#Makuta mutran

[arr-jim-lad]

"the literal heart of the universe is kinda mid" -mutran

[fivepebblerhehe]

Mutran

[makutaservaela]

Bio-Parenting: Little Scientist

In which Tarix visits Uncle Moo-tran's lab.

[sepublic]

What if we reimagined all of the other non-Teridax Makuta as eldritch horrors, just as Teridax was initially presented in the early years of Bionicle? What if we used each Makuta as a prompt of sorts; What if THEY were the big villain terrorizing an island, their individual name unknown so they’re just THE Makuta to the local Toa and Matoran? Make each one feel worthy of the title of Makuta, with their depictions in Karda Nui being akin to physical, humanoid avatars meant to interact with others, just as the scheming Teridax is like for the vortex from MNOG?

Like for example, Chirox! You have this swarm of spiders known as the Visorak, led by one massive spider, known as Makuta. The Visorak mutate their victims, before dragging them back to their master.

Makuta is a spider-like entity that emerges from a cave, using his spindly limbs to grapple with and analyze his victims... Potentially drawing upon them for inspiration, before tearing and prying them apart into their base pieces, adding them to his massive collection. From these recycled parts, Makuta creates more Visorak, or dreaded Rahi creatures that wreak havoc on the ecosystem. Like Makuta, they are poison, destruction incarnate; They always inherit his twisted spirit that destroys.

That’s all Makuta does, even when he does create; He inevitably just destroys. Instead of coming up with new things on his own, he relies on Fate to mutate the living into something random, hoping chance will eventually grant him a working design for Makuta to copy. You could say Makuta has no real ideas of his own, and is a gambler, a parasite, betting something will come along for him to take. 

But isn’t destruction the same as creation, isn’t destroying his victims necessary to make things? That’s where the imagery of the spider comes into play; Its long, spindly limbs? They’re fingers. Makuta is not just a spider, he is a hand; The same hand that reaches into the parts bin to make new creations, plays with MoCs before tearing them apart to make something new. Just as Teridax represents the parts bin, Chirox is the builder’s hand, like in the Lego Movie, or Super Smash Bros. 

Each Visorak is like a hand of its own, grabbing victims, reassembling them randomly with mutation. Dragging them back to Chirox, whose hand motif is also inspired from the fact that he is the only Makuta who can fully control his Shadow Hand. And Makuta’s spider-like form? It’s attached to something much, MUCH bigger... It is not just a hand metaphorically, it is a literal hand and when Makuta’s lair collapses around him, it reveals the massive figure he is attached to; His whole, true self, a titan more resembling the Chirox we are familiar with.

The others are different angles and facets to approach the myth, the legend of the Makuta; Different re-imaginings, just as people came up with their own G3 and their own take on Makuta. Just like the Makuta contest we had for G2. Vamprah can represent the animalistic side of Makuta; The raging, kicking, screaming beast he was once described as by Vakama. The apex predator, for if his minions are the Rahi beasts, he is the greatest of them all.

Or Bitil! A temporal entity, haunted by his past selves, constantly summoned by his future self. Always going through different iterations, just as a MoC is frequently edited, redone, rebuilt; You can track his transformation, his evolution across his many selves; Makuta represents the existential horror of the timeline, of the way things change. A ghost of the past, and also a vision of the future. If the Vahi is central to the tale of Bionicle as the Mask of Time, what about Makuta as someone who constantly exploits and distorts this force?

Those are some of my initial ideas. Makuta needn’t always be this faceless force of nature, they can be a humanized figure, like Krika, who can be a sympathetic, tragic villain doomed by the narrative, consigned to his role and aware of it as part of a meta discussion; Miserix is the mighty dragon our knights must slay; The Makuta of Stelt, a land of merchants and commerce, the all-consuming force of corporatism that stifles creativity, or a bargaining devil. Gorast is a fanatical priestess hoping to bring in a new age, Mutran the quintessential mad scientist who played god and flew too close to the sun in his obsession.

