outofgloom

[outofgloom]

POWER (II)

“Kapura...”

He was lying down. He had not been lying down a moment ago. He had been standing in a cold, clammy chamber crowded with much larger beings. He had been trying to—

“Kapura!!"

He sat up and blinked. Blinked again. A black Pakari was bending over him, too close. The eyes were very...worried, yes. That was ‘worry’, wasn’t it?

“Are you okay?” the voice said again. “I was worried...”

Worried. He’d got it right.

 “…that I was on my own.” The Pakari was Hafu, of course. The Po-Matoran pulled him up to a standing position.

“What happened?” Kapura said, checking his body for damage.

“I’m not sure, but it seems like we've both had a hard landing.”

Kapura registered his surroundings. They were at the bottom of a shallow, rocky ravine. Behind them there was a wall of earth, but ahead the slope was gentler. Probably climbable.

“Where are we, and where are we not?”

“Oh, don’t start with that again,” Hafu said flatly.

“The chamber...I don’t remember.”

“There was a sound—an explosion I think. It might have been in another part of the tower. I saw the Great Smith react. He did something to the air and space—twisted it like before. Then I woke up with sand in my mask.”

Kapura shifted his feet.

“There is a great deal of sand.”

Hafu sighed. “Let’s get our bearings. Up there should be better.” He pointed up the rocky slope.

It was a short hike, although the incline was treacherous with loose gravel. As they emerged, they could see that the sun had passed the top of the sky.

A single sun. No stars.

“Are we back on...Mata Nui?” Hafu asked, more to himself than to Kapura. “The Turaga said it was destroyed.”

“The air is warm,” Kapura said, “like Po-Wahi.”

Ahead, there was an expanse of wind-carved canyons and stone shapes, spreading to the horizon, where they blurred into mirage.

“It does feel like home, I guess.”

“I wonder if Artakha sent us here to keep us safe. You said you heard a noise?”

“That’s right. Just before the Smith did…whatever he did. Something happened in that tower...”

Hafu squinted into the distance, looking for signs of life. A faint breeze stirred the air, but nothing else.

“Whatever it was,” Hafu continued, “I’m sure it’d be no problem for the Smith, and the others. They're all powerful beings, and that tower was impregnable. I examined the stonework myself. Stellar quality, as one might expect from the Great Beings, but—”

Hafu stopped. Kapura’s hand had settled on his shoulder, nudging him to turn. The Ta-Matoran was looking off to the left, following the lip of the ravine. Hafu saw that the shallow crevasse extended about half a kio into the distance before it ended abruptly against a low ridge of stone. That ridge piled into another, and another beyond that.

There was a black scar across the series of ridges, as if something had scorched the stone. Strewn here and there were gigantic blocks of dark granite—even at this distance, they could be seen. And even closer, Hafu realized, partly embedded in the earth, was another shape: A rampart and crumbling wall, still partly intact.

Pieces of the Great Beings' tower, blasted to fragments.

“By Mata Nui...” Hafu murmured. “Whatever the Great Smith did...it must have brought part of the tower with us. But such destruction—Wait!”

Kapura was already marching toward the ruins determinedly. The Ta-Matoran was always faster than he appeared. Hafu jogged after him, trying to catch up, but strangely found that he could not. He was not used to this kind of exercise, he supposed.

By the time Hafu reached the piece of the tower they had seen, Kapura was sitting atop a pile of gigantic stones. The Ta-Matoran waved as Hafu paused to catch his breath.

“Have you…have you found anything?” Hafu called out.

“No bodies,” Kapura replied.

“Well, that’s good news.”

“There is something.”

“Ah, what is it?”

“Under the stones here,” Kapura replied. “I can’t move them.” The Ta-Matoran slid carefully to the ground as Hafu approached, and pointed to a gap between the slabs he had been sitting on. Something could be seen glittering in the dark.

Hafu looked morosely up at the heavy blocks.

“If I had my tools, this would be a lot easier…”

The two Matoran worked together to shift the carved stones. They were wedged tight, but with the right application of force, first one and then the other toppled away. A cloud of dust rose and Hafu coughed as he scrambled over the remaining stones to see the prize, hoping it had not been crushed. Kapura was already there, of course.

It was a hammer. Gigantic, covered in strange runes. It still glowed faintly. It was the Hammer of Artakha.

Neither Matoran spoke. Hafu looked around, almost expecting the Great Smith to appear and scold them, but nothing happened.

“Should we...?” Hafu looked at Kapura, but the Ta-Matoran shrugged.

After a few moments, Hafu reached out slowly, reverently. He tapped the haft of the hammer with a finger. The runes on its surface flashed, and then the hammer flickered into a series of shapes: a bent, rotating tool, some form of chisel or wedge, a pickaxe, and other stranger forms. It happened all in an instant, and Hafu shrank back. Artakha’s tool reverted to a hammer, as before.

“What should we do?” Kapura asked. “We should return it, shouldn't we?”

Hafu hesitated. “I’m not…sure…” He reached out again and gripped the handle of the hammer firmly. It came away in his hand, and he almost toppled over with surprise, thinking that he had broken it. But then he realized that the entire tool had simply shrunk and become lighter to match his size.

“Incredible,” Hafu whispered, hefting the tool and feeling its balance. He looked at Kapura and smiled. “I could get used to this.”

Hafu’s head snapped back, and his entire body seized as a strong electric shock emitted from the hammer. His mask jarred loose, and he fell heavily to the ground.

The hammer clattered from his grasp and rolled away, flickering and buzzing until it struck a stone and stopped. Smoke rose from Hafu's body. He did not move.

A long quiet moment passed. Then, a shadow fell over the hammer, and another hand reached out and gripped the handle in a very precise way, raised it.

Two eyes looked at the tool thoughtfully out of a red Pakari. The tool had clearly been warded, except for those with...certain knowledge.

“I don’t know why the Great Being chose to sacrifice me along with the others, back in the tower,” he mused. “I have served him well, and it saddens me. Maybe he didn’t know I was there...but he knows everything...”

The red Pakari turned to look at the unmoving body of Hafu. There were burn-marks on his armor, but his heartlight was beating faintly.

“You were not supposed to survive either, just like me. That is clearly the Great Being’s will, though Artakha interfered...And so...”

The hammer went up, and shifted into a blunt form. It hung in the air for a moment.

The eyes behind the red Pakari glanced down, then sidelong, then up. They narrowed. Thoughtful.

Out in the distance, across the wind-carved plain, what before had seemed to be a sparkling mirage had faded as the sun fell behind clouds. Now it was clearer: Far away, the shape of a mighty fortress rose against the sky, flanked by strange spikes of stone. And beyond that, there was gleaming ocean.

“And so...”

One moment, there were two Matoran amidst the ruins: one standing, arm raised, one sprawled on the ground.

The next moment, there was only one.

* * *

Context: Like its predecessor, this story fragment is set within the unknown landscape of possible futures which branch from the end of the unfinished Bionicle serials; specifically, the serial The Powers That Be, which trails off at a moment when a group of characters (including Hafu and Kapura) are being targeted by a mysterious murderer (the Great Being Velika), to be either killed or recruited to his cause.

#reblog #bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction

[outofgloom]

POWER (II)

“Kapura...”

He was lying down. He had not been lying down a moment ago. He had been standing in a cold, clammy chamber crowded with much larger beings. He had been trying to—

“Kapura!!"

