and Teleportation. Mixing two disks in a body could have unpredictable results. Likewise Ko-Ka is not immune to her own powers, and neither is Jutlin-Ka. While his breed quirk of cold resistance might help him if he used a disk like Ko-Ka’s, there is not guarantee it would be enough to handle the power of a level eight disk. Similarly, he has no protection against weakening. That is why I insist we at least delay his treatment for another three years at least.” “He won’t wait that long. And he refuses to use weaker disks, or to use only one. A Ga-Matoran wielding the power of freezing? It makes his doctrine look less stable. Most are buckling down, denying her as a hoax. But he’s feeling pressure to show how powerful a ‘true Matoran of Ice is.’” Vican sighed, “We are in too deep. I … it has to work. It has to be worth it. It has to work.” Then quietly he asked, “Do you trust Ko-Ka?” “With my life.” “Okay. I’ve told Phantom to be in the building when we empower Konui tomorrow. With his strength and flight he can possibly get him out of the city if he goes volatile. Do you think Ko-Ka can be on hand as well, to help anyone caught in his power?” “I … her own powers hurt her. The heaters I develop compensate for most of it but against a level eight disk, she could die.” “I know.” “I will ask her.” “And the idiot will say yes,” a voice spat quietly. Vican startled and Collector spun around, hitting their head against the low roof. Vican scrambled over his disk and slashed through the door with his claws, searching about. But no one was in sight. “Here,” Collector interrupted, pointing at the wall, “there is a thin hole cracked from one side to the other. “Karzahni,” Vican screeched like an Ice Bat, slashing through the wall his his claws. Collector flinched at the display, even as Vican’swings began to flap, and he flew down the hallway. … “What’s happening?” asked Ko-Ka as she flapped her wrists to fidget. Her Vortixx friend was staring at the test chamber, their lens zeroing in as they stared through the wall. She was to stay hidden until things went wrong, if things went wrong. And Konui, he was happy to no longer have the Vortixx in his presence. “He has stepped into the machine, and it is turning on,” Collector made a laugh, “you know, I suspect he does not believe in the Cold Truth, not really. He had me make miniaturized heaters, smaller ones shrunken inside his armor. He does not fully trust his cold resistance.” “Well, at least he won’t die. What’s happening now?” “They are preparing to insert the first disk,” they fingered the glove their Kanoka Blade, ready to brandish it at the first sign of trouble. Ko-Ka meanwhile flexed her fingers and toes, readying herself to unleash as much of her freezing power as she could. “Attention guards, every guard, we need backup now!” A radio crackled to life besides the two of them, and Ko-Ka almost tackled it, struggling to hold it in her hands. “Hello, what is it?” “An Av-Matoran snuck inside, she was posing as a Ko-Matoran, got to the third basement before one of us realized she matched Ce-3 description. She’s hurling light bolts — Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” The radio transmission cut off. “Why were they looking for Jutlin-Ka?” She looked at Collector. “I don’t know, the crack. The person listening in to the meeting must have been her. But then—” “Yes, she’s an Av-Matoran. I think she disguised herself as a Ce-Matoran because they are harder to detect, only ability they have is their mental shielding, and few people this days have Psionic powers.” “…The variables,” Collector Ussal-crawled their way to the door, swiping up the radio as they did with one hand, “Vican said there are variables we do not yet realize regarding using disks of weakening. And he was furious when he found out she was in the project. Given his history as a Shadow Matoran—” “He knew her,” Ko-Ka stood up, “he knew who she was. But why didn’t he say anything?” “I do not know,” Colkector crammed into the hallway, “But if Jutlin-Ka is an Av-Matoran, this changes everything. Her physiology would be vastly different from most breeds of Matoran, her ability to not only change her colors but to harness her element, it’s likely that her practice wielding powers beyond most Matoran how she was able to control her power of Weakening so precisely and so quickly. There may even be a biological element to it. And like you she only had a level four disk fused to her. But a level eight…” “He won’t be able to control it,” Ko-Ka skated past them, “we need to get there now. Where are they in the process?” “They are inserting the second disk, and the first is merging with him,” Collector slid their hand into the glove of their Kanoka Blade. The glove unfolded to form an arm-guard up to their shoulder, even as a cyan light glowed in the pommel of their sword. Mist began to loft from their Kanoka blade and its conjoined arm-guard, the moisture in the air freezing it its touch. They smiled briefly, feeling the power of freezing in their arm. Then they shook their head and spoke into the radio clutched in their left hand. “Hello, Turaga Nuparu? Vican? Balta? Phantom? Ce-3 was an Av-Matoran in disguise. The fusion process is not safe. Do not fuse the disk of weakening into him. Karzahni, they must have activated the force field. No signal can get in now.” “Please let us not be too late.” Ko-Ka closed her eyes as she skated ahead, carving a frozen path behind her. Her arms outstretched as her cloak billowed behind her, hurrying towards Konui and the scientists and engineers about to empower him with a dangerous mistake. … “M-maybe it will be fine. Maybe it will be fine,” muttered Vican shivering, “it … it will be worth it. It has to be. It will be fine.” “Beginning the next stage,” Balta interrupted as he toggled more switches. The machine was completely coated in ice, but it was holding for now. They had reinforced it in preparation for this experiment. It had to be modified anyone to hold more disks, and all of them knew Konui’s inner circle would follow soon, albeit with level seven disks. “Pumping Energized Protodermis to begin the transformation.” Vican shuddered, his claws nervously scratching at his armrests. Then ripping through the arm came a screen like a telescreen bursting into static echoed through the chamber. Vican bolted up, diving to Balta, “It’s killing him, we have to—” “It’s gone too far, we can’t stop or risk a meltdown. Our employer will … will just have to deal with it. Sending fusion waves.” The ice-coated chamber seemed to tremble and shake among the screaming, like a Brakas throwing a fit. And then like a tree branch coat in snow blasted by a Toa of Air, the machine crumble into a fine powder. Grains of frost, Protodermis, and everything in between sprawled across the floor, leaving a Matoran screaming in the center of the pile. His mask was constantly shifting, shattering in an instant and in the same freezing back together. He stood on all-fours, the pile around him constantly solidifying into a single mass and then crumbling again. The pile, his mask, and his body seemed almost to pulsate, moving like the beating of heartlight. The Ko-Matoran shrieked in pain like an iceberg shredding a boat, even as more and more of the room shattered and froze together. Vican shoved off his seat, taking off into the air as Balta drew his Repellers and Turaga Nuparu’s mask activated, and he faded from sight. Vican swooped down as the technicians sprinted to the bulkheads, thumping desperately on the armored walls. As they struggled the floor weakened and froze, violently churning. Many Matoran were ensnared in the ice, before their legs shattered. The Matoran gasped out, wheezing even as they were ripped apart and reassembled into ice sculptures. The mutated Le-Matoran froze in the air, but not from the cold. People, people were dying. People were dying because of him. Then came a new scream, and a rip of metal. Vican stared to see a large twisted arm manifest in the air, only visible from the ice plastered on it. Then the ice shattered, and oil, coolant, and lubricant spewed from the sky, before there was a loud thud. Vican swallowed and dove at the source of the thud, tackling the ground. With shaky hands he felt for Phantom, following the oozing puddle of coolant. “You? You dare come here? It is your fault, you did this to me!” a screech echoed through the chamber, and Vican turned to see Councilor Konui staggering upright. On trembling legs he waded through the powder ground from ice, Matoran, and machinery, pausing only when the pile around him froze solid. His body continued to deform and twist, he was growing thicker and wider, while his body remained the same size the ice coating only grew. “You. You bot-him!” Konui shrieked words were monosyllabic and broken by the screeching in his voice synthesizer, “you did this!” “I … I didn’t—” Konui lunged at Vican, only to strike Balta’s Repellers. The crossed blades glowed from the impact, before hurling Konui backwards, his body completely caked in ice and cracks. “Thank … thank you,” Vican swallowed as he looked at the Ta-Matoran. Balta’s blades crumbled and cracked, the silver tools completely caked in ice. The Le-Matoran stammered, “I-I d-didn’t meant to.” “It’s okay, I can rebuild them,” the Matoran of Fire dismissed, before he stepped back. Vican followed his gaze, even as Konui stood up, his crumbling body now roughly made of ice. He was taller and wider, his legs almost mounds of debris. “You … you did this!” Konui dived at them, only to hit something invisible. Vican swallowed, he could see the outline of Nuparu, relying on his Mask of Stealth. Konui flailed and struggled to push past his similarly camouflaged drill-shield. “Sorry,” Nuparu said quietly as his drill began to spin. Chunks of Konui were sent flying as a hole was torn through his abdomen, but still the mutated Ko-Matoran waded forward, now clutching his rapidly shredding arms around the Badge of Office. “Karzahni,” muttered the Turaga of Earth as the drill began to shudder and stall, “I hoped the Protosteel would hold.” Then the drill exploded, hurling the camouflaged Turaga and Balta backwards. Vican watched them fall, his heartlight pounding. He swallowed, tightening. Then with some strain he shouted, “Look at your cold truth now, Councilor.” “SILENCE! You did this. You’re weak-in disk did it.” “I did,” Vican nodded, rising into the air, “and you know how I did? The Ce-Matoran who successfully bonded to the disk of weakening? The greatest success? She was a trick. Just a Matoran of Light posing as a Ce-Matoran.” “You swore! Those hair-a-ticks would not be in-vol-ved!” “Why? Because she shows just how pathetic you cult is? That the cold truth is alive” Konui shrieked and rose higher, his ice plastering more and more of the powder of corpses, frost, and machinery into himself. He towered above even a Vortixx as he swung his arm at Vican. The Le-Matoran dived underneath the arm as it crumbled apart, a before flying in front of the bulkhead. The mutant waded after him and hurled his fist at Vican. Vican dived, letting the hulking fist smash into the sealed door. The barrier cracked and crumbled before freezing back up in roughly the same shape. Vican hovered to look at the damage, even as Konui shrieked. “Hey, Ko-Hordika,” he called out, looking at this half-beast of ice. Konui hurled his fist at Vican, but as the Le-Matoran dodged the arm snapped off, spinning in the air. The shoulder slammed into Vican as it revolved, knocking him to the ground. Vican gasped out, pinned under the severed arm. He shivered as frost crawled over his body, cracks digging into his armor. And then a strong kick knocked through the bulkhead. … Ko-Ka glided past Collector through the hole they had kicked in, skating into the room. She wheezed as she entered the room, something about the air. As she coughed Collector focused their mask, looking for more weak-spots to target. The empowered Ga-Matoran skated up the hill of frozen debris, streaking past Konui. She wheezed again, the air, her fingers felt so strange. S-still, there were lives to save. Clearing her throat she ready to taunt him, but lo9ing at his mask constantly crawling as it broke and froze back together, she could only stumble. “You … I am so sorry. That looks painful,” she finally said, and he roared on rage. “Lie-Err,” She wove between his legs even as she crouched on her skating feet. As she bent low she press her fingers to the floor, spreading frost like a spiderweb. She almost immediately hacked as the air grew stale, her skin crawling. As she slid underneath Konui the mutated Ko-Matoran swung his fist, striking behind her. She pirouetted and turned away, continuing her path of frost. As she skated away he began to move his long crumbling mounds of legs, beginning to chase. But as he moved he slipped on her eyes, and the pile off parts that made up his body swayed. With an explosion of parts he tripped and smacked into the ground, chunks of him flying wildly. Ko-Ka glided away from him, reaching Balta. With a press of her hands she froze the ground below and in front of him, before shoving off to slide them across the sleek ice. They glided across the ice as she lead the path, pushing them through the hole in the bulkhead. Collector grabbed the Ta-Matoran and moved him to safety, even as Ko-Ka gasped out. The air was so much better out of that room. She breathed shallow at first, trying to flush out the awful texture, before taking a few deep breathes. She slid back into the testing chamber, holding her breath. This was no ocean, but her natural Ga-Matoran physiology would help her avoid this awful air. With strain she grabbed the Turaga and the surviving technicians one at a time, and began to shove them through the gap. Each time she took another breathe, before diving back in. She ducked suddenly as Konui’s colossal arm lunges after her, hurling itself off of Vican. She … had not seen him, he looked so pale. As she skated away the arm struggled to reattach itself. He was taking so longer to reassemble, his body seemed to struggle to freeze its part back into one piece. As Ko-Ka skated towards Vican, she stumbled. She skidded to a halt, breathing slowly. “Moisture,” she muttered in realization. Almost all the moisture in the room had been used up by Konui’s freezing powers. The air was become dryer, it was harder to breathe. There was less moisture to freeze too, her fingers tricked out less and less frost. Konui seemed to realize it too. His body was continuing to crumble, but he was struggling to pierce it back together. He dragged himself like a crumbling pile of sand, slamming into the opposite wall of the testing chamber. He pressed all over the chamber, and it began to crack and crumble. The Ga-Matoran reached Vican just as the wall crumbled into a fine powder. As it collapsed the crystalline ceiling cracked and shattered, debris hurling down. Konui was no longer able to freeze without moisture, so his weakening power was unrestrained. The sound of icebergs slashing each other echoed around her, as a huge gash was cleared into the chamber. Konui sighed as fresh air flowed into him, and began to freeze back into a vague shape. But as air rejuvenating Konu Ko-Ka oils only stare up in horror as debris plummet into her and Vican. … Ko-Ka opened her optics and looked around. Debris had them pinned, Vican’s wings had spread around her, supporting up the rubble. The only light came from their eyes and their heartlights. And Vican’s heartlight was starting to flicker. She coughed, “Vican are, are you okay?” “Don’t talk, just breathe calm and slow. You … maybe you can make it until help arrives,” he wheezed, and she nodded. “I … I had served the Makuta willingly. Makuta Mutran offered me the chance to go on greater adventures, and I didn’t care what the price would be. I regretted it, but Gavla, she was turned against her will. I chose to serve.” “Even as a Shadow Matoran I hated these claws,”he said, “I thought ic I servedMutran and his brothers, he might give me a Virus to undo it. I was loyal, faithful, doing whatever he said for the promise to be healed. And in the end, an experiment of his went wild, and its rampage restored my mind.” “I … I couldn’t accept Mata-Nui’s final gift. After all I had did for Mutran, after my lust for power and to matter, I … I needed penance. So I remained a freak, to not forget. But I think I did forget.” He coughed, and Ko-Ka said nothing, just reaching out to offer her hand. He grasped it in his claws, cutting her finger. He recoiled, but she kept her bleeding hand outstretched to him, still silently focusing on breathing. “I … when the Great Being Civil War was fought, so many great heroes were lost, dying to Marendar or Velika. In the end the Last Toa and the Makuta of Light slayed them both, but by then so many were dead.” “I … Dark Hunters and more able-bodied Turaga stepped up to protect us, but Turaga were often better leaders and the Dark Hunters, most just wanted payment. Phantom was … lucky … for us. The Nynrah … the Ghosts built Fohrok and Vahki to … defend us, Bohrok were … were … were repurposed, but none of them could … understand the … the … th-the Virtues or the Principles. And so many Matoran were lost … lost in … in spirit, with our g-gods dead and no way to make more Matoran…” Something wet splattered on Ko-Ka. She felt it, before flinching. That oozing fluid was not melted water. She reached for Vican, but he pushed her hand away. “I … Konui … he… promised redemption,” he wheezed, “Did … he did not talk as much … talk about the Cold Truth. At first. Just wanted to make heroes. Inspire people, reassure them. The right way, using Matoran … Matoran tools. Not Hordika Venom, not … not Viruses. I mean not … not Viruses. Sorry. But we would be careful. Carefully selected Matoran. They would not be Toa, but far better than nothing.” The rubble shook, rocks ripping and deforming his wings. Vican spread his claws wide, before gasping out. His heartlight’s glow grew fainter and fainter, beat slower and slower. He swallowed, more coolant dripping into Ko-Ka. His voice was barely a whisper as he continued, “Banning Av-Matoran almost made sense when he said it, prevent them from getting more powerful, letting it go to their heads. But things kept changing. As he got more of his followers in the building he got more theatrical. Worse people were experimented on. And when I realized Gavla had snuck in, I knew he would blame me. And I…” “It’s okay,” Ko-Ka said quietly, just as more debris shifted. Then the Ga-Matoran whispered, “s-sorry.” Her hands wiped the coolant off her hands and smeared it against the concrete debris, freezing some of the stone together. Vican made a bitter grin, “Glad I … I could help.” Then with a clunk the Le-Matoran went limp, the rocks collapsed save where she had frozen them. Ko-Ka sat alone in the dark, her heartlight beginning to pound. Holding her breath was harder now, she could feel the Vican’s drippings oozing on her, secreting and freezing against her body. Her fingers shivered, it was all so wrong. And then a large chunk of rubble was hurled away. She looked up as Collector extended their hand, and she took it. “Th-thank you,” Ko-Ka shivered as she was pulled free, and hoisted onto Collector’s shoulder “Jutlin-Ka did the heavy digging,” the Vortixx dismissed, “she destroyed a lot of the debris, before she left. Nuparu’s connection to earth and my Akaku helped guide me.” “Did … did she say why she was here? Jutlin-Ka I mean.” “She said she had wanted to take Konui’s spot in the chamber, get that power.” “Do … do you think she was telling the truth.” “She wasted a lot of time digging up all of us,” Turaga Nuparu said quietly, “and according to the news, she’s still attacking Konui. Despite the fact that those disks and the machine are now gone.” Ko-Ka nodded, then her optics widened and shoved herself upright. “They are fighting? Where?” “You are hurt.” “Where?” Collector held up their hand, thinking. Finally they said, “I will tell you. But if I do, please do not fight him. You are out of breath, you are bruised, do not fight him. I know you make your own choices, but I will not let you kill yourself. Please avoid the main battle. The Chronicler and other Av-Matoran can help Jutlin-Ka enough. And the Turaga have a plan.” “I … okay. But I will rescue people?” “Okay. He’s in Av-Kofo, attacking any Av-Matoran and Su-Matoran in sight.” Ko-Ka dipped her head and leapt off them, breathing in the humid air. She began to skate on a cushion said, “would you like to help?” “I will. Go ahead, I have to hurry to my lab first. Nuparu will need the radio, he needs to coordinate with the Bohrok handlers, and to get me some equipment.” “Right, Tahnok?” “Yes. We only have some many in the city, most are in New Atero. But they are our best weapon.” Ko-Ka nodded and quietly whispered, “stay safe.” Before skating away into the city. … The Ga-Matoran hero focused, her frost spreading across the walls of the building. As she plastered it together she could hear whirling as Av-Matoran zipped on their jetpacksl hurling bolts of light into the titanic monster. The light had little heat, but it still disoriented him, and knocked aside chunks of his body. Konui was a blob of rubble now, barely any structure was left to him. He towered over the city, roughly the size of a Tahtarok. He slithered other Av-Koro, shattering and absorbing the landscape into himself. Behind him a few Ko-Matoran walked, hurling rocks at the Av-Matoran they could reach. Ko-Ka ducked as a chunk of the commune collapsed near her. “Anyone in this commune?” She called out, listening. There was no response. She hesitated, before seeing Konui’s long arm plowing through another commune, hurling Su-Matoran wildly. She swallowed and whispered, “sorry,” before skating over, streaking atop her freezing power. As the ‘Spirit of Ice’ glided and weaved among the destruction more of the city crumbled and collapsed, folding in on itself. As he swung suddenly Konui’s remaining arm ripped off, hurling through the air. Ko-Ka dived and slid underneath, gliding on ice underneath the crumbling meteor. The Ga-Matoran turned around, the arm collapsed into debris and rubble, whatever consciousness that had held it together had faded. She looked back to his body, he was beginning to reform his arm, but wait. She strained to look, she had no telescopic lens, but it almost looked like a blue Matoran was holding to his body where his arm had fallen off. Slowly she shoved back onto her feet and resumed skating, hurrying towards the smashed home. Ko-Ka glided up and began to freeze the buildings walls, try to prevent more of the home from collapsing. As ice glued the cracked building together she swung around to a chunk of a roof and skated towards it. She launched herself off the artificial incline, landing inside the commune. Ko-Ka skated through the damaged building, her feet freezing over the crumbling floor. Her optics searched about, before spotting a patch of orange buried by debris. She glided over and pressed her palms to the debris, frost spreading from her fingers. She swallowed and focused, the ice expanding in the cracks and gaps in the rubble. Her relish on tore through it, shattering the chunks of roofing. The hero pulled the Matoran of Plasma free, looking over his injuries. As she search him he moaned, “s-should have stayed in Ta-Metru. Thought Av-Kofo would be safer.” “Don’t talk,” she said quietly, before helping him to his feet. She skated to a jagged hole in the home and froze it, plastering a smooth slid to the city plaza. “Hurry,” she said, before skating past him to search the rest of the house. “Th-thanks, Ko-Ka,” he said, still dazed, before sliding down out of the house. … Ko-Ka walked out of the commune, holding an Av-Matoran on her shoulders. As she balanced him she winced at the wall of heat, the Tahnok and Fohrok were being pushed back past the commune, backing away from Konui as the living landslide tumbled after them. Their Fire Shields were flamethrowers, sending torrents of Fire into the giant pile of debris. His ice evaporated into plumes of steam under their onslaught, even as his one arm flailed to swat away the five red Bohrok. Chunks of him crumbled away without the frost holding him together. He no longer looked like a Matoran or an Agori. Let alone a Toa. Just like a heap of rocks swinging around a long tendril. He didn’t even seem to have a mask anymore. “If he doesn’t have a mask, he shouldn’t be conscious. His body has been torn apart some many times, it’s constantly shattering and plastering itself together. He can’t be alive.” Ko-Ka tensed up, gripping her passenger tight, before skating out of the destroyed commune, streaking down the ice before tumbling on the snowy powder that had once been a plaza. She checked over their body again, before glancing towards the moving mound. He was pursuing the Tahnok, driving them back into Av-Kofo. Was he still targeting the Matoran of Light? Or was he only targeting the heat? Or was he just moving aimlessly? His arm seemed to flail wildly, no longer targeting anything in particular. And he had no visible head, so it’s not like he could see. Was Konui even still alive? Or was this now something else? She rubbed her head, “I don’t know … it doesn’t matter. That’s not my part in this. I need to rescue civilians, get people to safety. That’s the kind of hero I need to be. I don’t need to be a star.” The Ga-Matoran hero leapt down and began to skate, heading past the bug-like robots towards the trail of destruction. As she glided across the landscape Ko-Ka shook her head. This much destruction, all over the need to belong. The Great Mother of Metru-Nuva was being built in Po-Metru, it wasn’t directly caught in this, but even still, all the repairs, the injuries. It might take another hundred years before the New City could finally begin manufacturing new Matoran. It might even slow down New Atero and the other major cities too. As she ran there was a crash, and a Ko-Matoran ran out of a commune, wielding a stolen Power Sword. He laughed and swung it wildly as she ran up. “S-stop, you can’t even use that.” “Shut it freak,” he swung the blade at her but she ducked underneath him, before pressing her palm to his mask. Frost coated over his eye holes, he lunged at her only to overshoot and fall to the ground. The Power Sword clattered away, and he pulled himself up, scratching at his eyes. His resistance would keep him unharmed, but he would find it harder to loot the shattering district now. As he cursed her Ko-Ka skated away. She streaked behind the Bohrok and Fohrok, only to suddenly stumble and winced. The raw heat of the Tahnok and their imitations, her ice melted so quickly, it was more of a slushy mess. She began to run the rest of the way, it would be slower and more tiring, but it was stabler. Project Mangai rarely had tested for the limits of her freezing power in heat, same as, nor its limitation of moisture. She knew her limits better from responding to disasters, from research that Collector had done. But the project… Her feet pounded as she wondered how much of that was Konui’s doing. Or his followers. Maybe they just had not wanted to hear the weaknesses of their ‘Ice’ elemental powers, or