Spiriah is a corrupt lord seething over his failures, who transformed and resents his people the Skakdi and must be rebelled against; Tridax is a multiversal collector providing commentary on adaptations; The Vortixx hope to harness the ultimate weapon that is Antroz; Kojol is the arcane keeper of knowledge like Lucifer, who stole the Light of enlightenment from the land of thinkers and is burned for it; And Icarax? A completely straightforward dark lord to conquer, as he always intended to be. Each plays the role of Makuta, as the final villain, the ultimate evil who started this conflict, whom our protagonists must rise to eventually vanquish.

[tiredspacedragon]

Part of me thinks Mutran might have been the one who created the Zivon, because he would make something that specifically preys on Visorak, Chirox's greatest achievement, wouldn't he?

But then again, I'm not sure. The Zivon seems a little inelegant for Mutran. Enormous, covered in claws and pincers and Rhotuka launchers with a stinger tail to boot, and destroys everything in sight? I don't know, kaiju doesn't quite seem like his style. Not that the Klakk or Blade Burrower are things of beauty or subtlety, but it feels like there's a greater focus in their designs. And also a purpose, even if Mutran didn't exactly know what that purpose was. Meanwhile the Zivon's purpose is just to wreak havoc.

[117jaller]

Mutran with The N-17 Sniper rifle!

[fieldsofeternalfortune]

[goattypegirl]

While not physically dependent on Kanohi the way Matoran are, Makuta give them equal cultural weight. A Makuta's mask is their identifier. It is difficult to identify who's who if you are all natural shapechagers and illusionists, so it is customary to avoid altering one's mask too drastically in the company of other Makuta. The Hagah tradition to honor past heroes by wearing masks shaped like theirs is derived from this philosophy.

Masks are never swapped or gifted, with a single historical exception. Icarax inherited the Mask of Shadows, and gave his mask of Scavenging to a lowly Matoran as a show of power. Icarax was too foolish to realize Teridax had just done the same to him.

Masks are also emblems of a Makuta's character, their beliefs and philosophies distilled into a single object. Teridax's coup changed the Makuta from scientists and shepherds to occult chessmasters, but can be thought as a shift from the Mask of Mutation to the Mask of Shadows. Would the Makuta have become isolationist hermit-kings had Krika taken control? Accelerationists and disruptors had Gorast?

Only one of Great version each mask has ever been made*, and it is uknown who made them or the Noble versions rewarded to a Makuta's chosen Matoran. One would think that the Makuta's masks were declared immoral for Toa to use after the Brotherhood's betrayal was made public, but this was established in the Toa Code since its creation. A Toa would only ever be in a position to use a Makuta's mask if the Makuta had just died in front of them, most likely by the Toa's own hand.

*There is one exception, debatably two. Chirox and Mutran share the same mask. Some accounts theorize that Mutran initially had a different mask, and changed his mask in order to torment Chirox. Others say that the two always had the same mask, a symbol of their role as left and right hands of a greater whole. The Jultin is a matter of debate. The Jutin was Antroz's mask, but there are conflicting reports of his whereabouts just prior to the destiny war. A Matoran word for failure is 'spiriah', which is not only Makuta in origin, but constructed like a personal name. It is possible 'Spiriah' is in fact the Makuta of Zakaz expunged from history, and that Sipiriah donned an unpowered Jutlin in order to disguise their identity.

Rahi contain 'tags' within their core essence, instantly detectable and innately understandable by Antidermic creatures, but require a veteran archivist's knowledge to even to begin to comprehend for Protodermics. These tags are believed to be signatures by the Makuta who designed that Rahi species, maker's marks imbedded into their fundamental being. A codex of marks and their associated Makuta are on the Makoki stone, allowing for researchers to know precisely which Makuta created which Rahi. Curiously, there are tags within Rahi found nowhere upon the Makoki stone. The history of the Brotherhood begins with the formation of the Makoki stone, which suggests an early "generation zero" of Makuta born prior to the brotherhood. None of these elder Makuta have ever been successfully identified or contacted.

It is common belief that Antidermis was a byproduct of Protodermis synthesization. This is only partially correct. Antidermis was an attempt at artificial energized protodermis. Both substances are mutagenic, both components of a gestalt consciousness, but while energized is damnably finite, new Antidermis can theoretically be created forever.

The earliest design documents for the GSR were found recently. They revealed that the Great Beings initially wanted to build *6* vessels, at least some of which would have been made from Antidermis. Only one vessel was ever created, but the Great Beings reformulated this initial concept into another failsafe for the GSR. This should come as no surprise though. After all, Teridax's plan hinged on the fact that the Makuta are potentially destined to inherit the role of the Mata Nui intelligence.

[toaarcan]

I think it's interesting that we see Icarax fail badly in his fight with Teridax, tiring himself out by physically assaulting his heavily armoured form and allowing him to take a swift victory with his powers.

And then later in that same year, we learn that Icarax went up against another incredibly powerful character in the form of Botar, and rather than throw himself into a fight, everything seems to indicate that he just immediately goes for his magnetism powers and crushes him with a wave of his spidery fingers.

Icarax gets viewed as a dumb brute because that's how Mutran sees him, it's how Teridax sees him, and pretty much every other Makuta agrees with him, but the guy isn't stupid. He's clearly learned from his mistakes fighting Teridax (true, he underestimates Ignika later on, but the guy's probably killed hundreds of Toa before, he bodied all six of the Toa Nuva and took Gali's Nova Blast to the face and all it did was relocate him, I can forgive overconfidence when facing a Toa), he recognises that going to Karda Nui is a bad idea and initially refuses, he figures out that awakening Mata Nui is a bad idea, even if he's not aware of the full details, and he's the one that convinces Krika to actually rebel against the Plan rather than just giving vague warnings and being sad. Sure, he's not doing it for good reasons, and he's basically just trying to get someone else to endanger themselves for his benefit, but my point isn't that Icarax is nice, it's that Icarax is smart.

If Icarax has a weakness, it's being focused on achieving victory solely through martial conquest, and to his credit, he's very good at that. Before he gets devolved, he's probably the most skilled warrior in the entire MU, and even after he's injured, it takes three Makuta working in conjunction to actually defeat him, as he would've killed Gorast and Vamprah if not for Mutran's interference.

But that doesn't mean he's not smart. He might not be a super-genius like Teridax, but he was clearly sharp enough to spot what the rest of the Brotherhood missed, and he had the drive to do something about it.

[artmanguy]

Jurtus: Skadki Darkhunter for Hire

Jurtus Species: Skadki Occupation: Darkhunter Gender: She/Her Element: Water(?)

Jurtus is a Skadki Darkhunter that's currently at large in the reformed planet of Spherus Magna, she's twice as ruthless as she is large in girth. A known specialist in blunt force trauma and intense devastation, she does use weapons on occasion but much prefers to get her hands dirty and bloodied.

Not many live to tell the tale, nor will she personally admit to it. Jurtus has a genuine soft spot for Ga-Matoran, thinks they're the cutest thing on the planet and has been known to take them to her home and rarely seen to return but surprisingly unharmed.

Her escapades go far and wide due to her profession, She's been seen working for the various factions within the planet. Including: the Skrall, other Darkhunters, the Cult of Makuta, Roodaka (unofficially, reasons unknown), Mutran (likely kidnapping and robbery), and a mysterious group of individuals that remain unknown.

Outside of the various jobs, she is very well known to being a menace to many a Toa Team and Glatorians alike. Seen beating entire squads single-handedly with brutal efficiency within an inch of their lives, but surprisingly letting them live on occasion. Those who survived are seen with either Toa of Water or Glatorian/Agori of the Water Tribe, perhaps she also has a soft spot for them as well?

Her Origins are unknown past her history with the Darkhunters within the now former Matoran Universe Robot

[autobotua]

Since the GSR being fuckhuge has apparently become a subject of discussion again recently, thought I’d share a half-formed headcanon:

So when I read Shadows in the Sky for the first time, I didn’t quite get that the Makuta were using their illusion powers to make the Toa go in circles when they invaded the lair, and took Pohatu’s(?) comment that the place seemed bigger on the inside literally.

The Makuta lair was apparently created by Mutran, who knew the nature of the Matoran universe due to his encounter with Tren Krom - and that might be where he got the idea or method to make the base’s interior bigger than its exterior.