He sat up and blinked. Blinked again. A black Pakari was bending over him, too close. The eyes were very...worried, yes. That was ‘worry’, wasn’t it?

“Are you okay?” the voice said again. “I was worried...”

Worried. He’d got it right.

 “…that I was on my own.” The Pakari was Hafu, of course. The Po-Matoran pulled him up to a standing position.

“What happened?” Kapura said, checking his body for damage.

“I’m not sure, but it seems like we've both had a hard landing.”

Kapura registered his surroundings. They were at the bottom of a shallow, rocky ravine. Behind them there was a wall of earth, but ahead the slope was gentler. Probably climbable.

“Where are we, and where are we not?”

“Oh, don’t start with that again,” Hafu said flatly.

“The chamber...I don’t remember.”

“There was a sound—an explosion I think. It might have been in another part of the tower. I saw the Great Smith react. He did something to the air and space—twisted it like before. Then I woke up with sand in my mask.”

Kapura shifted his feet.

“There is a great deal of sand.”

Hafu sighed. “Let’s get our bearings. Up there should be better.” He pointed up the rocky slope.

It was a short hike, although the incline was treacherous with loose gravel. As they emerged, they could see that the sun had passed the top of the sky.

A single sun. No stars.

“Are we back on...Mata Nui?” Hafu asked, more to himself than to Kapura. “The Turaga said it was destroyed.”

“The air is warm,” Kapura said, “like Po-Wahi.”

Ahead, there was an expanse of wind-carved canyons and stone shapes, spreading to the horizon, where they blurred into mirage.

“It does feel like home, I guess.”

“I wonder if Artakha sent us here to keep us safe. You said you heard a noise?”

“That’s right. Just before the Smith did…whatever he did. Something happened in that tower...”

Hafu squinted into the distance, looking for signs of life. A faint breeze stirred the air, but nothing else.

“Whatever it was,” Hafu continued, “I’m sure it’d be no problem for the Smith, and the others. They're all powerful beings, and that tower was impregnable. I examined the stonework myself. Stellar quality, as one might expect from the Great Beings, but—”

Hafu stopped. Kapura’s hand had settled on his shoulder, nudging him to turn. The Ta-Matoran was looking off to the left, following the lip of the ravine. Hafu saw that the shallow crevasse extended about half a kio into the distance before it ended abruptly against a low ridge of stone. That ridge piled into another, and another beyond that.

There was a black scar across the series of ridges, as if something had scorched the stone. Strewn here and there were gigantic blocks of dark granite—even at this distance, they could be seen. And even closer, Hafu realized, partly embedded in the earth, was another shape: A rampart and crumbling wall, still partly intact.

Pieces of the Great Beings' tower, blasted to fragments.

“By Mata Nui...” Hafu murmured. “Whatever the Great Smith did...it must have brought part of the tower with us. But such destruction—Wait!”

Kapura was already marching toward the ruins determinedly. The Ta-Matoran was always faster than he appeared. Hafu jogged after him, trying to catch up, but strangely found that he could not. He was not used to this kind of exercise, he supposed.

By the time Hafu reached the piece of the tower they had seen, Kapura was sitting atop a pile of gigantic stones. The Ta-Matoran waved as Hafu paused to catch his breath.

“Have you…have you found anything?” Hafu called out.

“No bodies,” Kapura replied.

“Well, that’s good news.”

“There is something.”

“Ah, what is it?”

“Under the stones here,” Kapura replied. “I can’t move them.” The Ta-Matoran slid carefully to the ground as Hafu approached, and pointed to a gap between the slabs he had been sitting on. Something could be seen glittering in the dark.

Hafu looked morosely up at the heavy blocks.

“If I had my tools, this would be a lot easier…”

The two Matoran worked together to shift the carved stones. They were wedged tight, but with the right application of force, first one and then the other toppled away. A cloud of dust rose and Hafu coughed as he scrambled over the remaining stones to see the prize, hoping it had not been crushed. Kapura was already there, of course.

It was a hammer. Gigantic, covered in strange runes. It still glowed faintly. It was the Hammer of Artakha.

Neither Matoran spoke. Hafu looked around, almost expecting the Great Smith to appear and scold them, but nothing happened.

“Should we...?” Hafu looked at Kapura, but the Ta-Matoran shrugged.

After a few moments, Hafu reached out slowly, reverently. He tapped the haft of the hammer with a finger. The runes on its surface flashed, and then the hammer flickered into a series of shapes: a bent, rotating tool, some form of chisel or wedge, a pickaxe, and other stranger forms. It happened all in an instant, and Hafu shrank back. Artakha’s tool reverted to a hammer, as before.

“What should we do?” Kapura asked. “We should return it, shouldn't we?”

Hafu hesitated. “I’m not…sure…” He reached out again and gripped the handle of the hammer firmly. It came away in his hand, and he almost toppled over with surprise, thinking that he had broken it. But then he realized that the entire tool had simply shrunk and become lighter to match his size.

“Incredible,” Hafu whispered, hefting the tool and feeling its balance. He looked at Kapura and smiled. “I could get used to this.”

Hafu’s head snapped back, and his entire body seized as a strong electric shock emitted from the hammer. His mask jarred loose, and he fell heavily to the ground.

The hammer clattered from his grasp and rolled away, flickering and buzzing until it struck a stone and stopped. Smoke rose from Hafu's body. He did not move.

A long quiet moment passed. Then, a shadow fell over the hammer, and another hand reached out and gripped the handle in a very precise way, raised it.

Two eyes looked at the tool thoughtfully out of a red Pakari. The tool had clearly been warded, except for those with...certain knowledge.

“I don’t know why the Great Being chose to sacrifice me along with the others, back in the tower,” he mused. “I have served him well, and it saddens me. Maybe he didn’t know I was there...but he knows everything...”

The red Pakari turned to look at the unmoving body of Hafu. There were burn-marks on his armor, but his heartlight was beating faintly.

“You were not supposed to survive either, just like me. That is clearly the Great Being’s will, though Artakha interfered...And so...”

The hammer went up, and shifted into a blunt form. It hung in the air for a moment.

The eyes behind the red Pakari glanced down, then sidelong, then up. They narrowed. Thoughtful.

Out in the distance, across the wind-carved plain, what before had seemed to be a sparkling mirage had faded as the sun fell behind clouds. Now it was clearer: Far away, the shape of a mighty fortress rose against the sky, flanked by strange spikes of stone. And beyond that, there was gleaming ocean.

“And so...”

One moment, there were two Matoran amidst the ruins: one standing, arm raised, one sprawled on the ground.

The next moment, there was only one.

* * *

Context: Like its predecessor, this story fragment is set within the unknown landscape of possible futures which branch from the end of the unfinished Bionicle serials; specifically, the serial The Powers That Be, which trails off at a moment when a group of characters (including Hafu and Kapura) are being targeted by a mysterious murderer (the Great Being Velika), to be either killed or recruited to his cause.

#bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction #outofgloom #works #kapura #hafu

[outofgloom]

Get this into your thick skull: Bionicle addition

All of the names in bionicle that weren’t changed after the lawsuit, the Māori people ALLOWED Lego to keep. That means it is ok to use them. And even if there were names for new characters after said lawsuit happened that seem “culturally appropriative”, don’t you think that the Māoris would sue again? They didn’t. That means it wasn’t that bad. Also, I have proof that they SPECIFICALLY ALLOWED Lego to keep using the Māori names that were chosen for the toa mata (the main cast). Don’t you think since the Māoris had a problem with some of the names, if they had a problem with the toa mata’s names, they would have pointed that out first since the toa mata are the LITERAL MAIN CHARACTERS? A huge misconception is that the Māoris “didn’t catch” some things in bionicle, this proves that theory wrong! Even if they had missed some things at first, bionicle continued for less than a DECADE after the law suit! Don’t you think that they would have sued again if they found something they missed the first time?

The island from Moana is “Monte Nui”, the island from bionicle is “mata nui”. The island from Moana is not a bionicle reference.

The name “Jaller” does not fit in with the rest of the names in bionicle. It sounds soooooooooooo yankeedoodle! Even some of the characters who got their names changed sound more like bionicles than him. Maybe they were trying to make him an American stereotype? Like, his voice sounds like a dumb surfer dude. Even Tahu, an actual surfer dude, sounds like less of a surfer dude than Baller with a J over here!

If bionicle was that bad, it would be morally wrong to keep liking it. What a person likes dictates their character, but that’s only if you know the extent of what you’re doing and keep doing it. If someone got addicted to something bad as a kid without realizing how bad it is, it may be hard to move on from it as an adult.

in jaller’s name, they changed the “a” to an “er”, I think it might be a joke similar to the “clankers” thing in the Star Wars community.

the reason why Lego won’t bring bionicle back is because they fear backlash from twitter people, but considering that most people nowadays like bionicle, I don’t think they will get much backlash. They have even changed some of the names that the Māoris let them keep, because of how scared they are! Let them know they shouldn’t!

The matoran are not racist depictions of anything. Bionicle was inspired by christen Faber’s day dreams of the pills inside of his body fighting his cancer being actually alive. The depiction of antibodies as humans in media usually have them depicted as creatures rather than people. The concept of the matoran developed over time so they were more portrayed as humans than antibodies. Also, the previous names for bionicle seem a little iffy, but they probably didn’t know that voodoo was an actual practice, and the bone heads thing… probably either had to do with the fact that blood cells come out of your bones or since the bionicles were just literal animals back then, they didn’t have any problem giving them a funny name. Another candidate for a name was literally “doo heads” for crying out loud! 😂

#great reply

[outofgloom]

one of the tragedies of bionicle is how consistently it would throw in little mysteries and then completely fail the landing. tahtorak shows up demanding "give me the answer" to a question no one knows but the question was just "how the fuck did i get here"

#what is the terrible secret of energized protodermis?? #might kill u #who is the “ancient evil” that the piraka serve?? #its #its makuta again

[outofgloom]

This doesn’t have a citation so I’m taking it with a grain of salt, but…

If true, this means that Matoro must have been born some time after the Toa on Jovan’s team sacrificed himself.

But that’s on the assumption that he was born destined to be the bearer, as opposed to being assigned that destiny at a later point in his life. (It’s not clear whether Ignika reaching out to him in the tunnel was it choosing him as a guardian or a bearer.) Destiny can be altered throughout a being’s life, but much of it is assigned at the time of creation.

Anyway, if that was the case, it makes sense that a destined bearer would be born fairly soon after the death of the previous one, ensuring that there was always one in existence.

Which would have meant Matoro was actually fairly old by Matoran standards when he died, aged around 80 000 years.

#bionicle #the “avatar” theory of Ignika-selection #headcanons

[outofgloom]

I don't think it's ever established in-story, but I assumed the creation of the beacon which summoned the Toa Mata did indeed burn up the energy of the stones.

The Last Toa

I have a not-quite-100% finished thought rolling around my head about the legacy of the Toa Metru, and in attempt to get it complete, I'm trying to write it down.

So, the Toa Metru are the final stop in a line of Toa going back to the foundation of Metru Nui, right? They were made Toa by Lhikan, the last of the Toa Mangai, and as his heirs and mentees, they are the last Toa of Metru Nui.

Indeed, the GSR generally, they come awfully close to being the last Toa--period. Not the last Toa in existence, obviously, but the Mata/Nuva, Takanuva, and the Inika/Mahri are all Toa in some other special way: Artahka originals, the Mask of Light, and intervention by the Red Star. None of them represent the passage of energy from Toa to Stone to Matoran: that lineage, which I assume goes back all the way to the earliest days of the GSR.

I think Krakua is the only real monkey-wrench in the idea that the Metru were the last Toa made in the conventional way. I'm pretty sure he's the only non-Inika example we know of in canon definitely after the Cataclysm.

There's something wistfully sad about the Metru being the Last Toa Ever™ and yielding their own Toa power to revive the Matoran, with no new Toa to follow them. When the Toa Mata arrive on Mata Nui, it becomes something like an Arthurian return, but it's also a supplanting: "the line of Dume and Lhikan and those even before them has failed" and a better thing takes their place.

Some basic Googling/BioSector01ing seems to suggest that there's not a lot of canonical detail in HOW Krakua becomes a Toa--so even if we accept that he's a fairly recent Toa, we can allow ourselves some speculation that he ALSO might not have been an old-school Toa-Stone-made Toa.

Why does any of this matter--other than poignancy, which is a consideration of its own? Well, I was thinking about Matoro (as one does) and the unique way in which he could carry on the legacy of the Toa Metru: he's the one Matoran (and thus the one transformed Toa) who knows their tale before the reveal at the end of MoL. Alone of the amnesiac Matoran, he has knowledge--though not memory--of Metru Nui, and while he kept the Turagas' secrets, he can't have helped being shaped by them in the 1000 years of doing so.

Destiny is the will of Mata Nui (well, destiny is a thorny subject, but let's call it that here). The Toa Mata, Takanuva, Krakua--what if they were all attempts in some way or other to supply the "needed" Toa to save the Great Spirit? But, though he is dying, the Great Spirit doesn't want any of these: he doesn't want to saved by Artahka's demiurgic Toa, or the Avokhii-wearing saviour, or any of the washed-up leftovers (Lesovikk, "the forty living Toa," the Hagah): instead, when the Red Star intervenes--the Red Star that echoes his will in a way the Order of Mata Nui can never hope to--he chooses one of them, and he chooses the one of their number who is the truest heir of the Toa Metru--his Toa.

Destiny is a big theme of the Metru in a way that was never true of the Mata (unity is their theme), and this really comes to the fore with the dancing back and forth between who was destined: them or the Mask Matoran. Destiny also comes up big with Matoro--and perhaps their destinies are the same.

#replies

[outofgloom]

One important loose thread here is the fact that Krakua may have some "far future" shenanigans still to come:

So even if he is a "lineage Toa", making him the last official Toa created by passing on energy from one Toa to another (setting aside the real possibility that more Toa could easily be created on Spherus Magna), there's still the potential for his status to be thematically significant. "The lone hero left" feels like a last-of-his-kind scenario to me...but that's me :)

The Last Toa

I have a not-quite-100% finished thought rolling around my head about the legacy of the Toa Metru, and in attempt to get it complete, I'm trying to write it down.

So, the Toa Metru are the final stop in a line of Toa going back to the foundation of Metru Nui, right? They were made Toa by Lhikan, the last of the Toa Mangai, and as his heirs and mentees, they are the last Toa of Metru Nui.