maybe they had been just setting up the Matoran of Water to fail. Finally she could feel the wall of heat fade as the Tahnok were pushed farther back, and she began to freeze the cracked streets once more, swooping over the landscape like a Gukko on a thermal. As Ko-Ka glided up there was a rumbling, the East of Av-Kofo seemed to tremble and shake. She kicked her legs to skate faster, even as Av-Matoran and Su-Matoran scrambled to get to safety. Behind them she could see Ko-Matoran shouting and hurling rocks at them, a number of Av-Matoran returned fire with bolts of light, one even shattering a Ko-Matoran’s mask. She swerved towards the scene, her fingers wiggling wildly. Mist lofted off them as she skated to the crowd, before she began to crouch low. This … the so called Cold Truth was monstrous. This rampage had been unintentional, but … Konui targeted Av-Kofo at first, his followers threw rocks at businesses, attacked Av-Matoran who left their distract, and that was even before this calamity. Her arms touched the broken ground as she skated, now shifting to a squat. As she slid ice spread from each of her limbs, sealing up some of the broken ground. As she did a Ko-Matoran shouted, “it’s the Karzahni-kissed thief. Get her, boys.” They ran at her, but she continued to skate, twirling and streaking across the ground. One lunged for her, only to slip on her trail of ice. He tumbled and smacked to the ground, and she looped back around. With a wipe of her hand she smeared his mask with ice, obscuring his vision. A rock slammed into her back, knocking her into stumble. But she had fallen a lot when she was learning to grasp her powers, she still fell now on occasion. As she fell she caught herself on her hands and kept gliding on her cushion of frost. She swooped back around as she shoved herself upright, before ducking beneath another hurled stone. A Ko-Matoran charged at her with a broken blade, cracks running down it. How close had he been to the living landslide? She skated right up to him before veering away, letting him slip on her ice. From behind him a blast of light slammed into another Ko-Matoran, knocking him to the ground. Ko-Ka skated up to blind him, frosting over his mask before pivoting and doing the same to the latest Ko-Matoran to trip. The rest charged after her, stumbling and wading through the thick layers of shattered ground and powdery ice. She stretched her legs to widen her ice slick, the Ko-Matoran quickly scrambling into the solid ground she had formed, only to slip hard to the ground below. As she skated away she looked towards Konui. What was left of him was incoherent, the supporting ice melted by the mechanical warriors. He struck out wildly with his arm, he didn’t even seemed to roll anymore, just held in place flailing. Boom. His arm slammed into two Tahnok, hurling them back and shattering them. Ko-Ka winced, most of the Bohrok were either in the New Atero Defense Force, acting as labor or spare parts for the Great Mothers project, or had been rebuilt into Boxers. They could still make more Fohrok though, if they could acquire the Protodermis for it. Without the Tahnok Konui’s ice began to regrow, but still he stayed in place. His pile was pulsating again, constantly exploding into shards and then freezing back together. It looked like his non-ice components became small and smaller, turning into dust. Ko-Ka’s optics focused in on his body. It might be still, but it was still growing. How did it have this much power? Great Masks weren’t this powerful, even if you got a Toa Disk, radiating the actual element of its creator, that disk would be limited. A Garai would not even work on its user. A thought brushed against her. Energized Protodermis was mutagenic, transforming or destroying almost anything it touched. It took ages to discover a way to handle it safety. Perhaps when the Weakening disk was beginning to fuse to him, his lack of control damaged the containers holding the EP, and it splashed into him, completely transforming the abilities and physiology him and his disks. It didn’t make much of a difference, he was still dangerous. She skated closer, only to see a trench emerging around him. She poked overhead to see Gavla carving a moat in the ground around him. “Trying to contain him like the fire?” “Shut it,” Ko-Ka nodded at the reply. She would worry about Gavla later. For now she skated around the moat, searching for anyone in the danger zone. She found a few soon enough. A few Ko-Matoran lay mangled, their bodies shattered and froze in a patchwork, fluids drooling out of their broken bodies. “This … this is all wrong,” one of them groaned as she skated up. And then he added, “he’s hurting the wrong people.” Ko-Ka stopped short, and found herself wondering if she should actually save these Matoran. She shook her head of those thoughts she … she should give a try. But not for the Virtues, these Ko-Matoran did not hold Unity with her. Just because too many were dying already. She skated over towards him, hand outstretched. With a press of her palms she plastered his cracked body with ice, sealing up his injuries. Or at least that was why she had intended to do. The empowered Ga-Matoran gagged at the feeling of coolant on her fingers, and began to shake her hands wildly. Not to stim, but just to shake off the foul liquid. Her mind reverted to being buried alive, she could see Vivian in her eyes, his body pierced by rubble and dripping fluid into her. She shuddered as she could almost taste the goop, feel it squirming down her metallic skin. “Get … get away, freak,” she was brought out of her revulsion by the Ko-Matoran. She … she had to stop more death. She swallowed and reached for his other injuries, but he weakly battered her hand away. “Help.” She spun around a the call of a familiar voice, before spotting Collector. Their Kanoka Blade was still attached to their arm, but the sword was pointed at the ground below them. Ice spread from its tip, and they were struggling to slide across that frost. Ko-Ka skated up to them, “y-you need any help?” “Yes,” their long legs quaked, before falling onto their back. They groaned as she offered her hand, and they pushed on her as a support. They managed to shove back upright, brandishing their Kanoka Blade in front of them. It was roughly half as long as Ko-Ka was tall, though the arm guard still covered the Vortixx’s full limb. It’s pommel was cyan, and it’s cross guard was the shape of a five-pointed star. From the pauldron to the blade a faint mist lofted from it, constantly chilling the air. Ko-Ka listened as Collector pulled free a series of large brick of machinery from their back. “This is based off the heater technology that helps you avoid frost bite,” they said, “it will let us constantly melt the ice, make him loose form. Though I will need to get close to use them.” “How are they going to stay together? That blob, it shatters everything in each.” “Yes, well,” they paused, “Nuparu was able to reach New Atero, and the council agreed to help. I was able to acquire a level eight disk of regeneration. I have incorporated it into this device, along with a level four disk of enlarging. When it activated, it will constantly heal, and will grow large enough to affect his whole body.” “But we still need to get close to him to insert it,” she looked back towards the pile of rubble, “Gavla is still there, she could cleave a hole for us and we could then drop it down into his core.” “That should work. Can you skate that way, stabilize the earth and give me a trail to follow? I can protect you from debris, I just not good at balance.” “Of course,” she crouched and began to skate, forming a thick path below her.. the Vortixx ran besides her, their Kanoka Blade clutched tight, held in front of them like a lantern in the dark. The ground pulsates and cracked as they drew closer, Ko-Ka plastered it together as best she could, while Collector swung their blade at chunks of rubble flung from the shattering earth. Some debris the Vortixx batted away with their blade, other chunks of rubble they sliced in half, the falling shards of rock plastered in frost. Their sword whirled through the air, swung with precision and speed. “Is that Protosteel?” “No, merely Protodermis,” they answered as they split a flying chunk of debris, knocking its two halves to fall harmlessly on either side of Collector and Ko-Ka. There was something in their voice, a certain speed to it, like when they said they wanted to be a Toa of Ice. “You are very graceful with that sword, you must train a lot.” “Oh um, yes. I … I have practiced with it some,” they blushed, looking away. Ko-Ka smiled faintly as she skated slightly in front of them, freezing the ground together to keep it a bit more solid. She shook the smile off her face quickly though, it was … it was not right. Not when the city was crumbling to pieces. As she plastered together the ground something whiroefnout of the corner of her optic. She turned to see a chunk of stone hurling at her, only to be battered aside with a clean blow of Collector’s Kanoka Blade. The now frosted rock tumbled away, before shattering on the ground. “Thank you, I … I hope you get your chance to become a Toa.” “I doubt it,” they sighed, “After this, I doubt Project Mangai will be allowed to continue. The priority will be rebuilding and the Mothers. If they need people capable of wielding the elements, they might just build more new Fohrok, since those are well tested. But fusing Protoderms to Kanoka Blades? I doubt the council will let it continue.” “I am sorry.” “It is the right decision,” they answered, briefly sprinting ahead of her as a large chunk of scaffolding crashed in front of them. They sliced at it with their blade, having through it before helping Ko-Ka through the gap. Collector sighed at they ran, “I wish it was not so though. I clearly did not deserve the power and friendship of a Toa. Too greedy.” “I wanted to be a hero too.” She said as the two of them reached the edge large mound of rubble. The debris that made up Konui was a fine powder now, the metal and rock shattered and froze together so much it only looked like a grayish blue wall of ice. Every second the mound shattered, and in the next it froze back into a solid mass. “D-do you think he is in pain?” “He screamed when he first was empowered. I cannot imagine if he is conscious, that this form is pleasant,” admitted Collector. “What are you doing here?” They turned to see Gavla pressing her palms against his edge, shattering chunks of his body. “I have a weapon we can use to prevent him from freezing back together. If I can embed it inside his body, it will keep the mound too solid to break, and device will be able to regenerate its injuries.” “You want to go inside that thing,” she turned to look at them, “you will die doing that. His weakening power will grind you into paste.” “Well um, yes, but—” “What, you can’t do that,” Ko-Ka rounded on the Vortixx, you can’t die, the city needs heroes like you.” “Hey, fake-corpse,” Gavla shouted over them, “Fohrok, or whatever you are called? Get over here.” “What?” Ko-Ka turned to look in confusion. The Fohrok clicked its mandibles and rolled up, before unfolding. As it towered over Ko-Ka and Gavla the blue Av-Matoran Frieda bolt of light into Collector’s leg. The Vortixx fell to their knee, and Gavla snagged the weapon off them. Ko-Ka stared in shock as Gavla began to shout at the mechanical creature. Finally she shook free of her daze and ran to Collector, helping them back to their feet “You … you didn’t have to do that.” “You’re heroes, probably would have gotten yourselves killed trying to be noble. Let the walking imitation of a corpse handle it.” The Fohrok indeed hooked the device around their right arm, a s began to roll straight at the mound. “Imitation of a corpse?” “Bohrok are dead Av-Matoran,” Gavla spat, “if the idiots don’t become Toa, their corpses transform into mindless machines. And the idiots think that’s a great honor. Part of the ‘Virtue of Destiny.’” “I … was not aware that Bohrok were once Matoran.” “Yeah? As much as they say it’s an honor, they still shut up about it with outsiders.” Ko-Ka shivered as the orange-yellow and blue robot rolled onto the top of the mound, before unleashing a focused torrent of fire from their shields, aimed directly below them. They began to sink into the structure as the ice and metal components turned into boiling fluid. “…How did the Nynrah Ghosts make Fohrok? H-how did they know how they worked?” “Dissections of Bohrok I believe. Though whether or not they knew what they handling, I do not know. But, I suppose if Av-Matoran can still transform without Toa Stones, it might open up new possibilities for recreating Toa,” they winced, “sorry, greed.” “It’s … okay,” Ko-Ka dismissed, even as the mound began to shudder, “how is it doing?” “It’s roughly at the center of the mound, and I believe it has activated the device.” Immediately the mound seem to squirm, she could guess it was the enlarging disks activating. “I feel like I should be doing more.” “Then let’s do more.” They nodded, and the two of them stepped back and began to circle the mound. Ko-Ka skated across the cracked and shattered ground, plastering it together. Running in the opposite direction Collector did the same with their Kanoka Blade, freezing the ground stable. As they ran past each other to keep circling, the mound crumbled. Steam vented off of it as the ice evaporated, forming plumes of rapidly fading vapor. The increased moisture in the air only fueled their mending of the cityscape, supplying them with ice. Finally the two of them rested, as the mound was reduced to a heap of fine powder. “I-is he dead?” “He likely was as soon as he breached the lab,” Collector offered, “as for if the power of the disks have stopped, I do not know. Would be best to keep watch, monitor the situation.” Ko-Ka nodded and glanced around for Gavla, but already she was gone, leaving only the Ga-Matoran, the Vortixx, and a bunch of mechanical life-forms. … “You can’t be serious,” Ko-Ka almost snarled, skating in front of Collector, “they helped save the city, their plan stopped the living landslide. They warned the group it would work.” Turaga Dume shook his head as the Bohrok approached, “Project Mangai has been found culpable for the destruction of Av-Kofo—” “W-well than why not blame Turaga Nuparu? Or Balta? O-or the technicians, almost all of them were in the cult that—” “Silence,” Dume thumped his Badge of Office to the ground, “Collector is Vortixx, a greedy race of arms dealers. They joined the group just to have power. It is clear where the fault lies.” “Y-you are wrong,” she said as she blocked the Bohrok, frost drifting from her hands. “That’s the problem with you Mata-Nui Matoran, you forget yourselves,” the ancient Turaga sighed, then said firmly, “this is how it has to be.” “No, it does not. The Cold Truth is to blame. They even looted buildings and attacked people during the chaos—” “I cannot blame Matoran for this disaster,” he said quietly, “it would not look good. Phantom is still recovering, so I only have one option.” “Th-this is monstrous. You … you are going to make Collector take the fall, just b-because of potential backlash? And the Cold Truth suffers nothing. This is wrong.” “I-it’s okay,” Collector offered, shaking, “I … I should have been wiser. Maybe I made a mistake that led to this, an error in my judgement. And besides, if they try anything,you will be there.” “You are not to harass them,” the Turaga spoke as harsh as a sandstorm against an Agori’s skin, “Later, when we have a new generation coming, maybe then we could afford to discuss it then. But not now. Not while we are so vulnerable.” “Would you have b-bent to the whims of the Makuta so easily?” The Turaga’s eyes seemed to burn at that comment, and his staff began to lit with fire. He tapped his staff and three of the Bohrok swarmed together, forming a single colossal being. “They come with us, end of discussion.” … Collector hated this warmth, this lukewarm feeling on their metal skin. Their cell was built for Matoran,too small, so they had to sit scrunched up. Their hand kept flexing and fidgeting, thirsting for their Kanoka Blade. The calming cold. “Heard about the Cold Truth temple that got attacked?” “Yeah, someone used a disk of freezing to erode it until it collapsed, right?” Collector’s optics pivoted to listen more as the guard continued, “all their servers were also shattered by ice.” “I mean the Council are trying to suppress news of it, and the Cold Truth can’t make up their minds who to blame and whether to actually mention the ice, but well, you know who they—” And then the lights inside the chamber shutdown. “What the Karzahni—” A shadow swooped through the darkness, striking both Matoran in their masks. They moaned as something reflective covered their heads, plastering their optics shut. One of them spun around, thrusting their Electro-Blade, only to clutch his hand in pain and drop his short sword. He fell to the ground, before ice spread to his hand, sealing him to the floor. The other guard fell down the same way, managing to shout, “h-help, s-someone—“ and then ice plastered over his jaw, silencing him. Collector struggled to look as ice sank into the forcefield’s controls, and the translucent barrier shimmered out of existence. They wearily stepped out, asking, “Ko-Ka?” “Here,” the cross-wired vigilante handed over a Great Akaku and a familiar blade, “we need to move quickly. They will have the Fohrok up and running again shortly.” “You … can’t do this,” they said as they stared at their personal items, “They will blame you, say you were driven mad by the disk, lost control.” “L-let them. Doing the right thing is more important than what the Matoran say,” Ko-Ka said firmly, “and we are friends, aren’t we?” Collector shakily nodded as they crawled out of their cell, standing up. Slowly they plucked up their mask and Kanoka Blade, slotting them on. Their telescopic lens immediately began to adjust and extend, probing through the walls. “Fohrok approaching, and Vahki.” “Th-then let’s go,” Ko-Ka began to skate, and Collector followed after, head bent, “we have a lot of work to do.”
  14. Yes, the title is a pun. Apologies for uncolored masks, but faces. Enjoy!
  15. Aderia

    "Takua, No!!"

    Been branching out in this recent quarantine. Branches include Clone Wars and drawing, thus I give you: (rough translation of Matoran and Galactic Basic ) Eheh, I forgot how Ussal crabs worked, so now we have puny Pewkew. As always, totally open to suggestions, would love to improve!
  16. Matoran concept and turaga comes later. New matoran build Prototype build Set form Kaita form Updates coming soon.
  17. The matoran are the 2nd sets i made for bionicle animated. This is what i do best. Matoran Kaita of loyalty mahuli Fastest and smartest, also kind. Kaita of courage hakato Strong in 3 ways, its determenation is durable Nui kaita akachi Strong and fast, but the only downfall is its temper
  18. So I wrote another Kanohi story because of course I did. This one takes place in the core universe and the kingdom, a little before the two timelines split. The premise for this is the hurt some Matoran feel as the Turaga reveal the true history of their people, as well as the disconnect some of the Matoran have with the so-called city of legends. So this is a story about the fallout of the Turaga revealing the truth about the 2004-2005 storyline. Anyway, without further ado, enjoy. The Willing Exiles … ”You … you sure we should go?” Ramaka asked, looking at the two Ga-Matoran. The sun was beginning to set, and the tent they were taking shelter in was rustling in the wind. “We have to. Those stories the Turaga shared, they aren’t us. Maybe there were once, maybe they never were. We don’t belong in some underground ruin, working like cogs in a lifeless machine.” Gajaga spat, as she packed her satchel. It was woven of faded plant fibers, contrasting against her blue metal chassis. “Maybe the rest of the stories will—” “—Tell us just how much they lied?” Gajaga sighed, “no. I prefer to have at least some fond memories of Turaga Nokama.” She began to wrap up her sleeping bag. “She’s right,” Cemahri reached over, grasping Gajaga’s hand, and the other Ga-Matoran blushed beneath her mask, “I … to know the Turaga lied for over a thousand years, about the most basic things. No, we cannot go with them. And … it’s better we don’t come. We don’t belong with the other Matoran. This is a chance for us.” Ramaka nodded, though did not match her eye contact. The two Ga-Matoran pushed aside their bags then, before embracing their companion. “Hey, we will get through this together,” Gajaga said, “we spent centuries on this island, we know it by heart. We can flourish in our beloved island home.” “We … we do have our unity to each other,” Ramaka smiled nervously, “okay, sisters, let us return to our real home.” The three Matoran picked up their bamboo disks and slug their satchels over their shoulders, before slipping out into the jungle. Their long arms pushed aside the ferns and branches, their big feet waded through the swamp. They would not leave Mata-Nui, not for some underground ruin that was likely infested by spiders the size of Toa. This was their home, not some broken city. … Kanohi held his lighter to his right arm, softening the orange and black metal. The lighter was infused with the element of Fire, probably a relic from when Turaga Vakama was a Toa. Because apparently Kanohi’s mentor had lied to him about everything. “There,” Nuparu said, “it should be almost in place now.” Kanohi was welding a Volo Lutu Launcher to his arm, as Nuparu fitted the tool’s machinery to mesh with his biomechanical body. The left arm was already complete, now was just the right. The two of them were in a tent this night, the stars mostly shone in the sky despite the many torches around Kini-Nui. Thousands of Matoran were camping in the jungle, as they built ships to sail though the underground Silver Sea. The sounds of hammers pounded under the stars, as the Matoran prepared to return to their home. A home only the Turaga remembered, As Kanohi welded the tool to his arm, Nuparu spoke up, “So, did the Turaga ever tell you—” “—No.” Kanohi answered quickly, and his breath became harsher. His foot began to thump against the floor, and his fingers began to drum against his lighter. The Fe-Matoran’s face was hidden, he wore wooden masks all over his body, as a sort of armor. Each mask was carved to resemble a Ruru, the Noble Mask of Night Vision. And his true mask was a Great Ruru, though he could not use it. Still both were appropriate, his power allowed him to light the darkness of the future. But clearly his visions were helpless to the past. “It’s … frustrating, isn’t it? If we had been able to use the technology of Metru-Nui to help us, our time in exile could have been so much easier. Just having Kanoka instead of bamboo disks…” “There are many reasons the truth is frustrating.” Kanohi stared deeply into his lighter, trying not to think too hard about Vakama. The fire swirled and lifted about, as he looked the flames cracked and turned to embers, and those sparks became the stars in the sky. As he stared at those stars he heard and noise and turned to see an utterly barren island of rock. The rocky crag towered above him, before shattering into an avalanche. Each tumbling rock splashed into the sea, before rising as a fleet of hovercrafts. Kanohi hooked a cabin and grappled over to a hovercraft, flinging above the waves as Matoran wearing linen clothes waved. “You okay? You seemed a bit dazed?” Kanohi startled as Nuparu’s voice cut through the blaze, and he looked away, “Just had a vision,” he answered, “maybe of us sailing to Metru-Nui.” “At least a Vakama didn’t lie to us about that,” Nuparu offered, but Kanohi could not crack a smile, “your visions are real, just like the Turaga’s was. And incredible gift.” “He lied to me plenty about my visions,” muttered Kanohi, “though I do know why. It doesn’t make things easier however.” Then there was a shriek from outside the tent, as a Ga-Matoran called out, “Kraata!” Immediately Kanohi turned off his lighter, and stowed it away. “Is my arm ready?” “Left one is for sure, but the right one isn’t done.” “We will continue it later,” nodded Kanohi, before sprinting out of the tent, his large feet stomping vines and roots, as he hurried out he raised his left arm, and from the Volo Lutu Launcher built into his forearm he fired a strange rippling sphere. A ball of pure gravity. It latched onto a tree before ripping him from the ground and hurling him towards it. Kanohi hurtled through the air, landing on a tree. From there he fired his launcher again, flinging himself after the ball of gravity. In this way he grappled through the jungle, searching among the tents and Matoran. As he flew his armor clattered together, like branches singing in a thunderstorm. A number of Matoran were fleeing from the northern part of the jungle, the Kraata might be there. As Kanohi grappled above, Matoran pointed and marveled. A few began to cheer, and he smiled warily as he hurtled through the sky. He was glad that they could feel some relief from him still. And as he came upon the scene, he spied a Ga-Matoran backing up as a bright green slug squirmed towards her. The Kraata oozed a trail of sickly slime, which wilted every plant that it passed by. The Matoran of Water was backed up against a tree, swinging her bamboo disk wildly at it. Quickly Kanohi fired past her, and launched through the air. As he hurtled towards her he outstretched his right arm, hooking her waist. He strained as he dragged her through the air, before the two of them smacked into the ground in a tumble, his armor rattling with each collision with the earth. As they rolled to a halt, Kanohi shoved himself up, drawing his lighter. He held it out to the Kraata, it’s elemental flame cracking. The slug hissed and flinched from the glow, before slithering away deep into the jungle. “Are you alright?” Kanohi asked her as he pulled her to her feet. “Better swimmer than a fighter,” she laughed nervously, then swallowed, “How … how can there still be Kraata? The Makuta is dead, isn’t he?” He looked away, “In the Turaga’s stories of Metru-Nui, Rahkshi go feral when the Makuta does not need them. This might have just been a wild Kraata-Ye.” “Of … of course. I should have know.” “There was little way you could have,” he muttered, looking at the trail of withering plants from where the Kraata had left, “the Turaga did not tell many about the plants.” “Th-there you are,” a voice called out. Kanohi turned to see a Ko-Matoran running towards them, his body sand-blue and white. The Matoran of Ice waved to him, but Kanohi did not wave back. “What do you want, Matoro?” asked Kanohi, folding his arms. His wooden armor clattered against each other at the motion, each collision a harsh thud, like drums beating. “Three Matoran were seen headed into the jungle, two Ga-Matoran and a Le-Matoran. Some of the Toa are looking but Le-Wahi is big. Well, you know that, you have patrolled it for centuries. So if you could help look…” “Fine,” he said, “once Nuparu finishes upgrading my arm.” “Listen,” the Matoran of Ice shuffled, “we have