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The Ackariad

The Hip Historian Iaredios

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This is a story I have been fiddling with, a personal, partial-revision of Bionicle and continuation. It uses a lot of Latin and Greek inspired words, so put your accent hat on. Please, if you enjoy it, see a possible edit, or want to discuss someting, please go here. Thank you, enjoy.








The Ackariad


Chapter I




In the Time Before Time, a helm crash landed on Paradise. The soul trapped in this life-controlling artifact materialized a body and united the peoples of Paradise and battled a great battle against his usurper, The Shadow. Victorious, the Exiled healed the war-torn wastelands of Paradise, and since then has watched over the united peoples, his people from his domain and those native to Paradise. Centuries passed and wars have lit and died, but in a search for his past, a particular mortal soul will uncover secrets that will greatly disturb this era of prosperity.


The night was nigh and the sun began to set over the mountains and ruins as the stars beyond yawned in their renewed blinking. As the yellows and purples of the skies waned and darkness rose, a hooded elder aged 58 years rode down a rocky road, with a design akin to that of our Romans, upon a brown and red bipedal armored reptile with a shortened tail. This is a road he has traveled many times, even if it had gone under different appearances in the past as its scars showed. He rode past what few travelers remained at dusk, most heading the same direction: down a long road and eventually up a large nearby mountain. The togas of the travelers flopped about when the rider zipped by upon his steed, some getting spooked to such a degree that they fell and gotten dirt on their clothes, curses shot once their bums slammed onto the rock. After a few minutes, the man reached the base of the mountain and the beginning of the new steep road. While the beast rested, the hooded rider looked at the steps, memories of stories told to him flushing over him. He pushed these thoughts away and smiled at what awaited him at the end of this road.




After the beast had its moments rest from all the running, the older man swayed his rope in the direction he wished, and so it went, thence going forward by command. Up the steep road they went. Much to the dismay of this currently impatient man, the two had to walk lest he and his steed succumbed to gravity’s spell.  After the lengthy hike was done and the sound of rushing water could be heard in the distance, the sun had been set for some time. In place of the light of Solis Magna, the man brought out his badge office, a relic of the previous era, and his arm of choice: the Flame Sword of Ackar the Great, or as these Byzantine natives said it, Ackarios [ey-car-ee-os] Magnus, passed down to him through time through his great-great-grandfather, a legendary hero of might, of whom this sabre is named after. Once drawn, the will of the set user sparked a great flame to erupt out of the great sword and surround it. Since sundown the blade had been the man’s makeshift torch. A guard greeted the man, interrogating him while the man sat upon his steed and waited for the guard to finish his ramblings and notice certain somethings. After the grumpy guard finished after two minutes of useless rambled questioning, all that time the man just smiled and stared at him, the guard noticed both his shiny badge, and the big, quite obvious sword that was aflame.


“Are you done yet Felkos?” Said the man as he removed his hood, revealing a bright red skinned man with a human appearance, being somewhat wrinkled and having short white hair. “Oh, I am so sorry! Pardon me sir Proekelarios Trepolios Ackarios [Leader Trepoli Ackar] sir!” “Settle down guard Felkos, we go through this every time I journey yonder Ateros Nova’s [New Atero] borders. If I had been another man, you would be without a job by now, or if I were a Skrallos, without a head—Ha ha ha! …Please, do open the gate, it is late.” Trepolios said in a friendly fashion. “Yes sir Toaii sir!” panicked the guard.

Trepolios rolled his eyes at the forgetful old man as the large reinforced metallic gates opened. The man sheathed his sword once on the other side and went out to fast-walk home upon his ride.


Not to hurt the man’s feelings, but I’ve got to fire him as soon as possible, he’s a security risk. I just have to find the right person to replace him...


The guard Felkos’ memory began to fade and he wondered where the animal footprints came from and why it was so hot that late at night. Panicking that he accidently let someone through, he swiped clean the footprints with his spear and foot. Thence he smiled confidently and set in a posh attitude, standing at the gate like a statue as he congratulated himself for his stark cleverness. Trepolios finally arrived home, a small house fit for three made of brick, concrete, and raw artificial protodermis, the ‘Stranger’s Stuff’ as the natives called it. The man roped up his steed in its stable and grabbed a large, sealed clay vase, thence invertebrates being dumped in a deep tub for the reptile from said container, and it ate ravenously after the long trip. Trepolios opened the decorated reinforced door with a key, and came into his house. After dropping what little luggage he had onto the floor, he called out for someone.

