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Alternate Universe Poll: The Kingdom


The Kingdom  

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alternateuniverse.pngVote here for your favorite Alternate Universe story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 7th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Alternate Universe Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.
  • [*]Alone with the Sea Nerynn, Toa of Light, sat alone on the beach, watching the sun sink beneath the crystal waves. The sea seemed to stretch on forever, rising and falling so calmly and gently, yet it possessed within its twinkling depths power enough to sink the mightiest vessel or erode the greatest mountain. It was a source of great comfort and joy for many, yet there were many more who cursed it and feared it above all things. A hundred years of pleasant seas could move its travellers to deep, emphatic love for its magnificent tides and crashing waves, yet a single day of stormy skies and violent waters could turn the deepest love to sudden fear and unbridled hate. One moment of nature turning against those grand and noble expectations and suddenly, they were different seas. No more were they kind or gentle or calming, nor would they ever be again. From such single instants, reputations built of centuries could crumble away, lost in an ocean of judgement and indignation. No good deed could ever restore what was lost, and even though great joy and happiness far in excess of the original pain may result from it, still forgiveness would not come. It was not enough that Nerynn had never hurt a single living creature since that day. It was not enough that he vowed to rebuild all that was lost in the battles and the war. Should the Great Spirit himself descend and approve his choice, that would not be enough. A Toa's code is simple. They do not kill. He had broken it only once, but the effects were felt the universe over. In the aftermath, every Toa and every Turaga had scorned him, branded him outcast. Many of them he had considered friends. He had given aid to all those who needed it, protected countless people from terrible threats. But by a single action he was lost to them all. So here he was, alone on a tiny island with no company but the sea. He stared at it intently, imagining each splinter of light, each fraction of a reflection, was a possible life where things were different. A life where he was not outcast. A life where he had chosen to imprison rather than kill Teridax. A life where the Mask of Light had never come to him at all. But in the end, reality was as it was. When Nerynn had seen the full machinations of Teridax's plan, he knew he had no choice. The Makuta could never be imprisoned nor dissuaded from his course. So, when the opportunity had presented itself, he had taken it. He knew with a certainty he could not explain that what he had done was right. He knew, also, that it had been the will of the Great Spirit. Nerynn had saved the life of the Great Spirit and spared the universe from a terrible, unfathomable darkness. If even the first part of the plan had come to be, doom would surely have followed. The final glimmers of light vanished, leaving only the gentle sound of the waves and the spray as they collided softly against the shore. Nerynn curled up on the sand, content with his own satisfaction. In many ways, this was better. He did not need to explain or justify himself to his fellow Toa, nor suffer their glares and whispers and accusations behind his back. He was alone with the sea. The endless, ever-changing ocean of infinite possibilities. That was all he could ever need. -------[*]Ruin “We’ve done it all wrong, Orkham.” The being that was once an emerald-clad Toa looked over to him with tired, red eyes, as if grateful for having a distraction from the scene before them. “Did the great spirit really mean for us to be Toa?” Nuhrii continued, shaking his head with slow remorse as he did. “If he did, could he have seen it all coming?” “Our actions are our own, Nuhrii.” Orkham quietly muttered, but that was a hard jab at Nuhrii’s hart. Our own. A dozen images flashed through his head, and he grimaced hard. Was it all their own doing? His own doing? “Is this where our destiny truly is?” Nuhrii was choked up at the base of his throat. He had no reflection near enough to look upon himself. Perhaps that was for the best. Instead he only looked at his hands, once the hands of a crafter. Then the hands of a hero. Now the hands of a monster. “Matoran bodies still lay dead in Po-Metru. We could not prevent it. More lie in the flooded depths of this chasm, alongside the dust that was once our sixth brother.” Orkham had no real response, and Nuhrii wasn’t truly looking for one. He only gazed out down into the dark depths ahead of them, clenching his fists as images flashed by in his mind. The massacre at the assembler’s village would never leave him, not until the day he died. Neither would thoughts of Ehrye, hit by spinner after spinner until his very body crumbled to dust. He was the first Nuhrii led to death. How many more would follow the same path? At this point, Orkham was the only one Nuhrii truly still had to lead anyway. In the lowest depths of the ruined archives, Tehutti sat with his great hammer, awaiting the slightest indication of an oncoming horde. He couldn’t speak Matoran anymore. Vhisola still could, though all she did was ramble madly as she wandered the shattered exhibits. Ahkmou was silent, though he most like had a great grasp of his mind than the other two. He wandered off alone most of the time, probably looking for Visorak to hunt. “You can’t give up hope.” That voice wasn’t Orkham’s, it was Pouks. The deformed little figure hopped up to where the two former heroes stood, his voice weak from recent wounds. Nuhrii laughed. A cold, hollow, humourless laugh. He turned on the Rahaga, shaking his head, and then turned from bitter remorse to a flicker of rage. “Look at me!” Pouks did. All three knew what he saw. Nuhrii was no longer a Toa. He was no longer a hero. He couldn’t even claim to being a defender of the sleeping Matoran anymore, for only most of them lay safe