been friends for a long time—” “You were Turaga Nuju’s aide, I was the vigilante protector of Mata-Nui. That was all.” “I … I know it’s awkward knowing that the Turaga lied to you—” “—Did they tell you the truth?” Kanohi said quietly, his breath whistling through the holes in his mask like a faint breeze. His fingers began to wiggle on his sides with an anxious energy. “I-I … yes.” Kanohi huffed, but said nothing more. “Listen, they needed Metru-Nui to be kept a secret. If the Matoran knew about it they would try to return, and the Makuta would have just enslaved them—” “I understand why they hid truth. It might have even been necessary. But it was still wrong,” Kanohi said firmly, “simplifying our world only hurt cross-wired freaks like Midas, Takua, and me.” “…I know. You … you know they didn’t mean to hurt you, right? Vakama wouldn’t want that.” “I know,” Kanohi sighed as his hands flapped wildly, “But they still hurt many of us. That’s why I became Kanohi. And that is why I will help these Matoran. There are still Kraata squirming around the island, not to mention the Rahi.” “You know, the two of us both knew about the Kraata when no other Matoran did. We helped the Turaga hunt them, when the others knew nothing. We both shared secrets with the Turaga, hid the truth from our fellow Matoran.” The Ga-Matoran startled at that, and backed away back into the jungle towards the campsite. “Yes, we did,” Kanohi could see his heartlight speed up beneath his wooden armor, “and our secret left many Matoran vulnerable, none of them knew why masks become infected. If they had known Kraata were not just Rahi, many of them could have be spared the control of the Makuta.” “But you agreed to be quiet.” “Yes.” Kanohi’s wrists fluttered like a Nui-Kopen swarm. “Then why are you so mad at the Turaga?” “B-because millions suffered underground while we waddled around in paradise. Do you think I never had visions of the people suffering because of the Brotherhood? Do you think when I asked Vakama to explain, he told me the truth? Or do you think he told me those visions were just metaphors, that the only people in danger were the Matoran of this island? He only fed my fears that I was losing my mind. He only isolated me more.” “Kanohi.” “It wasn’t that he lied. It’s that his lies h-hurt people, and that the damage he caused did not inspire him to be honest.” The sound of wood smacking against itself echoed as Kanohi stimmed. “…You know they were Matoran only a year before they became our Turaga,” whispered Matoro, “its not their fault that they were not ready for the role of leadership.” “Its been a thousand years,” Kanohi said simply, before he waved in dismissal, “I need to get my arm ready. Then I will go rescue these Matoran.” He turned around and grappled away, back towards Nuparu. Matora watched after him with a sigh, his telescopic lens zeroing in on the vigilante as he swung from the jungle. Then finally the Ko-Matoran waddled away, he would need to return to Turaga Nuju. … Gajaga walked through the jungle as early morning crept into the sky. She tightly gripped her bamboo disk, ready to hurl it at the first Rahi to barge out of the underbrush. She had once served in the Ga-Koro Guard, before being dismissed from her post. Her dismissal was for a number of reasons, her anger and her … unusual attachments. ‘Like she thought with the mind of a Rahi,’ the other Matoran of Water would whisper when they thought she couldn’t hear. Oh but she heard. The point was, she knew how to throw the disk, and how to make it hurt. Ramaka called from the tree, “I see movement up ahead, and it looks like a number of trees are toppling over. I think it might be a Tarakava.” Le-Matoran were agile in the trees though clumsy on the ground, made Ramaka a better lookout, “You sure?” Gajaga gripped her disk, even as her free hand reached behind her to pull out a sharpened bamboo pole. Cemahri clung to her own throwing disk as well, though the latter’s eyes were wider, and she clenched her disk like one might dangling off a cliff. Cemahri was no guard, just a weaver with very little training in a fight. “I seen little of a large teal head poking out of the trees,” Ramaka answered, “and the way the trees topple over, like they are being bludgeoned by a big sledgehammer. I-I am not very familiar with the Rahi of Ga-Wahi, but I think it is one? At least going off what I saw in the Battle of Kini-Nui.” “We are going to need to move carefully,” Cemahri said, as her free hand shakily reached out and grabbed Gajaga’s wrist. Gajaga turned to Cemahri and smiled, “it’s okay, we can get through this.” She head-butted Cemahri softly, their masks clinking together. The two Matoran of Water embraced, as they stood in the muddy water of this swamp. There was a boom, and a number of trees trembled, no longer so far away. Cemahri flinched with each tremor, clutching Gajaga tight. “A single Tarakava devastated Ga-Koro,” she whispered, staring towards the rumbling trees. “Yes,” admitted Gajaga, “but we can get through this, okay? We aren’t trapped inside a sunken hut this time.” Cemahri nodded, and the two of them wadded through the water, before shuffling behind a tree half-submerged in the water. As they hung there, Cemahri poked her head around the log, her mask’s telescopic lens adjusting to close up on the beast. She was just a Matoran, she couldn’t use her mask’s power of x-ray vision. But the telescopic lens attached to a Kanohi Akaku could be used by anyone. “It’s a Tarakava,” she whispered. “With an infected mask.” “You sure?” “Yes and … and there is a Kraata riding on top of it, a Kraata of Poison I think?” “Karzahni,” muttered Gajaga, “you are right, we need to be careful.” “But how can a Kraata … exist without the Makuta?” “I don’t know. But stay quiet, stay low.” The two other Matoran nodded, waiting as the Tarakava rode past on the treads. As it drove through the water its powerful fists reeled back and punched systematically, knocking over trees with ease. It’s height towered over even the Toa Nuva, let alone three Matoran. But as the Tarakava rode through the swamp it suddenly halted, its treads grinding to a halt. Its head shifted about as it began to look around, its nostrils sniffing the air. The Matoran drew still, even as the Rahi’s Kraata rider squeaked out a hiss of pleasure. … Kanohi grappled through the jungle, firing one Volo Lutu Launcher, then the other. As his balls of gravity hurled him through the canopy he looked about, hearing the birds call, seeing the greenery and fruit. His armor only added to the melody, the wood clanking and striking with each swing like and drum. Mata-Nui was … so alive. While the stories of Metru-Nui sounded cold and lifeless. Of course, Mata-Nui was dangerous, with many aggressive Rahi. And when the Makuta infected their masks, they became even more dangerous. They became an extension of his will, driven to attack the Matoran. And Kanohi still wasn’t sure that the prophecy of the Bohrok had already been fulfilled. Elements of his visions … were incomplete. For over a thousand years the Matoran had lived on Mata-Nui, hunted by the Makuta’s Infected Rahi. The Matoran lived apart, Onu-Matoran in the caves, Ta-Matoran by the lava, Le-Matoran in the trees, Ga-Matoran in the water. They weren’t one people, just six tribes isolated from each other, terrified of leaving their Koro because of the beasts. Thinking Mata-Nui was the only island, that there were only six breeds of Matoran, that this was their homeland. That they were not in exile. That the Turaga would be honest about the important stuff. For the millennia of exile, the Matoran only had themselves to rely on, along with the Turaga he supposed. The Toa were just a legend then. They followed traditions the Turaga made-up, obeyed rules, travel between Koro was forbidden, you stayed with your kind. And if you did not feel comfortable with them, then that was a flaw of your own. Then a few centuries ago Kanohi grew tired of waiting for the heroes to come, and became a vigilante, grappling through the southern jungles to rescue Matoran from Rahi and disasters. He was always a cross-wired freak, not only plagued by visions but his brain functioned differently in general, his wiring was different. More musical, but in a different way, always in motion, calmed by seemingly random noses and gestures. Cross-wired. And his body was strange too. The Turaga said he was Po-Matoran, but he lacked their strength, just had great physical endurance. He knew something was wrong, that he could not be a Matoran of Stone. And of course he wasn’t. It was just another lie, to make the Matoran more unified. Six tribes, six villages. He belonged in Po-Koro. Only it made him more of an outsider. He felt out of place everywhere, and the Matoran had not forgotten to remind him. As an cross-wired outcast, Kanohi knew just how isolating the island could be. So he resolved to be there for the Matoran, especially the other freaks, instead of waiting for fabled Toa to arrive and save the world. To protect the Matoran, give them hope, and let the outcasts know that they were not alone. Because no matter how much Turaga Vakama said his visions were a gift from the Great Spirit himself, even from the start Kanohi had known it was just a glitch. He continued to grapple through the jungle, hooking the branches to catapult his way through the trees. Brakas hooted as he went past, the water lapped against the tree trunks; there was a music to Mata-Nui, one he doubted Metru-Nui had. Kanohi could hear thumping in the distance, maybe a Tarakava? The Rahi usually hunted in pairs, but he did not hear enough sound for there to be two. And it sounded like it was in the shallows, Tarakava preferred to ambush from the depths. That might mean it had an infected mask, and that its will was being overwritten. The Makuta … the Turaga said he had been killed by Takanuva, but they apparently would lie if they thought it necessary. And if they had told him the truth, a Kraata in a high enough stage would know the Makuta’s will. It might be able to continue the plans of its master. He swerved to face the thumping, before grappled towards the sound. If it was an Infected Tarakava he would need to know, to protect the Matoran. Not that the Matoran would going to stay in Mata-Nui for much longer. … The Tarakava sniffed about, its nostrils flaring. Its reptilian head pivoted side to side, probing the trees, searching for the Matoran it could smell. Its Kraata had hopped off, sinking underneath the swamp. The sun was rising higher, and a Kraata of its level knew to fear the light. Gajaga and Cemahri continued to hide, trying not to move. They … they couldn’t win a fight with a Tarakava, the only beings strong enough would be a Toa. And they were no Toa. Then suddenly Cemahri let out a scream, and began to thrash. Gajaga swerved without hesitation, all but tackling her fellow Ga-Matoran. “What’s wrong?” Gajaga demanded as she looked over her. Before her optics Gajaga could see that green rash had began to burn into Cemahri’s metal leg, spreading like rust. The Kraata. Gajaga stabbed her spear into the water in a frenzy, only for the tree they hid behind to be battered away by a giant fist. The Matoran were sent hurtling through the swamp, smashing against a tree. Gajaga shakily stood up, as the Tarakava reeled its arm back. Thump. Ramaka’s bamboo disk thudded against the Infected Tarakava, and the beast shrieked in rage. It swerved towards the Le-Matoran, who shook like a leaf. The Rahi slammed its fist into the tree, Ramaka barely managing to leap to another branch. In the meantime Gajaga clutched at Cemahri, holding her tight. “Come on, fight this thing, please,” she begged as she pressed Cemahri to her heartlight. There was a splash a few bios away, as Ramaka’s tree shattered. The Le-Matoran fell like a rock, only for a brown streak to slam into Ramaka mid fall. Kanohi held Ramaka in his arms as he grappled to another tree. “Ramaka right? She/her?” “Um, yes, you … you are Kanohi, right?” And he … he knew about Ramaka? He knew that she was … not like other Le-Matoran. “Yes,” he nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out a piece of blue shimmering cloth, “listen, Turaga Nokama gave me this centuries ago, it should help reduce poison.” “You … you know about the Kraata?” “I can smell the poison,” he said simply, “get it to Cemahri, I will distract the Tarakava. Head to the south, okay?” “Wh-what about the Kraata?” “…We will try to do our best.” He grappled away flying right past the Tarakava’s snout. Ashe went past he swung his bamboo disk, thumping it against the Rahi’s nose. It flinched before roaring, and rampaging after him. Ramaka stared after him briefly, before hearing shouting. Quickly she jumped into the swamp, wadding over to Cemahri. Quickly she pressed the cloth to Cemahri’s infection, and the poison began to flush out of her body, forming a toxic cloud in the water. “How … how did you…” Gajaga struggled to speak as she held Cemahri tight. “We don’t have time to think about this, we need to get out of here, that Kraata could still be here, ready to poison her again, or one of us.” “R-right,” Gajaga nodded, cradling Cemahri in her arms. She began to wade through the swamp, with Ramaka returning to the trees. … Only a Toa had the power to fight a Tarakava head on. Their command of their element and their ability to harness their masks gave them the ability to take on the toughest beasts. Even Bohrok and Rahkshi fell before them. Kanohi was no Toa, just a Matoran of Iron who had visions and could grapple around the jungle with ease. Still he had fought again rampaging Rahi for centuries, he knew how to deal with them. Kanohi hung to a tree, waiting for the Tarakava to swing. As it punched him he grappled away, and its punch shattered the tree. Bits of debris smacking into the reptile, scratching up its chassis. “O-over here.” He called out, and the beast charged at him, thrusting out its fists. He hooked another tree as it rammed through the swamp, dodging as it hit the tree. The tree fell and smacked into its head, though the blow missed its mask. Kanohi grappled to another tree, before latching to another and hurtling away as the Tarakava smashed the tree to bits. He grappled besides the Tarakava and immediately launched away, dodging another fist. He grappling around the foe, circling it like a Nui-Rama around a Toa. It shifted through the swamp after him, but its treads could not pivot, and it stumbled on the roots and rocks of the marsh. He then suddenly hooked the beast and flew at it, smacking it in the head. It staggered and he leapt away right as it thrust its arm out, exploding a tree into splinters. It swung at him, but his Volo Lutu Launcher first, hurtling him out of reach among the trees. He was baiting it, and with each punch of a tree debris blew back into it. As it shattered another tree Kanohi launched onto another tree. He hung there, waiting as the beast charged. Infected mask or not, it was still an animal. The Tarakava punched at him, but he hooked a ball of gravity against its face. He flew over its fist, before wrenching off its infected mask. He hurled it into the swamp, before grappling over and stomping the mask. The mask cracked, even as the beast stumbled in a daze, its mind was clearing. It lurched about, confused how it had gotten here. Kanohi grappled away, flinging himself through the jungle canopy. As he tumbled he released a sigh he … he had not expected things to do that smoothly. But then as he slung across the marshland, he heard a cry. He swerved in midair and hooked a tree, heading towards the source of the cry. … “Stay back, Makuta-spawn,” demanded Gajaga, thrusting her spear at the Kraata. They were on a patch of mud, solid enough to stand above the water. The Kraata was hissing as the three Matoran stood in a patch of sunlight, enough to ward the Kraata off. The green slug hissed, the mud around it turning a sickly puke color. It paced about on its patch of shadow, trying to figure out how it could grow closer— Then there was a tumble as Kanohi landed besides them. He thrust out his lighter, and the slug flinched from the light. “Burn it, quickly.” “Not unless I can help it,” he said, waving his arm back and forth, aiming to ward off the beast. “It hurt Cemahri,” shouted Gajaga, grabbed his wrist and thrusting the vigilante’s lighter forward. Immediately the Kraata ignited, turning into a violent blaze. Noxious green fumes plumed off from it as it burnt to a crisp, and Kanohi kicked the slug away, into the swamp. “Fire-spitter,” Kanohi growled, before sighing, “now this patch of swamp will become toxic, it will be unsafe to dip your mask in the water for years.” “It needed to die.” “It did, but there are better ways to get rid of them,” Kanohi stood up, “you all alright? How is Cemahri holding up?” “Okay just … hurts,” moaned the Ga-Matoran, clutching her leg. “We need to get her to Toa Gali, she could cure the poison.” “But … of course,” Gajaga said, hoisting Cemahri onto her back. “Why did you leave into the swamp?” It looked like they packed heavy, tools, sleeping bags, maps, there was a lot of camping gear. “B-because this is our home. We don’t remember Metru-Nui, it’s just a story. Mata-Nui was our home, where we meet each other, where we grew. Where we … meet each other. We don’t know the first thing about the city, or living underground. It’s … it’s not our destiny.” He nodded, looking away, “I understand.” He said, and his wrists began to flap, his arms held out like a Tarakava ready to punch. But his posture wasn’t aggressive just … anxious. “You do?” “Of course. And does it hurt me that the Turaga lied for centuries. That the lies they used to keep most Matoran safe hurt the rest, and they found it acceptable. That when we came to them in confusion and fear, they lied more, to protect the rest. I … I had thought they thought higher of us.” “Would you want to stay here too?” “…What I want and what will happen are very different,” Kanohi sighed, “Duty calls us elsewhere, to the underground.” “But … that is the Duty the Turaga claim we have. What if they are lying?” “They mean to do what’s best for us.” “But you kn-know very well that’s what is best for the Matoran is not what is best for every Matoran. We are not just a monolithic people.” Ramaka stumbled, shrinking under his gaze, “some … some of us are broken. We don’t belong in Metru-Nui.” “…I understand,” he sighed, “I feel out of place in any Koro, let alone in some city I never traveled too. But first, let us return to Kini-Nui. Cemahri needs help recovering from the poison. And the other Matoran will need to know to avoid this stretch of swamp. The three other Matoran nodded, even Cemahri, and together they began to make their way through the tree, Kanohi grappling overhead. … Kanohi grappled across the camped village of Voka-Koro, reaching down to swipe up a fallen bamboo disk. “Um, over here,” a Ta-Matoran called out, avoiding his gaze. Kanohi hooked the ground besides the Matoran and landed besides the m, before handing over the disk. They curtsied in thanks, before reeling their arm back and throwing the disk again, aiming for a target dummy shaped like a Kraata. The small village held thirty seven Matoran, with Kanohi acting as their protector. In the treetops Matoran grappled with Volo Lutu Launchers they held in their hands, foraging food and resources from the jungle. Some wove flax into cloth, others cut bamboo into tools. A few worked to repair their hovercraft, which were made with large cabins to live in. Voya-Koro was mobile, hence the name. For the past month they have traveled about, foraging supplies from the old abandoned villages, having a tour of the island. He could hear laughter as Matoran discovered old adventures, old victories. As they traveled their hovercrafts were frequently rebuilt, the fleet’s ships growing bigger and bolder. “Your village is coming along quite nicely,” a shaky voice offered. Kanohi tensed up like a coiled spring, and did not answer. “I know you are still mad,” Turaga Vakama said as he appeared besides him. A Turaga could only use Noble masks like a Huna, but the Mask of Concealment still had its uses. The Turaga was using his Firestaff as a cane, though it’s flames were dwarfed by sunlight. “I understand why you did what you did. I might have even done the same in your position, though I would have been a very different Matoran then. But maybe I even would have been such a Matoran, before I lost my memories. And I know that had I known, I may have ventured below to help the Matoran underground. Could have enraged the Makuta, or just died. I understand. But all of that doesn’t undo that keeping our truths from us wasn’t cruel.” “We thought that if the Matoran were more organized, if things were simpler, they would be happier. And safer. We did not know how many would fall in the cracks.” “Least you don’t need to worry about us anymore.” He gestured to the nomadic village. Many of them had been outcasts in the old villages, considered freaks by their people. Some were the ‘wrong’ gender for their breed, some of them had strange urges for companionship, some had eccentricities, some were cross-wired. Few of them had ever belonged in their Koro, and now that the world was changing, they had clung to the only people who had been there for them. “I did not know our gulf was so deep.” “…I would not have stayed here if they did not need me.” And that was true. “…You and I do not always seem the exact same thing in our visions, but you must know, I have witnessed a new prophecy.” “The Bohrok?” Kanohi said simply. Instinctually his hand reached to his side, where one of his wooden masks covered his lighter. He winced at the gesture, and pulled his hand back, its wrist flapping with discomfort. “Yes. They will destroy Mata-Nui. Our war against them had only delayed the inevitable destruction of this island.” “I know. It’s why we travel in hovercraft. It’s not just to see the whole island, or to flee from Rahi. We will sail away from the island of Mata-Nui when that time of doom comes, we will find refuge in the open ocean.” “Are you so enrage at us that you would condemn yourself and these Matoran you protect to an eternity on the Endless Ocean?” Vakama’s voice trembled with exhaustion, and Kanohi’s fingers began to wiggle, an anxious energy sinking in. “No, but I have foreseen what happens when the Great Spirit will awaken. Only suffering will follow for the Matoran below. And the Matoran of Voka-Koro will stay here whether I stay or not, I know as much. All I can do is protect them, maybe guide them. And the Matoran suffering below … I could not protect them. I … a Brotherhood of Makuta is beyond me, I know that now.” “How could the Great Spirit awakening be anything but glad?” “…I see a giant machine towering above the Endless Ocean, eyes crimson with arrogance. I see the Matoran ruled by Rahkshi, the Turaga imprisoned in the Coluseum itself, and even the Toa Nuva forced to flee for their lives.” “How is it possible?” “I only tell you what my visions said. It may just be a metaphor.” He winced. He regretted that he had said that dig, deserved or not. “…I couldn’t tell you the truth. But … maybe I could have been less dismissive.” “I know many of the problems I faced you did too once,” Kanohi sighed, “for better or worse, the truth makes you seem less unreachable.” “Yes. I suppose I viewed Turaga Dume the same once,” he laughed, “I never fully learned the lessons I should have, even after a thousand years. And after the trouble we had with the fake disks, I inflected that kind of pain onto you? I failed you.” “…From the sounds of your stories, you did better that Turaga Dume and Lhikan. As long as we continue to do better for the next generation, we haven’t failed.” “Perhaps,” Vakama smiled wearily, “Maybe if we peer into the fire together, like old times, we could learn more.” “…Alright,” Kanohi nodded. If it would help the Matoran, that was most important. And he … he hated that he no longer could trust Vakama like he once had. He could still remember Naming Day, being honored that Vakama had appointed Kanohi his truth name, instead of just his masked identity. “Do you ever think you can forgive us?” “I have forgiven you. But there is a wall between us now, and there always will be. We will never be as close as we once were.” “I understand.” “How are things in Metru-Nui?” “Rebuilding continues. You could be a great help down there.” “I would, but the Matoran of Metru-Nui have seven Toa and seven Turaga. I can make a bigger difference here, among the Matoran who need it most.” “If the giant does rise, what then?” “I get my people to safety, then try to help all of you. Thank of us as a backup group of heroes, who will be there to save you in a ‘great rescue.’” Vakama smiler, “I noticed you listened to all my stories.” “Yes. And for the record, I have foreseen that our hovercrafts will make landfall one day. We will not wander the ocean forever.” “…We can send some supplies to you before then, masks and tools. Once we can make Kanoka again, we can send some your way. Dume would be resistant, he is not comfortable with you being out here, he wants to have the guards bring you back to Metru-Nui.” “I see why the Matoran bristle under him.” “Yes he … Metru-Nui was very different that Mata-Nui. More distant. And Dume would rather us Turaga maintain that distance.” Kanohi glanced at the Turaga. “Meaning?” “Turaga Dume … is used to announcing his decrees, and the Matoran listening. He has more experience that us, much more, but he has not lived among Matoran for a long time, and has not walked among them for millennia before the Makuta captured him.” The Fe-Matoran looked away, “Thank you, Turaga Vakama. If you can send us Kanoka, focus on disks of regeneration, freezing, and remove poison. Those should satisfy our needs. But don’t worry about powered masks, they would be wasted on us. The Toa Nuva and Takanuva, and your Turaga could use them more.” “I know, do not fear,” Vakama laughed, “And just in case your people ever need to know, a Kiril can be made with a regeneration disk. It’s fairly simple to make. Level seven is a Noble Kiril. Level eight would become a Great Mask.” “That’s good. If you can gives us tablets on how to make Kanoka and masks, it might be good to have that knowledge, just in case.” “Yes. Forming a Kanoka is not easy, they were only invented fairly recently. Well, recently in the history of Metru-Nui. But I would be happy to share that with you, late though it would be.” Kanohi looked up as drums began to pound. He looked towards the source of the beating, listening in. “A Rahi is approaching from the west,” he said as the thunder of music continued, “I need to handle this.” “Very well. Good luck.” Kanohi nodded before hooking a tree, and hurtling through the air. He grappling through the trees, launching himself among the branches past the parked convoy. In the distance he could hear a roar, maybe a Muaka? Their jaws were powerful, their claws too, but he knew how to tire one out. The vigilante protector of Voya-Koro hurtling forward, passing the waving Matoran of the village. He catapulted through the forest of Le-Wahi, hurtling through the many trees of Mata-Nui, his beloved island home.