“Sullixios [sullix], I’m back!” Trepolios yelled. Suddenly, a blue skinned 30-something year old man with black hair and a small goatee walked out and opened his arms. “Dad! I missed you old man!” The man’s son jokingly said. More of that followed: “If I wasn’t so pooped out, I’d kick thine arse right ‘bout now!” “Tah-ha-ha, I’d like to see you try!” The two continued as they hugged a great hug. Together the two sat at a wooden table. “I apologize Dad, but I forgot where you went. Mind refreshing my memory a tad?” Sullixios asked. “You mind is weaker then Felkos’! Ha ha! I swear, with each generation you youngsters keep getting more and more used to the Matoranche’s [Ma-to-rahn-chey, Matoran] technology, I tell you what; them and their moving spears, fancy masks and mouth-hands. I mainly stick to the Agoriae Ypsili [Tall Agori] way” “Isn’t that kind of derogatory of the sorts Dad?” “Not if you are only having fun with both it--and them--and you are not serious about that kind of stuff, just remember not to say it in front of them, they won’t get it.” Sullixios grinned and rolled his eyes, then listened attentively.


“Anyway, you wanted to know where I was. Well, I had made a pilgrimage to our tribe’s ancestral homeland, Vulcanus. From what I remember of both the scroll drawings and the Matoranche’s digital archives, it appears to have changed little, except for the obvious small battle scars from the attempted Ostonigosa [bone Hunter] sackings. You would think they would abandon such barbarism after the Melding. The old market still has some people, silly people; and the arena was amazing, I wonder what it would have been like to see one of those fights. And I also got to see the original dwelling of our ancestor Ackarios Magnus; you could feel the history there with all the shields and swords and trophies still mounted there. Oh I wish you could have come, if only you were not so preoccupied. By the way, I came home as soon as I could, I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world! Do you know when she is due?”

Sullixios said “In a couple of weeks, although you know healers, they can’t accurately predict such things. Might as well be any day now.” Trepolios smiled, “I can’t believe my own son is going to be a… a father. And I am going to be the first Ackarii since Ackarios himself to live to see a grandchild.” “Why is that Dad?”


“Well,” Trepolios then yawned, “My great-grandfather, your great-great-grandfather, Matthias Ackarios, died defending Ateros Nova from the Basiliton ton Barakoi [barraki], warlords from the Metal Realm, the Matoranche homeland. My grandfather, your great-grandfather, Konstoros Ackarios [Konstor Ackar], was assassinated while visiting the shrine, or ‘sue-vah’, of our Guardian Matthias Nuianus [Mata Nui] by members of a cult called the Followers of Makutine [May-koo-tee-nay, Makuta]. Thankfully the head master of the Order of the Temple of the Guradian, Toaii Takua stopped the cultists; no doubt the sight of his supreme god Magnus Pnevma boosted his morale.” Trepolios explained, yawned, then continued, “My father, your grandfather, Saiphalios Ackarios fought in the Battle of Terandar Coast when the Skuktoi Basilios [skakdi Emperor], who is golden skinned with the face of a dragon and built like a mythic hero of old, launched an invasion into our land after a successful war against the Skrallos Empire. The Federal Alliance of Ateros Nova learned of the Golden Basilios’ plans and we met him in battle on Terandar Coast which is as mud brown as the slope that hugs close to its sea. Saiphalios defeat many a Skuktoi, those demons, with the aide of the gallant Toaii Jalianus Inika-Mahrianus [Jaller]. But, after the great battle, Saiphalios had sustained great injuries that not even the renowned warrior-healer Toaii Galia could help him.”


Sullixios was, for the first time, fascinated by his family’s history. Before he had simply heard of some of the some of the tales of his family and took all else for granted, and even though his blood was not that of his father’s, he could still feel the pride flow through him. As late as it is in his life to begin these feelings, his familiar ignorance was beginning to melt away. Trepolios was the leader of the Spherus Magna natives in New Atero, but that has not made him a different person, nor has it affected the way the way he has raised his child. If it wasn’t for all the special governmental proceedings and grand events, Trepolis and Sullixios would have appeared to live just like any other family, ignoring the proximity to the Temple of the Guardian. Despite this, Trepolios’ growing age began to show to both his son and his people. Sullixios had a child coming soon and he began to feel responsibility upon his shoulders, as his acquaintance with history didn’t help with the slowly growing pressure. He wished to ask his father a question, a question his father had been waiting for since Sullixios came of age.


