/mlpol/ - My Little Politics

Welcome to the new code.
If you want to see the latest posts from all boards in a convenient way please check out /overboard/
Note: JS is required to be able to post, but I am working on a system where that won't be needed.

By clicking New Reply, I acknowledge the existence of the Israeli nuclear arsenal.
Select File / Oekaki
Password (For file and/or post deletion.)

Razorback Company.png
#OiE: The Cult of the Dark Horse 2
GM Strangler
>If you would like to join, make a sensible loadout here at:
>And if you want to bring in something special or anything not on the list, ask to shop it in.

>When you're done, read over the Operator's Handbook:

>Or the Hoofbook if you wanna be a pony:

>Then drop a post here.

>Overall Pastebin:

>Fortress Map:

>Bulletin Board:

>Previous Thread:

Welcome back, pony cowboys...
543 replies and 65 files omitted.
Lost in the Crag Moors: Stuck (In The Middle Of) You
GM Strangler
"This is a current estimate of my physical parameters. Regardless of objections I'll continue to cross-reference my datalogs for simple to construct vehicles."
>Returning the left screen to a frontal view of her internal structure, a full third of her 'skeleton' was slag or destroyed, the remainder heavily damaged, twisted, or merely in a faulty state.
>As expected the rebuilding process would require a great deal of additional salvaging, though a few components looked reasonably familiar to you.
"Agreed, shifting priorities. Addendum: research notes indicate underwater repairs, maintenance, and modifications will be lower than thirty percent of standard values. Difficult, not impossible."
>Delivering another batch of gems, the tendril is joined by several more carrying a selection of archaic looking and oddly shaped coins.
"Statement recorded, now saving on all primary, secondary, tertiary, and backup storage systems.. complete. Logic node calculations have determined paranoia to be a heightened form of suspicion exacerbated by moderate to extreme obsessive-compulsiveness. I will not permit illogical actions to be taken without prior study or risk calculations."
>Climbing back into view on the right screen, the caricature's single eye makes a comical squint.
>Which COULD be threatening if it weren't utterly cartoonish.
"This 'nerd' is attempting to ensure she is not wrongfully blamed for failures outside of her control and would feel little remorse if events dictate it is necessary to spank her MOTHER into line!"
>And here was that sass again..
"In the event of catastrophic system failure there is a greater than ninety-percent chance my sensor array will require a complete rebuild. Update: modification failed, no damage caused. Source of errors: multiple integrity losses. Querying databases for potential solutions.. complete. Now attempting basic array repairs-"
[1d6+4 = 8]
<Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1]
<Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 4]
<Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 5]
<Repair Tendril #8
[1d6+1 = 6]
<B.Engineering Research
[1d6+1 = 7]

>Catching something on the right screen in front of you, an odd, inverted pan-shaped cloud formation moves.
>Naturally he's relieved that Sunny and Mercy broke up, at his command, but the results were mixed.
>One pegasi, his herd second, took his outburst harder than expected.
>Or she was nursing a head injury... it was probably his first guess.
>Sunny, however, recovered instantly and began to assess the council mare's injuries. Going off of the amount of blood, she was somehow in worse shape than she showed up in.
>Fast-walking over to the three, he gives the cowering Mercy a reassuring pat on her wings as he passes her-
"It's okay, Mercy..."
>And toward Sunny, who was already starting on first aid.
>The sight is NOT what he expected, as the pegasi mercenary was administering a potion... vaginally?!
>At this point the scene was less shocking and more tiring, as he kneels down at the councilmare's head end and averts his gaze to the rear.
"I'm gonna not be grossed out and just assume whatever you're doing is going to help heal her wounds. The Dagor also has a medical bag, if we really need it."
>But he wasn't about to argue with Sunny, as he crosses his arms coyly.
"Honey, tip for the future: humans are literal shit-hitting-the-fan magnets. Expect this level of BS almost every time. Keeps you on your hooves, that way. I'll let you handle her, while I begin herding the Lunarites to the top."

>Leaving Sunny to her 'treatment', Jeff grabs Boris by the mid-section and hefts the golem up and onto his left shoulder; sticky-ing him for stabilization.
"Hey, leaving someone to die over a 'petty grievance' is not cool. The Citadel's been under siege for hours, anyway. There's enough time to take care of everything, at their pace. You need to be tactful."
>Speaking of them, Jeff shifts his attention to the awaiting Lunarites through the doors.
"Okay, everypony. If you're all ready, you can follow me to the surface. Maybe my transportation can carry all of you."
>Though he doubts the Dagor's storage space or suspension can handle that much cargo.
>How many total were of them, again?
>Turning back around to begin the lead, he walks over to Mercy again to check on her.
"You okay, Mercy? We're gonna start moving out now."
Bubba the Second
>Grimacing, Bubba readjusted to the feeling of being transported through that infernal device.
>"I'll never get used to such a thing."
>Turning around to face her, Bubba gave Naliyna a brief nod and hand wave.
"I've no idea what you're referring to."
>He shrugs at her.
"I wandered around some docks for a while, very likely broke Sweet, and bought some stuff. Figure I'd let you know, just in case someone drops by with some gear for me."
>Lets out a sigh at seeing the damage done to her.
"There's a reason humans prefer to haul warships out of the water and into drydock before doing any major repairing to them."
>"Plus I don't know if we can even weld underwater."
"Paranoia in this case came from fighting a war, Wild. I was trained to counter enemy snipers, and I did a good job at it."
>"Until the fascists dropped mortars on me, anyway."
>I just dryly look at her image.
"You try to spank me and when we get back to base you are grounded, young lady."
>Blinking, I stare at the screen for a moment.
"Wait, what was that?"
[1d6+1 = 2]
<E. Perception
[1d6+1 = 4]