Basically, what I’m trying to get at here is: the GSR is bigger on the inside. Faber’s continent-size figures are for the exterior dimensions, while Farshtey’s planet-size figures are the interior dimensions. Or something like that. It’s just an idea I had.

[arr-jim-lad]

One of my favourite things to read in Bionicle is when the Makuta talk about building creatures, and I dont think a single Makuta loved their job as much as Mutran. He was really just living his best life 🙏

[azazelleviathan]

[New Art]

Makuta Mutran and Vican

[makutaservaela]

A Random Scene from my HC

I realised only recently I gave Chirox too many toes -_-

[sepublic]

Icarus, who flew too close to the sun.

[randomwriteronline]

He hears him before he sees him.

That is not something that will ever change - in a sense it is quite comforting, that even in a constantly mutating world one thing can remain the same: the fact that he is still heavy enough to make his arrival sound like an approaching thunderstorm, that he has not lost the peculiar gracelessness of his brand of speed, that he likes to run his mouth just as much as his legs.

"You're a lot thinner than the last time I saw you," Pohatu tells him.

Krika regards him with half-lid eyes: "And my brother's leash is just as tight around your neck still, it would seem."

"Stop that," the Toa shuts him down instantly, his genuine amiable tone gone in an instant to be replaced by a cold vitriol. If the Makuta had a tongue, he might have considered biting it. "That joke has never been funny in the first place."

"It is no joke, Toa."

"Then find something else to greet me with, Makuta."

To say Krika had felt something deeper, once, for such a sad being - to say any of them had at some point been moved towards him by something other than an awkward pity, a half-hearted annoyance, a slight cautious curiosity - would be maybe not a full lie, but certainly an exaggeration. None of them was attached to him enough to pry Teridax's hold off of him until it was too late to even try to get through to him, after all; so perhaps this sudden rush of melancholic compassion is akin to a crocodile's tears after it has senselessly devoured its own young.

It remains that, for a reason unknown, the towering insect-like being tilts his head to better observe the warrior before him.

"You're much more orange than I remembered," he indulges him: "And somehow even shorter."

A booming laugh: "It's the armor," Pohatu replies so wonderfully earnest and open and bright as though he had never once been angry in his frighteningly bitter life: "Too compact."

He drops from the air onto the sturdiest branch he could have found with his entire weight, bouncing on it as it perilously bends towards the swamp waters before struggling to pull itself back up. He dangles his feet in a carefree manner, like a Matoran who snuck away from work. A tentative fondness that was there many millennia ago rekindles for a moment only within the Makuta, to ache with nostalgia: for a moment he can almost picture his old laboratory, and the suspended catwalk that led to the shelves of viruses and carefully preserved failed attempts upon which the Toa would sit just like that so he could watch him at work without interfering.

"So," Pohatu beams: "It's been a while."

"It has."

"I met Mutran on the way here. Most of the others too - the ones up in the sky. They've gone blind, by the by."

"I was aware."

"Of the Matoran, too?"

"Yes."

The Toa hums. Evidently he does not appreciate the shadow leeches too much.

"I passed through him with my Kakama Nuva," he continues.

"Mutran?"

"Yes."

"Riveting."

"It was disgusting, mostly. Oh, and I saw Gorast. I had to knock out Photok before she'd jump on him - ah, you don't know him, right? No, he's from the stalagmites. Resisting against you. So yes, I had to knock him out and fly him to safety and then get back down. A bit of a hassle."

"How is my sister faring, in your opinion?"

"As positively furious as ever. Maybe even worse."

"She has indeed been degrading."

"Hm. Maybe it's the bog air. Or the humidity. Either way I can't really blame her."

Of course you can't, the Makuta only thinks, keeping quiet.

You are becoming ever more like her.

"Ah - watch for Takua- Takanuva. He's arrived too."

"The fabled Toa of Light?"

A nod. "He isn't supposed to be here. They sent him, I think."

"Who would be 'they'?"

"Probably the Order of Mata Nui - the Turaga don't have the means to set a single foot here, let alone send someone. You'll recognize him immediately, he's gotten huge."

"Duly noted."

"Anyhow, how have things been down here?"