Indeed, the GSR generally, they come awfully close to being the last Toa--period. Not the last Toa in existence, obviously, but the Mata/Nuva, Takanuva, and the Inika/Mahri are all Toa in some other special way: Artahka originals, the Mask of Light, and intervention by the Red Star. None of them represent the passage of energy from Toa to Stone to Matoran: that lineage, which I assume goes back all the way to the earliest days of the GSR.

I think Krakua is the only real monkey-wrench in the idea that the Metru were the last Toa made in the conventional way. I'm pretty sure he's the only non-Inika example we know of in canon definitely after the Cataclysm.

There's something wistfully sad about the Metru being the Last Toa Ever™ and yielding their own Toa power to revive the Matoran, with no new Toa to follow them. When the Toa Mata arrive on Mata Nui, it becomes something like an Arthurian return, but it's also a supplanting: "the line of Dume and Lhikan and those even before them has failed" and a better thing takes their place.

Some basic Googling/BioSector01ing seems to suggest that there's not a lot of canonical detail in HOW Krakua becomes a Toa--so even if we accept that he's a fairly recent Toa, we can allow ourselves some speculation that he ALSO might not have been an old-school Toa-Stone-made Toa.

Why does any of this matter--other than poignancy, which is a consideration of its own? Well, I was thinking about Matoro (as one does) and the unique way in which he could carry on the legacy of the Toa Metru: he's the one Matoran (and thus the one transformed Toa) who knows their tale before the reveal at the end of MoL. Alone of the amnesiac Matoran, he has knowledge--though not memory--of Metru Nui, and while he kept the Turagas' secrets, he can't have helped being shaped by them in the 1000 years of doing so.

Destiny is the will of Mata Nui (well, destiny is a thorny subject, but let's call it that here). The Toa Mata, Takanuva, Krakua--what if they were all attempts in some way or other to supply the "needed" Toa to save the Great Spirit? But, though he is dying, the Great Spirit doesn't want any of these: he doesn't want to saved by Artahka's demiurgic Toa, or the Avokhii-wearing saviour, or any of the washed-up leftovers (Lesovikk, "the forty living Toa," the Hagah): instead, when the Red Star intervenes--the Red Star that echoes his will in a way the Order of Mata Nui can never hope to--he chooses one of them, and he chooses the one of their number who is the truest heir of the Toa Metru--his Toa.

Destiny is a big theme of the Metru in a way that was never true of the Mata (unity is their theme), and this really comes to the fore with the dancing back and forth between who was destined: them or the Mask Matoran. Destiny also comes up big with Matoro--and perhaps their destinies are the same.

#replies #headcanons

[outofgloom]

"Lord Tuyet"

The Lord of Flame scoffed at first, but soon came to see her side--sooner than anticipated. Only a small sea’s worth was required to drown his volcanic halls and quell his arrogance...

She departed with pledges of fealty, as she'd been commanded, thankful to leave those dry lands.

She'd been efficient. The Great Being wouldn't expect her so soon. There was no need to rush. After all, hadn’t he mentioned other Element Lords...a Lord of Water?

That had a nice ring to it...

And it seemed she had time to kill.

#reblog #bionicle #art #tuyet

[outofgloom]

"Lord Tuyet"

The Lord of Flame scoffed at first, but soon came to see her side--sooner than anticipated. Only a small sea’s worth was required to drown his volcanic halls and quell his arrogance...

She departed with pledges of fealty, as she'd been commanded, thankful to leave those dry lands.

She'd been efficient. The Great Being wouldn't expect her so soon. There was no need to rush. After all, hadn’t he mentioned other Element Lords...a Lord of Water?

That had a nice ring to it...

And it seemed she had time to kill.

#bionicle #art #outofgloom #tuyet #works

[outofgloom]

Parts of the fandom have spoken! I’ll share my self-indulgent skakdi and Zakaz headcanons.

While copying out my notes, they grew even more... Be aware that this is a longer post! I'll put the largest part under a readmore if asked for.

Edit: I was pretty tired yesterday, so I forgot to give shout-outs to @mothnem and @crystaltoa. Headcanon 1 started in a discussion between mothnem and I about their AU and they created some of the details that inspired my headcanons as a whole. Crystaltoa listened to my ramblings and gave feedback.

Please reblog this version!

-----

Headcanon 1: Some of the skakdi are part of the GSR’s immune system. Rather than warriors and shepherds protecting the workers as GSR’s internal structures directly like toa do, these skakdi keep the ecosystem and people healthy by dealing with sicknesses. All people in this area of jobs have cooperative elemental powers. (This is before the Awakening and some of the time after, prior to other political players interfering.)

One group are doctors. They can read living beings’ energy and determine whether or not they’re healthy by touch. If they’re not, they figure out the cause and craft medicine from protodermis. They have an easier time reading species created directly by the Great Beings or Mata Nui like their own, vortixx, stelts, or matoran.

Medical assistants help the doctors. Writing reports, fetching materials, watching over the process of medicine making, etc. Some of them are apprentices meant to become doctors themselves.

Another group acts similar to phagocytic cells. They are special operations who step in when contagious diseases appear. Immune to most diseases, sicknesses, and toxins; will not spread any even after prolonged contact with these things. These traits make them different from the doctors. But they’re able to read living beings’ energy, too. They are specialized in either of these three jobs:

Scouts. They – always six with the main elements – venture into areas with suspected or confirmed sickness, whether it affects the flora, the fauna, the people, or any of them combined. They determine sick plants by eating parts of them. If they can’t locate or touch living specimen, they eat remains of dead plants and of rahi to determine the cause. They create crystals from their findings and forward them to messengers to bring them back to the doctors to scan. Sometimes, they’ll send patients for better care.

Their job includes locating the focus of diseases, marking the area, and setting up quarantines where necessary. Scouts give emergency first aid to stabilize, including slowing down patients’ bodies / putting them into a coma by cooling them down or flushing out specific toxins via water energy. If they can’t save them, they give palliative care instead.

Contagious remains of Great Beings Creations (GBC) and of rahi, and plantlife, are burned. The remains are encased in stone and earth. Skakdi of air control that no airborne pathogens or embers spread.

Messengers. Quick on their feet, they work in groups of three to ensure their cargo – patients, medical crystals, notes, medicine – reaches their destination.

I have no designation for this job yet, but these skakdi tend to be the biggest and are heavily armored. Primary job: They protect the scouts (who are no warriors) from the flora and fauna. Their secondary task is a last resort: to destroy and eat highly contagious rahi and plantlife that have gone out of control. They can’t be cured or there’s no time to scout for a cure first. They ruthlessly kill them, eating the remains within seconds. They produce the same crystals as the scouts, but with more data.

The health specialists make up only part of the whole skakdi population. On Zakaz, a big part of what is created and built is for own use, like tools and devices to build houses and machines. Medicine and energy supply machines are the most exported goods. Some are farmers and fishers because eating food is seen as average part of life. Some are traders who bring back goods for further processing from Xia or Metru Nui. Zakaz also has doctors specialized in reparing and healing fellow skakdi.

In locations outside of Zakaz, skakdi do similar jobs to the other people around them, like smith work or teaching or being healers.

To repeat, this is how things were supposed to go.