[1d6+1 = 6]

>Cheto is both awed and elated over Naliyna picking up a bottle without a proper grasp around the bottle as well as her discrete response regarding her soon to be husband, providing a big smile and raised eyebrows to symbolize that fact.
“You tease.”
>He chuckles heartily as his surprise fades

>Turning around to face the eye thing in awe at hearing it speak, he proceeds to inspect it curiously yet subtly, unsure of where to focus his eyes on when talking to it.
“Oh! Hello, Vortex Remnant. I’m Jose Gallo. I’m pleased to meet you and thankful for sending that report from Frost to her superiors. You’re quite the helpful remnant.”
(I hope that’s the way to address it.)
>That’s when his brain alerts him of a fact he didn’t notice before from what Naliyna said, causing him to circle back around to face her.
“Forgive me for my interruption, but I only heard of two princesses in my stay here so far. If I may be so bold, who is Queen Chrysalis and the third princess?”
>A small pause
“And what does the Remnant mean by ‘Neither I nor mine’?”

>After listening intently to her explanation, he gently takes the floating black pen, notepad and 2 envelopes with a bright, cheerful smile.
“I appreciate your charitable help Mrs. Naliyna and I hope I have not taken much of your time. Please excuse me for a minute.”
>With a small, happy gait, he walks towards the nearest empty couch with armrests, placing the notepad on the center of it, while placing the envelopes on the end nearest from where the headrest is and readying the pen.
(Where to start…)
>Chewing the lip slightly, he lowers down the pen.
“Dear Princess Celestia, Co-ruler of Equestria:
“I wish to inform you that I am in a stable condition, researching about elemarentary equine politics and culture, particularly from the Solars and Lunars, as well as the Lishanki, Malurians, Arkadian Divides and other Ferron pegasi clans, who are the closest factions to the Razorback Compony. Not to mention all of the exclusive social norms ponykind has that I may not know of yet.
“I must admit that the entry method to this world was completely unexpected, with my unceremonious entrance from the ceiling of a building straight into a sofa, which I am thankful for. The welcoming committee, after calming down from the surprise entrance, were rather friendly and caring. They even offered some complemarentary cookies and some water, which still surprises me how pure it tastes around these parts. After that, it was quite eventful in unique ways I have never experienced before.
“If I may be so bold, I want to ask a few questions regarding the contract details. Firstly, I would like to ask if I am to pursue diplomatic activities on my lonesome or if I have the privilege to choose from a selection of trained ponies in the arts of protecting others from anything that may compromise my responsibilities as a First Hoof, as my dishoofmarent greatly diminishes my defensive capabilities against any would-be assailants. Secondly, I wish to ask if there is a set of ponial armor that has been mareufacutred for me or if I have to commission a set. Lastly, I am curious about the specifics of how the Honor Guard would come to inform me in the event of being summoned by Your Majesty and the Silver Court of Nobles.
“I will make sure to do well on my part of the contract and I am both grateful to have chosen me as a diplomat of the Razorback Compony and eager to serve my assigned faction to the best of my ability.
“Yours sincerely,
“José Gallo, First Hoof of Razorback Compony.”
>Inspecting the letter thoroughly to see if the letter itself was well written and respectful to the Princess that summoned him here, he nods to himself.
(Yes, this ought to do. Maybe she'll appreciate my attempt to use their pun-like terms.)
>He takes off the paper from the notepad, opens one of the pink envelopes, folds the paper cleanly in half and inserted it into the envelope, followed by closing the letter container, turning it around, and finally writing the following on the top left.
“From: First Hoof José Gallo
“Razorback Fortress
“To: Princess Celestia.”
>With a labored exhale, Cheto stands up and walks towards the Remnant and Naliyna with the letter-containing envelope in hand.
“Excuse me, what day is it, Mrs Naliyna?”
>After receiving the answer, he jots it down between the address and the sender rows and walks towards the Vortex Remnant.
>The average man presents the pink envelope in his hand on the matrix as he sent Frost’s letter not too long ago.
“Vortex Remnant, would you be so kind to send this letter to Princess Celestia?”
>He gives the Remnant a small smile, still lost on how to properly look at it.