Krika shrugs: "Gorast almost killed your sister," he relays. "Bitil had your Earth brother subjugated briefly, and your Fire brother - Tahu, isn't he? - nearly burnt down the entire swamp."

"Hm," the Toa only hums, monotone. "Shame."

The way he says the word causes the other being to stiffen his spine: "Do not speak like that."

"Like that how?"

"Do not be coy."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You should not wish death upon your siblings."

"Because you don't?"

"The Toa Mata are following the path destiny has decided for them," the Makuta snaps at last. "Teridax has tried to twist and bend fate to his own ambitions, and in doing so he has doomed himself, the entire Brotherhood and you with him. To wish him dead is to wish for the Universe to keep on living - it is far from a childish desire born of an ancient grudge that has no reason to exist."

"Watch it."

The words coil quiet, dangerous, around Krika's neck much like a noose of rock.

The fallen stalactites groan like suffering Rahi as they shift.

One must wonder, between him and the last of the Makuta's sisters, if this kind of taste for cruelty is something innate or if his traitorous brother simply has a talent for driving people to it.

The silent threat is not quite empty. Yes, Pohatu will not kill him: he is a Toa (he takes pride in that for it's all that remains outside of Teridax he can still hold onto to tell himself he is worth anything) so he observes the code like his life depends on it, and it is not at all in his nature to consider inflicting pain fun, or satisfying; but he can trap him with little to no air or agonizingly crush his limbs flat between walls of stone, and his slowly marinating anger will find it endlessly gratifying despite any aversion to torture.

But Pohatu is, fundamentally, a weak being.

Oh, he has all the power he needs. His mastery over his element is egregious and his speed unmatched. But at the end of the day he is nothing but a soft toy, a spineless marionette to pull the strings of; one day - because it will happen, one day - someone will snip at a wire, purposefully or not, and that will be all it takes to send him tumbling to the floor.

His sharp limbs carve holes into the wood.

Slowly, Krika elevates himself from the bog and comes to stand upon the branch, light and graceful like a terrifyingly posed skeleton, towering over the little Toa.

His head bends down to look into blue eyes.

Pohatu simply cranes his neck and stares back, tranquil, unafraid, like a child.

"We will not leave Karda Nui," the Makuta sentences. His tone is low, funerary. "Our brother has planned our demise the moment he decided to betray Miserix. We are nothing to him, as are his Kraata, as are you. He has no need for a court beside him to rule the universe. We will outgrow our purpose soon. He will leave us to die like vermins. This shall be our grave."

A stretch of silence.

The gaze replying to his own is calm.

"Sorry," Pohatu says without even the vaguest trace of emotion.

Krika leans down, down, down, closer, until his mask grazes the other being's and his already rotting breath seeps into the seams of Artakha's armor.

"You are not exempt from this fate, little Toa." he breathes. "You are no different in his eyes from me. We are pawns. Tools to be discarded for the sake of a megalomaniac's ego. Teridax will suppress you as soon as your bones begin to creak. He holds no love for you."

"Do you?"

No answer.

"Do you love me?" Pohatu repeats. His tone holds the certainty of those who are lied to so profoundly that the truth becomes laughable to their eyes. "Do you?"

The Makuta remains silent.

"No," the Toa answers for him, "No, you don't."

There would have been a time where Krika would have scared him with a simple glare. It was the time where Pohatu was only a pitiful being who'd known nothing but fighting and fighting and more fighting, who was too curious to leave beakers untouched and kept almost dropping them.

"None of you do."

"We were fond of you," comes out of the white mask suddenly, a raucous strained sound, like something he didn't know himself.

"Yes," Pohatu replies: "Like my siblings are fond of me now. So nice, and kind, and gentle, because they don't remember they used to be the scum of the world. They've been getting memories, you know?" he pipes up - he smiles, tilts his head, leans it so close that Krika pulls back, looking almost excited. "They've been remembering things."

"Pohatu," the Makuta struggles to speak.