-----

Headcanon 2: Specific organizations of and leading matoran wanted to gather more power in the GSR, over their own people and over others. They invented and spread several lies about the other GBC (Great Beings Creations), including that eating with their mouth made them barbaric and thus lesser (and dangerous). Along with these lies came sanctions and restrictions as well as the restriction of information to only what was approved.

One of such places was Metru Nui shortly before, around, and after the civil war. The aim was both to extort better trade conditions for Metru Nui and dissuade local dissenters from leaving because of the unknown. Affected GBC would also be less likely to host refugee matoran, seeing matoran in general as the source for their problems. And the turaga used that resentment as false proof of their lies. The Order of Mata Nui helped in spread of the propaganda.

Skakdi soon were met with suspicion and anger from their matoran peers. Many had to leave their previous homes because their work as well as their person were rejected. They rightfully grew resentful of them.

Makuta Spiriah’s arrival on Zakaz made things worse. Seeing potential for warriors in the skakdi because of their protectors, he trained volunteers in combat and strategy. He also modified a large group to be stronger and more aggressive, including installing the spine slugs.

Skakdi volunteered for many reasons. They feared attacks by matoran as well as xian forces. They wanted revenge. They feared Spiriah’s retaliation if they refused. They wanted to be able to protect themselves when dealing with rahi. They wanted power for power’s sake. They wanted to take control of Zakaz. They wanted to take control of the GSR (the Barraki had almost managed it, had they not.)

Not all inhabitants agreed to go with Spiriah’s plans. Whether it was the depths of the modifications or the modifications on their own.

All factors that created a metaphorical bomb for existing tensions to rise and explode. Spiriah lit the fuse when left the island and the visorak in charge of Zakaz.

How dare the Makuta leave them alone?! Many skakdi were struggling with side-effects that only appeared then – like uncontrollable and heightened aggression. The healers and doctors didn’t have the resources to help them.

How dare he put the visorak in charge?! It was an insult to the prouder inhabitants, already slighted by the matoran. Others feared Spiriah’s retaliation as well as what the visorak would do if they went against the horde.

In this confusion, the common question was: What to do now?

Social upheaval changed Zakaz forever over this. A civil war broke out that involved more and more inhabitants until half of Zakaz’s population was fighting each other. They killed the visorak during this conflict, having now a large, armed and trained force to fight back against them. They were also partly immune to their venom. Distinct factions evolved from the combatants, often led by people who fueled the war.

The other half of the population hid in fear of getting pulled into combat and / or get killed. The Brotherhood of Makuta and Krika getting involved only brought a temporary, tenuous peace, and being completely isolated from the outside world and many stranded outside their home.

The Order of Mata Nui didn’t aid Zakaz either, leaving them struggling with the loss of resources and internal power struggles, and their home ravaged.

It was a political calculation. Strengthen the matoran organizations close by, divide the GBC further, and because they didn’t want to invest either time or resources to help Zakaz. They failed to consider the long-term consequences of locking away the GSR's health specialists and leaving their jobs to the Brotherhood alone.

-----

Headcanon 3: Officially, the whole of the island is under a common leadership. Unofficially, the government Makuta Krika installed and is loyal to the Brotherhood (by necessity) has trouble keeping the peace.

The island is divided by philosophies and politics. The travel ban is imperfect. The two remaining war factions have been aiming to come to power ever since the civil war stopped. Both have been making dealings with Xia leadership in secret for weapons, including selling their own people into slavery.

Criminal gangs control little pockets on Zakaz and terrorize the population. Many of them work with the war factions. Some areas reject modified skakdi, other reject unmodified ones, often violently. Vezok comes from one of these areas, which explains Vezon’s thoughts about “home”.

Most skakdi leaving Zakaz are either refugees desperate for safety and a better life, daring traders who regularly sneak or bribe their way past the blockade, and criminals. The former two groups try to stay out of sight, while the third couldn't care less.

They’re breaking the law already, so what? Who cares about hurting matoran sensibilities? (Like eating meat in front of them.) Those are the skakdi most matoran meet .

-----

Headcanon 4: Makuta Krika banned travel to control Zakaz. Just because Spiriah had caused trouble locally didn’t change that he created a new army the Brotherhood could use.

And by forcing the skakdi either into hiding or onto Zakaz, the Brotherhood could step in to take over their jobs.

-----

Headcanon 5: Larger and more batches of surviving refugees took advantage of the Great Cataclysm’s chaos. The tsunamis threw the blockade into disarray and destroyed dozens of ships outright. The coastal patrols both on land and water got destroyed in many places as well.

The refugees fled Zakaz once the Silver Sea calmed down some, when the various leaderships and groups focused on survival and maintaining their strongholds.

#bionicle #headcanons #legend-as-old-as-time

[outofgloom]

Toa Tahu

#bionicle #art #thecongressman1

[outofgloom]

Design Motif in Metru Nui Kanohi

From the Chronicles of a Toa Ankut:

“In the replicas of Kanohi from the period of late Metru Nui, a particular motif can be found, one that is shared by most of the known specimens. It consists of a circular element with a smaller circle inside intersected by an oblong shape. I believe this motif to represent either a piece of additional technology that was integrated into the masks, or a common design pattern that became a leftover from said technology, after it stopped being implemented.

If we inspect the placement of the components that have said motif, it becomes apparent that they are most commonly located once on each side of a mask, near areas where the audio receptors of its wearer would usually be. Furthermore, a replica of Kanohi Ruru from the same period appears to have a similar yet complementary shape, like a negative, located at the mouth section. This leads me to form a theory that those components, in their original form, were responsible for enhancing audio properties of Oropi who wore Kanohi modified this way. Masks containing the convex shape would enhance hearing of their users, while the ones containing the concave shape, like the mentioned Ruru, would enhance their speaking.

The only Kanohi replica that has the hearing enhancement component placed somewhere different than on the sides is that of a Komau, which has a single component located on the top surface. This particular mask is said to depict the version worn by Toa Metru Onewa, who during his time as a Matoran was a Po-Metru carver, so a configuration like this one could have enhanced his awareness of sounds coming from up top, like those of rocks falling down, which would be useful for Onewa's profession.  

Similarly, we can compare the Kanohi Ruru from this collection to its alleged historical wearer, Toa Metru Whenua. He, in turn, used to be an Onu-Matoran archivist, known for giving tours around the Great Archives, so a modification that enhanced voice strength would have allowed him to be heard better by the tourists he spoke to. 

An interesting observation is that amongst the commonly known replicas representing Kanohi worn by the last Toa Metru in their state as Toa Hordika, only Mahiki Hordika of Toa Matau retains the discussed components from its regular form, unlike Hordika mask worn by Toa Vakama, Onewa and Whenua. If we were to believe the theory that the components could have been merely design leftovers, it isn't outside the realm of possibility that from all the mentioned Toa Metru who had those kind of designs in their Kanohi, only Matau had actual enhancement components and so they retained their form even when the mask underwent Hordika mutations.” 

#bionicle #ankutnui #headcanons

[outofgloom]

KNOWLEDGE

All of the wards in the City of Secrets were screaming. From the inland rampart to the seaward piers, from the high pinnacle of the Cinis Mai to the street-level ward-stones they rang out intruder, attacker, invasion!

The elderpriest rushed through the corridors of the ziggurat, breathless and bleary-eyed with sleep. Down the polished passages and up the crisscrossing stairs, out into the Throne Chamber he ran. The vast space echoed with the alarms as he crossed to the east door and threw it open, looked out: 

From the top of the three-sided ziggurat he could see all the inland portion of the city, all the way to the walls and the mountain waste beyond. The smoke of Valmai could just be seen in the far, far distance, a small smudge against the morning sky.