in the archives beneath, and most was not good enough for Nuhrii.. He was Hordika. “Hope...what do I have left to hope for?” -------[*]Frosting ••••• Vezon fell through the dimensional hole. Instead of gracefully planting his feet into the snow, he face-planted into it. He immediately began to slurp it up. Then he realized that it wasn’t snow, it was... sweet. Smooth. Even though he had no idea what it was, he kept slurping away. Then, once he had been sufficiently filled, the half-Skakdi stood and looked around himself. There was still plenty of the stuff, covering the mountains like it really was snow. The mountain itself, which he could feel now that he had eaten quite a bit of the substance, was squishy and porous. Shrugging, he dug some up, and popped it into his mouth. Again, sweet. Squishy. Delicious. He licked his lips and began trudging forth. He seemed to be in some kind of land of food... that looked exactly like Mt. Ihu. Interesting. The squishy white substance came down from the sky in little drops, coating everything. It was certainly stickier than snow, aside from being extremely delicious. Oh, there was Ko-Koro. Maybe the Matoran there could explain the odd weather. He liked it, but it would take forever to lick himself clean once he got out of it. When he got to the village, he saw the citizens going about their work... and they were all brown, as he saw if one scraped off the sticky substance. He walked up and, not saying anything, bit the head off one. Ignoring the ensuing panic, Vezon leaned against a red and white striped pole. Sweet, crunchy, with a little spice. This was definitely an interesting universe. He wondered what he would taste like, if he met himself. Shrugging, he strolled right on down the mountain, ignoring the screams and attacks. After all, the spears were made of something that broke rather easily and tasted quite delicious. The points were sharp, though they seemed to just be a hard version of the sticky stuff. Soon, he was on the Mangai. It was tightly packed, but once he hit it enough, the substance was very crumbly and bitter. Yet, it tasted good. Shrugging again, he continued. When he reached the river of lava... he dove in. Five seconds later, he was out of it, screaming in agony. His face, tongue, eyes, and everything else burned. Whatever it was spicy. Good, but spicy. This was a very strange dimension. Shrugging once more, he continued trekking on his merry way, tears still pouring from happiness and utter pain. ------[*]Fallen Brother His claws catching the Dark Hunter’s tools in a swipe, Onua lunged forward, pushing the heavy mercenary further into the crowd battling around them. The Toa of Earth threw his elbow into the Hunter’s chest, whom rolled onto the ground, winded by the Pakari- aided blow. A kick of Po-Metru dirt momentarily blinded him, but his acute senses allowed Onua to lash out with a kick. The satisfying feeling of a chestplate being kicked in, he thought as he gained the upper hand once more. The Hunter’s raw strength piled into him, and Onua went flying at a statue. Snagging his claws into the stone, he returned his opponent’s force, flying back at him. Enraged and in the heat of battle, the Toa of Earth allowed the momentum to be his excuse to slash his enemy’s face. He leapt off, to the ground, and so the blunt battle between the two continued. He absorbed each crushing punch that made contact with his chipped and dented armor, but not even his Pakari would help Onua overcome the blow that bothered him for millennia. Even if this fight was won, he had still lost the ultimate battle. The war that raged around him did not matter nearly as much as the argument years before. So many disasters could’ve been avoided if we’d just listened to Tahu, Onua told himself time and time again. I might be a key fighter, but they could’ve still won this war without me, or what others remain. It was a mistake, attempting to leave Karda Nui with the Av-Matoran when the storms started. Lewa was the one who rallied for it, and he died as the result; there was not a day when Onua wish he sided with Tahu and Kopaka, no hour in which bitter regret didn’t plague his being. Sure, the remaining five of them were legendary in stopping the League of Six Kingdoms, but it was not worth the death of the high spirited Toa of Air, nor Helryx’s rage upon hearing they defied orders. The Toa Mata aren’t the same without the six of us. Even despite telling himself it was an accident, the Toa of Earth couldn’t brush the dirt off his conscious from the recent disaster that led to Lhikan’s and Nidhiki’s deaths. Another reminder we aren’t meant to be here. Our actions could’ve been averted with our absence. The Dark Hunter tripped over him as Onua ducked under his charge. He ripped open a chasm, sending his enemy deep into the earth, but the Hunter dug his tools deep into the walls. Evading elemental attacks, he climbed out with a smirk, as to tell the earth Toa he would have to be better than that to beat him. The sounds of battle had taken much out of him. His acute senses let him hear the sharp clang of blade on blade, the cannon blast, punctuated cries of his brothers and sisters as they fought around him. The brightness of the sunny canyon in which the battle was fought hurt his eyes- he was an earth dweller, not an open fighter. Onua was not outclassed, but confidence was the key. It was who finished with the most powerful blow, not who started, they both knew, and in that furious clash, Onua had let millennia catch up with him. No matter what happened, he knew which way this fight was going. Allowing the Dark Hunter the final blow, the Toa of Earth slipped into a sleep that he wish he took long ago. -------[*]Arrival A cylindrical object washed upon a deserted shore. Despite the signs that it had been adrift for many years, its hull gleamed a bright silver in the cheery sunlight. A few birds darted from their trees, curious as to what the new arrival was. One in particular was especially daring, and settled itself upon the strange object. After a moment of deliberation, its head ducked down in a pecking motion, making a considerable noise on impact. The sound rang throughout the