Beginning Editor's Note: I do not claim to own the Bionicle characters or the majority of these plot points. The material here is simply an edited and compiled version of original Bionicle material. Decanonized series, books, guide books, novels, comics, story serials, blogs, etc. have been transcribed in novel form and fully integrated into one chronological read. The poetic liberties of novelization and editing are all I can claim.

Feel free to discuss any questions and feedback on this project, and be sure to keep following/favoriting so you know when a new story or chapter is posted. Reviews are always welcome for reactions, questions, concerns, or general feedback.

These parts constitute material from the story years of 2009 and 2010, constituting what I've called "Phase 08: Revolution."

NEW NOTE: This is the longest Phase of all, so be prepared for more chapters per Part or longer chapters (there are still five parts).

Enjoy!


Sequel to "Bionicle - Phase 07: Ignition - Part V: Endgame"

In the far northern reaches, in the crossover between the tundra and the arctic biomes, a black-armored platoon rode their Rock Steeds through the snowy mountains, fighting the blistering winds of icy crystals. "Look sharp," one commanded, his low voice cutting through the frigid air. "Food stores are low, and the true storms—not this shower of snow—will be here soon."

A fellow being rode up next to him before pulling on the reins and halting his mount. "What about the Agori farms on the slope?"

Another nodded in support. "A quick raid would put food on our tables and water in our casks."

The leader turned with narrowed eyes. "That it would, if the Agori had anything to spare. They have eaten the feed for their animals, and the animals themselves. And now they are trying to grow used to starving."

Tens of thousands of years ago, a global disaster stranded the warriors of the Skrall in the northern mountains of the planet Bara Magna. They had little food or water—only their strength, their wits, and their weapons. Since that time, they had carved out an empire among these barren peaks, but in some respects, life had not gotten any easier.

And it was about to get a whole lot harder.

"Will they survive until the spring?" the Skrall asked, referring still to the Agori out in these lands.

The first allowed himself a humorless chuckle. "If they do…we will raid them then. In the meantime, our scouts should have reported by now. Call them."

One Skrall's Rock Steed shifted its weight in the cold. Its body was built for power and speed, not sitting idly in the freezing icelands. From his bag, he produced a scooped, red blow horn. Opening the mouthpiece of his helmet, he brought it to his lips and blew. An eerie wail echoed through the mountains…

But no answer came on the wind.

"Where are they?" the leader asked, the cold multiplying his impatience like his Rock Steed's. "Why is there no answering call?" He waited a minute more. The other half of his party couldn't have missed the sound. "Three of you, with me. We ride west," he ordered, turning his mount away. His shield wavered on his back as his body swayed. "The other two, go east. If you find anything, signal."

Leaning into the fierce winds, the two Skrall left while the other four continued on. As they traveled, their primarily black armor, and secondary red armor, as well as the red and grey skins of the Rock Steeds, stood out against the otherwise frozen landscape. There were any number of things that could kill a warrior in these mountains, from avalanches to Iron Wolves. But if a Skrall died, his comrades wouldn't return home without knowing the reason why.

It didn't take the riders long to find what they were looking for.

It was solely color contrast that revealed a sign of the other soldiers—a lone red-armored hand at the end of a black arm, sticking up out of the snow. The squad leader dismounted and approached the sight. Turning his longsword upside down, he jammed it into the snow to steady himself as he knelt down, while he kept the shield slung to his back. After a brief investigation, he called to the other men, "Dead. Attacked from behind. Sword is still in its sheath."

Another rider pointed at the ground, then trailed his finger off in a direction. "There are tracks of something leading to the rocks… But then they just…disappear. Not an animal, or an Agori villager."

The leader returned to his Rock Steed's back, pulling himself up using the tough juts in its back. "There are worse things here than either. One of you, stay here and signal the others. We'll find this thing and kill it, now."

X X X

The other two Skrall warriors had already found the other dead warrior. It was a likely guess that this scout was not the only victim—both had been lost. Now, hearing the call of the Skrall war horn, they rode to the aid of their allies.

But they weren't the only ones on the hunt day…

A pair of eyes flared to life, though no one but the owner would have known. A targeting sensor identified the Skrall, their height, their weapon, and their vulnerabilities. One circle formed around their heads, and another circle formed at the center of their torso. It was time to go to work.

The view then settled on the Skrall, and the creature rushed forward with blinding speed.

And their ride just came to an end.

The two Skrall let out earsplitting cries of agony as their last act, before falling into the snow. One headless, and the other bearing a new hole through his breastplate, they were now as lifeless as the wind, and as dead as their previous find.

X X X

"There's no sign of anything here!" one Skrall soldier yelled.

"Patience," the leader rebuked. "Things don't just disappear, even here."

The Skrall who had stayed behind to call the previous two that had broken off returned. A simple shrug accompanied his loneliness.

"The Agori say there are spirits in these mountains, freed by…the Shattering," another Skrall said. "Maybe one is out here, seeking revenge."

"And if it is?" the leader retorted, uneager to hear of the calamity. "Skrall do not fear ghosts…we make them. Have no fear; even ghosts can be destroyed."

His thoughts were cut off by a sharp screech, a shrill sound hovering on the wind, cutting through his armor just as effectively. He saw nothing, making him think that the sound came from one of the mountains in the distance, but his ears told him the source had been right in this vicinity. "What—?" He had to struggle to keep his Rock Steed under control, for it had reared up and threatened to throw him off.