There was no army encamped there. The walls stood strong. The city was dark and silent. Still the wards rang in his ears. 

From the east door to the southwest he ran. Still nothing. The streets were quiet below, still shrouded in sleep. Soon, the sky would be alight, and the City of Secrets would grind itself into wakefulness, but not yet. Still the wards clamored on.

Finally, to the northwest he ran and threw open the last door. That was when he realized that it was not morning. Below, the waters of the Halkatarax rivered their way through the city, into the bay and its great harbor, and then out to the open sea.

But there was no more sea, and no more harbor. Where the harbor-mouth had once been, there was now a mass of land blocking passage to the ocean. A pitted, craggy island.

Behind the island, a dark bar of shadow lay along the horizon, and a fog of darkness rose up to cover the sky above. It was not morning. It was perhaps midday, but the city lay in deep gloom, a gloom that was not darkness alone. There was something in the darkness, something that breathed silence and sleep. He could feel it, and so could the wards in the stones of the city. They did not sleep, of course. They were awake, awake and shrieking to warn him.

Another ping ran through the veins of the ziggurat and shivered through his feet, shocking him to action. He stumbled back inside with fear rising in his throat. Disastrous. Where were the guards? Where were the harbor-wardens? Was he the only creature stirring in the city now? Where had the dark island come from, and what did it portend?

He fled to the center of the chamber and stood before the throne. It sat solid as ever, a great, squat mass of protobsidian, gilded with gold. It was said that the Mantax himself had carved it from the slopes of cursed Valmai long ago, enduring the gouts of magma that had poured forth upon him, to bring it away. The throne was the lynchpin of the ziggurat and its ward-veins, and only the Lord Mantax himself was allowed to sit upon it. But the Mantax was not here–he was somewhere north, taking counsel with the other Lords of Order. In his absence, only the elderpriest was allowed to touch the throne, to utilize its secrets.

The sky was growing darker outside–not brighter–and a horrible sense of foreboding fell upon the elderpriest. Another shiver went through the ward-veins.

He touched the throne.

Disorientation, and then clarity. His perception traced through channels of stone and metal, through networks laid through the ziggurat and the earth beneath it, into the streets and the buildings, through the apertures which sensed light and sound all throughout the city. It was the City of Secrets, but no secret could be kept from he who sat the throne.

The streets were empty, he found as he shifted through the various avenues of sight. He looked into the buildings and found bodies there. Terror spasmed in him for a moment before he sensed the beating of their cores. They were asleep. Room after room, building after building, the same thing. All deep in slumber. It must be the fog…

Another ping came down one of the wards to the northwest, and he raced along it to see. It was on the main thoroughfare coming up from the harbor, on the south bank of the Halcatarax. But he could see nothing.

Wait…there was a noise. He focused, couldn’t quite make it out. He ground his fingers into the surface of the throne, tried to increase the connection, but it was no use. He wavered for a moment…only the Lord Mantax could sit the throne. 

But Mantax was not here. He was the only one here. Surely he would be forgiven.

The elderpriest clambered up onto the great seat, felt the interweaving grooves in the arms and back of the chair. He focused again and thrilled with the deeper connection. Back along the ward-veins he flew, and looked out onto the thoroughfare once more. The sound rang out again. Metal on stone. Close by. There was a shape moving in the fog, moving away. He raced ahead, along the local ward-vein, and looked out again. The shape resolved, and it was–

It was slit-eyes and a bent back, topped with spines. It was a staff humming with a sleep-inducing power, amplified through the gloom. And there was another: more slit-eyes, and a staff projecting a field of silence.

It was Rahkshi…and there were more, so many more. An army of Rahkshi creeping through the dark, all along the thoroughfare, and out into the city. They were emerging from the waters of the harbor, down from the shores of the island at the harbor’s mouth. 

That island…it was…He knew the shape of that island. There were deep pits in its surface, and from the pits came even more creatures: beasts that flitted through the air and others that crawled along the ground. Rahi creatures. Creatures of the Makuta.

Invasion. His jaw clenched at the realization, and he floundered for a moment in the ward-space, seeking for the right impulses to activate. The Mantax had spoken of the possibility that the Makuta might move against the Lords of Order, but there had been no open conflict. 

His hands skittered desperately across the grooves of the throne. 

Where was the Lord Mantax, and where were his armies? Surely he would be here soon. He knew all secrets; surely this was no exception. He would be here soon, yes, to ambush the invading force and destroy them, like so many times before. 

Where, where…what was the right configuration? He struggled to remember.

But…but if that was the plan, why had the Lord Mantax not apprised him? He was the elderpriest of the ziggurat. Was he no longer trusted? He had kept so many secrets, and so faithfully… 

Finally, the elderpriest found what he sought. Signals traveled out into the city, and things began to happen. Lightstones blazed bright along the streets, and earsplitting alarms began to clamor in the air. Many doors slammed shut, and others opened. There was a stir in some quarters, as the city's inhabitants were finally shocked into wakefulness. Awake and defend yourselves!

He could see more clearly now. He raced back to the main thoroughfare, looked out onto the street. A horrible noise of shrieking assaulted him as his perceptions emerged through the aperture, and he had to dial it back for a moment. The Rahkshi were screaming and fleeing from the lights. One of the creatures smashed its staff into the base of an obelisk and the spire toppled over, shattering its lightstone across the ground. The glowing shards repulsed the creatures even more.

He laughed at his success, watching them in disarray. He would awaken the guards and the harbor-wardens. He would lead the counterattack from here, and repulse the enemy. The Makuta thought to capture the city through sleep and silence, with their dull servants? Foolishness! Perhaps he would even capture the dark island itself, and add its secrets to his own—

The base of the ziggurat pinged him loudly, and his exulting stopped. Somewhere on the crisscrossing stairs outside. Had they penetrated that far into the city? He had seen no Rahkshi on the way. A chill went down his spine as he abandoned the further wards and moved to the ziggurat itself. There were guards on the ground now, shaking off sleep and brandishing weapons, and the pathetic Matoran were running here and there in terror. 

Shouts moved through the air as he set the wards to signal out the positions of the intruders in the streets. Then he was racing up the outside of the ziggurat, seeking the invaders along the stairs, commanding the outer doors to bolt and seal, and seal again, and—

He was seized bodily, and all his perceptions dissolved into a spinning, sickening rush as he was dragged from the throne and went sailing through the air…then resolved into red pain as he smashed into the far wall of the throne chamber.

More pain as he slid down and struck the polished floor. Agony rolled through his body, and he knew that his gilded armor was broken and bent. The personal wards in his armor plates told him that his internals were damaged. It was bad.

He was face down on the floor, but he realized that he was still seeing something. His perception was limned with red, and it throbbed horribly, but he was still connected to the ward-veins somehow. He was seeing the interior of the Throne Chamber. There he was, a broken pile on the floor, and there was the throne at the center, and between…

Between him and the throne there was a thing standing. It was made of many plates and metal shapes, joined by pistons and connecting gears. It did not move like a living thing, but more like the automatons he had seen the Fe-Matoran produce. It stalked toward his inert form, each limb moving as if by a separate, disjoint instruction. His disembodied senses felt the thing's feet blunt against the polished floor. Pain surged again, and he struggled to focus. He looked toward the throne. If he was still connected to the ward-veins, maybe he could—

The thing stopped suddenly and turned with surprising speed. All at once he was staring down into two bright green eyes behind a foreign mask. It was not looking at his body, but at him–at the point where his perceptions emitted through the wards. It could see him. 