  19. So, as many of you know, one of the first things I did since I returned to BZPower was participate in the Six Kingdoms Escapement. My character in the rpg was Kanohi, a Fe-Matoran “superhero” whose island was destroyed by the League of Six Kindoms, and who spent his days grappling around Metru-Nui trying to repair buildings and help evacuate civilians. He’s one of my favorite Bionicle OCs, just an anxiety-ridden Matoran trying to help others. He grew a lot over the first rpg, and he continues to grow in Six Kingdoms Rebirth. I have written a number of stories about a version of him that fits into the canon of Bionicle, but this story will be a bit different. You see, as SKE was wrapping up we discovered that one of the major NPCs wanted to use the Disk of Time to change history. To us players, there was some fear that our character development would be erased, all our growth and new friendships lost. So I began to plan a way to avoid resetting Kanohi to zero. Kanohi has an ability not unlike Vakama possesses in canon, he can experience visions of events yet to happen. Well he is a superhero, he needs at least one superpower. And it was based on this that I began to plot what to do if history was changed. Ultimately though history was not rewritten, but since the Disk of Time was used, and becauseI know some of us are a bit stressed by recent events in SKR, I thought it might be fun to still use my plan as the basis for a new story. So yesterday instead of sleeping I wrote this bad boi. This story takes place in a universe similar to SKE, starting with a failure of Fe-Matoran grappling through the swampland of his island home. With that said, enjoy. artwork by @Onaku The Impact of a Rebirth … The Fe-Matoran hurtled through the trees like a cannonball, tumbling and careening. As he was flung upwards, he fired from his Volo Lutu Launcher a small ball of gravity into a tree. As he fell from his arc he was yanked to the gravity ball, dragging him through the canopy. He flew past the tree, before continuing to grapple through the swampland of Bo-Wahi. A satchel dangled from his arm, stuffed full of herbs. With Turaga Bomahri‘s back acting up, some of the foragers of Bo-Wahi had searched for and harvested a few herbs to treat his pain. To get them them to the Turaga in time they needed a courier, and Dece was, well, available. Dece was an okay courier. Not a great one. He was decent enough at throwing a bamboo disk as well. Though most of Fe-Koro was his better. Still he at least was proficient at grappling through the swamp than he had been as a mask maker. Right? The traditions of the island of Okoto were simple. The Fe-Matoran lived in Fe-Koro, they made the island’s tools, masks, they mined Protodermis, and occasionally they fought Rahi if Toa Fehagah was too far away to reach them in time. On the other hand the Bo-Matoran grappled through the swamps to forage plants and other resources, and acted as medics if there was a crisis. Toa Fehagah protected them from aggressive Rahi or other disasters, while Turaga Bomahri led them with wisdom. That was how it was supposed to be. But Dece … he was a failure. He struggled to make masks, he had a few successes with easy Kanohi, but he failed on the harder masks. So much Protodermis wasted. Even Turaga Bomahri had gotten tired of his pathetic attempts at forging masks. And every time he tried to forge a mask, he could hear the Turaga’s disappointment, see the other Fe-Matoran looking in pity and-and… The Matoran spotted out of the corner of his optics that his heartlight was flashing. He swallowed and made a moan. Remember what Turaga Bomahri always says. Just … don’t focus on the big picture, break everything down to small manageable tasks. The Turaga had found a way for him to be useful as a courier, he was still helping the Matoran, still doing his Duty. Maybe he wasn’t trusted with particular sensitive cargo, but this was still going to help Okoto. It would help the Turaga even. Dece tried to force a smile he … he was helpful, he … he was. Then came a sound like a buzzsaw cleaving through a thick tree. Dece flinched at the sound and tried … tried not to look behind him. But he could see the shadow behind him, drawing ever closer. As he tumbled through the trees he used his left hand to reach into his satchel and pulled out a bamboo disk he … it wouldn’t be much help, but it might help him get away. Then with a grinding shriek the Nui-Rama was upon him, the giant bug lunging its claws at his mask. He wore a Kanohi Hau, the Great Mask of Shielding. Not that he could use its power, he was just a Matoran, and not even a very useful one at that. But as the Nui-Rama swung at him he threw the disk, striking its bulbous eye. It flinched, it’s flaw only slamming into his gut. Dece tumbled from the blow, slamming into the swamp. As he struck the murky surface, Dece felt his head shattered. Not literally, his mask was not even damaged. But as he sank into the mud the mud seemed to swirl and grab at him, dragging him deeper into the swamp. He struggled, but the world was smothered in mud, turning into a brown goop. And then … Dece’ s mind exploded. … “Turaga?” Turaga Bomahri looked up as he continued to rub his back. His hut was all but woven with iron like a quilt, with metal imitations of flowers blooming in it. In the entrance to his metal hut was a Fe-Matoran, wearing a burnt orange Hau and with a biomechanical body of the same shade or orange, mixed with black components. “Oh, Dece you … have arrived. We were worried you were lost in the swamp.you certainly look the part.” The Turaga of Jungle remarked. Dece was covered in mud, splattered all over his body. But that wasn’t what made Bomahri hesitate. There was … something in Dece’s eyes. “I have brought your herbs,” Dece said emptying his satchel on the table besides the Turaga. “Sorry, they got a bit muddy.” “Of course,” the Turaga said with a sigh. What was he going to do with Dece? Couldn’t even travel the swamp without making a fool of himself. “Turaga I … What do you think of Destiny?” “Destiny? It’s what we all seek to fulfill, to be the best version of ourselves, as the Great Spirit Mata-Nui desires. It is of the Three Virtues most honored by Bo-Matoran along with Unity. Why do you ask?” Such a basic question. “I … I saw something. Or … I was something. Or will be something. I … I don’t know if I understand.” “Don’t worry, we expect that by now,” Turaga Bomahri smiled, “thank you for the herbs, but you need to hurry along, more Matoran will need deliveries.” “Yes um, sorry Turaga. I … I’ll get back to work. Sorry, um, sorry…” Dece bowed and departed the room, but hesitated at the door. He started to look back, before clenching up and raving outside the hut. Then with a fire of his Volo Lutu Launcher he grappled away into the open air, hooking the surrounding huts to travel to the edge of the plateau. … “Matoran Dece,” Toa Fehagah knocked on the hut’s door. It was on the outskirts of the plateau, well away from the rest of the Fe-Matoran. There was a delay and then a shout of, “Um, you … you can come in.” She nodded and bent over, before fitting into the metal doorway. She was tall, her armor was blue and white, and she wore atop her face a Kanohi Kadin, the Great Mask of Flight. Dece was on the floor, welding something. “S-sorry, Toa. I know have not started my rounds today, I just … I saw something. I don’t understand it but I think it’s important. For all of us.” “Alright,” she nodded, sitting down besides him. Anything I can help with—” And then she realized he was welding something to his forearm. “Dece what are you doing?” She demanded in shock, reaching to pull his Firestaff away, only to hesitate. If … if he burnt himself because of her. “It’s okay, Toa Fehagah,” he swallowed, “I … I trust in Destiny.” “What Destiny is it to have a Volo Lutu Launcher stuck to your arm?” She all but managed to shout. He flinched and she added, “sorry but this … this isn’t like you.” “I saw something.” “What did you see?” “The future,” he whispered. The Toa stared at him, “you … saw the future?” “I don’t know how but I … I saw how I can help the village. How I can help our island. I know it sounds silly but I … Mata-Nui had to have given me this vision for a reason, right?” She stared at him, and finally said, “Dece, you had faith in my strangeness, even before I was a Toa. The least I could do is trust in yours. Scoot over, I can make this smoother.” His optics widened beneath his mask, “if … if it’s not a trouble.” “It’s not,” she smiled, “but, would you mind telling me exactly what you saw?” She pressed her finger to his welding job and metal began to secrete from her finger, sealing up the rough welding he had been doing. “Um, well um, is it okay if you do the other arm too?” “Yes,” the Toa of Iron answered, “but what exactly did you see?” “I saw you overwhelmed by strange people that were as tall as you. I … don’t think they were Toa. And I saw Fe-Koro demolished, Bo-Wahi burned to the ground. I saw me fleeing like a coward. I retreated to a great city, whose buildings towered above even the plateau. I saw … that city be destroyed too in the end, by the same army.” “…The pressure you must feel.” “But in the destruction of the city, I was doing things. Good things. Grappling around the city, rescuing Matoran from falling debris, snatching them before they could be executed, shielding them from attacks, using disks with strange powers to repair towers and bridges; I was helping. And if I can help Okoto now with what I had learned to do in the future, maybe we can survive this.” “…That is a great responsibility.” “Yes but … but I can help. A way to help that I can do, that others might not do as well. And that might take pressure off you.” The Toa of Iron was quiet for a time, her body tense. Dece looked away, his face beneath his mask growing crimson. But finally she says, “well, let’s get to work then.” … “Toa Fehagah, this is foolishness,” the Turaga nibbled alongside her, his wooden staff helping support his wright, “Dece is barely good as a courier, he can’t be a fighter.” “He won’t be. He’s going to be a vigilante protector. And he’s Kanohi now.” “He can’t just choose a new name.” “I did.” “Yes well, you underwent Naming Day.” “And maybe Kanohi will too one day,” the Toa dismissed, before using her long legs to speed past the Turaga’s pace. Soon enough she was at the edge of the plateau, where Kanohi was looking down at the swampland below. He was covered in broken masks that he had dangled from his body, like wind chimes. He had never gotten rid of those failures, clung to them. And now they hung to him as armor, the broken and failed masks repurposed to do good. “Ready, partner?” “Um I … I am just your helper.” “Well, you are doing part of my work, so you are my partner,” she smiled, and he blushed. “Now we should begin practice by…” She trailed off, catching sight of something in the swampland. “What’s wrong?” “Fire,” she pointed in the northern patch of the swamp, and he followed her gaze, “it looks like it’s in the path of some of our foragers’ routes. We will have to reschedule practice for another day.” “Okay, I-I-I’ll try to get them to safety.” She turned to object, but stopped. Finally she said, “before careful, alright? I’ll contain and smother the fire, you help them escape. Don’t try to fight it.” “Of course,” he nodded, his makeshift armor jingling at the motion. She swallowed hope … hopefully this would go well. She lifted him up and put him atop her shoulders, and he held on tight. Then with a glow of her mask she lifted into the air, and blasted off through the jungle, flying with all the speed she could manage. … Kanohi hung to his Toa as she flew through the swamp. There was only one Toa in the island of Okoto, and only one Turaga. The island was difficult to reach, the trees were packed closely and shredded boats, it was surrounded by swampland so there was nowhere to dock a ship either. The only settlement was atop a large plateau, so a traveler would need a mask of flight or a Volo Lutu Launcher to actually meet with the natives. And few actually cared to visit Okoto in the first place. The island had little to offer, just a vast swamp full of plants and large bugs, and a Protodermis mine built into the side of the plateau. It had no wealth, the technology it had was fairly basic except for the Iden Machine, but that was made by a traveler from outside the island. They had a few hovercrafts for shipping goods over the island, but the hovercrafts were small, and they were only able to maintain a few of them. Most folks who traveled just used Volo Lutu Launchers. Its people were poor, and they were not worth trading with. And yet, those warlords in his vision, they would burn it to the ground. He shuddered just, just focus on small manageable tasks. Right now there was a fire, he had to rescue Matoran, just … just tru to take it one at a time, He did not have time to dwell on those through though, as soon enough a wall of heat slammed into him. “Here, Kanohi,” Toa Fehagah shifted her shoulders and he climbed off, landing in a tree, “I’ll contain the fire, you rescue the Matoran.” He nodded in a frenzy, before pointing his right arm away. The Volo Lutu Launcher in his arm fired, and he was shot forward into the trees. Then with his left arm he hooked another tree, and began to swing across the swamp. It was … easier somehow, grappling with the weight of his masks and with two launchers. That vision had all but given him the experience of using a similar setup. The one in the vision was a bit more … hi-tech, but this new power was still useful. There, in the blaze he spotted a Bo-Matoran choking on the fumes. He swallowed this … it was real now. Mata-Nui, please let me not screw up again. Not with a life on the line. Quickly he latched a tree trunk behind the Matoran, and grappled through the fire. As he sailed past he extended his arm and hooked it around the Matoran’s gut. With a heave he dragged the Matoran from the blaze, before the two of them tumbled into the mud. As a Matoran of Iron, Kanohi had high physical endurance, so he stood up pretty quickly. He almost tackled the Matoran of Jungle, frantically over his injuries. He was still alive, but he was still unconscious. He … small tasks, just get him away from the fire, With a shove Kanohi hoisted the Bo-Matoran onto his back, before grappling away from the blaze. He swung and hooked his way across the swamp, until he tumbled before to a lone tree some distance from the rest of the woods. Slowly Kanohi lifted the Matoran, straining to carry him. He laid him against the tree, hopefully the tree was far enough away the fire wouldn’t reach it. He looked over, the Natoran was coughing now, spewing wads of black ash. He … he still needed to learn how to treat the injured. He was no Bo-Matoran. Still, he could hear the fire cracking, other Matoran would need help. Kanohi swallowed, before hook in a tree and grappling away, heading back towards the fire that chewed up the swamplands. Just focus on small manageable tasks. He hurtled and flung through the trees, swinging one arm at a time. Soon enough he spotted another Bo-Matoran, this one stuck in a tree as fire engulfed the lower tree trunk. With an outstretched arm he caught the Matoran, carrying him away from the flames. “What the heck are you doing?” The Bo-Matoran demanded as he coughed up mud, “who … who are you supposed to be?” “I-I am Kanohi,” the Fe-Matoran said, “can you climb onto my back, I can carry you away from the blaze.” “I don’t need the help of a freak—” The two of them staggered as a wall of heat slammed into them. The Matoran of Jungle winced before managing, “um, yeah, let me just get on your back.” Kanohi shook under his weight, he had enhanced endurance, not strength. Still his body at least could take the strain, and with a fire of his built-in launchers he grappled away. … Toa Fehagah waves her hands about, and iron erupted from her fingers. Her elemental power snaked and wove through the air like vines up a tree, and soon enough metal had ensnared the trees of the swamp. From tree to tree she grew a wall of iron, a barrier to halt the spread of the flames. The trees would likely die from her metal vines strangling them, but the rest of the swamp should be saved. She had been trained to use her element by Toa Bomahri, most of her lessons had been before he had become a Turaga. Back when he had the full elemental powers of a Toa of Jungle. Because of his influence, the metal she created almost grew like a plant, instead of crude geometric shapes it blossomed and crawled and strangled like any vine. She … had only met one other Toa, the traveler who she traded bodies with, but even with her lack interaction with proper Toa of Iron, she knew she was weird. For many reasons. She was quite aware that she was a freak, just like Kanohi. Kanohi’s vision was … horrifying. She wished she had a Mask of Mind Reading, so she at least could understand some of what he saw. Share his burden. But destiny chose only him to see that awful future. And all she could do was support her old friend. He had always been … anxious and a mess of issues, but Fehagah did not forget that when realized she was no man, Kanohi had accepted her instantly. And when she became a Toa he did not forget her truth. He was respectful, if terrified of messing up. And when she decided to switch bodies with that Toa of Lightning, he was nothing but supportive. Even her old mentor was a bit wary about the island’s only Toa using that strange untested machine. But Kanohi … he believed it was her Destiny from the start. What else could she do but believe in his own Destiny? As she formed her barrier there was a whoosh behind her. She turned to see Kanohi grappling past, dancing among the fire and the trees. She winced, the heat was dangerous. But he just hurled through it, looking for Bo-Matoran caught in the flames. She could not remember this energy from him, this speed and grace. Yes he still tumbled, but his swing through the trees was so precise. That vision, despite its horror, it had empowered him. Told him plainly ‘you don’t have to be a Toa to be a hero. And you Kanohi, you can be a hero.’ As terrible a burden that vision must be, the Toa still found herself thanking Mata-Nui for letting him see what he could be. … Kanohi threw his bamboo disk, striking a few branches. The branches tumbled to the swamp, even as the disk ricocheted towards him. It landed in the mud besides him with a splash. He leaned over to grab it, winching as he strained his back. Even with his enhanced physical endurance his body ached from carrying around the Matoran. Still he picked the disk up, before looking up at the tree he had severed. Without those branches the fire would not be able to spread this far. He turned to the four Bo-Matoran, three of them carrying their fourth. Swallowing he said, “o-okay, you need to wade through the swamp, I will move from above and divert the fire from you.” “Um, sure thing, Kanohi,” one of them managed. They looked at him like he had a Fikou perched on his head, but even still they began to move. He might be a mad Matoran, but he had been doing alright rescuing them from the blaze, so madness wasn’t looking so terrible. Kanohi grappled above them, encircling them to look for dangers. The Volo Lutu Launchers the Bo-Matoran had been used were broken during the blaze, but Fehagah had reinforced Kanohi’s launchers when she attached them to his forearms, they would hold. He was so lucky for the Toa of Okoto to give him a chance, As he revolved around the group he stopped periodically, dangling from one of his launchers to look back to the blaze’s growth and to look for any Rahi. The beasts would flee the fire, but they would still be dangerous. Nui-Rama, Fikou, Nui-Jaga, Nui-Kopen; all those insects stalked the jungle, and all would eat a Matoran if they had the chance. There was a boom as the fire engulfed another tree, and Kanohi grappled over, his bamboo disk at the ready. With a twirl he threw it, cleaving through branches before falling to the mud. He grappled down and hooked it in his hand as he swung over the mud, before hurling and flinging his way back to the four retreating Bo-Matoran. But as he approached he heard that buzzing sound, that terrible buzzing. The Fe-Matoran turned to see a Nui-Rama with a cracked eye flying towards him. Was … could it be the one from before? Kanohi swallowed, before grappling away from the large winged bug. It swerved after him, its claws swiping at the air behind him. He grappled left and right, hopefully throwing the bug off with his erratic movements. Still it pursued him, buzzing like a roar as it clawed at the air. And — argh, the jerking motions only made his body throb and scream. He … he couldn’t just dodge it could he? It was after him, maybe even for revenge. He … he had to make the chase more costly. With a flex of his arms he grappled to the base of a tree, just hanging there. He perched there for like a second, before launching away. The Nui-Rama all but slammed into the tree trunk to attack him, splashing into the swamp from the impact. “Um, sorry?” Kanohi called out, as the Nui-Rama dragged itself out of the swamp. With a sound like a propellor grinding against a tree trunk, it reared its arm back, before slashing its claw through the base of one of the trees. The Fe-Matoran swallowed and hooked another tree, resuming his swing through the swamp. In the meantime the Rahi shook off its wings, mud splattering wildly. The Rahi pivoted in the air, before spying Kanohi and charging towards him. As the beast charged he latched onto a tree, waiting. But as it rammed him with its jaw he grappled away, leaving the Nui-Rama to take a large chomp out of the tree. It spat out the biomechanical wood, before looking at the fleeing Fe-Matoran. It shrieked out a buzzing sound, it would get back at the four-legged Fikou another day. The Nui-Rama buzzed off, swiping a big gash in a tree as it left. Kanohi grappled away, heading back towards the Bo-Matoran. But as he approached them there was a sound he struggled to recognize. Like a cry, but the pitch was off. “Nice one, Kanohi,” he winced at what must be mockery, but then the Bo-Matoran said, “not everyone can drive off a Nui-Rama without even throwing a single disk. That was incredible.” “Oh um,” were they being genuine? “um, well, all I did was making it hurt itself until it lost interest. It wasn’t like I fought it.” “You didn’t have to, you used your head.” “No, I didn’t head-butt it,” Kanohi answered, “but oh um, thank you though.” “Everyone alright?” Kanohi turned his head around to see Toa Fehagah fly towards them. The fire was now contained, walled off from the rest of the swamp by a barrier of trees woven with iron vines. “Don’t worry, Kanohi saved us. He’s working with you?” “He is indeed, we are partners.” Kanohi’s face could have been redder, but it would have been hard. The Toa of Iron just laughed though, and said, “come on, we need to keep moving, even with the fire no longer spreading, it won’t be safe here. The Rahi will be all riled up.” “Um, right, Toa Fehagah,” Kanohi nodded, “Um, what do you need me to do?” “Just move among the trees, and get ready to help them if a Rahi attacks. I will follow from the air, but you can be closer to them.” “Um, okay,” Kanohi nodded. He … he was going to be guarding so close up. Like the first line of defense. He … his hands fluttered like a Nui-Kopen’s wings. He … he really was helping Okoto. And maybe, if he got to be a better hero, even when the league attacked, he could help evacuate Matoran and rescue them, while Toa Fehagah fought the league. And with her able to focus solely on fighting, maybe this time she could win. Mata-Nui had given him this vision of the future for a reason, he had to believe that. And whatever that wad reason, it had to be to help Okoto, to do what his future self failed to do and save his people. Not that he was better than that future self, that Kanohi had disks with strange powers that came out of a weapon, he had strange technology in his mask that let him aim his launchers better as well communicate from long distances. The Kanohi of Okoto lacked those abilities. But maybe one day? It seemed possible at least?