“Look, I am weary after my travels, I’ll see thou tomorrow, aye?” Trepolios said after beginning to mention some of his stuff, Rahkshi encounters and whatnot. “Sure Dad, I’m tired too. See you then, and good night and sweet dreams.” Sullixios said. He understood but was slightly disappointed.  He visited his sleeping wife Vira, placing his hand on her enlarged tummy and feeling the life that he helped spawn as his heart warmed and a smile grew. Sullixios’ eyes grew heavy, thus he entered sleepy bliss with the gentle smell of vanilla perfume filling his nostrils.


The next day, Sullixios awoke to the smell of fried fish and eggs, and bards faintly Agori lyres and Matoran drums playing outside, all accompanied by the sounds of wind chimes. He walked out lazily and smiled to see his father making breakfast and his wife writing alternative history stories on a scroll.


Her and her stories… hehe… Some of them are interesting though, just wish there would be less lovey dovey crud in it


“Is that green pepper and onion I also smell in there?” Sullixios asked. “You know it my boy, just how you like it.” His father replied. Sullixios was going to ask if Vira had some, but the empty plate answered his question. He asked if she enjoyed her breakfast and she happily replied positively, and then continued writing only after smiling at him lovingly. The meal was eaten and day-to-day chatter began. Finally getting up to take a walk, the two lovers hugged and kissed each other, thence going outside. After all this time however, a thought stayed with Sullixios: He knew of his father’s age, and his hard life of war had made it certain his time was near. He needed to prepare himself for his upcoming time of ascension. They walked around the half-pyrimid-like structure that was the Temple of Guardian, Mata Nui, seeing the mixture of tribal-robotic art and antique architecture and the six spires that surrounded the building, seeing the living embodiments of the two cultures living and playing peacefully with one other, and smelling the essences and spices from lands far away from New Atero. Sullixios and Vira were once more at home. After settling down, Sullixios approached his father, who was sitting down reading Vira’s literature.


“…Okay, skip all of that… and that… ah, here we go. Hey Vira, you have a child coming in; can you tone down your scrolls? Set thine mind for kid friendliness? Thanks.” “Oh you’re a bore!” She loudly replied to Trepolios. “Hey honey, there is a play out in the amphitheater, the Matoranche are performing the story of Toaii Takua’s adventures on that Island a lot of those Toaii talk about. Who knows, it might even provide some source material for your stories.” Sullixios said. “That sounds interesting, I think I might actually go, thanks Sullixios!” His wife said, and thus went outside, the amphitheater not far away. That was the only reason he did not go help his bearing wife. “…Pshh, Matthius Magnus did not do with Toaii Kiina, sorry, Glatorianus Kiina. What’s wrong with that woman?!” Trepolios loudly commented before continuing his reading, but as he started again his son interrupted. “Father we need to talk.” Trepolios put down a sticky sliver of colored paper to mark his place in the scroll, rolled it up carefully then set it down. “Yes Sullixios?” “I mean not to offend you, but what you said yesterday, about you becoming a grandparent, made me realize your age.” Trepolios raised an eyebrow and Sullixios began to smile a slight smile that faded as the discussion went on, “Ignore my mouth Dad, I am being serious. I realize that I have not that big on history, but if I am to succeed you in the future, I need to the history of this city, my family, and that of The Guardian, that knight who watches this city. Only after this, can you teach me the ways of Dimiorgós Enór [One Creator], the blade and its forms, and the way of your office.” “Despite your academic ignorance, unlike your wife whom knows too much for her own good, you retain some of the wisdom of Ackarios Magnos. First, we must go somewhere more appropriate. Follow me.” Trepolios said in his gravely, wine stained voice. Sullixios left a note for Vira when her play was done, and it detailed where he was.  But Sullixios did not know that she too would be busy for quite some time.


The clouds filled the heavens above, being large in number but not being heavy. The sky was lit with a light yellow glow, the light from Solis Magna outlining many of the clouds. The Ackarii stepped outside of their house, Trepolios locking it behind him. The two walked around the houses, they being the homes of the descendants of the Toaii Glatorianus from 200 years ago and the Toa Nuva. As they approached the large staircase that led to the entrance of the Temple of the Guardian, there were many Matoran and other Toa walking out of the temple.