The eyes glowed painfully bright, and an unknown power obliterated the aperture, flinging him back into his own skull. He retched at the reversal of his disembodiment, coughing and struggling on the floor. His sight had returned, though still blurry. He heaved himself up on one arm. The thing had already turned back to him. It stood over him now, and he waited for it to strike...

It did not strike. Instead, the thing reached down and touched him with one of its iron fingers...and the pain vanished. The rents in his armor closed, and his internal wards signaled a lessening of damage. He was…healed.

“Who…are you?” he asked breathlessly, pressing himself back against the wall, afraid, but thankful that he could breathe comfortably again.

A voice issued from behind the strange mask. It was not a living voice, but generated by mechanical means, he was sure.

“Do you not know?” the voice said.

“I do not.” It was the truth. Rahkshi and Rahi he knew, but not this mechanical thing.

“Are you not the elderpriest of the city of the Mantax, who shares in the knowledge of He Who Knows All Secrets?”

“I am.”

“And yet you do not know this secret.”

“I…I—”

The thing laughed a mechanical laugh, and the green eyes pulsed.

“What is your intention here," the elderpriest demanded, trying to put on a brave face, "and what is the meaning of this invasion? This affront to the Lords of Order will not stand.”

“More secrets that you do not possess.”

The elderpriest scoffed. “I assure you, when the Mantax is returned, declarations will be sent to the Makuta, and swift war will come upon them, worse even than in the days of the Wars of Order. You may transmit this to your masters—”

The room blurred and shifted around them, and suddenly they were back in the center of the chamber, next to the throne. He realized that he was standing up now. How…? He had no time to think.

The thing touched the protobsidian of the throne with an iron finger, scratched a spark out of it.

“Do not touch it!” he cried. “Only those ordained to possess the knowledge of Mantax may—”

“Ah, knowledge,” the voice interrupted. The green eyes flicked toward him. “If knowledge is required, then I am certainly ordained, for I am Knowledge.”

“What does that mean? You still haven't told me who you are.”

“I have. Just now.” The eyes turned back to the throne. “So this is the means by which you surveil the city,” the thing mused. “A useful tool for lesser creatures, I suppose. The Lord Mantax is dead.”

“It is forbidden for you to–” The words registered in his mind, and he stammered. “Wh-What? You…you lie!”

“He is dead, as are the other Barraki.”

“Outrageous! What proof do you offer of this claim?”

“No proof is necessary, except the proof of this city being taken in a few hours. The trifling forces of the Barraki are dismantling even now, across the universe. The Lords of Order are no more.”

“I know this to be false.”

The thing turned to him now, fixed him with a look that would have been inquisitive, had it been a living face.

“And how do you know this?”

The elderpriest hesitated, taken aback by the thing's sudden interest. “It is a…a secret. Something known only to the subjects of the Lord Mantax, and to no others.”

“If secrets are simply your own false beliefs, then you are a fool. Fools do not live long in my presence. Prove yourself.”

“I am the elderpriest. I do not need to—”

The thing stepped forward, and he remembered spinning and sickening, and red pain…

“Prove yourself.”

“Very well,” the elderpriest cleared his throat. “I shall grant you this secret: The Obsidian Throne was made by the Lord Mantax, who put his own wards of integrity upon it, that it should remain whole as long as he was living.” He pointed to the black seat. “The throne remains whole, its wards intact, and so the Mantax lives.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“Fascinating,” the voice said. “And this is known amongst the people?”

“It is. All who serve the Mantax know it and are assured by it, as I am.”

“I see.” The thing turned its gaze back to the throne. “It is a good bit of mythmaking, I’ll give him credit. The Barraki are masters of such propaganda.”

“What do you mean?” The elderpriest stepped forward, indignant. “It is no myth. It is proof that the Mantax lives, and that he shall return to expel those who occupy his city.”

“It makes a good narrative for a resistance to hold to,” the voice mused, ignoring him. “Something that will have to be reckoned with, sooner or later.”

“This occupation will be short-lived—”

“It’s as good a place to start as any, I suppose.”

The thing snapped its iron fingers, and the throne shattered into rubble.

Shock. Confusion. The elderpriest looked wide-eyed at the pile of rubble as it collapsed to the floor. The ward was…the ward of integrity had been there…It had been strong. He had felt it, even to the point of shattering.

The thing turned to the elderpriest, dusting flecks of obsidian from its armor.

“Now,” it said, “do you renounce your duty to Mantax, one of the  Lords of Order, who is now dead, and do you pledge now the loyalty of your duty to the Makuta?”

“I…I do not renounce!”

“You have great knowledge, elderpriest, and much sway over those beneath the ziggurat. It is in the interests of the Makuta to preserve you, if possible. So I ask again, do you renounce?”

“I c-cannot renounce, for the Mantax is not dead. You may take this knowledge to the Makuta and let them consider it.”

The thing shook its strange mask.

“Ah, these are the words of a fool, for the Makuta are Knowledge.” Its eyes burned into green points “...and as I said, I am Knowledge as well.”

“I do not understand,” the elderpriest lied, shrinking backward.

“You do understand. The age of the Lords of Order is at an end, and now is the time of the Lords of Knowledge. Once more, I ask: Will you pledge to serve us in this new age?”

The green eyes bored into him. The throne was dust and black shards, its secrets annihilated, except for the ones he now carried.

“I will serve you,” he said, his voice trembling. 

“Then declare that the Mantax is dead.”

The throne was gone, but the wards remained. Mantax had laid down those within the ziggurat as well, he knew. They would have perished with him, surely. He could not be dead, and if he was not dead, then... someday there would be a reckoning...

“I will serve you, but I cannot declare this. The Mantax must live. I do not understand this contradiction. It is a secret that is…that is kept from me. Please understand.”

“I see,” the voice said. “Your faith is admirable, elderpriest, and worthy, I suppose, of your position as the keeper of the City of Secrets.”

The thing turned away for a moment, and the creak of pistons sounded almost like a sigh. Then its limbs rotated it back, and the green eyes looked upon him again.

“I have asked a great thing of you,” it said, “and you have revealed secrets to me. For your honesty, I will share one great secret in return, before I must again tend to my task in this place. Will you accept this, as the beginning of your service to us?”

“I...I will.”

“Very well. Then look.”

The strange mask slid upward and back, and metal plates retracted with a shriek. Pistons whined as the carapace of the Makuta opened horribly, and a dark thing issued forth.

And the elderpriest saw what was inside.

It had already told him.

It was knowledge.

#reblog #bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction

[outofgloom]

Thing about me is that I'm a huge softie. I want everybody to get happy endings and be alright in the end. And that's great for fluffy headcanons. But when I actually buckle down and think about my ideas for how things would go post-canon, it's a little rough. Because the point of Marendar is to kill Toa, and to have it show up and be defeated or change sides or what have you before doing any Toa-killing would just be a cop-out (especially after 10+ years of irl buildup). So that means some Toa gotta die. But who?