"I saw something! Near your Rock Steed, just for a moment!" one of his men shouted, excited and nervous at the same time. He dismounted his animal and drew his sword and shield. Priming the Thornax launcher along the back of his blade, he moved in front of his leader.

"Where? I see nothing!"

The Skrall paced around the area, turning his head this way and that for that which he accused. "It was there, I tell you. I saw—ahhh!" The Skrall's torso suddenly jerked forward, his legs and arms buckling behind him. A second later, he fell in a crumpled heap into the snow, dead.

Another Skrall was now shouting madness as well. Sword drawn, he was wildly swinging left and right, slicing only the snow flurries blocking their vision. "It struck from behind! I saw it! I—ungh! Ack!" His body fell forward, and then, unbalanced, the carcass fell from the Rock Steed.

This time, the squad leader saw what had been killing his warriors…he saw, but hardly believed. "What in Tuma's name…what are you, creature!? Where have you gone?" With great courage, he dismounted and stood over one of the bodies. He watched the snowy ground as best he could, looking for footprints, listening for movement, even smelling for something that was not Skrall.

He found nothing.

Nor had he or his last remaining soldier suffered the same fate has these two. Somehow, that blatant disrespect made him even angrier. "SHOW YOURSELF!" he bellowed angrily into the icy wastes, his arms held high over his head in rage and despair.

But still no answer came…and even the Skral knew the sharpest blade is no use against a foe that cannot be found. In embarrassing futility and defeat, the leader stood there for another moment. The other Skrall sat on his mount silently. Even his steed kept still.

The leader finally ascended back up his animal, then wordlessly led the pair away.

So they headed home, with no food, six fewer warriors, and a mystery they were nowhere near close to solving. The winds intensified to the point where the Skrall sheathed their swords and pulled their shields out. Holding them in front to protect their helmets and eyes from the elements, they braved the winds and pelting ice. After what felt like days, they were no longer treading on frozen, natural ground, but a mighty man made bridge. As they crossed, the only question was this: which worried them more? The thing they encountered in the mountains, or telling Tuma, their leader, that they failed?

Was it any wonder, then, that they approached the fortress of the Skrall—its mighty stone walls and foundations hewn into the very embrace of the mountains itself—with relief in their hearts…and fear in their souls?

X X X

Elite Skrall were a higher class of the Skrall species, used for forming special forces. Possessing thicker armor, and generally stronger and faster than the average Skrall soldier, these powerhouses carried heavier weapons such as heavyweight axes or clubs. This made them much more brutal and damaging in combat.

One elite Skrall was reminding a trio of Skrall soldiers of all that right now. "Fight you fool!" Stronius yelled, knocking the third and last Skrall against the ring of the training area with his spiked club. It wasn't even a taunt, it was a command. He raised his club and Thornax launcher. "I want a test of my skills, not just another victim!"

The Skrall hit the wall with such force his longsword and shield were thrown from his hands. Shakily, he pushed himself off the floor in an attempt to rise. Stronius approached, raised his club with both hands and…felt it vibrate. He couldn't bring it down on the Skrall. He looked behind and over his shoulder.

"I would appreciate it, Stronius, if you would stop breaking my warriors," Tuma said calmly to his right-hand man. The oligarch of the Skrall stood casually, his unique broadsword carried on his shoulder with one hand. With his free hand, he held Stronius' club in place over the elite Skrall's head. Tuma stood twice Stronius' height, wore decorative shades of lime-green over his black armor, marking him as one of the true commanders of their race.

Tuma released the war club as the wounded Skrall hobbled away. "I will have use for them someday…and for you." Other Skrall came and dragged the two unconscious soldiers from the area.

Stronius watched them go as if they were the last meals that would keep him from starving. He slammed his war club into the floor of the training ring. It cracked the floor with a sharp sound. "Someday! How long must we rot inside of this pile of stone? I hunger for battle…and so do you warriors, great Tuma."

Tuma noticed two Skrall mounted troopers returning from an excursion to the outer mountains. He recognized them as two that were originally from a group of eight. They would not have returned if their comrades were still alive. "Perhaps…you are about to get your wish," he said.

The two Skrall kept a reverent distance away from Tuma until he verbally addressed them. Then they dismounted and knelt on one knee before their leader. Swiftly, the Skrall scout leader explained all that had happened to them: the two scouts sent away, the two sent to retrieve the scouts, and the last two that were slain right next to him and his fellow survivor. Tuma listened closely, and even Stronius stayed quiet long enough to hear the tale.

"You have done well to survive enough to bring us this warning," Tuma commended. The Skrall's spirits lifted—even if the tone was not there, the words were obviously impressed. "You have earned a name of your own, warrior, which you may now bear with pride among our ranks—from now on, you shall be…Branar."

Branar had been addressed. Now he had permission to raise his head. He looked into Tuma's eyes from his kneel. "Thank you, leader…I take the name with honor."

"Refresh yourselves with the appropriate rations, and then prepare to receive new orders." As the two left, leading their Rock Steeds back to the stables, Tuma's chin raised. Stronius, arms folded, glanced at him, waiting to be spoken to. "Send warriors to the other Skrall outposts, and ready the legion. We will find our unknown enemy and exterminate them." Tuma met Stronius' gaze. "That should satisfy your hunger, Stronius."