Some of the Matoran tried to fit in more with the natives, and wore toga robes, most did not however. That brought to attention that Trepolios’ robes were not exactly thoroughly clean and were spotted with small holes every now and then, but the man could care less.


After the Matoran group had passed, the Ackarii went up the large staircase, with which every other step was made of marble, the other of decorated protodermis. “We people of the Planet use this building as a way to honor this hero, while the Matoran use it as a place to both honor and worship their god, the one we deem as our Guardian.” Trepolios said as the climbed the stairs. Reaching the end, Sullixios saw that though the outside had a pyramid-like shape, the ceiling was like that of a dome, with many a carving covering the domes surface. A hexagonal hole was present in the center of the temple, which was fitted with a special glass that absorbed light from the sky, no matter how little there was, and magnified it to shine down into the epicenter of the entire city: the Mask of Life. The helm lied on a decorated stone pillar. On the ground surrounding this golden artifact was a ringed reflecting pool that looped around the said stone pillar and that shone the light from the sky back through the hole in the ceiling, creating the illusion of a shield of solid light protecting the dusty mask, the bright light allowing little dust particles to be seen floating slowly around and about. The rest of the temple would it not have been lit if it weren’t for the primitive light bulbs powered by clay pots full of citrus juice and copper wiring, which were mounted in spaces between the large carvings on the surrounding walls. Most of the walls said the same thing twice, once in Matoran and the other in Agori below the Matoran text, but they shared one picture for each history told. Behind the Mask of Life the wall there was specifically for the life of the Gaurdian, his godly body shown in carvings and a great battle being a numbing backdrop for the artifact.  Matoran temple keepers were over there caring for walls to make sure that the walls did not fall into disrepair; while any Matoran can be a temple keeper, most were that of the tribe of Light, Takua being the grand master for this holy order. The two began to walk over there as Trepolios walked and the temple keepers got up to go attend other duties. Sullixios noticed the distinct tattoo markings on their masks and natural plating, they being white or dull gold (depending on what goes with the existing base color) and tribal in nature but had small scarabs and man-shaped figures every now and then with small shapes and figures being filled with detailed marks and other shapes; they all also wore swords that were akin to the one that their god used when he walked as a mortal and wore a yellow sash that hung to a shoulder and looped over the waist, with a looping black square pattern and  in the middle of the semi-squares was a Matoran letter that Sullixios could not understand. Sullixios shook his head away from the decorated warrior monks and drew his attention to his father.


“Written here are the summaries of all of known history of both the Metal Realm [Matoran Universe] and the Guradian’s time on Spherus Magna up until the end of the previous historical age, the slaying of the Malevolence, The Makutine, named Teridaxios (or Terikala by his fellow demons before he killed most them all; and the Melding of our great planet, which had been shattered into pieces 10,000 years ago by those lich kings called ‘The Stoicheió̱i’ [Element Lords], who held control over every living sentient on our planet. I called them lich king not because they hold undead armies like those fantasy stories you like to read Sullixios, but because their flesh has begun to rot while they are kept alive by the sheer power that surges through there armor and makes them one with nature. We await those devils are slain, and we can finally move on, but some Agorios seek to see their specific tribe gain dominance and fled to join their individual ranks in those kingdoms north of the White Mountains.” Trepolios was explaining.


Trepolios paused and stood up right, the following words climbing in both decibel volume and intensity. “But we came here first and foremost for the Epic of the Guradian: The Child of the Great Beings, the Supreme Deity of the Matoranche, the Visitor of Far-Away Worlds, the Redeemed Exile, the Hero of the Agorios, the Slayer of The Shadow, the Savior of Spherus Magna, the Healer of the Cursed [Mutated], the Guardian of Ateros Nova, the Magnus Pnevma Matthias Nuianus [Great Spirit Mata Nui]!” He stood up with his arms in the air as his voice loudly echoed the otherwise quiet chamber. Temple Keepers glanced at the noise source as Trepolios drank some water in preparation and Sullixios made himself comfortable for what he knew was going to be a weeks-worth of storytelling, and he could not wait.



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A RUDE AWAKENING - A Spherus Magna redo | Tzais-Kuluu  |  Pushing Back The Tide  |  Last Words  |  Black Coronation  | Blue Man Bound | Visions of Thasos   ن

We are all but grey specks in a dark complex before a single white light

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