air, a signal to all that lived on the island that its heroes had finally arri- Something inside the canister began screaming, initially out of frustration and eventually out of simple rage. The birds, startled by loud noise, retreated back to their trees to observe from a safer distance. After a few minutes, the voice fell silent. The beach seemed strangely quiet in its absence, as if everything on it was waiting with bated breath for what would happen next. They didn’t have to wait long. Blows began to sound out from the canister, with each growing increasingly louder as whatever was trapped inside grew more desperate to be free. The bangs and crashes unnerved the Rahi; they were accustomed to the peaceful sounds of the island, and this strange object and whatever creature it contained had shattered that peace. Suddenly, a hand burst through the side of the canister. Crimson blood ran down its length, and its owner howled in pain. Flames began to escape from the canister, somehow in response to the creature inside. The nearby Rahi all fled, wanting nothing to do with this strange monster that could create fire in response to being injured. Even in their primitive minds, they had plans that didn’t involve being roasted alive because their curiosity got the better of them. Eventually, the creature worked its way out of its prison. It stood tall, its crimson and orange body covered in numerous wounds and of unmistakably masculine design. In its eyes was the rage of a savage animal intent on destroying anything and everything that crossed its path. Gripped tightly in its right hand was a blade seemingly composed of fire, the flames flickering in a way that made it seem like they craved for destruction. The being looked down at his sword, as if hearing the voice of his weapon and its cry for devastation. Slowly, the sword was pointed at the nearby forest. The trees themselves seemed to shy away from the spectacle, as if they knew what was about to happen and wished to somehow wished to escape their fate. Unfortunately, they had no chance for escape; a pillar of fire quickly shot out from the sword and began to consume everything that stood before the being of fire and destruction. And then the creature screamed. It screamed and screamed and screamed. It screamed out of rage, despair, frustration, loneliness, and finally as a challenge to the rest of the island. “Just try to destroy me as well,” its scream seemed to say. It had nothing save the impulse to destroy, the desire to burn. It was meant to be one of the saviors of the island, tasked with the duty of liberating the villagers from an oppressive dark force. Instead, it was a monster. The Toa of Fire had finally arrived. -------[*]Vezon's Utopia Vezon was just about as happy as he ever could be. For one thing, he was flying through a void. Voids always excited him. They were there, but yet they weren't really anywhere. Plus, they were just lovely little things. Vworp, there's a void, then vworp again, you're not there anymore. Easy transport. For another, he had a mask attached to his face. To be honest, he was kind of missing a mask stuck to his face. The Ignika had been there for a while, but then it got ripped away, then he got this lovely Olmak, which he liked because he could actually do something with it. The Ignika just sat there doing nothing. He couldn't finish thinking up and listing out what all he liked about flying between two dimensions and two eternities when, all of a sudden, he had reached the other side, plopping down unreasonably hard upon what looked at first glance to be soft and lush grass. A swarm of fireflyers rushed out around him, surrounding his face. To Vezon's surprise, every individual fireflyer featured none other than his smiling face. "Ooh, this is a big'n. Nice and thick for the barbecue," one said. "Yeah, but he's got that thing in his head. Looks like a cookie," another chimed in. "I wonder if it's a lemon." "I like pancakes," muttered another. "'Scuse me, little ones, but I don't suppose you're fans? Just remember that autographs are five widgets each," Vezon said. "Oh, except for Vezok's spine. That I would pay you to let me sign." "It speaks!" "You mean it's alive?" "Are we going to have pancakes or not?" The swarm of Vezon fireflyers was in disarray. Mentally discombobulated as ever, Vezon ambled off into the nearby city. He entered the main street and found that he fit right in, for every single living thing, regardless of species, was in his image. Everywhere he looked, there were copies of his visage. Vezon worked his way to the town center, where a disorienting and downright bizarre sculpture dominated the foreground. Though Vezon was insane, he was still cunning, albeit in a twisted way. Using his Olmak powers, he opened a portal and sucked away the statue. All of the Vezons in the city focused their attention on this newcomer and his powerful abilities. This was the beginning of something excellent. *** "What is it?" Jaller asked. "I have no idea," Nuparu responded. "It looks like ... well, I don't know what it looks like, really." Jaller nodded. "It kind of looks like something that Vezon would make if he had a bunch of free time," he said after a while. Nuparu's eyes got narrower as he smirked slightly. "Somehow, I think you may be right." Behind them, unheard and unseen, a group of fireflyers swarmed out of a dimensional hole, one of them muttering something about pancakes. *** Vezon could get used to this. He had successfully convinced the inhabitants of the city to let him become their ruler, as he had abilities no one else did. He became their ruler years ago, and every day since then had been filled with sitting on his opulent but chaotic-looking throne, ordering his subjects around incoherently, and occasionally sucking up things or subjects in order to send them off into another dimension. The first living thing he did that in his rule was to those unruly fireflyers, and its novelty hadn't yet worn off. He had indeed gotten used to it, but somewhere within the warped and twisted corridors of his mind, he decided that he'd never grow tired of it. And if he did, he was only a wish away from the next universe over.