  20. New story time. This one does not really feature Kanohi, but it follows up on some of his stories. I wrote this because of the RPG I participate in, Six Kingdoms: Escapement/Rebirth. Within the story there are a number of PC Turaga who still adventure like Toa. Likewise a plot point in the rpg is that the Matoran can be fairly prejudiced against other races. RIP Poison’s species. Also I wanted to setup the epic I have not written and might not write, that details the Toa Inika of this reality as they struggle against the Makuta. Gosh I hope I write that story one day. As for setting, this story takes place millennia after the events of my stories The Company of Cowards and A Village Against the Rahkshi, in a world where those stories are ancient history. It takes place on a poor village on the shore of Aqua-Magna, which has recently suffered some damages that might be the result of a large Rahi. Anyway without further ado, here is the tale, hope it keeps you folks entertained while we are all self isolating. Those We Choose to Forget … The water around Turaga Macku rippled like the fumes of the old Great Furnace. She slipped through the water in a rush, bending around her to propel her fast and far. She squeezed through the current, laughing underneath her squishy organic mask as she traversed the waves. Sparks danced from her harpoon as she cleaved through the waves, like stars in an ocean. “Turaga,” a voice called out as she briefly surfaced, “the Chronicler wants to speak to you.” Her head turned as she treaded water, spying two shapes. She focused, the blue blur looked like Dalu, her bodyguard. Then she focused on the second figure, and recognized the gold and white blur of an Av-Matoran waving on the shore. Turaga Macku swayed her hands and the water pushed her to the shore, letting her shakily wade onto land. Her legs trembled with age and her hands were unfocused, her vision gone. As she walked she slammed her harpoon down, using it to steady her unstable legs. “Chronicler, it is good to see you,” the Turaga said in greeting as she walked closer, “you do not often find your way to Mahri-Koro.” Her chassis was a bright blue, and she wore a strange almost fleshy Noble Huna over her face. As she walked her fingers drummed her harpoon in a flash of sparks, and the water dripping off her frame suddenly splashed to the ground in a sheet, flung off of her body so she could dry. She was a Turaga of Water, not as powerful as when she was a Toa in her youth, but she still had some lingering remnant of her old elemental powers. “Sorry it’s just, well, most of the Toa and the Matoran live in Metru-Nuva,” he answered, rubbing the back of his mask. “Oh, I think you’ll find we Mahrika still have our fair share of excitement, Solek,” Turaga Macku answered, stopping right besides the Chronicler, “tell me though, why have you come all this way to the shores of Aqua-Magna?” “I … was wondering is you could help me finish a tale I’ve been wondering about. What happened to the Fe-Matoran named Kanohi. The vigilante?” Solek rubbed the back of his head, and Dalu rolled her eyes. “His is an old tale,” she answered with a faint smile, “dating back to the days of the island of Mata-Nui, before the Toa Nuva had landed on our shores. I was just a Matoran back when he first became our protector, still Turaga Nokama’s right hand…” She trailed off, still smiling. “What was it like? When your team killed Teridax?” “It was … lucky,” she sighed, “we got lucky. Three Toa and two titans against six Skakdi and a horde of Rahkshi, and the Ma… the leader of the Makuta? It was just luck.” “And Destiny,” Solek offered with a grin beneath his noble Akaku. “Yes,” the Turaga nodded, “Destiny had its part to play. As did Unity and Duty. Despite what Velika might say.” Her optics tightened, and she clutched her staff hard enough for it to tremble. “Who?” “He’s a part of the story, I suppose you could say. His part is forgotten, for better or for worse.” “Was he a Matoran?” “No.” Turaga Macku answered simply. “Though he might as well have been,” spat Dalu, the Ga-Matoran’s face clenched under her mask. “As for Kanohi,” the Turaga continued, “I do not know what his last adventure was. Because as far as I know, his adventures have yet to end.” The Turaga walked off towards the coastal huts of Mahri-Koro, with the two Matoran following after her as she used her harpoon as a cane. “Really, where is he?” “He is helping many, those that are less fortunate than our people on Spherus-Magna,” Turaga Macku turned her head towards him, her metal lips turning to a soft smile, “some Matoran, some Skakdi, some Vortixx, some Zyglak. Some who have no name in our tongue. He helps them.” “But … where else would Matoran be? Or the others? The Red Star?” “Where he is, that is quite the story. He is not alone however. I believe he is with one of your fellow Av-Matoran, Gavla I believe her name was?” “Gavla? Why?” “I believe she felt out of place on Spherus-Magna and among the Av-Matoran. Since he was patient with her, she chose to leave with him.” “That’s it?” “That is it.” “But she wanted to be a Shadow Matoran, she attacked our people, she … she was the worst Av-Matoran I have ever met.” “Yes,” nodded the Turaga. “Why does she get to travel with a great hero?” “Because she was as uncomfortable in this paradise as he was.” “Wh — why would he be uncomfortable?” “Why indeed,” mused Turaga Macku, her smile wide beneath her mask. The three of them walked along the shore among huts woven of flax, some huts hanging on the ocean atop large lily pads. Matoran walked among the braided rope bridges and sandstone paths, most of them Matoran of Water, Lightning, and Psionics, but there were others too. They swam and fished on the lily pads, while others wove cloth from fibers of flax and seaweed, and others built spears and throwing disks out of bamboo. Vortixx were there too, the towering traders leaned over Matoran stalls, examining harpoon guns and fishing rods. They were shorter and leaner than the ones in Xia-Nuva, but even the smallest one still dwarfed even Toa. Some worked to hang up bug nets, others threw bolas to ensnare flying Rahi, bringing them down in time for Matoran to run up to catch the meal. Solek startled as he nearly thumped into a Skakdi, but as the Av-Matoran backed up the hulking character only grunted and gestured for Solek to leave. The Chronicler hurried away, but looked back enough to see the Skakdi going back to whittling a wooden Hau. Then he spied a large blue, white, and red reptilian creature, lumbering on wooden tools and surrounded by a trio of Ga-Matoran. “That … this is a Zyglak?” Solek managed, clenching his staff. “Yes, Far-Dive is lucky, all of the Zyglak here were recently injured in a deep sea dive. Luckily he was able to swim long enough to get to shore and was able to get help, we were able to recover the rest. Most of the others are recovering in our infirmary.” “They … live here?” “Some do, they help us dive for sunken huts or hovercrafts, maybe hunt deep sea beasts. And the few times we have been attacked by the Bone Raiders, they have been of great aid repealing them.” “But they … they were the Great Beings’ mistakes,” he stared at the Turaga. “All of us were their mistakes,” huffed Dalu with a tremble like a bioquake, “doesn’t mean we don’t deserve homes. And that at least give us aid when they can spare it.” It was … strange to an outsider like the Chronicler. Not just the many shady inhabitants, like the greedy Vortixx and the violent Skakdi and Zyglak, but the buildings, While the huts were humble, there were many of varying sizes, some wide, some lean, but all fairly tall and often with both a large curtain and a small curtain for doorways. Were those entrances for folks of different sizes. It was … the effort to engineer this town this way… “Is this how it was on Mata-Nui?” “Not really,” answered Turaga Macku, “electricity wasn’t so widespread then, medicine was worse too, and there were only Matoran there, and we all suffered under constant attacks by Rahi. This Koro is poor, but it is not cruel.” “But why live here instead of Metru-Nuva? Or any other Koro?” “Because … many Matoran have not evolved beyond their programming. Not really.” “What does that mean? That the Matoran here are simp—” Solek suddenly was cut off as Dalu swung her Charger at his neck, stopping just short of his throat. “Watch what you say.” The Ga-Matoran’s voice hissed like a boiler venting steam. “Um, right, sorry.” Dalu walked off alongside her Turaga, and Solek could only stare. That was … Ga-Matoran were not like that. That was more the anger of a Ta-Matoran. Why was she so angry? And why was she just … no one really was reacting either? And why were Skakdi here, they mostly spent their days beating up each other. Not … relaxing on a beach. Then Solek realized Turaga Macku was walking farther away. The Chronicler straightened his mask before running up after them, stumbling as he struggled to catch up. Finally he stood besides them out of breath, as Macku laughed, “Now,” the Turaga gestured towards a hovercraft tied to a hut floating on a lily pad, “I am wondering if you would help us with something, before I tell you a bit of Kanohi’s tales.” “Sure, Turaga. What do you need?” “A few days ago some of our hovercrafts were sunken. The Zyglak went to investigate and were brutalized by the encounter. From what Far-Dive says, I suspect both were attacked by a large Rahi. Dalu, Idris, and me were planning to descend into the depths to investigate it, but having an Av-Matoran to guide us in the dark would be a great help.” “Oh, um, I … Pit Mutagen isn’t there, is it?” “There shouldn’t be.” “Do you have a submarine?” “Why? Don’t you have Adaptive Armor?” scowled Dalu. “Well, yes, but what about you?” “Idris was exposed to Pit Mutagen long ago, she can breathe underwater. As for Dalu and myself, we can manage between the two of us.” “Can Ga-Matoran hold their breath that long? Are you going to use her Chargers?” “If something goes wrong.” “Do not worry, Chronicler,” the Turaga laughed, “the survivors of Mahri-Nui have many techniques and technologies for surviving underwater, many that put any Ga-Matoran to shame. Many of them moved here, and they have helped us in times like this. And our Vortixx residents are always happy to help us improve our tech and keep it in working order.” “Why are they here?” “The same reason any Mahrika are here. Oh, that is what we call us people of Mahri-Koro. Now would it be alright to count you among our voyage? “Um, yes, Turaga Macku.” … Idris took the lead, bubbles spurting from her back as she descended into the water. The Chronicler swam besides her, a glowing hand outstretched. His body had changed in shape and function, his feet and hands now had webbing, and built into his back was now propellers that shoved him through the water in bursts of speed. “So, Idris,” The Matoran of Light held out his hand as he radioed her, “why do you live in Mahri-Koro?” From his hand a bright light radiated through the gloom, a beacon to the swimmers. “Because I cannot breathe air?” She glanced at the Chronicler, her head tilted. “Yes but you could get a Breathing Helmet and live in Metru-Nuva? Or get your body upgraded to be able to breathe air again.” “Well … it wouldn’t be comfortable. My body is built for water since I was exposed to the Pit, and I spend centuries living beneath the waves. Metru-Nuva wasn’t built with me in mind.” “Built with you in mind?” “I don’t have the widgets to buy a Breathing Helmet, or buy replacement parts if it broke. I definitely cannot afford a body upgrade. And I don’t know if many Matoran would hire a worker who could suffocate in air.” “Yeah but that’s…” “It’s okay. Mahri-Koro might not have the best medicine or the biggest selection of comforts, but it’s still good. Close to the ocean, the other Mahrika will swim with me, they value my help and freakishness. It’s a nice place to live. More accessible to everyone.” “You aren’t a freak.” “I kind of am,” she looked off to the side, before abruptly saying, “but it would be better if I was enough of a freak to use my Ruru. Imagine if I could actually use my mask to see through this gloom. It would let us save your elemental power.” “Oh it’s no trouble—” There was a rumble below them, and Solek vanished. Though as Idris swerved in the water to look for him, she realized his light remained. “Chronicler? Are you there?” “Yeah, sorry. My armor changes color on reflex.” Idris turned towards the glowing light, she could just about see an indigo hand with a black forearm, both illuminated by the light. “Incredible.” “One of the many perks of being a Matoran of Light. If you want I can change back?” “Don’t,” Macku’s voice interrupted, as a hand grasped Solek’s shoulder. He spun around, only to find true emptiness behind him. “T-Turaga?” Solek’s optics swept about, searching for her. Then Turaga Macku laughed across the radio, “Come now, Turaga. I have a Huna, don’t I? Noble Mask of Invisibility.” “Oh, right,” Solek blushed. “But I suggest you keep those colors you have shifted to, at least fir now. Us girls naturally blend in with the water, even without my mask. If the Rahi is hostile, it could only help you to stay a little camouflaged.” “Quiet, I hear something,” interrupted Dalu, “more rumbling to the southwest, lot of water being displaced, other Rahi are fleeing from the rumbling too, some are screaming.” Solek turned to see her swimming up, her body was built in the Mata-Nui style, giving her long arms and short legs with big feet, an somewhat ape-like appearance. “Understood, rest for a time, Dalu. Chronicler, Idris, please investigating the sound, I will help Dalu rest, make the water support her. When you explore, don’t attack the source of the sound unless you must. We don’t know how dangerous it is, if it is enraged it could damage Mahri-Koro.” “Right,” Solek nodded, and extinguished his light. His hand reached out and grabbed Idris’s wrist, before swimming towards the direction Dalu suggested. His Adaptive Armor shifted slightly, and a visor formed in his mask. giving him a sort of basic night vision. Not as powerful as even a Noble Ruru could do, let alone a Great Ruru, but enough for the darkness not to blind him. As the two swam Solek remarked, “Dalu seems a bit … odd for a Ga-Matoran.” “She came from Voya-Nui.” “So did you, didn’t you?” “…Not originally, but then neither did she.” “Then why—” “She grew up on a hostile island with no Turaga for guidance, just unusually weak Matoran struggling to survive as they ran more and more out of resources, hunted by powerful starving beasts.” “You had to live underwater.” “Yes. But that doesn’t take away what she endured.” “But times are easier now, aren’t they?” “They are. But not everyone heals, and not everyone heals the same way.” “Her core processor is damaged?” “Don’t say that,” Idris spoke with a sharpness that Solek cut himself on. “Oh, sorry.” “Point is, she doesn’t fit together with most Ga-Matoran now, always ready for the next attack, her instincts ready to retaliate at the first sign of a threat. Most Matoran find a warrior Ga-Matoran disturbing, she was isolated in Metru-Nuva, and that only made her anger and paranoia harder to control.” “So she came to Mahri-Koro?” “Yes. She is fairly calm and happier here, but certain things can trigger her.” “And the Vortixx? How are they odd?” “Well um, many of them come here because Vortixx society is very rigid on gender. Many of our siblings here are more flexible, some have no gender, some have many, some are assigned as male by their people but prefer to be women, some the reverse, some have a third gender.” “I … never heard of such a thing.” “It appeals to some of the Mahrika Matoran too. Other Vortixx come because they are injured or disabled, and cannot afford treatment or prosthetics. And even with treatments, Vortixx don’t often get hired in Xia-Nuva if they might be a liability. And in Metru-Nuva, well, medicine is not intended for beings that size.” “What about the Skakdi, most of them are just bandits, raiding Koro or getting in street fights. Their uncontrollable rage is legendary, I never saw an artisan one before. And the false Toa were Skakdi too, but the Turaga lets them live here?” “The Skakdi feel great rage, yes, doesn’t mean all of them want to let it rule them. They are sick, but so am I, so is Dalu, so are all of us. And the false Toa were only six in number, they do not speak for their whole people. And do not forget, the Skakdi people were experimented on by a Makuta, they did not exactly chose to be wrathful.” “And the Zyglak? They are strange for their people?” “Not really. Well, they might be more … hopeful? When Kanohi and Turaga Macku reached out to them, they did not immediately refuse.” “Kanohi? He was here?” “Yes, he lived here for a while. Before he left. Gavla tried living here too.” “But why approach the Zyglak?” “Because as much as all of us Mahrika are considered freaks and outcasts in Matoran society, none of us are openly called “the Great Beings’ mistakes.” Solek’s face reddened, and he looked away “…How is the Turaga strange?” “She loves.” “Well, we all do.” “No, not like a sister, she loves like an Agori would.” “…I had never heard that about her.” “That’s surprising, she’s pretty open about it. I know you don’t come to Mahri-Koro much but I would have thought one of the other Turaga would have told you. Turaga Kapura at least.” “Well he doesn’t really talk anymore.” “From what our Turaga says Turaga Kapura never talked the way the Matoran approved of, but he always got his point across. Turaga Macku wonders out loud sometimes why he did not leave Metru-Nuva to live here with us, before she usually sighs and mutter, ‘but we were safe, weren’t we? We were the Hands of our Turaga.”” “…What was it like on Mata-Nui? The island I mean.” “I … never really went there.” “But what does Turaga Macku say?” “…Not my place to speak for my Turaga.” “What about Kanohi then? I know that right before he vanished he had spent much of his time here. Was that hero … he unusual too?” “…” Idris was silent, but as Solek started to speak again the water came to life. Not literally, but it began to squirm and twist, and then the water churned as the very ocean rumbled like a yawning Tahtarok. The darkness around them seemed to squeeze around them, something shifting in the gloom. The two Matoran startled, and Idris drew her electro-blade as the Av-Matoran drew his staff, a curved two-pronged two representing his status as the Chronicler. The two of them treaded water back to back, even as the very shadows around them seemed to move as an avalanche. As the water rumbled around them, suddenly a familiar voice declared “swim to your left.” The two Matoran broke to the side, and Solek startled when he realized he was all but a blur through the water, zipping away in a burst of speed. He flapped his hands to stop, before feeling a hand grab him and turn him around. As Idris redirected his gaze, Solek ignited his staff with elemental light. The glow illuminated a massive wall, one that was squirming about. “What … is that?” The Chronicler managed. “The Dweller in the Deep,” Turaga Macku radioed quietly, “I heard stories of this beast. A unique massive Rahi that had made its home in the Silver Sea of Metru-Nui. Turaga Nokama faced it once when she was still a Toa, it was the only predator of Tarakava and Great Temple Squids.” “I … am unfamiliar with those Rahi.” “A single Tarakava almost wiped out all of Ga-Koro, trapping the Ga-Matoran underwater in a hut rapidly running out of air. They would have died if I had not snuck past to get help from Toa Gali. And a Great Temple Squid all but destroyed Ga-Koro five hundred years before the Toa came to Mata-Nui.” “…And this eats them?” The Chronicler managed, the wall of fish scales still passing in front of him and Idris. It was … endless. As he stared the light from his staff grew larger, but still he could not see the edge of this colossal Rahi’s body. But he did see something. “Turaga Macku, the Rahi has some discoloration, a green burn is running down its side. Looks diseased, or maybe poisoned?” “Troubling.” “Turaga, could it be the world of a Lerahk? Could Makuta Krika be the cause?” “Shame, Idris. You know the last Makuta keeps to himself, and after saving Spherus Magna he deserves some good faith, despite … everything.” “Of course, Turaga.” Besides, without Energized Protodermis, no new Rahkshi can be made. Even if he wished to create some, he could not. Still, it does resemble the poison Tahu suffered. Perhaps it is the work of a feral Kraata, or even a wild Rahkshi that escaped our hunters…” “Can you heal it then?” “Possibly, though I have far less power than Toa Gali Nuva. Dalu, wait for me, then try to accelerate its healing.” “Right.” “Idris and Chronicler, you will need to distract the beast. Give us time to get to work.” “We are on it,” Idris declared, and the Chronicler nodded, before firing a flare of light through the darkness of the ocean. The light streaked through the water, and with a terrible rumble the Dweller winced as the light passed its eyes. The beast slowly began to swerve in the water, it’s snake of a body turning about slowly as Solek fired another flare. It winced at the radiance, before diving at Solek. As it opened its maw Idris thrust her electro-blade against the beast’s hide. It moaned and Solek jetted out of its jaws’ path, before sending another flare streaking past. … Turaga Macku’s fingers sparked with electrocity as they pushed and pulled against the depths, creating a current to shove her and Dalu through the water. Their feet kicked too of course, but the water did not fight them, letting them move swiftly through the darkness. “Okay, Dalu, enhance my finger strength.” “On it, Macku,” muttered Dalu, “not stopping there, gotta increase this dweller’s natural resistance to toxicity and ability to heal.” “Three enhancements? Are you sure—” “I can take it, Macku,” Dalu grunted, “I’m not some frail fisherwoman.” She drew her Chargers and they began to glow, illuminating the Turaga’s hands and the whole of beast itself. Dalu lurched as the water around the two rippled and churned, before going limp. “Dalu—” “Get … on with it, Turaga,” spat Dalu, and Macku just nodded with a small grin. With a flex of her sparking fingers she hurled through the water, flying at the beast just as it turned chasing the Chronicler. She stowed her harpoon on he back, she wouldn’t need it yet. Macku’s hand shot out and grasped the beast, clinging onto his scales. As she hung she began to climb along him, searching for the burns. Her body was all but invisible, her organic mask cloaking her from sight. Not that she needed it much in the gloom. The strange fleshy mask was … smart. She did not need to focus to use it, it empowered her on its own. Such a freakish mask, a Mahrika through and through. There, she heard the beast roar in pain as her finger grasped at a patch of flesh that was unusually soft. The beast bucked and thrashed, she clung to a scale desperately, her fingers straining for a handhold. As the thrashing slowed she closed her eyes, still clinging tightly. As she dangled off it she held out one hand, which sizzled with energy. Her Toa Team had been … unique. Infused with the power of the Red Star, their elements were bonded to electricity, their masks were sentient and organic, their bodies full of energy. Three of them had become somewhat more … conventional later on, but she, Kapura, and Hafu had kept their strangeness, even after Kapura and her had finally became Turaga. She breathed slow into her air bubble, digging her feet and hands into the gaps in the beast’s scales. Then the Turaga pressed a hand to the wound, and electricity burnt into the green fleshy patch. The beast lurched and thrashed, but she held. And as her hand sparked water rippled around the wound, soaking into it. The fluid seemed to glow a shade lighter than the ocean, as the waves from her hand pushed into the wound. The element of water could naturally heal, not as well as a Mask of Healing, but it could mend flesh. And now not only was she healing, she was flushing out the poison. Like Toa Gali had done long ago to Toa Tahu, before … things got bad. Macku was not a Toa anymore, and not a Toa Nuva like Gali, but she still had some healing left in her. As she focused the sparks coming off her hand burned away the infected tissue as the water healed it, as well as cauterizing and cleaning the wound. “Chronicler, be prepared for danger,” she said suddenly over the radio, “this burn, it is similar to the ones a Lerahk could cause.” “Then it is a Rahkshi?” “No,” she grunted as the Dweller suddenly lurched. She could feel herself getting low of elemental power, “the poison burns are in streaks, like something slithered there. It was likely a Kraata-Ye, I … think it would have to be at least stage five.” “Stage five?” “Yes, that would poison any Rahi. But since this is not just any Rahi, it might be a stage six of even a Shadow Kraata.” “How could a Shadow Kraata remain alive? How is it possible?” “It is a big universe, and there are plenty of things outside it,” she answered, “Do not worry, the Turaga hunted the Kraata for centuries on Mata-Nui, and none of them had the element of light to help them. At best they had Matoro and Kanohi to act as bait.” “…Yes but I’m not Kanohi.” “No kidding,” Dalu managed to radio, “Macku, I’ve got an idea. Still a bit winded, so if I pass out, you better bring me to the surface.” “Of course, warrior.” “Okay, I did this with Toa Tamaru once, before he … used the mask. Let’s try this.” And then Turaga Macku’s hands began to glow and a current of lightning and water unleashed from her fingers. “What are you—” “Enhancing … your connection to your … elem…” And then Dalu fell silent. “…Idris,” Macku ordered as her power washed over the beast’s wounds, “find Dalu and bring her to the surface.” “Of course, Turaga.” The beast’s wounds seemed almost to regenerate as the poison was flushed from its skin into a noxious cloud. As her power dwindled Macku called out, “Chronicler, get ready. If the Kraata is still here, it will try to stop—” And then a blast of light streaked past her, illuminating the Dweller’s back. As Macku’s optics adjusted she could just about see a green slug-like creature, hissing as it flinched from Solek’s light. The Kraata reared back lunged towards Turaga Macku, but whether it aimed to infected her mask or poison her, she would never know. For Solek fired a pure bolt of light energy, which streaked over her shoulder and plowed into the Kraata. The Kraata-Ye burst into a cloud of vapor, and a small cloud of greenish blackness hung in the water. “Are you alright, Turaga?” “Yes,” she nodded, before shoving off the beast, “the Dweller is still wounded, but the poison is expelled, and there should be no more.” “But where did it come from? And the Dweller—” “Is leaving for deeper water,” she pointed simply, and it was. The long creature slithered through the water towards the farther depths of Aqua-Magna, the ocean rippling in its wake. … “So, you will speak to Krika then?” “Well, not him, I don’t know where to look. But he keeps a Rahkshi with a Shadow Kraata in Metru-Nuva, it knows his will. If … if there are wild Kraata on Spherus-Magna, it should know. And if not, then he should know another Makuta still remains loose.” “You will trust him?” Turaga Macku said. “You … you all have given me a lot to think about. I never … thought about … never questioned … you are a strange Turaga, you know that? You still have wisdom but you fight, you go on adventures.” “Yes, well, I always knew when tradition should be ignored. Apparently even before Mata-Nui.” “…What was Kanohi like? I mean I know the stories but … I did not question them.” “He was an outcast,” she said almost casually, “we thought there were only six elements, the Turaga told us he was a Po-Matoran. But of course, he lacks their strength and his body is built differently, he failed in much that they did with ease. Then there were his visions.” She looked away to the horizon, “we thought he was insane, his other oddities didn’t help. Vakama taught him about his visions, he knew what it was like to have a glitch, especially such a strange one. But there was only so much time they could meet with each other. For centuries the six types of Matoran were kept apart, and while Kanohi was a traveler, he ‘belonged’ with the Po-Matoran.” “Why not tell him he was a Matoran of Iron?” “Because, Matoran like people to fit into nice neat boxes, and some of us can’t,” she sighed, “revealing other elements would only confuse the Matoran, cause disharmony. Or so they said when he found out. It drove a wedge between him and Vakama, and I wonder if it is why Vakama finally died seemingly of his body shutting down.” “Vakama died of guilt?” “I think that sometimes. You know, the most remarkable thing about Kanohi was not that his vision gave him visions or that he was a Matoran of Iron on Mata-Nui. It was that he took all the ostracizing and judgement other Matoran pushed and him, and turned it into compassion. He became a vigilante while the rest of Mata-Nui waited for the Toa. He rescued Matoran, helped other outcasts build homes, he tried to make the world a little kinder, a little more hopeful. Especially for the most vulnerable of the Matoran.” “When he learned about the Matoran below, his heartlight broke,” she sighed, “on Mata-Nui, the bulk of us were bullies at worse, we could be cruel but not monstrous. Well, most of us were merely bullies, one Matoran served the Makuta willingly. But below our people were much worse. Some of our fellow Matoran committed genocides, viewed other races as savages. They experimented on other ‘lesser’ Matoran, they committed atrocities. And as far as he knew, he might have been monstrous too before the Makuta had destroyed all of our memories.” “So he and you made Mahri-Koro as a sanctuary? “Something like that,” she nodded, “a village that would take in the freaks, the outcasts, the monsters and the creatures.” “…The stories I hear of Kanohi are … different. That he was always beloved hero, honored by all of Mata-Nui and Voya-Nui.” “He was and is a hero, and most Matoran honored him by the end. The stories are not exactly wrong. But even now, acknowledging that he was first an outcast, that the villages did not see his potential for nearly a millennia, that for a time only the freaks admired him, well, it does not fit the simple view of the world that Matoran like.” “…I will have to rewrite some of the chronicles in the Wall of History.” She shakily stood up, using her harpoon to stand, “on a brighter note, the last day he was here, he told me that he had been wondering something. That when the Turaga took us to Mata-Nui, and rebuilt our society, if they had tried to make it kinder. It was not perfectly so, but if they had at least tried to make society nicer, more compassionate. And though their efforts had fallen short, now Mahri-Koro had learned from their mistakes and successes, and made a better village. And he wondered if one day, millennia in the future, if another village will come and put this one to shame.” “That’s beautiful.” “Forgive me, I still have not told you where Kanohi went.” “Isn’t he still here?” Solek smiled. “In ways,” she smiled back, “and in many ways though he is far away, often he is quite close to Aqua-Magna, if not Spherus-Magna. Rarely the Red Star, and even rarer farther than that.” “I don’t understand?” “It’s not known to many of us. I wonder if he knew about it all along, his visions might have given him glimpses. Makuta Krika might be able to tell you more, he was the one to use the Olmak in the end. Ask him when you visit him.” “Krika knows?” “A Makuta seeking redemption? Filled with regret? He is a freak, much like us Mahrika. He was kept in much of the loop in the early days.” “…You know, he still went along with the Plan, up until you killed Teridax.” “Yes,” she nodded, “and personally corrupted many of your fellow Av-Matoran. Nothing will make that right, undo the harm he did in the Brotherhood. But he might one day be able to fix some of the evils his brothers and sisters had committed.” “…You know as evil as Matoran can be—” “…They were not the Makuta?” She sighed, “I fear it is dangerous to view evil as a mere sliding scale. But so is assuming that every evil is the same and throwing aside trying to better things, even gradually. Ultimately though, you are right, the Matoran did not cause the scale of harm the Makuta did. But it does not mean we are innocents, and it does not mean we have no need to examine ourselves and try to improve ourselves. And do not forget, most Matoran are all but powerless. The damage we could cause the world was limited by our physical limitations. And we still caused great harm. Poison, Phantom, Gaardus, all victims of Matoran violence. And they were not alone.” Solek looked away to stars out over the horizon. “How are the Zyglak?” “Mending,” she answered, “some of their other tribes were able to send them aid, help us better take care of their injuries. A few Zyglak plan to hunt the Dweller for vengeance, there is not much we can do about that.” “They are going to antagonize it? After it wrecked the ones here?” “The Zyglak are used to being beaten and attacked,” she turned from the rising sun, “they have been outcasts since before the Great Spirit awoke. All they have is that they can stand together and show support.” “What about Mahri-Koro?” “They are wary, some tribes consider the Mahrika Zyglak traitors. Others they say they hope to erase the memories of all Matoran so they could become more like us. I think they are joking.” “I hope so.” “I hope that the Zyglak don’t find it,” she muttered. “Because it would kill them?” “Yes, or they would kill it. The Dweller is one of a kind, only one was ever discovered. It even held the Great Disk of Ga-Metru for a time, the disk wedged in its teeth. Turaga Nokama encountered it when she was a Toa, before the Great Cataclysm.” “…Once you knew what it was, there was no way you would kill it, was there?” “I doubt I would have killed it regardless,” she laughed like gravel tumbling, “the Toa Code still has some sway over this old Turaga. But knowing it was a freak, poisoned and abused, lashing out in its pain, well … I was never the most bloodthirsty Toa. Better to leave it be, instead of hunting it down. Aqua-Magna is big, I doubt it would come too close to here again.” “You are something of the Toa of the Mahrika, aren’t you? “Something like that. I am a indeed bit more … active in facing threats to the village than some Turaga, though I am far weaker than any Toa. Not to mention my tiny stature.” She laughed to herself, shaking her head with amusement. “Well, before you leave for Metru-Nuva,” the Turaga interrupted her own laughter, “would you like me to tell you the story of Kanohi’s last adventure here? And where he has gone?” “Yes. But … it also might be good to hear a new perspective on more well-known chronicle. I will have to leave soon, but someday, will you tell me what you remember of the War?” “The War,” she sighed, “you mean the tale of my team of Toa Inika, and our fight to save Mata-Nui from the Makuta? How we fought against the Makuta, his Rahkshi, and his Piraka; all while our brothers faced a horde of undersea monsters eight of the Makuta and the six corrupted Toa Nuva?” “If it would not bring up too many bad memories.” “I was spared the worst of it,” she said simply, “Toa Tamaru faced the worst, and Kopeke and Onepu did not fare much better. If not for Toa Krakua…” She trailed off, remembering that great sonic shriek that seemed to echo through the universe, and how it had changed the far off battle of Karda-Nui completely. She shuddered, “But yes, I can tell my part of that epic tale. I can even start it now. It began long ago, a week or so into our exile on Voya-Nui. Kanohi had conversed with Garan and Axonn for much of that time, guided by a vision he shared with few. And then one day, he had Axonn carry the Toa Canisters of our beloved Toa back towards the beach…”
