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http://dinasaruyama.tumblr.com/post/122425220501/aanchir-hamigakimomo-here-it-is-the-ninjago# Not a joke! not an illusion! An official LEGO publication!

As the TV show progresses and the story line/timeline becomes more convoluted, the truer this statement becomes. I know this is going to sound ridiculously pedagogical, but I don't convoluted is quite the right word. Convoluted means very complex, usually implying excesses of complexity. "Blink" (the Doctor Who episode) had a convoluted timeline. Bionicle arguably had some convoluted story-lines. Ninjago is just making it up as it goes along.

I wish Galidor was like this Though to be fair, Galidor does have NOT A ROBOT A PLANT man on this. That's something. I guess

I was expecting something like one of the Exo-Force comics, but this is... different.

Great track.

Baron Giuseppe Cellini, Archtrumpeter of the Fellowship of the Dormouse, was ill at ease. As he scurried through a dim, emerald back-corridor of the Palazzo de Risate, he did his best to avoid the leering stares of the engraved Death’s Heads. Covering the hallway like flies upon a corpse, they were adorned, variously, with fool’s-caps, domino-masks, and other such festive accoutrements, in keeping with the palace’s driving theme. He would have found them unsettling in any circumstance, but now he saw in them lost friends and family, companions and comrades who had been swept away like so much chaff. The images signified a profound loss, for which no amount of ecstatic merriment could compensate. It had been but a year, though it seemed half a lifetime, since the land of Campanarosso had gone mad. General Prospero had marched on Terrenno-Pigro, ushering in civil-war. The bloody maelstrom had consumed rich and poor, lord and commoner; turning villages to graveyards, cities to necropolises. Prince Mercutio, sensing the imminence of the capital’s fall, departed for his montane summer-palace with a group comprising, in addition to the normal residents of the palace at Campo D'oro, a small military detachment and those nobles (such as Cellini) who had taken refuge there. Upon reaching the pleasure-palace, the Prince had severed all links with the world, setting fire to the grand bridge that spanned a vast, sepulchral chasm. The Baron was stirred from his reflections by an abrupt change in scene. The candle-lit passageway had given way to a torch-lit antechamber of a tannish hue. Murals on either side of him depicted saints and angels at heavenly play, and mirrored statues of cherubim guarded an oaken door. On each statue four masks, fish, parrot, domino, and Grecian comedy covered, respectively, the faces of man, lion, ox, and eagle. Cellini shuddered, preparing to step into the chapel beyond. He had been summoned here, by a person unknown, in regards to the stupid and time-honored practice of “Guerra Segreta.” He had no idea how he could help, but he would be happy to put an end to the duels that had already doomed some twenty-four of the palace’s initial eight-score and two. As his hand reached for the door-knob, he was startled to see it turn. It was nothing, however, compared to his shock at the sight of the figure that emerged. He was clothed from shoulders to feet in a velvet cloak, and wearing a broad, asymmetric, elaborate mask of crimson stone, the grotesque parody of a face paradoxically imbued with the nobility of a patriarch. As he stared at the crevice of a mouth, the craters that were eye-holes, the edged nose, and the vein-like hair that that ran rampant round the face, the Baron could only muster a faint, raspy “oh!” The figure nodded, as if in greeting. The stranger spoke, in a voice too distorted to be recognizable: “Oh, Giuseppe, you coward. You so enjoyed playing the part of a guardian, watching over the benighted masses. Then our world ignited, and the mask fell from your face. You displayed all the bravery of your little club’s namesake.” The Baron, as angry as he was terrified, protested “I saw my family slaughtered, my sons disemboweled! How could I think of the right or wrong of my actions?” “What makes you so special? Nothing, if I’m honest. You won’t be missed.” As Giuseppe Cellini stared, pale and quavering, his eyes as wide and wild as those of a fish, the anonymous figure produced a scimitar from his cloak and swung it swiftly and casually at his neck. His head dropped, his neck a font of gore. * * * “Meet me in the Chapel of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, at midnight, if you wish to see an end to Guerra Segreta,” read Prince Mercutio, anxiously stroking his ginger beard. “Unmistakable proof that our murderer is no outsider. We are betrayed.” A chill ran down the spines of the noblemen seated in the small, turquoise chamber. The Prince continued: “It is, naturally, significant that the two killed were among the eleven that abstained from our monthly hunt. In all likelihood, this note was written before the storm that postponed our expedition. By midnight, our party was well away from the palace, and had we returned in a week’s time, as expected, there would have been ample time for the culprit to do his deeds and hide the evidence of his guilt. Furthermore, the seldom-traveled nature of the wing in which that Chapel and poor Gianetta’s bedchamber were housed meant that he, or she, could safely carry out the killings.” The Prince breathed deeply. “The time required for a proper investigation of this labyrinthine structure would postpone our hunt for too long a time. We would be foolish in starving, nor would we be wise in allowing a deranged killer to accompany us through the wilderness. It is thus, with a heavy heart, that I command an ordeal: Our party shall embark, as planned. Those who desired to stay, shall stay, through no choice of their own. The castle shall be blockaded, from the outside. Each day, between your investigations, you shall condemn one of your number to death, until the killings stop. To this end, you shall cast votes. He who receives the majority, dies. I have provided the necessary instruments.” The potentate paused for a moment, his gaze distant and inconsolable. “I am profoundly sorry for this. May God have mercy on your souls.” * * * By the time the final stone was placed before the palace gates, the nine prisoners had already retired to their quarters, having read the instructions left by the Prince. Sleep did not come easily, for none could be sure of another dusk. As for one, there was nocturnal business to attend to… Rules · Normal Rock Raiders United Mafia rules apply. · Each round lasts 36 hours. Roles · Mafia-See Page 1 · Innocents-See Page 1 · Doctor-See Page 1 · Mesmerist-Each day, he can secretly redirect one vote to a player of his choice. · Duelists, aka Guerrieri Segreti-These two have entered into the age-old practice of Guerra Segreta, whereby two duelists attempt to bring about the accidental death of each other. The only goal of each one is to get the other lynched. Should the Mafia kill one before the Second Day, they become Innocents, in accordance with the laws of Campanarosso. Players · aidenpons · Fushigisaur · JimbobJeffers · Xiron · Seaborgiun · MaelstromIslander · Onegreatrace · BionicleFan Night One now begins.

Leaked movie poster: