Double posting for Creative Content. Here begins a great venture - I don't expect I'll see the end for several years. But if all goes well, we will see the end, and the end will be glorious.
184.108.40.206 - Prologue: Summoning
Gathered friends, listen again to our legend… The Bionicle.
The two moons, gold and green, hovered on the eastern horizon, caught indecisively between rising and setting. In their drifting solitude, though, they left trails, streaks – a pathway of light skipping down across the ocean waves like a stairway to the stars.
The stars, twinkling white and spread out all across the night sky, seemed determined not to be outdone, shining down that night with all their might. It seemed there was no darkness to be found, if they had their way. The Red Star was also bright; its long, thin trail seeming to split the sky into two distinct hemispheres as it floated watchfully, so close and so far away from that tiny beach.
The beach, its tan sands bathed blue, was barely visible this hour, the gently roaring tides having risen to cover it in the constant rush of water and foam. Looming above it was a tall cliff of black obsidian, the volcanic rock having long-ago formed into smooth glassy surfaces divided by sharp edges. A staircase, formed not by nature but by the crude yet delicate work of a master carver, led from the beach to the top of the cliffs, where a short pathway ran between two monuments – the only sign of civilization in this otherwise empty region.
In the time before time, the great spirit Mata-Nui descended from the heavens, carrying we, the Matoran, to this paradise.
On an outcropping of rock pointing toward the sea was the first of these constructs, a circular platform with a curious device. Near this machine’s base was a small lens; from the top sprouted a unique armature, stretched out toward the heavens as though attempting to pluck the stars from the sky. A green jewel, carefully cut and polished, rested at the very end.
The other area, nestled comfortably in a slight inset in the wall, was more elaborate. Three tall sandstone pillars, leaning inward so that they just barely avoided touching, were spaced evenly around the circular edge. Each one was carved with curious circular symbols – a written language. From each also hung a small cloth banner, tattered and torn, while at their base were small indents, in each of which had been placed a small, golden-glowing crystal – a Lightstone. Small torches had also been placed into notches in the low surrounding wall, providing a flickering and unsteady aspect to the scene.
Just inside the slight protection provided by this perimeter was a small obsidian walkway running around the circumference; that in turn encircled a wide, deep pit – filled to the brim with sand. Resting in the very center of this sand circle, leaning crookedly to one side as though off-balance, was Mata-Nui.
The effigy was rounded and smooth, little more than a pebble worn down by the ages, but at the same time, it was so much more than that. Each notch carved into the abstract representation of a face had been placed as such very deliberately, crafted with analytical precision and undeniable love. This small pebble was indeed Mata-Nui. And arrayed around it were many smaller rocks, each seeming to bow to this solitary deity.
We were separate, without purpose… Lost… so the great spirit illuminated us with the three virtues: Unity, Duty, and Destiny. In gratitude, we named our island home Mata-Nui, after the great spirit himself.
An arm reached down, trembling with exhaustion but dutifully persevering as it gently scooped the smaller pebbles into six piles around the taller rock. The arm was a curious thing, muscles wrapped in a thin layer of grey skin comprising the upper length, while gears rattled and clicked in the elbow and forearm. The being the arm belonged to looked similar, its blending of organic and mechanical features retaining a sense of cohesion despite itself. It was clad in red and blue armor, streaked with dust and ash and somewhat hot to the touch. Its head was concealed by a large, diamond-shaped mask, with two glowing yellow eyes peering out from small eye holes. Slung over one shoulder was a small brown bag, which held an assortment of various items.
Once the being had finished arranging the stones, they walked around the circle, removing each banner from its bracket and putting it back with the other side facing outward, to reveal a unique symbol, along with a single word written in the same script as on the pillars themselves. They read “Unity,” “Duty,” and of course, “Destiny.”
The lightstones seemed to glow brighter for a moment as the being recited these words.
But our happiness was not to last. Mata-Nui’s brother, the Makuta, grew jealous of these honors, and betrayed him. Casting a spell over Mata-Nui, Makuta sent his brother into a deep slumber.
Reaching into their bag, the being withdrew another stone, this one made of an unidentifiable darkened crystal. A jagged crack ran across its otherwise smooth surface, resembling some cruel mouth. The being hesitated, trembling as they held the stone, but finally they hurled it down into the sand circle with all their might. The dark stone struck true, landing right beside the first and knocking it over to rest in the sand. The neat piles around the two crumbled, pebbles rolling out away from the others.
Makuta was free to spread his shadows across the land… and spread them, he did. The fields withered away, sunlight grew cold, and ancient values were forgotten.
Smaller stones, made of a sleek volcanic glass, were pelted down across the remaining piles, splitting them up further. A chill breeze blew, causing the being to shiver as the torches spluttered and dimmed. The sand itself seemed to take on a shadowed hue, something more than the flickering of the torches could have caused. The light of the stars above suddenly seemed more distant, more lonely.
A stronger gust of wind, and the torches blew out entirely, leaving only the lightstones to illuminate the scene.
Still, all was not lost. Legends tell of six mighty heroes, the Toa, who would arrive to save Mata-Nui. Together, they will stand against the darkness and re-awaken the great spirit.
The being once more reached into their pack, withdrawing one by one, six medium-sized stones, each of which subtly glowed with power. One by one, each was placed with outmost care among the other stones, surrounding the two spirits in the center. Red, blue, green, brown, purple, and white. One by one, they glowed brighter and brighter, until they outshone the moons, the very air seeming to hum with energy…
A massive shockwave of accumulated power – a shining beacon of light lancing into the sky – the air whistling in the being’s ears – and then a sharp impact. With a painful crack, the being struck a spur of rock jutting outwards from the cliff, and everything went black.
A metal cylinder floated on the tide, covered in seaweed and barnacles accumulated after far too many years adrift. One end was slightly rounded, with a series of indents spaced around the edge. As a bright beam lanced from the horizon high into the night sky, the indents began to glow in response. Slowly, the cylinder began to turn, trundling off toward the pillar of energy.
The Toa were on their way at last.