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Shamelessly self-voted on 3.I honestly don't have time (aka I put that time elsewhere) to read and vote in every poll. However, I do skim the ones in my own poll, and a few of these are rather good.

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Seriously? Both nonsensical Vezon stories landed in the same poll?Huh. I think there's an opening for a joke about alternate world-hopping Vezons here, if I looked hard enough.Anyway, it was a tough choice between "Frosting," "Vezon's Utopia," and the actually serious "Fallen Brother".I went with "Vezon's Utopia" in the end, but I'd like to offer random comments on them all."Frosting" is, of course, a Bio-MeCandycal Chronicle, which I think pretty much sums it up.Sorry. "Vezon's Utopia" is just madness. "Yeah, but he's got that thing in his head...I wonder if it's a lemon." Perhaps it's a COMBUSTIBLE lemon!Completely random, except that I think Cave Johnson and Vezon would get along really well."Fallen Brother" is based off of a cool "what if" moment, which is good AU material. Onua didn't save Lewa that time...Anyway, I liked them all. May the best story win!-Excelsior

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My writings:

The Toa Ekara - Visions A short story. Ga-Koro Mobs My entry for the LSO Comedies Contest. Team Extempore's entry for the LSO Epics Contest

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I really liked both 1 and 5, but in the end decided to go with 5.And polling period over; poll closed.newso1.png

Edited by Velox

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