  21. So for the first few months of 2020 I have been posting a bunch of my short stories on BZPower, most of them connected to versions of my vigilante Fe-Matoran character “Kanohi.” Because if you are going to make a Bionicle superhero, there are worse names than “Mask.” The story concept was a Matoran who would protect his fellows, guided by visions like Vakama had in LoMN. Because I freaking love the idea of that glitch. He would never become a a Toa, if fact his Destiny would be to always be a Matoran, never to transform. Since then I have explored a version of Kanohi over in the RPG topic, one who is a bit more of a mess than the one in these short stories. He’s a lovable mess though. He still can be a bit of a mess here, but in these stories he’s been a vigilante for at least a few centuries, he’s a bit more confident and a lot more experienced. Either way he continues to grapple around on Volo Lutu Launchers, helping the Matoran he can. Point is, I figured I should make a little library for these short stories, in case anyone is interested in reading the adventures of Kanohi, outside of the Six Kingdoms RPGs. They are all fairly short, no epics so far, and if I do make an epic I don’t think it would involve Kanohi much, and instead would be about a version of the Toa Inika. Spoilers for one of my continuities though. Anyway, please enjoy these short stories about a Matoran vigilante trying to protect his people. sprite made with the Danska’s Bionicle Builder sprite kit Kanohi: Core The Core Universe Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes: The short story that started it all, this takes place in the island of Mata-Nui, during the events of the Mask of Light movie. This short story is removed from most of that movie’s plot, just him rescuing some refugees from Ta-Koro from a Rahi. This story is canon to both the Core Universe, the Kingdom, and an alternate universe based off the vision Karzahni showed Jaller in the book Dark Destiny. The Willing Exiles: A short story taking place post Mask of Light, in the months when the Turaga tell the legends of Metru-Nui. For some Matoran there is a disconnect with the great city, they feel no attachment to it, Mata-Nui is their home. For others, the revelations the Turaga give are almost a betrayal, as the knowledge they withheld could have helped some outcasts be less isolated. Kanohi feels both, and his bond with Turaga Vakama is damaged. New The Tool of a Matoran a.k.a The Kanoka Project: While not necessarily taking place in the core universe of Bionicle, this story takes place in a timeline after the main storyline. Marendar and Velika both perished, but not after the Toa became extinct and every last Toa Stone was destroyed. In this new era Matoran seek new protectors, and have begun experimenting on themselves to create artificial Toa. In this time a Ga-Matoran joins an experiment to become empowered, unaware of ulterior motives behind the project. Kanohi: Fear In the book Dark Destiny, Jaller witnessed a vision of a world where he did not sacrifice himself for Takua. The Chronicler was killed, the Toa Nuva were overwhelmed, and the island of Mata-Nui fell into everlasting shadow. Of course, this vision does not make sense in canon, as Teridax would not be content to rule a mere island, nor kill the Toa Nuva. So instead of adhering strictly to the vision, I used it as a springboard for a world without a Toa of Light. It is a dark age, Ta-Koro and Onu-Koro destroyed, the Turaga imprisoned, a horde of Rahkshi enforce their Master’s law, all while six false Toa encourage the Matoran to submit to the Makuta. Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes: also canon to this reality. The Company of Cowards: In this short story thirty seven Matoran flee for the south, guided by visions Kanohi has had of another island. Among the voyagers are the Chronicler’s Company, Nuparu, and Hewkii, all hoping to find asylum from the Makuta, and hopefully allies to free Mata-Nui. A Village Against the Rahkshi: Things have changed drastically for the Matoran, both the refugees of Mata-Nui and the hardy folk of Voya-Nui. With the Chronicler’s Company gone to fulfill two desperate destinies, the remaining Matoran find themselves under attack as six Rahkshi land on their island, searching for the escaped refugees. The Matoran of Mata-Nui only know fear from the Rahkshi, but the Voya-Nui Matoran have not been beaten yet. Kanohi joins them with his Volo Lutu Launchers in defending their village from the Rahkshi, but he strangely requests the Matoran capture and not kill the Rahkshi’s Kraata. What has he foreseen? Those We Choose to Forget: A story taking place in a poor village of Mahri-Koro on the shores of Aqua-Magna, millennia after the Makuta’s defeat. Here Turaga Macku is swimming, when the Chronicler of Spherus-Magna comes on a visit, asking for a forgotten tale. Kanohi: Kingdom The Universe of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit, the universe Takanuva visited on his journey to reach Karda-Nui. Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes: also canon to this reality. The Willing Exiles: also canon to this reality A Restless Freak in Paradise: A short story about a version of Kanohi in the Kingdom Of the Great Spirit, years after Takanuva visited it, but before the people all migrated off Aqua-Magna. In this era of peace, where the Toa no longer protect the Matoran what use is a near powerless vigilante. Kanohi: Rebirth An alternate timeline spinning off of Six Kingdoms Escapement, where a version of Kanohi in his past experiences a vision of the events of the first season of the incredible Bionicle RPG. Knowing that his homeland may be destroyed, he resolves to become a vigilante hero early, to prevent the horrible future from coming to pass. The Impact of a Rebirth: After having a vision of a future, noted failure Kanohi resolves to help his Toa and his island as a vigilante. His first struggle? To help rescue Matoran as a fire raged in their swamp of an island. Kanohi: BZPRPG Kanohi was originally created as the amnesic Fe-Matoran Dece for Act One of the BZPRPG. He was a member of Stannis’s Companions, but after the group disbanded he did not show up for almost a decade. Now as Act 3 begins much has changed, Dece is older, more paranoid, and more desperate to prove he has value. Whatever happened in the interim, he now has adopted the vigilante identity of Kanohi, grappling through Le-Wahi helping travelers and Rahi alike. Other Stories Interview with a Supervillain: Ultra Agents came out during my “Dark Age” but a few years ago I discovered their sets, and was enamored by their villains. Struck by how LEGO often makes their own villains, but rarely their own original superheroes, and the fact that “Tox” was a hero of sorts in the Ninjago show, I wrote this story about a former villainess running into an old adversary. It’s a little preachy, I was less subtle back then, also was in a mood, but if you want a story about a vigilante and a former ultra agent being more than a little gay, here you go.
  22. So I got laid off because of the coronavirus, and I have a cold. I hope it’s a cold. It’s not my best week, and a lot of folks have it worse. So as a distraction, I wrote a new Kanohi story. This is actually a sequel to my last short story, The Company of Cowards, which takes place in a universe inspired by the vision Karzahni showed Jaller in Dark Destiny. Both stories are also sequels to my original Kanohi Short Story; Of Villagers, Outcasts, and Heroes, though that one can fit into a couple universes like the Kingdom and the Core Reality. Point is, here is a new story about a grappling vigilante Fe-Matoran, with him back in the lead role. Please enjoy, at the least it’s a bit of a distraction. A Village Against the Rahkshi … Kanohi wiped the large wooden mask, a powerless mask carved in the shape of a noble Ruru. He hooked it atop his head, covering him a strange tribal appearance. He breathed steady, hands shaking. He … he had put on a brave face for the other Matoran, but here, the fear came out. He was not a Po-Matoran. He was a Fe-Matoran. And Vakama would have known that. His visions of an underground world under attack by monstrous spiders and Rahkshi, those were real, but Vakama had lied and said those visions were not so literal. There was so much Vakama had never told him. So much he still would not know if not for Axonn. So much of what he knew over the past millennia was just … lies. He understood the need for secrecy, he might have left Mata-Nui to help the underground Matoran, many would have. And despite Vakama’s mentoring, Kanohi was an outcast, a vigilante who did not belong to any one Koro but helped all Matoran. If people far away had needed him more, he would have left Mata-Nui with regret but resolve. But even though he understood by the Turaga had lied, it stung like a hundred Nui-Kopen. And it still wasn’t right. Necessary maybe, but not right. Kanohi held out his orange and black arms. Like the rest of his body they were plated with wooden masks, but sticking out of his firearms right before his wrists were small launchers. Between the technology of Voya-Nui weaponry, and the inventiveness of Nuparu, the Fe-Matoran had been able to get upgraded again. He how had two Volo Lutu Launchers; one built into each arm, to let him grapple across the jungle with ease. Even the strange jungle of Voya-Nui. Satisfied at his arms, he pulled out his lighter, gazing into the flame. As the fire danced he could see image dance in the embers. That was one honest thing Vakama had told him at least, how to focus his strange ability to prophesies with fire. Within the flickering flames he could see three of the new Toa; Macku, Kapura, and Hafu, all sailing with Hewkii and Axon. They were traveling back towards the island of Mata-Nui through the gloom of night, only the Red Star breaking the endless void of blackness. Axonn rowed and Macku pushed the ship with her elemental power, waves splashing from each push. As water foamed in their wake, the white bubbles broke apart like clumps of wet sand, before crumbling into an avalanche. Kanohi tried to grapple away, but it soon was upon, smothering him in darkness. He shivered in the gloom, before red rusted eyes consumed his sight, and a terrible voice shouted, “where is the Mask of Time!” “Kanohi, sir?” The autistic vigilante spun around, his hands shaking, his heartlight pounding beneath his wooden masks. Piruk flinched at his outburst, and Kanohi tried to settle his breathing. “Yes, brother?” “I … I was surveying the northern coast with Dalu, she enhanced my sense and … there are strange reptilian creatures flying this way. Six of them, all yellow, holding staffs.” “Rahkshi of Heat Vision,” Kanohi sighed like a hovercraft’s engine dying, “the Makuta has found us. Has Garan and Dalu already rallied the Matoran?” “Um yes.” “Is Brutaka joining us?” “No he … he says six Rahkshi are not worth his time.” “I think he will change his tune if we capture some Kraata,” Kanohi stood up. That was another thing Vakama had trusted him with, even more than all Matoran. The only Matoran to ever go hunt Kraata with the Turaga were Matoro and Kanohi, though more as bait than as fighters. “What are Kraata?” “What controls a Rahkshi, the Rahkshi is just a suit of armor a Kraata controls. They are not very smart, but they are dangerous, and can corrupt masks.” Kanohi stretched, adjusting his wooden masks one more time, before saying, “Piruk, I know this is a lot to ask, but report back to Garan, he might need you to report to the other village, and he will need to know these are Rahkshi of Heat Vision.” “M-m-me?” “We all must do our part. With half of the Toa Inika heading to liberate Mata-Nui from the Makuta and his false Toa, and the other half moving to find the Mask of Life, we need all of us Matoran working together. You don’t need to fight, just transmit news between the Matoran.” “R-right, easy. Well, you know what Balta always says…” “…You don’t need to be a Toa to be a hero,” Kanohi nodded, walking out of the hut. Looking about he aimed his right arm to a tree, and a sphere of gravity blasted out of his built-in launcher. It slammed into the treetop, and then in a rush the raw gravity pulled, ripping Kanohi off the village clearing and into the air. As he hit the tree he fired from his left arm, grappling to another tree. He ricocheted from tree to tree, patrolling the village even as other Matoran ran about in preparation for the Rahkshi. … Dalu focused her Chargers as a Rahkshi flew overhead, a tight glare in her optics. With some strange power emanated from her silver blades, striking the beast. As the beast turned towards her it lurched, suddenly as heavy as a Kikanalo. The Rahkshi plummeted like a stone, smashing into the ground with a resounding thud. She ran at the beast, but as she drew close it glared it’s eyes at her, and twin beams of burning energy slammed into her. She wheezed in pain, before that wheeze ignited into anger. “I am not so easily cowed!” The Ga-Matoran snarled, balancing on one arm and her legs. With some strain she fired her Chargers again, this time at the ground beneath the Rahkshi. The earth beneath the beast began to crumble, eroding what should take centuries in a matter of seconds. The Rahkshi was buried, and she slumped over, panting. “Take … that … Rahi,” she managed to shout. Using her Chargers was a big drain, she would need to rest or risk passing out— There was a hiss as beams of red hot flame erupted from the rubble, carving a hole in the debris. She stared up as the Rahkshi dragged itself out of the earth, its armor now scratched up, its legs sparking from when it fell from the sky. The mechanical puppet stepped towards her, its movements jerky like a Rock Ussal scuttling towards its prey. Two blasts of heat vision fired at her, but before it could hit a Ta-Matoran lunged in the way. Balta crossed his Repellers in front of Dalu, the weapons absorbing the full blast of the Rahkshi’s energies. And then with a thrust of his shoulders the Repellers hurled the energy back at the Rahkshi, frying it like the best Toa of Fire. The Rahkshi nearly collapsed, sparking as it used its staff to hold itself upright. With a cock of irs head it fired more heat vision, but not at Balta. The blasts struck a nearby tree, dropping it like a stone. Balta sounds around to repeal the falling tree— Two blasts of heat vision slammed into the Ta-Matoran, sending him tumbling. The good news was that thanks to the blast, the tree had missed hitting him. But the bad news with his injuries, he wasn’t able to lift up his Repellers, too aching from the blow. Balta’s head rolled over to take in the Rahkshi, just as a blur swung through the canopy. As another blast of heat vision flew at the Ta-Matoran a hand grabbed his arm, before grappling away in an instant. The heat vision ignited the tree, but no Matoran was hurt. Kanohi and Balta landed in a roll, as the damaged Rahkshi turned back towards them. Kanohi swallowed and fired a ball of gravity at the Rahkshi, and in a rush was hurled into the beast. He slammed into the servant of the Makuta, knocking it to the ground. As the Rahkshi shakily stood up Kanohi grappled away, calling out, “i-is this the best the M-M-Makuta’s son can do? To lose to three powerless Matoran?” If the Rahkshi was smart enough to understand and insult, it was hard to tell, but it immediately began to fire heat vision after Kanohi, blasting after him like a rampage Muaka. As the forest ignited, Balta suddenly felt some of his strength returning, his injuries mending just a little. There was a thud behind him, and he turned to see Dalu collapse again. She had enhanced his ability to heal. As the Rahkshi fired at Kanohi, the vigilante heard Balta call out, “over here.” The Fe-Matoran obliged, grappling besides Balta. The Rahkshi fired another pair of beams of heat vision, only for Balta to repel them. The blast pounded into the Rahkshi, shattering it in a fiery explosion. “We … we … killed a Rahkshi,” Kanohi managed to squeak out, dropping to his knees. “It’s not over yet,” Balta struggled to stand, putting his hands on Kanohi’s shoulder. The vigilante turned to see the Kraata had burst free of the Rahkshi, and was now oozing towards them. With a nod Kanohi drew a small capsule from his pack, and grappled over to the Kraata, slamming the capsule on top of it. The slug hissed and squirmed as he slid the lid underneath, sealing it away. “Try to rest,” Kanohi urged Balta, “watch over Dalu until she has recovered. I need to hurry back to the village, the bulk of the Rahkshi are headed there.” “Understood, Kanohi.” Balta lay down besides his fellow Matoran, as theFe-Matoran turned, hooked a tree and grappled away, launching his way through the jungle of Voya-Nui. … “Come on, Velika,” urged Kazi, uncharacteristically aggravative, “that Rahkshi is attacking the village, we need to form a Kaita.” “No,” Velika said blunt like a hammer. It was in fact unusually bluntly for Velika, no annoying sing-songs riddles of poems, just a blunt answer. Normally this would strike Kazi as odd. But since there was currently three large reptilian beasts the size of a Toa igniting the hunts and frying the Matoran, Kazi was not in the mood to ponder this. In fact all he could manage to say was simply “Why the Karzahni not?” “We don’t have time for this,” said Garan as he fired a blast from his Pulse Bolt Generators, the pulse flying through the air, growing larger and larger as it flew before pounding the Rahkshi with explosive force, “Piruk, Kazi, we will form the Kaita.” “M-me?” “Yes,” nodded Garan, “just concentrate on our unity, it should be much less of a strain than forming a Matoran Nui.” “I … I will try.” The three Matoran drew close to one another, holding hands as the village burned. Then in a flood of light they merged together, their green, brown, and black bodies fusing into one large Matoran. “Incredible, and I thought the strength we got from Nuparu’s upgrades was intense,” the fusion declared, eyeing his arms and his new two-pronged blades, “but this is on a whole mother level.” The fusion turned towards the rampaging Rahkshi and slammed his blades together, unleashing a powerful burst of sound that only grew sharper and louder as it flew. It slammed into a Rahkshi, sending sparks raining from it like an afternoon rain. The other Rahkshi turned, just as the fusion charged the first Rahkshi, slicing its staff in two. “That, is the power of our unity,” the fusion declared, before slicing and hacking his blades at the Rahkshi. The other two charged at the fusion, and the fusion only laughed boisterously, before lunged at them with clean sweeps of his blades. … “A Matoran Kaita,” Kanohi shook his head in amazement. It was … awe-inspiring to see this penultimate act of the Virtue of Unity, to see Matoran become one in drive and purpose. The giant was a little taller than a Toa, and was a flurry of sound and slashing. It was… Suddenly Kanohi spied a flash of red, and grappled to the side, avoiding a blast of heat vision. He did not have time to witness the unity of the Matoran, there were lives to save first. The vigilante grappled around, his wooden masks thumping and flanging as it went. The sensation the sound gave was oddly comforting to the autistic Matoran, grounding. It kept him calm, as calm as he could be in this moment of raw chaos. Plumes of smoke erupted from huts, ash plummeted to earth as if Mount Valami was erupting, buildings collapsed in explosion of splinters and Matoran collapsed, their metal flesh smoldering from being hit with heat vision. It was … it was just like when Mata-Nui fell. His hands trembled at the memory of Ta-Koro burning in the lava, the smell of roasting Matoran, the crushed remains of Onu-Koro, the sheer destruction caused by the first six Rahkshi, the Matoran of those villages sent as refugees to Po-Koro, to serve the will of the Makuta, then the arrival of those false Toa Piraka— And then he heard the jingling of his armor, and Kanohi let out a breath. They … they had defeated one Rahkshi, that was more than the Turaga ever had. The Matoran of Voya-Nui were strong, they … they could handle six Rahkshi. And since these were all the same type of Rahkshi, they couldn’t physically form a Kaita, same as how three Matoran of Fire couldn’t combine together. And that gave the Matoran a bit of an advantage. Kanohi swooped down towards a burning hut, scooping up a Ko-Matoran. His pistons and servos strained against the weight, but he was a Fe-Matoran, he naturally had better endurance than the average Matoran, and that was before he had been rebuilt to be stronger. Why didn’t you tell me that, Vakama? Just tell me the reason I was such a poor Po-Matoran was because I was not a Matoran of Stone at all, but a Matoran of Iron. The vigilante launched away from the fire, the Ko-Matoran in hand. Finally they tumbled to the ground, now away from the blaze. The vigilante stood up as the Ko-Matoran bolted, signing as the Matoran ran. It … his memories bubbled up inside him, the Toa Nuva could not stand against the Rahkshi, how could a village of Matoran? But he did not have the luxury to be lost in fear. Matoran were in trouble, he could not let Voya-Nui fall too. And he … he was a vigilante hero, he had protected the Matoran for centuries before the Toa arrived, protecting them from wild beasts, capturing Kraata, he was a hero. Not a Toa, but still a hero none the less. Kanohi swallowed, and then grappled back into the fray. … Nuparu slashed with his new electro-blade, frying a Rahkshi’s ankles. He was no great warrior, not the kind to become a Toa, but he had already fled the Rahkshi once, he would not do it again. As the Onu-Matoran lunged out of the way of the Rahkshi’s stomping foot, the fusion charged forward, skewering the Rahkshi’s central compartment. Ooze drooled out from the wound, and the foul smelling fluid pooled into the village center. The Rahkshi swayed, before collapsing down at Nuparu— Only for Kanohi to grapple past and carry the inventor to safety. The vigilante rolled on the landing before grappling away, streaking past the Kaita. “Please try not to kill the Kraata. I have had a vision about the Kraata, we need them to get Brutaka on our side.” “Why?” The fusion startled, “how would that convince him?” “I think he can eat them.” “Eat, like those Piraka you talked about?” The fusion stared after the vigilante, his mouth agape under his mask. Then a blast of heat vision hit him in the back, sending him tumbling. Kanohi swerved in midair and grappled back towards the fusion, as a Rahkshi focused his heat vision at the Kaita. The fusion shuddered, as two more Rahkshi flew into view. The three remaining ones were converging here now. Suddenly one of the Rahkshi became a blur, blasting forward at an inhuman speed. It slammed into a tree, shattering the wood with explosive force. As it stood there dazed Dalu stumbled out, stabbing it with her Chargers. She forced the Kraata’s compartment open, exposing the puppeteer. The slug hissing before lunging at her mask, only to be flung back by Balta’s Repellers. The Kraata smacked to the ground, right as Velika ran up to seal the stunned slug away. And then there was a boom. With explosive force the fusion separated, broken up by the barrage of heat vision. Piruk, Garan and Kazi were flung apart and landed with a resounding thud, too exhausted to function. Kanohi turned to the three other Matoran and said, “can you form a Kaita?” “No, not compatible,” answered Velika quickly. Balta and Dalu gave him a look, and he added, “if the Muaka falls, the Kane-Ra will not do better.” “…Okay. Then I’m try to distract them while you get these three to safety.” “I am not just running from these brutes,” Dalu all but snarled, and Kanohi let out a grin. It was good to see a Matoran who still had that much fire. “Fair enough, then we’ll fight them while Nuparu and you two take the fallen to safety.” “Right—” Heat vision swept at the ground, but Kanohi grappled a nearby tree, hooking Dalu and dragging her out of the way. He swung her as he flew past a Rahkshi, and she lunged at the beast, stabbing it in the eyes. The beast staggered about, and she slashed her Chargers against its thighs. Her friends’ fusion had really done a number on these Rahkshi already, now was just clean up. And as the beast crumbled, she stabbed it through the head, letting a noxious ooze drip out. Kanohi meanwhile was darting around the last Rahkshi, grappling back and forth. It’s heat vision pursued him, try to catch up. And then suddenly it pivoted around, aiming for Piruk. Immediately Kanohi broke left and grappled the Rahkshi, slamming into it. The beast stumbled, heat vision going wild, even as Dalu stabbed it in the head. There was a hiss as the slug dissolved, leaving a black stain on the ground below. And then the Rahkshi collapsed with a thud. Kanohi fell to his knees too, panting, while Dalu kicked the beast and shouted, “yeah, that’s how we do things in Voya-Nui!” … “Incredible,” Brutaka laughed like an avalanche, “I feel … incredible.” The titan slammed his fist against the mountain, shattering a crater in its side. He smirked beneath his strange mask, before punching the mountain again, and again, laughing to himself. As boulders fell Kanohi hooked a tree behind Garan and grappled, catching the Onu-Matoran’s wrist and dragging him to safety. The two Matoran tumbled into a heap, as Brutaka laughed. “And you little creatures killed these Rahkshi on your own?” He shook his head as he smashed open another capsule and slurped out the slug like a Rahi lapping water. He began to glow with more energy, the air rippling around him like the tip of Mount Valami. “Pity you only recovered three of these Kraata,” he scowled. “There are many more on Mata-Nui. And it’s said they are created from the essence of the Makuta himself. So the Turaga say.” Though they will lie if they wish. “Oh I know a lot about the Brotherhood of Makuta,” Brutaka laughed, standing up on his long gold and blue legs, “I’ve fought Rahkshi before too. But to eat one? I never even dreamed…” Under his mask Brutaka sneered, “I think I will visit this island of yours after all,” Brutaka decided, and his mask began to glow. Before the two Matoran’s eyes space rippled and ruptured, until a tear in reality formed. And within the rift, Kanohi could see a very familiar beach. “You could teleport that far?” Garan declared, “then why make your brother Axonn sail to Mata-Nui? Why not help evacuate my people’s northern brothers and sisters?” “I didn’t see the point,” Brutaka answered, before stepping through the portal. And behind him the gateway sealed shut, as if it had never been. “Do you really think we can trust him?” Garan glanced at Kanohi, “No,” answered Kanohi with a sigh, “but he will distract the Makuta, and the Toa Inika there will need all the help they can get.” “The Makuta is truly that strong?” “Yes,” Kanohi shivered, and then forced a smile, “still, I thought the Rahkshi were untouchable, and today we destroyed six of them. Nuparu and Velika are already busy salvaging their remains for more tools and weapons, even as your village is mended.” “You know, when the Makuta is defeated, and Mata-Nui is saved, our islands could learn a lot from each other. Trading goods, stories, knowledge, we are running low on food and resources, your richer island could save us. We already defeated monsters that could defeat your Toa Nuva. Imagine what we could do in a few years.” Kanohi’s face relaxed into a faint smile, before saying, “I better return to your village, we need everyone we can to fix the damage it suffered.” “Then hurry,” Garan laughed, “before my people defeat the Makuta without you.” Kanohi nodded, before grappling away through the jungle of Voya-Nui. The vigilante smile faded as he grappled, despite their words it wasn’t that simple of course. Not only was the Makuta a danger, but the false Toa themselves were powerful, though only ‘Toa’ Thok, ‘Toa’ Vezok, and ‘Toa’ Hakann seemed to be able to use their elements. But all of them had strange and incredible powers, allegedly because of the masks the ‘noble’ Makuta gave them when he appointed them the ‘protectors’ of the Matoran. Lies, all lies. The fights the Toa Inika would face in the coming days would not be easy. But the least he could do while the new Toa saved the Matoran and Mata-Nui was to protect the Matoran on Voya-Nui, both refugees and natives alike. He had a duty to all Matoran, he became a vigilante to protect them on an island with no Toa, to give them hope, and well, here he was again. And despite all his fears, his knowledge, there was another truth. Today was a victory. And that would keep him going. So Kanohi continued to grapple from tree to tree, hurtling between branches as he headed back to this island village, in a forest so alike but unalike his home. And this was the way, of the Bionicle.