On that note, here's a potentially gruesome poll. Pick whichever option you think should happen most, and add anyone else you think should bite it in the tags.

Would have added options for surviving, non-zombified Toa from the Red Star, and Nobody <3, but alas, ran out of room. Also, Krakua isn't here because he has to survive to do the whole "lone guardian of an island fortress" thing and send Vakama that Kratana-induced vision he got back in Time Trap. So his survival is guaranteed. Everyone else, not so much.

Some anti-propaganda (reasons they all should die *evil laugh*) below the cut:

Toa Nuva: Would there be a bigger gutpunch than this? The flagship characters, the six heroes with one destiny! But that destiny is complete now, they don't need to be kept alive anymore. Imagine how much it would shake things up to take them off the board, how ruined the survivors would be if only a few of them went down. Wouldn't it just be so juicy?

Toa Mahri: They're one down already, so it's not like you'd be breaking up a complete set. Besides, we all know they're built for tragedy at this point. Jaller and Hahli could fall together. Hewkii could go down in front of Macku's eyes. Nuparu could sacrifice himself using one last invention to stop Marendar, perhaps making up for the perceived sins of the Vahki and Boxor. Kongu could accept death as it takes him, at least now he might see Matoro again.

Toa Hagah: These six are prime candidates, aren't they? Important enough for it to hurt, for us to care, but not so important that they aren't expendable. Never truly frontrunners. Named characters it's safe to kill. What more could you ask for? I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Greg had planned to kill them so he'd never have to describe Gaaki, Bomonga, Pouks, and Kualus' appearances. Plus, Norik dying just after getting to see Varian again? Or even just before? Doesn't it hurt so good?

Takanuva: He only needs to live long enough to end the civil war between the Great Beings, but after that, if Marendar is still in play, he's fair game. What do you say? It would torture him more to see his friends fall while he lived on, but there is something poetic to "Takanuva, the first and greatest Toa of Light, whose life burned brightly, but quickly."

Yesterday Questers: These three are like the Toa Hagah, but even safer. Named characters, important enough for their deaths to matter, but brand new, without much audience investment. Besides, they're asking for it, aren't they? Ancient Orde, the chip on his shoulder as old as he is, could finally know peace in oblivion. Perhaps Zaria's death would finally clear his guilty conscience. And Chiara... Does anyone actually like Chiara? Would anyone miss her? Are these questions she asks herself? And wouldn't it hurt to hear her ask them in her final moments?

Varian: Talk about tragedy. Thousands of years, locked in a tube, dead to the world. Unaware time is even passing. And when she finally awakes, it's only to die. A waste of her character, perhaps, but if you don't mind fridging, it would piss off Norik somethin' fierce.

Tuyet: Doesn't she deserve it? And you know, Marendar does track Toa Power, and there's no greater source of that than Tuyet and the Nui Stone. It would be gunning for her. And it would be so deliciously ironic. All that power, all the effort she put in to get it, and it would be utterly useless to save her in the end. Her dreams of empire ground to dust in seconds, right before her eyes, as Toa Tuyet dies one last time.

Helryx: Think of the poetry. Marendar, the Toa's bane. What more worthy opponent could there be for the first Toa's last stand? It practically writes itself. Helryx has done her duty. The will of Mata Nui has been carried out. This is her perfect chance to go down fighting on her own terms, not as the leader of the Order, but as a Toa once more.

Lesovikk: This guy is Orde and Zaria but worse. He wants death so bad. And what else is there left for him to do? Karzahni is dead. His Matoran are found. What, will he become a Turaga and gift his power to the next generation of Toa? Will he wander the woods and care for the animals? Will he find joy and beauty in living? Lame. He misses his team so bad? Let him join them.

20-odd nameless mooks: By far the safest option. A Toa-killer would be pretty pointless if it never killed any Toa, but nobody said it had to be anyone we cared about, right? This is the best of both worlds. A pile of bodies to make Marendar a credible threat, but nothing and no one of consequence lost. A perfect solution, right? Just uh. Hope you don't have any OCs in here.

Mutants: The Dark Hunters are scattered, vulnerable. If these lost souls haven't found the greater group yet, they'd be easy to pick off. Good options too, right? Actual characters, so their deaths have some weight, but not major ones, so they won't be missed. Guardian was killed off in Reign of Shadows for those exact reasons. Why not have Savage, Spinner, and Prototype carry on the tradition, and tie off some loose ends in the process?

Shadow Takanuva: Sure, it might suck for their home universes to lose their Takanuva like this, but hey. If you have a whole army just sitting around, might as well put them to use, right? The fight could be interesting to watch too. Shadow might be the only element Marendar has no countermeasures for, since Toa of Shadow were never meant to exist. Maybe this is how it's finally beaten, after taking several alternate Takanuva down with it, of course. Besides, Melding Teridax flattened several of them already, so it's not like they were all making it home to begin with.

#i demand an all of the above option

[outofgloom]

Gavla and Radiak

#bionicle #art #azazelleviathan

[outofgloom]

BIONICLE music fans, I need your help

Remember that I once wrote a funky BIONICLE Suite using themes from multiple movies/games etc., for an assignment? If not, it's here:

(here is the post on my dedicated music blog @transcriptions-of-unknown-music btw)

This suite is very dear to me: I scored top marks in my Arranging class with it, and later won a conducting audition with it. And now, in about a year or so, I will be getting the chance to perform it with a professional symphony orchestra. Like a full orchestra instead of the weird ensemble it was originally written for.

BUT

I need to reinstrumentate it, of course, but that also means that I can update it. The original assignment had a time limit of four minutes; this time I don't have that restriction, so I can basically do whatever the fuck I want.

And this is where I need the fandom's help.

I have a pretty solid base idea of what to do with it, but I want to put in as many nods to the width of BIONICLE as possible. The original suite was based on the music of the first three movies with motifs from mostly the MNOGs thrown in, because those are what mostly marked my personal BIONICLE experience, but BIONICLE is more than that. It's also the GBA games, the console games, the songs, the commercials, the online episodes, the later flash games, the Piraka rap, the singing squid, and so on. Which brings me to what I need you all for:

Please let me know your favourite BIONICLE music!

It could be literally anything; from an entire game soundtrack to just the drum rhythm during one specific section of a game. I'd love to know what BIONICLE music you love or is important to you!

What will I do with this information?

Currently I'm already working on gathering motifs and soundtracks into one musical book, transcribing them into notes and bringing them down to their core elements. This will serve as my vocabulary, of sorts: if I have a collection of themes at my disposal, it will be much easier to see if and how they fit together.

Here is an example of a piece from the Templar episodes that I 'collected': (it sounds off because it's MIDI, but what I did here was write down the actual notes so I can transcribe it for other musicians)

Please don't hesitate to let me know your favourite BIONICLE music (and also feel free to tell why a certain piece is important to you)! There is no time limit to this; you may always reblog or reply to this post, and my ask box is also open!

Hope you all can help me make this a real community thing, showing our Unity!

#bionicle #music #alastheswarmleaderhasescaped

[outofgloom]

Finished a long project for Bionicle! Detailed pics under the cut

The intro from The Mask of Light film as a block print with watercolour, medieval illuminated manuscript style. Took me about 3 months, mostly planing out the lego pieces as the floral decorations

If anyone is interested in a print let me know!

#bionicle #art #squiretinnion #beautiful!