"They don't remember me, of course," he continues, trampling over the words the other tries to wheeze out. His fingers begin to sink into the wood on which he sits. "They have no reason to, of course. I wasn't them. I wasn't worthy of being with them. I wasn't wise or strong or stubborn enough. I wasn't memorable. Despite being there. Despite being there from the beginning just like all of them. Did you know, while we were on Voya Nui - you do know about Voya Nui, right? Ah, doesn't matter - we had to blow up a rock. A rock! A rock. And do you know? Do you know what my brothers did?"

"Your memories are poisoned."

"Tahu, and Kopaka - because they are the leaders, aren't they? They are the ones who take all the decisions and who everybody follows because they are louder than everybody else, aren't they?"

"Your own bitterness has corroded them."

"They started burning and freezing the rock. Burning. And freezing. The rock. Burning and freezing! Because that's what they do!"

"You can't rely on them."

"Because that's what they always do, that's all they can do! And I was standing there, you know, I was right there. Right there, right there next to them! A step away! Maybe two! I had to walk up to them! And blow up the rock for them! And I had to tell them, you know? Remember me? I am Pohatu! I do rock! For them to realize, oh! Yes! There is a Toa of Stone with us! How did we forget! Must have been because he wasn't in our immediate field of vision!"

"You are spiraling into your-"

"SHUT UP!"

The branch produces a ghastly crack as his fingers pierce it.

Pohato heaves, tries to keep talking, then hushes when his throat catches on a knot and the story he was telling stops sounding funny. He exhales out loud, hard, suddenly out of breath. His head feels like it's spinning and the swamp's odor does not help.

Krika observes him silently.

Hasn't this happened before? Something like this?

He'd sobbed too loud and choked on his own sadness, and the room had gone quiet and dozens of eyes had stared at him in a mixture of fear and concern.

When was it?

A hundred millennia ago?

He did not remember being comforted.

"Everybody is fond of me," he manages to wheeze: "Everybody is fond of me, and nobody remembers me."

His arms are shaking.

"My brothers sleep easy because they don't remember abandoning me and the Av-Matoran. They're fond of me because they don't remember hating me. But I know who they are. I know."

"You do not."

Blue eyes pierce through the Makuta: "And you do?" he asks, mockingly.

Krika stands his ground: "I have given your sister the chance to leave this dreadful place behind before her death was sealed."

"How nice."

"She has refused, for the sake of her brothers."

"Give her a minute."

"You have deluded yourself across these thousands of years."

"I am perfectly lucid."

"As lucid as Teridax wants you to be."

"Teridax cares about me," Pohatu says.

It is not a snarl. There is no anger in his voice. He is calm, reassured. Unshakeably certain.

He stares at the Makuta darkly.

"He's cared about me since the beginning. He has never left me to rot in my thoughts like the rest of you. He has never abandoned me." he murmurs.

His booming voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, and as horribly bitter as Lerahk poison.

"I don't need your forgetful fondness," he speaks softly. Almost tiredly. Maybe he's done it - he's burnt himself thin at last. "Nor my siblings' two-faced kindness."

"Then you will be alone, little Toa. More than you already are."

"Don't push your own grievances onto me."

The branch sways violently.

Caught by surprise, Krika clutches the bark tight between his claws. It takes him a moment to realize he is now the only being still on it as it lashes out wildly: a flash of orange catches his attention at the edge of his vision and he whips his head around.

Pohatu treats him to an empty look, curled up in mid-air, ready to disappear.

Cold bitterness burns in his eyes.

"He is ripping you from your destiny, little Toa!" the Makuta shouts: "He is leading you to slaughter!"

"My destiny is to serve the Great Spirit; his destiny is to become it," Pohatu replies sharply above the sound of his armor's propellers, letting him know his warning has fallen on deaf ears. "If you can stomach to mention my name, tell your siblings I said hello."

His mask glows for a single instant - then he's gone.

Krika only stares at the point in space that the Toa occupied barely a fraction of a second ago, catching for a moment, impossibly slowed in time, his afterimage; for what is merely an instant it looks small and brown and tan, orange eyes gleaming with a guilt he can't let go off and a too focused vitriol that makes his heartlight stutter sickly, hiding behind a shelf in a clumsy attempt at pretending he wasn't poking curiously at the vats brimming with viruses to watch them swirl towards his finger.