  23. I wasn’t going to post this one yet, but since the world is in quarantine I felt like I might as well share a story so folks have something to read. This story was inspired by … kind of a canon alternate universe, but not really. I was hit with inspiration by the vision Jaller experiences in Bionicle Legends: Dark Destiny, the world where he did not sacrifice himself for Takua. Makuta over, the Matoran enslaved, one thousand years later the Turaga are killed in an attempted assassination, and Jaller and Hahli are broken servants of the Makuta. Dark times. Now that vision … doesn’t exactly gel with the canon. I’m not sure Makuta would wait over a thousand years ruling the isle of Mata-Nui, or kill the Toa Nuva, not when he would know that Mata-Nui would die soon after MoL. Karzahni visions aren’t always accurate, so I’m not surprised it may have some continuity issues. So I used that vision as the basis for this story, but made some adjustments and changes as I plotted it. I have other ideas for this AU, Versions of the Toa Inika, someone using the Vahki with the willpower to use its full power, what really happened to the Toa Nuva, just rough ideas I haven’t really polished yet. Maybe they will appear as either an epic or a few short stories, not sure which, but leaning towards the latter. Also this story features my OC Kanohi, because I like him, though Macku has a bigger role in the story. Anyway without further ado, here is the Company of Cowards. … There was no dawn through this storm, the black clouds reigned above as they hurled their weapons down like a swarm of hornets. The rain was a barrage of arrows, thunder was the battering ram, and lightning had all the force of a ballista. Nature itself was tearing at the makeshift raft, striving to destroy it in an unnatural fury. The boat was made of everything they could find, parts were scavenged from the huts of Ga-Koro, others from their boats, others from trees of Le-Wahi, even the six Toa Canisters were used to build the craft. It was held-together more through prayer than the vines and ropes that lashed around it. Seaweed was plastered across its sides, until it looked more like a particularly large clump of algae than a ship. Shivering in the storm were thirty seven Matoran, all hiding underneath tarps of seaweed. Their metal frames were blasted with saltwater, only the Ga-Matoran and Ko-Matoran braced the weather with any real resistance, all the others struggled each to stay conscious, their heartlights faint. Only their heartlights and eyes glowed, no other light was lit in this ship as it plunged through darkness, Most of them were rowing, others adjusted the crude rudders to steer through the endless ocean that encompassed their world. And a few Matoran peered out through gaps in the seaweed canopy with spyglasses, daring to pry into the skies about. “Rahkshi,” a faint voice managed, pointing to the port side of the boat. Macku held up her finger for silence, before squeezing under the canvas of kelp to stand besides him. The Ga-Matoran held out her spyglass in the direction that he pointed, even as she unholstered a throwing disk from her back. Up through the lens of her telescope, Macku could see three reptilian shapes streaking through the sky. Each had sharp spines jetting out of their hunched-back, and their heads were all but serpentine. Each held a double-sided staff in their claws, which they swung and gestured with periodically. Their armor was a vibrant gold, almost mocking the memory of the Avohkii. She tensed up as the thought of that Mask, she had only seen it once, seven years ago. During the last Kolhii Match, when it fell out of the Chronicler’s bag, illuminating Jaller with light. Turaga Nokama had translated it, revealing it was the Mask of Light, heralding the arrival of a seventh Toa. But a seventh Toa never appeared, and the island of Mata-Nui was enslaved by the Makuta. And now she and all the other Matoran who could were fleeing their homes, abandoning their sisters and brothers to their horrible fate. Cowards. Just like Jaller. The Ga-Matoran swallowed, holstering her disk. “Spread the word to keep quiet, Tamaru,” she urged the Le-Matoran, and he nodded. They might be cowards, but there was no way they could win a fight with three Rahkshi. They were just … Matoran. Macku pressed her way back through the bowels of the ship, crouching low to not disturb the vessel’s disguise. Finally she squeezed over to Hewkii, Hafu, and Kanohi. The first two brandished a throwing disk in one hand and a Kolhii staff in the other, standing guard. Kanohi meanwhile was huddled low to the ground, staring deeply into his lighter. He was covered in wooden masks carved in the shape of Ruru, using them for armor. Besides him were three objects, the first was Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff, the second was a Volo Lutu Launcher; last of its kind. And then besides the Turaga’s Badge of Office was something wrapped tightly in canvas and cushioned atop a pillow. Most Matoran did not know what it was, but Macku knew all too well what lay underneath it. “Three Rahkshi are on the port side,” Macku whispered, “I don’t think they have spotted us yet, but I’ve told Tamaru to pass the word to keep quiet.” “Karzahni,” sighed Hewkii, “we are tens of miles away from Mata-Nui, how did they find us?” “The Makuta’s reach is great,” answered Kanohi, “but he has not found us yet. All he knows is where we might be headed.” “And this other land, there are Matoran there?” “Many Matoran, though their bodies are weak, like ours used to be. I think between me and Nuparu we could upgraded their bodies too.” “And are there Toa? Not false Toa like Vezok and Zaktan, real Toa. Heroes.” “There … may be Toa, I see two strange beings, titanic in size, both wearing masks and brandishing powerful weapons. One is stout with armor of red and silver, the other is lean and is plated in gold and silver. I fear they are at odds however.” “Are they strong enough to challenge the Makuta?” Macku interrupted. “My visions are rarely easy to understand,” answered Kanohi, “I understand your frustration. To be blindsided by this tragedy, it is … humbling.” “To say the least,” muttered Macku. “Well, it’s not all hopeless, Macku,” Hewkii huffed and forced a grin, “we’ve smuggled some of our brothers and sisters to safety.” “Yes, until the Makuta decides to track us down,” she shook her head, before her face reddened and she added, “still, you’re right, we’ll probably have the Makuta dead in days and soon enough we’ll be after the seventh Toa again. She contorted her face into a smile beneath her mask. “Macku, you don’t need to hide your fears with me,” Hewkii said quietly, before cracking a more genuine grin, “and it looks like the effort is hurting you.” “True enough,” she shook her head, her smile not quite as forced now. “Excuse me,” a slow voice said. Macku turned to see Kapura, his crimson body covered in a thick cloak. The Ta-Matoran spoke like the slow approach of a glacier, even as his body trembled from the frigid cold, “the Rahkshi have diverted course … to the west.” “Then have they missed us then?” Hafu blurted out with a grin as big as the ocean. “…I think so,” answered Kanohi as he stared into the fire, “keep everyone quiet for now, but I think they are heading elsewhere.” “You are sure?” “Give me a moment to focus,” he said, gazing into the flames, “it’s not easy to steer my power enough to see what I want to know. Kapura, Macku; thank you for your messages.” “It’s the least we can do,” Macku sighed, sitting down, “I should return to my watch, keep an eye on the Rahkshi.” “What color were they?” Kanohi asked suddenly. “Golden, like the Avohkii.” “Before the Toa Nuva were overwhelmed, Turaga Vakama confided in me the types of Rahkshi. I believe the three of them would be Rahkshi of Weather Control, this storm is their work.” “They can even twist nature against us.” “Yes. Oh, sorry, I was thinking out loud. I … I can see nothing, but I will stick to my fire. For the meantime, watch the storm, and be careful leaving the ship. Macku, have your Ga-Matoran forage seaweed when they can, I’ll drill a hole in the ship to dive from.” Macku nodded, “I will pass it alone.” “And I will pass along your orders,” Kapura interrupted. Macku turned to look at him, but he had already vanished into the recesses of the ship. … Kanohi could see Vakama screaming, the Turaga being blasted by the power of fear. The manifestation of raw terror smothered him, as a voice snarled. “The Mask. Where did your pupil hide the Mask?” The waves of gaseous fear blotted out the stars, snuffing them out as Kanohi stumbled in the dark. And then he felt water splash into his face. He looked down to see a Ga-Matoran flailing in the rocky ocean below him, her leg engulfed by a Takea, the shark dragging her down— “Kanohi?” The autistic Matoran lurched away from his lighter, spinning to his feet and thrusting Whenua’s Drill Staff behind him. His optics darted around as the drill whirled. No one was there. And then he spotted Kapura, standing besides him. “You had a vision.” “Yes,” Kanohi admitted, “a Ga-Matoran drowning, a Takea attacking her. I couldn’t tell who she was, it was hard to see.” The starlight outside was all but extinguished, the only light came from the blasts of lightning striking the ocean.” “It may be happening.” “Karzahni. Who?” “Macku has not returned, Hewkii is considering diving after her.” Kanohi nodded, handing over the Drill Staff. “If you have to, shatter it.” “Yes.” Kanohi crouched and made his way through the ship, his Volo Lutu Launcher already back in his hands. It was meant for the jungles of Le-Wahi, but he had made it waterproof, at least as best he could. There, peering over the hole was Hewkii, his hands squeezing his spear until it nearly snapped in half. The hole had been drill in only a few hours ago, the rim bent upward as water splashed inside the boat. Seaweed lay stacked in mounds in this chamber, sloppy and wet. “Move,” said Kanohi, as he pulled out a bundle from his pack. “Please, just … bring her back.” Kanohi nodded and dived in, sinking into the water. With a whip of the cloth he uncovered the Lightstone, illuminating the darkness of the stormy sea. Clutching it in one hand he swam through the gloom, searching for any traces. He was no Ga-Matoran, he couldn’t hold his breath for long. He would have to hurry. … Macku moved her hands towards the object, formerly lost to the waves. It … it looked like a curved blade, a similar shade of silver to the Toa Nuva’s weapons. But it was small, seemingly built for a Matoran’s use than a Toa or a Turaga. As she touched it it radiated light, and a mild shock of electricity zapped her hand. She recoiled, her hand sore, what … what kind of Matoran tool has that kind of power? This could be useful. She grabbed the seaweed from her pack, and wrapped some of it around her hand. She reached over, grasping the tool, it singed the plant fibers but they held. Strange, was it damaged by the erosion of the sea? How long had it been here? As she held the blade in front of her, through its sparks she spotted something swimming through the gloom. She immediately kicked off the rocky patch and swam away, heading back towards the ship. The water curved behind her, something huge was getting closer, shoving aside the ocean like blades of grass. Macku swallowed and turned around, just in time for her blade to illuminate a Takea’s jaws, the teeth glinting from the electricity. She stared in horror just … not responding, as the Takea chomped down on her leg. Somehow she was numb to it, the teeth pierced her leg and she felt nothing. She just stared there. Then suddenly the water rippled, and a Matoran slammed into the Takea. The shark released her, and she drifted through the water, bubbles popping out from under her mask, her eyes motionless. … Kanohi wasn’t sure if Macku was already dead, but he couldn’t dwell on that much, ramming into the shark had staggered him, he had almost released his breath. He swerved in the water and fired a sphere of gravity besides Macku, and with a flurry of bubbles he flew besides her. Her heartlight was still lit, she was still alive. He grabbed her hand and squeezed, trying to help her store, and she almost strangled his fingers. He flinched, before feeling the ocean bend behind him. With a twist of his wrist he fired his Volo Lutu Launcher again, and grappled out of the Takea’s jaws with Macku hanging behind him. He winced at the strain dragging her weight behind him, but he held on. He was … he was different, he could endure it. Kanohi fired his Volo Lutu Launcher over and over, grappling across the ocean floor. Up ahead he could see the hole in the ship, they were almost there. He could feel his head burn from lack of air, not literally but metaphorically. He … he did not have much longer to make it through the water. Then with a rip Macku slipped out of his hands, throwing him off course. He sailed past the hole, struggling to right himself. He … he needed to get her. Finally he hooked something and went flying, before flying up back into the ship. He panted as fresh air filled his lungs, his hands trembling. He swallowed, Hewkii was shouting at him, but his words were utterly unintelligible. “Going back,” Kanohi managed to say, before diving back underwater. He grappled down to the seabed, before using the Lightstone to search for Macku. Through the gloom he spied a flickering light, she was standing up shaking, some tool in her hand flashing while the Takea swam around towards her. He grappled at her, hand outstretched. … Macku stared up at the shark, it’s jaws were nothing like a Rahkshi, but in its rage and aggression, she could see a resemblance. She blankly looked at it, her hand trembling. She used to be in the Chronicler’s Company, she was a great Matoran, she broke the blockade to get help when Ga-Kori was overrun. She defended the Toa themselves when they descended into Kini-Nui. She was … she used to be strong. But now … she felt like a Turahk was blasting her with raw fear, until her servos and joints couldn’t move. No matter how much she wanted to. The Takea barreled down on her, before Kanohi slammed into it again. He knocked the shark off course, missing her and smacking into rock. Macku stared as the shark shook itself off before swimming away from her, now pursuing the Po-Matoran. Macku’s optics followed after Kanohi, his Lightstone illuminating his movements. He grappled again and again across the jagged seabed, the shark gaining on him, its jaws opening up to engulf him. The Ga-Matoran she … she couldn’t let him get eaten. He was a hero. He had protected Mata-Nui long before the Toa landed on their shores, rescued Matoran from dangerous beasts. She … she couldn’t let him die. The Matoran would need him. Look at her. Weak, cowardly. She belonged in Karzahni, with the rest of the failures. Then suddenly she felt a hand grasp hers, and a familiar Mask of Speed greeted her. Hewkii. She hung to his hand tight, and he squeezed back equally hard. His hand seemed to speak in her hand, not with words but with feeling. You are not alone. She felt her heartlight tremble as she stumbled upright, getting a mild shock from her blade, as a Hewkii grasped her hand too. Then with a shove they swam at the Takea, Macku took the lead, she was a better swimmer after all. With a thrust she slammed the electric blade into the shark, and sparks ignited the ocean like a thousand heartlights. The shark gurgled out bubbles, and then with a powerful swish of its tail it turned and swam away into the ocean. Macku released the blade, which Hewkii caught. Trembling she grabbed Kanohi’s Volo Lutu Launchet of his hand, he barely fought her, woozy. She grabbed his hand and Hewkii grabbed his other, but not before pocketing his Lightstone. With a squeeze of the trigger she hooked the hole of the ship, and the three of them grappled into the watercraft. With strain Hewkii threw first Macku, then Kanohi inside the ship, before climbing inside the crude vessel himself. The three of them laid there panting, heaving as a few Matoran looked over them. Finally Hewkii stumbled upright with his spear for balance, and began to speak. Not that Macku could hear his words, she was numb to the world around her. She lay there limp and exhausted, before a Hewkii crouched besides her. He spoke to her and she stared up at him, unable to process his language. A Ga-Matoran bent over her, looking at her leg with a shaking head. “What’s wrong?” asked Macku, though she couldn’t hear her voice. What could be wrong with her leg, she couldn’t even feel it? … Macku slammed her makeshift crutches down, swinging her body around on her good leg. She lumbered through the gloom, with a Hewkii following her, his arms outstretched. “I can handle this much,” she said shakily. “I know. But you don’t have to, alone at least.” She sighed, “I know. Thank you.” “Hey, you Ga-Matoran value Unity most of the Three Virtues, if anything I learned it from you.” “Po-Matoran treasure Unity highly too.” You just treasure Duty more than I ever could. The two of them made their way to Kanohi, who was sitting down, Drill Staff at the ready. At his feet was the electro-blade, partly dissected. “Any luck understanding this weapon yet?” “Not really, the technology behind it is incredible, beyond anything on Mata-Nui, save the Bohrok and Boxers. Nuparu has made progress though. It must be from Voya-Nui. I … in my visions of the island I have seen Matoran with strange but powerful weapons, it must be one of theirs.” “Then we are close?” “Maybe. More importantly, the storm is dwindling, and I have had another vision. The Rahkshi have stopped searching these waters, for the moment at least?” “Really? What … what did you see?” Macku briefly couldn’t see the glow of her heartlight, too stunned for it to flicker. “From what I could understand they spotted a drifting patch of seaweed with Takea feasting on fish inside. I think they believed we perished and that was the wreckage of our craft. Again, we should lay low for a time, avoid fishing or repairing the hull, but I think we might have escaped.” Hewkii practically tackled Macku in relief, and she embraced him too, the two Matoran squeezing each other in a whirl of clinking armor. Their bodies almost seemed to intertwine with each other. Then finally they pulled back with a nod, and Macku said, “I should resume searching the skies, this time keep watch over him, alright?” “Of course,” nodded Hewkii, saluting her, and slamming his throwing disk into his forehead in the process. She laughed as he winced from the blow, and he blushed too. “I will go to Tamaru,” Kapura added slowly, “inform him of your vision.” Macku startled at his voice, she hadn’t even known he was there. “Of course—” Kanohi began to say, but Kapura was already gone. Macku shook her head at her fellow’s strange speed, before ducking under a beam and squeezing back through the dank ship. Her metal feet splashed against the floorboard drenched in saltwater and slime, puddles sloshing back and forth as the craft swayed from the dissipating storm. … By the fifth week of travel the Matoran had voted and had decided to name their ship the Voya-Suva; the Voyage Shrine. It seemed fitting, as they carried the prayers of the Matoran with them on this long journey, and Kanohi had had a prophecy claiming the island they sought to be named Voya-Nui. “What do you think?” asked Hewkii as Macku surfaced. She carried a net in her hands, full of seaweed to be ripped up into fibers. Hewkii held a net too, hauling in fish for the Matoran to eat. Turaga Vakama had empowered Kanohi’s lighter with some of his elemental power, easily enough to cook the fish the Matoran caught on their journey. “About what?” She asked. Her crutches lay besides Hewkii, her leg had ultimately needed to be amputated, and they did not have access to the tools to make a prosthetic. Still, she could still swim fairly well, and her lungs were still stronger than other Matoran “The latest vision Kanohi shared with us. That the Makuta may not only have cast the Great Spirit into a deep sleep, but that the Great Spirit might be dying.” She looked away, “I’m trying not to think about it. The last few days have been so tranquil, it’s best we do not dwell on a prophecy that is so … distant.” “Yeah, I guess we need to keep our senses sharp,” Hewkii agreed, “The last thing we need is to be gloomy on a day like this.” The two Matoran stole a glance at the sky. It was a bright blue, but worse it was clear. If a Rahkshi flew overhead, it would not be hard to spy their boat, and to discover its true nature. But for now, no Rahkshi could be seen. “Besides, Kanohi said so himself that his prophecies are not easy to understand, it might have been a metaphor for the Matoran being … beaten.” “Yeah, might be just them losing faith in the Great Spirit.” They both fell silent, Macku awkwardly treading water. Neither Matoran brought up the simple truth. Even if the Great Spirit was genuinely dying, or worse, if he already had, there was nothing they could do. The Makuta’s reach was as endless as the ocean, Mata-Nui belonged to him, his Rahkshi, and the false Toa who enforced order in the six villages. “…Do you think Hahli is alright?” “You want the truth?” “No, I already know it.” Then came a thunderous sound, and both of Matoran flinched, drawing their throwing disks at the rumbling. Their heartlights flashed violently, as they stood there watching. Finally they heard a Matoran shout in the distance, “Razor Whale scraping against the ship,” and the pair of them slowly stowed away their disks. But their heartlights continued to pulse. “…Hahli.” “She continues to resist to her dying breath, leading a guerrilla battle against the Makuta, using Volo Lutu Launchers to slip past the Rahkshi and throwing disks to shatter the false Toa’s masks.” “Lie better,” muttered Macku, “the false Toa don’t wear masks.” “I know. But there is not much any Matoran can do against those strange beings. Even if the Toa Nuva had still been alive when the Makuta first unleashed those Piraka, there is not much even the Toa could have done against them.” “Heh, here we are, we want to ignore those problems, and we are obsessing over them. Guess my cowardice is all consuming.” “You are not a coward.” “What do you call a Ga-Matoran who abandoned her sister to be ruled by a monster?” “So did all of us. We are leaving to get help.” “But are any of us coming back to Mata-Nui afterwards? No, we all will hide in our new refuge like good little Matoran, hoping these two Titans can fight our battles.” “…” “Some Chronicler’s Company we are. Our Chronicler dies and the six of us flee our island, not only forsaking our brothers and sisters but his own memory.” “I know … your guilt,” Kapura interrupted, coming up from behind them. Macku nodded towards him, hauling her catch onto the deck. As it slapped onto the deck Kapura started to speak again, but by then Macku had already dived back underwater. She was tethered to the Voya-Suva by a cord woven of seaweed fibers, to prevent her from drifting away. The Ga-Matoran had been in the Chronicler’s Company alongside Tamaru, Hafu, Kapura, Kopeke, and Taipu. They had worked with the Chronicler to help the Toa, famously defending the entrance to Kini-Nui so the Toa would not be ambushed. Oh if only the Toa had actually defeated the Makuta then. Shortly after Macku resurfaced, with another net of seaweed behind her. As she climbed up Kapura began to speak, but Hewkii spoke first. “Kapura says that we’ve spotted land in the distance, looks mountainous and icy, like Ko-Wahi back home. Might be the northern tip of Voya-Nui.” Macku let out a tightly held breath, before sitting onto the deck facing the ocean, her foot dipping in the saltwater. She reached behind her and pulled out her spyglass, scanning the endless waves. “I think I see it,” she smiled, then frowned, “it looks … thin. Is it really so small?” “No … just the tip … of the island. Its size rivals Mata-Nui.” “Incredible,” she shook her head, “ a whole other island of Matoran. Matoran who have never had the wisdom of a Turaga, or the protection of a Toa. And they live together, not separated into different villages based off their element.” “So Kanohi says.” She sighed, “even for the thousand years before the Toa, we still had the Turaga. To not even have that, not to mention how none of them know of the Titans on their island…” “They have been alone in a way we never knew.” “We know it now.” “They will have experience … to share.” “Yes. And if we can … work with the Titans … we might be able to overcome … the Makuta.” “And someone as large and mighty as the Titans might even be able to use Kanohi’s secret.” “Don’t speak it,” muttered Hewkii, and Macku nodded. The fewer knew what Kanohi had smuggled with them, the better it would be. As far as Makuta knew, Turaga Vakama had told Kapura to hide it. And hopefully the Makuta still thought it was on Mata-Nui. It was the only thing that could stay the Makuta’s hand from destroy the Voya-Suva. After all, the Makuta was a god onto himself, but he was no match for the raw force of time. But it was still unwise to mention it. Not even Toa Nuva Tahu could control its full power, maybe only the Great Spirit or the Makuta could. So Kanohi guarded it, ready to shatter the artifact with the full force of Turaga Whenua’s Drill Staff. And the resulting chaos … the universe would never recover. … Macku and the other Ga-Matoran struggled underwater, pushing the Voya-Suva across the shallows. The others had insisted she just rest, but she could not. She could do this at least, stand united with her fellow refugees in one task. And with all of them working together, the weight was less. In front of the Voya-Suva, the group’s Onu-Matoran and Po-Matoran strained, using their enhanced strength to drag the boat on the mountainous terrain of the shoreline. They meant to drag the boat onto the shore of Voya-Nui, to repurpose it as a crude shelter. It would take time to fully explore the massive island, alone find the Matoran. And then finding the Titans would be another problem altogether. So in the meantime, the Matoran refugees would need a place to hide and escape the predators on this strange island. They have traveled down the coast for a number of days, trying to find where the shore was shallow enough to land on. Finally they had reached such a spot, and had resolved to make it a base of sorts. It helped that landscape was a lot less frigid here. Still the Ko-Matoran remained the Matoran best suited for this landscape, able to endure the cold of the peaks. Kopeke had led a number of them into the icy mountains, to at least do some scouting. Kapura was scouting south, hoping to find a village in the more temperate regions. Hopefully down there, where it would be comfortable for more types of Matoran, there would be the village of the people of Voya-Nui. It would take time, but the Ta-Matoran’s strange speed made him great at trekking vast distances quickly, and he needed to stretch after his time cooped up in the Voya-Suva. Macku looked over to see Kanohi, grappling across the cliffs. The Po-Matoran was using his launcher to sling from ledge to ledge, pausing only to take in the view of the shore. He was watching for danger, as well as scouting the surrounding area. On the shore Ta-Matoran were standing guard, brandishing their bamboo disks and any other weapons they had carried. They were to ward off any Rahi, they could at least handle that. The thirty seven refugees were tired, hungry, coated in grease and saltwater, but they were alive and free, and that was better than most of the Matoran back home. Hahli … Macku prayed to the Great Spirit as she strained to push the boat, please let Hahli’s spirit endure. Don’t let her break. And then as Macku lifted her head to get air, she heard shouts. Her heartlight began to pulse frantically, and her hands trembled. She wanted … wanted to run, but where to? Ga-Matoran or not, on a good day she couldn’t swim long enough to get far away without her leg, and she was too exhausted to swim at all. But those shouts … she froze there, half-submerged. Her hand reached behind her to her throwing disk, pulling free the weapon of bamboo. She … she didn’t know why she clung to it, perhaps it was some old instinct from before destiny went astray. An instinct that Hewkii resurfaced with the Takea. There were more shouts, and the other Ga-Matoran swam away, heading inland. She just … were those cries from Hewkii, Tamaru, Taipu, Kapura, Kopeke, Hafu - even Hahli? They all blended together in her mind, roaring into her face. “Hey—” Macku swung her throwing disk with all her strength, thumping against someone. “Ouch,” muttered a small blue being with a mask that Macku had never seen before, one who held two long blades in her hands, each silver like the weapons of a a Toa Nuba, or the blade that Macku had found on the journey. . “You … you are a Ga-Matoran?” Macku managed as she flopped over, laying limp against the boat. Her chest heaved up and down, as the short stranger eyed Macku’s lower torso. “Yes. I’m a warrior, name’s Dalu. Piruk spotted you sailing in, I came to investigate. Glad to see some of my sisters from across the waves have spirit left in them.” “Not much,” sighed Macku. “Eh, more than most of your crew. Most of them look like they’ll just lying on the shore, waiting for the tide to drown them. While it looks like life has chewed you up, and you aren’t dead. Come on, big sister, let’s get you out of the water. Looks like you need to rest for a century.” The smaller Matoran shoved Macku upright, though she couldn’t stand, just prop against the boat. “But, the Voya-Suva—” “We’ll help you haul it ashore, once you all have had a chance to breathe. And we really need to discuss what happened to you.” “But … the Makuta?” Macku managed as Dalu handed her the crutches. Macku blankly stared at them, then back at the warrior. “Makuta?” Dalu shook her head, “You northerners keep saying that name with such fear, like se’ll sense you by his name alone. Although, I swear I have heard that name before. Maybe it was something Velika said, he’s always muttering stuff that makes no sense.” Shakily Macku stood up on her crutches, as Dalu slotted her bamboo disk back into Macku’s pack. The two of them began to lumber forward, inching their way to shore. As Macku drew closer to the shore she could see Hewkii wave to her, starting to run to her. She shook her head and he stayed back. Mustering her strength she let out a sigh, before wading towards him and the shore. Dalu glanced back and forth between the two of them, then grunted before sprinting off through the water, running to stand guard among some Ta-Matoran. As Macku stumbled ashore Hewkii tried to catch her, before they both collapsed. “Ugh, my body aches all over,” Hewkii shook his head. “I can’t even see my heartlight,” agreed Macku with a bitter laugh, as they lay there on the rough jagged shore. “”Neither can I, it’s so faint.” Dalu grunted and walked back over to them and held out her blades. The air around them seemed to ripple, and then Macku felt … different. Like her metal skin was crawling, and her arms were denser, but somehow lighter. As they stood back up, Dalu stumbled, before walking back to shore. “How … how did you do that?” Macku called after. “My Chargers. Let me temporarily enhance an attribute of a person, Rahi, or object. Can make a Burnak too heavy to move, or make a killer aware of all reality until they go mad. Used them to make your stamina increase. It’s draining to use them, I need to rest afterwards.” “How … how did you get that artifact?” Was it like the blade she had found? “Always had it, long as I can recall at least. Come on, we all need to rest now. Once you’ve told me your stories, I’ll head back, see if we can help haul your boat to shore. Then we’ll worry about hunting down this Makuta.” Macku nodded shakily at the strangely powerful Matoran. If a mere Ga-Matoran could have the power she claimed to have, even with such a weak body, and if Nuparu and Kanohi could upgrade the bodies of these Matoran too, and then build more weapons like Dalu’s Chargers and the electric blade… Macku smiled faintly despite herself. She hoisted herself back up on her crutches, and she and Hewkii followed after Dalu. The two Matoran did not even need to look at each other, both certain that the other felt a tiny glimmer of hope in their heartlights, one that had endured despite everything.
  24. Wrote another fanfic about Kanohi, taking place in the alternate universe of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit. The last story still happened in the backstory of this tale, it exists in both the Core Universe and the Kingdom Universe. It’s a short tale and the stakes are quite low, it does take place in a peaceful near-utopia after all. Still even in utopia Kanohi remains a vigilante, because Matoran still need heroes, and the Toa don’t protect the Matoran like they once did. Macku is a major character as well, most of the story is in her point of view, I’ve never written her before though so I am interested in feedback. And yes shippers of Hewkii and Macku, I threw you a bone. A small one, but it’s still there. Side note, I actually love that Vakama’s visions were the result of a glitch, to me it means the Matoran are evolving beyond their intended programming, even beyond what Velika meddled with. It gives me a canon starting point to have other Matoran “evolve” beyond the limits of Matoran too. Anyway, the story is below, … In the time, after time, in our glorious Kingdom of the Great Spirit; there was peace. For over ten thousand years all of us survivors of the Matoran Universe had lived in unity, from Toa to Matoran to Vortixx to Skakdi to Dark Hunters. From warlords to arm dealers to mercenaries to heroes and villagers, all of us lived together, all but the worst grudges settled. The Toa no longer protected us, at least not through violence. Now they expanded our island, stretching the kingdom farther across the endless ocean, stabilized the earth, fueled our furnaces, kept the kingdom thriving. Instead the Dark Hunters kept order in the Kingdom, dealing with criminals and rampaging Rahi. And after ten thousand years the Matoran struggled to recall how they had feared the mercenaries, nor remembered when they depended on the Toa to protect them. And even fewer recalled the millennia before the Toa arrived on Mata-Nui, when the Matoran were all alone on the isle, with no protection but bamboo disks. Such brutal painful memories had faded, lost to the ages. But there were still some Matoran who remembered those terrible centuries, when six villages of Matoran were besieged by terrible beasts, isolated even from each other, and the only one they could rely on was their Turaga and themselves. … Macku gazed upon the skyline of the Kingdom of the Great Spirit, its many towers as varied in architecture as they were in residents. Some of the cityscape was nearly organic, the building’s metal frames curved and fluid. Other buildings were blunt and angled, brutalist in their shape. Between them ran hundreds of streets and paths, a spider web of walkways. Walking through the streets were millions of the city’s denizens, from the lanky and thin Vortixx, to the sneering and stout Skakdi. And most common of all were the diminutive Matoran, each at best half the height of a Toa, and each far weaker than any other race in the Kingdom. Macku had climbed up one of the towers near her boat shop, as if she fancied herself a Le-Matoran. The Ga-Matoran looked out from her perch, just taking the sight in. All these people flowing through the streets as the current of the endless ocean. But it was not the ocean. And it was not Ga-Koro. She sighed, massaging her mask. She … this was a perfect world, a perfect kingdom. Even though the death of Great Spirit had forced this kingdom into being, it remained a utopia. It was good. But a part of her … felt restless. Even after ten thousand years. Finally she spotted movement, sweeping through the buildings. She grabbed a telescopic lens and peered through it, spotting Kanohi. The Fe-Matoran vigilante grappled through the city, using the Volo Lutu Launcher built into his arm to swing between skyscrapers. He was covered in masks carved out of wood, which was why he was known as Kanohi. He swung across the city, hurtling above the foot traffic. His route was … seemingly random, it was hard to know where in the Kingdom he would appear on a given day. Still Macku would look out for him, especially in the years when boat travel was forbidden. And in recent days he had been circling over this spot. Waiting, As Macku watched Kanohi grappled towards the base of a building, landing with a tap besides a Ce-Matoran. She was … hard to see this far away, but it looked like she was trembling. Kanohi began to speak to her, his words were obscured by his masks but the Ce-Matoran still seemed to respond. She pointed partway up the skyscraper, and Macku followed the motion to see a small Brakas hooting, waving a Lightstone with their feet. Kanohi nodded and aimed his launcher upwards, before hurling himself into the building. The Brakas bolted as the vigilante grappled upwards, the monkey scrambling up the side of the building on their arms and legs as their tail shifted to wrap around the Lightstone. As Kanohi landed on the side of the building he shoved off, and grappled after the monkey. The monkey ducked down as Kanohi swung after them, letting Kanohi whirl past. Kanohi dug his metal fingers into the side of building, skidding to a halt. Then with a blast of his launcher he resumed the chase, following after the Brakas. Macku stood up and began to lean across the roof, trying to get a good view as Kanohi gained on the monkey. A faint smile drifted on her face, hidden below her mask. Her heartlight’s flashing began to accelerate, and her hands gripped her lens tightly. … Kanohi lurched and ripped through the air, his body yanked about as he hurtled after his Volo Lutu Launcher. The modifications to the launcher were simple, he was no Nynrah Ghost, but it still was triggered by his mere thoughts, and no longer needed to be held in his hand. The vigilante felt his heartlight pound as he missed the Brakas, sailing past. His fingers drummed the air as he twisted around, before firing another gravity well into the skyscraper. With a jerk he was flung after the gravitational pull, latching onto the building. His many wooden masks clinked on the landing, like the wind rustling through the old forests of Le-Wahi. He grappled after the monkey, his carved masks sang around him as they rattled together, and he tried not to smile. It was … it felt good to grapple across the cityscape, even with the danger. The wind whipping around him, his masks clanking; the sensations tickled him. And best of all he was helping the Matoran. In small ways yes, but helping was helping. And it made him feel like he had accessed the power of a Pakari Nuva, strengthening all Matoran. He stopped short perching to the building to catch his breath. It was a brutalist shape, straight flat walls, a burnt orange color, basically an inhabited brick. A few windows were open, that might be useful. And there to the side was the Brakas, pointing and laughing at him as their tail coiled around the Lightstone. They just stood there, laughing, so Kanohi took this time to pull out his lighter. It was a relic from when the Kingdom was called Mata-Nui, a simple device Turaga Vakama had made him that projected small flames. The Fe-Matoran gazed into that fire, focusing on the vision. He could see that Ce-Matoran twirling in a an empty white space, clutching her Lightstone. Then his stomach lurched as he was ripped free of the sight, stumbling as he landed before her as she shakily fled through the tunnels, trying to escape the rising flood of water and mutagen. All she carried with her was the Lightstone, illuminating her path. And as she ran there was a terrible sound, as she looked up to see the tunnels melt away, as well as her Lightstone. There above her was a blunt brick of a building, with a monkey laughing as they clutched her Lightstone. And then suddenly something slammed into the Brakas, dropping the rock and them to the ground. His heartlight throbbing, Kanohi left the vision, to see the Brakas inches from his head, making a silly face. Slowly Kanohi stowed away his lighter, before he released his launcher’s grip on the side of the building. He plummeted, and the monkey laughed, before he swung up his launcher and fired. He flung himself at the monkey, but the beast ducked, letting him once more hurtle past. The autistic vigilante twisted in the air, his fingers wiggling as if he was typing. His launcher fired and hooked him back to the building, before he fired again, swinging forward to the point of skimming the monkey’s flank. The monkey shrieked in surprise and frantically scrambled off the side of the building, while Kanohi once again shot past. The Brakas didn’t stop, scampering as far as they could, but by then Kanohi was perched on an open window. Holding onto the window with his left hand he aimed his launcher, moving slow, just focusing on following the monkey, now that he had a solid perch. before firing into the Lightstone itself. Another sphere of gravitational force flew from the launcher, sticking to the Lightstone. In a rush Kanohi was flung after it, the launcher sucking him to the sphere. With a thump he slammed into the monkey, knocking the Lightstone out of the Brakas’ tail. The stone fell, as did the monkey and Kanohi. The Matoran vigilante twisted in free-fall, scrambling to grab the Lightstone. With a lunge he grabbed it, hoisting it to his chest. As he clutched it tight to his heartlight he aimed his launcher and fired, right before colliding with the ground. As he was hurled horizontally by his grappling his momentum was broken, defusing the worst of his landing. Kanohi landed on his back, smacking into the side of the building. He groaned as he slid the rest of the way down, before landing on all-fours. He hyperventilated as his body quaked, before shakily throwing himself onto his feet. Staggering he headed to the Barajas, which lay in the street, their chest heaving. He leaned over the monkey and it … , the poor Rahi seemed hurt, broke their leg. Without speaking the vigilante began to pull out a splint, and began to bind up their limb. But even as he finished tying up the bandage, Kanohi was sent stumbled from a sharp kick. He tumbled, his body aching, as the Brakas limped off. Kanohi reached his ha d out after after them, before pulling his hand back, and instead turning away. The vigilante limped and staggered over to the Ce-Matoran, handing her the Lightstone. Her hands fluttered excitedly as she held the object, flicking the light on and off. Then with a bow to Kanohi she ran off, almost skipping away. … It was so simple, just chasing a mischievous monkey to get back a Lightstone. But it still left Macku feeling … stronger? It was hard to articulate what it felt like. She continued to peer after the vigilante, Kanohi was leaning against a building, panting. Even the sturdy body of a Fe-Matoran could only handle so much abuse. Then he aimed his launcher towards Macku, and grappled up to her perch. She startled as he smacked into the edge of the building’s roof, before she dived at her fellow Matoran, straining but still managing to drag him onto the rooftop. His masks clinked and clattered against his metal body as well as the roof, like chimes caught in a gentle breeze. “Mind if I … if I rest here a bit, Macku?” He managed to ask as he lay flat on the roof, his heartlight flashing frantically as he panted out of breath. His body was hidden by his wooden armor, but it was clear his body used the body plan of Mata-Nui “Sure,” she nodded, before almost blurted out, “need me to look out for the Dark Hunters?” “Yes.” Macku smiled beneath her mask, and began to peer over the city, sweeping her gaze. As she searched the skyline she asked, “You remember me?” “Of … of course, you were in the … Chronicler’s Company.” Her blue face turned a maroon color beneath her mask, and she rubbed the back of her head, “that was … a very long time ago. I am surprised you remember that.” “How could … anyone forget? Without you and the others the Toa Mata would have … they would have been ambushed, and they wouldn’t have been able to succeed against the … Makuta.” “They didn’t exactly defeat the Makuta then.” “Yes. But without … without you, the Toa Mata would have perished. You saved our island.” Macku turned almost scarlet, before she coughed and asked, “what is it like to see the future?” “It is … confusing. Even if I focus my power with my … lighter, it is a series of emotions more than coherent events. Just flashes of imagery and voices. Still, it’s not a bad thing that the most pressing visions I see these days is a monkey stealing a Lightstone.” His breathing was steadying now. “Why don’t the Dark Hunters believe you can see the future?” “You mean why they think I’m just a … just a fraud who … who sets up problems so I can solve them?” Kanohi started to sit up, “because I am a Matoran. I’m not meant to have powers.” “…Yeah,” Macku sighed, “silly question.” “Asking questions is not bad, just means you want to learn more. Even if you believe you know something for sure, it can be good to question it.” The autistic vigilante continued to breathe a little heavy, even as he sat there besides her on the roof, his fingers rattling against the metal roof. “Suppose you need to know that if you have visions.” “Yes. Though I remember a Ga-Matoran who not only questioned her Turaga’s judgement, but directly disobeyed her to get help when Ga-Koro was under siege by beasts.” “I was forbidden to leave the Koro for ages after that,” she laughed. “And if you had not disobeyed your Turaga, Ga-Koro would have been destroyed,” he stretched, flinching as the motion ached his body, “you were a real hero that day. And not much later you protected the Toa themselves when they journeyed into Kini-Nui.” “…Not many know that. The only ones who seem to remember are Kapura and Hewkii. And they are Toa now, things are … different. And why aren’t you a Toa? Surely if it was anyone’s destiny to transform, it would have been you. You were protecting the Matoran centuries before Takanuva summoned them, journeying between the villages, fighting off Rahi.” “Why am I not a Toa?” He sounded genuinely confused, “what about you?” “…” “At least in my case, it is not my destiny to become a Toa,” he said finally, “I know, I have never experienced a prophecy where I become a Toa.” “Your visions don’t show you everything.” “They show me more than most.” “…Is it true, that one day the island will collapse?” “You heard that from Hewkii?” “Yes. We still see each other … from time to time.” “Oh, but you used to be so close.” “That was over ten thousand years ago.” Before he became a Toa. “…You know, I have a glitch,” he said awkwardly. “Your visions are a different kind of glitch.” They were useful at least, they didn’t hurt. Still she changed the subject, “so, will our island flood?” He closed his eyes beneath his many masks. “The Matoran Universe below is … it has been flooded and dead for over ten thousand and fifty years. And as the tunnels … and caverns beneath our island rust and erode from the saltwater … it weakens our island’s foundation. It is likely that the island will sink below the waves.” “But we will leave the planet before then?” “I have seen visions of cannons … firing capsules to the stars, carrying the people of this kingdom into space … up to that barren world in our sky. So I believe so. But sometimes I see visions of things that only might happen.” “You have seen alternate futures?” “Yes,” she realized he suddenly seemed tired, exhausted. “Do you need any medical attention?” “No. Just … talking is draining.” “Sorry.” “It is okay, just ask simpler questions.” “Did you ever see what would have happened if Matoro had saved the life of the Great Spirit?” “Yes.” “Would … would things be better?” “No.“ “…Then why not defend Matoro?” “I tried.“ “The Matoran are not the best at listening to you, are they?” “No.” “We never were good with Matoran who were unusual. We honored them if they proved useful, but even then, they were alone.” “Yes,” it sounded like there was a tired smile beneath his masks, “It is why I became a vigilante. I knew how isolating Mata-Nui could be. We all needed someone to look out for us, especially us glitched freaks. Seeing a Matoran helping all of the villagers, no matter their Koro, in an era when the Toa were only legends, let alone a Matoran freak … I knew what that could mean.” “…Why do you still do your vigilantism? Try to rescue pets, return lost objects, save Matoran from high falls? Not even the Toa do it anymore.” “Someone has to.” “But it’s not like when we were six isolated villages, surrounded by violent beasts with no Toa or Dark Hunters to protect us. We have protectors, we have peace. There are no monsters here. Why do you risk arrest to try to return something like a Lightstone?” “…” “You miss it, don’t you?” “Give me a moment,” He said shortly. And she nodded, going back to peering over the cityscape, looking for the Dark Hunters “I should not miss it,” he answered, fidgeting with his fingers as he spoke slow, haltingly, “But parts of it I do, at least just a little. But that is not why I stay a vigilante. The Matoran need to have agency, to feel they can rise above their limits, that they can be heroes. They do not need hope now, but they can still need … inspiration. Symbols are important, and a reminder that Matoran are not helpless, that can be useful. Even if I don’t fight Muaka anymore.” “I hardly remember that millennia now, it seems so long ago. Well, maybe my body still remembers what it was like back then.” “What do you mean?” “Just been feeling … I do ‘t know, for the past few centuries I’ve felt … restless?” He nodded, “I understand. You still play Kolhii?” “Not regularly. I don’t think it would be the same though. Is it wrong the miss that single year when we Matoran stood besides the Toa to fight the Makuta, not as equals but at least as allies?” “Nostalgia can be blinding. But you know that.” “Yes. This is a perfect society, a utopia. Why do I crave the old days?” “It was simpler. In bad ways as well as good. Less complexities, just us Matoran, the Toa, and the Turaga. But then Matoran like Takua and Midak were outcasts for their differences, many of us were. ” “Yes. You at least had Vakama.” “…” “Something wrong?” “Me and Vakama … are not close anymore.” “Because he didn’t tell you about the Matoran Universe?” “I had … so many visions of Matoran suffering. If he had only told me what was happening beneath our feet, that I was not a Po- Matoran…” “Nokama should have told me too. I would have probably tried to return to Metru-Nui and gotten killed, but we deserved the respect to know who were are.” “I do understand why the Turaga lied. But it still burns.” “Especially when Vakama could have told you exactly why you never had felt at home in Po-Koro? That it wasn’t just your visions.” “Yes. Mata-Nui was never perfect, the pressure to conform was … everywhere. And those of us who could not…” the autistic vigilante sighed, “the Kingdom is not perfect. It is … better in a lot of ways, but it still has many of the old problems. Matoran who can’t conform still are freaks, still distrusted. Still it is getting better, steadily over time our kingdom grows wiser and kinder. Slowly at least.” “Dark Hunter spotted, flying towards us.” Kanohi nodded and stood up, swaying on his feet, but otherwise alright. He walked to the edge of the building, aimed his Volo Lutu Launcher to a nearby skyscraper of a curved almost egg-like shape, its sides ending in interwoven spikes. Before he launched though, he hesitated. And then he a said, “You know, maybe you are still a Matoran to inspire the others. You were in the Chronicler’s Company - you could make a good vigilante yourself. Just a thought.” And then he grappled away, streaking off through the cityscape, the winged Dark Hunter immediately diving after him. Macku watched the Matoran vigilante grapple away, zig-zagging through the city like the Brakas as the Dark Hunter pursued. She … she could not lie. To be a hero, grappling across the city, helping the Matoran, it was tempting. To reclaim some of her old heroics, even if the dangers of old had passed. But that was good, not having to fight beasts. She could just do small things, make the world better in small ways. That … that wasn’t so bad But if she did become a vigilante, even if she only did small things, she could lose her boat shop, become an outcast. It was something she would need to consider carefully. But as Kanohi grappled off into the distance, the thought lingered. And who knows, maybe it would give her a reason to see Hewkii more often.
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