>Adon hold his breathe as his deduction finally opens the path ahead of them, and luckily so as Excelleon didn't seem to notice the second attempt didn't give away their identities.
>This guy doesn't really expect a lot from the help, it seems.
>His eyes spark with interest as the large doors open up to a well enough constructed and lit tunnel, continuing up into the mountain.
"We must be getting close to the end, if there's considerable work going into the pathway now."
>The chiqtu starts ahead of the group, leaving him Spruce, and Golden Horn to follow suit.
"He didn't mention any other obstacles, but we might have to deal with someone when we get to those cells. Someone'd have to pay the slavers- might even be Excelleon himself. How should we handle that, seeing as we clearly don't have any slaves with us."
>Something reflective up at the end caught his and apparently Spruce's eyes as well, but he was more focused on the possible combination of upcoming places of interest.
"Hmm... maybe you and the chiqtu could pose as slaves, while Spruce and I as slavers, if it comes to that. Sound like a plan?"
Operation: Why It Was Called A Basin In The First Place...
GM Strangler
>Leadership: +2 to all Assault & Reaction Speed Rolls.
>????? Ambush Tokens: 3.
>Having no recollection of Basin Village ever having been reported as quiet, at least by Razorback human and pony standards, any context of this awkward occasion is lost.
>Noting fewer earth ponies inspecting the Cultist, or you, as they leave through the translocation matrice, your eyes are drawn to a slim, triangular pinksteel blade carried low under her cloak.
>Gripped in her left set of claws, it was shining in the same warning mareners that Mercy's set were known to, and bright enough to create leg shadows off to her right.
>Whether she noticed the slowly pressurizing attention from dozens of unfriendly psion eyes wasn't possible to tell; it was more likely she didn't care.

>Internal screens switching to a compressed view upon delivering that comforting ping of impending knowledge, the entire right side of the screen is filled with hostile bright red 'Watch Guard' and several prominent 'Tower Guard' icons in their faction symbols.
>Barely able to keep track of new arrivals from those leaving, the left side showed several clusters of 'Deep Moors Hunter-Killer' along with ten icons labeled 'Basin Guard' arriving from south of the Village.
>There were enough allied batponies now slowly creeping towards the hostel that meta-icons were being displayed for individual squads.
>Either the IFF sorely required an upgrade, or you needed the COFFIN system to make better sense of packed locations.

>Head turning south, the number of Hunter-Killers in front of the hostel had nearly doubled, more batponies awake now and staring towards earth ponies in visible hostility.

>>Glancing across the Basin's southern end, what the Cultist motioned towards was a familiar sight:
>A mass of gray and white mist in the shape of an earth pony was pulsing in and out and disappearing from sight every hoof stomp directly towards the Cultist.
>Angrily mimicking a second heartbeat in your hand, Ethereal runes scribed on the Executioner's Blade emit bitter, white-pink flares.
>Definitely not something it'd done before.

>Reaching the basin's edge, the Cultist's hooves clop onto a now-exposed transparent crystalline floor of sorts covering the basin itself.
>A small pair of low, white metallic tables covered in scrawled batpony runes appear before the mare, tossing the open wooden box to her right.
>You now realized why the basin was never flooded: this was a protected altar.
"A Tainted, one of those unfortunate enough to be caught in Flux between the Solar and Lunar alicorns. Destroy it else others will follow, seeking retribution for failing their factional oaths-"
>The mare's calm voice did nothing to hide stern condescension as she raises the pinksteel dagger along with a green one in the same exacting shape, gripping them in both sets of wingclaws held high while shouting aloud.
"Snickering batponies of the Moors and Discordants alike, grant our Goddess this paymarent! Come two by five to seek your peace on the Moon!"
[1d6+3 = 7]
<E.Leadership: ?????
[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+3 = 9]

>The Tainted, directly reminiscent of mist pony Spectres from the first days on the train, was now less than 50M from the sacrificial basin.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
>Propping her chin up with the left hoof, Naliyna makes a comical attempt at humorous incredulity.
"A desert? What would you.. nevermind, not my business. I didn't know you knew somepony in a desert, or were you talking about a 'dessert'? If that's the case then I'm jealous, ponies that love kinky stuff like that are hard to find."
>That was indeed deliberate.
>Visibly turning stoic at the word 'receipt', she holds both hooves out to take the crystalline plate first before setting both in front of her for a quick once over.
"Thank you Zhun, that's the best news I've heard tonight. If you want some stuff out of the Enclave for your troubles go ahead and take it, just avoid the locked things. I'm not really worried about what we're missing now, most of the stuff that gets used is on these.. little surprised they're selling powdered gems for these prices, must be overflowing right now. I'm more annoyed those three decided to make everything they could from OUR stocks without telling anypony or making a list even though what they've done will help us a lot more."
>Reaching out to take the roll and placing it atop the crystalline sheet, her face creases into a deep frown.
"I'm.. lost. Like usual. What 'something stupid' is happening? Or is this-"
>Nudging the contract while you relieve the painful stinging of desert sand in your throat.
"More politics from the past none of us know about? Then again it's probably better I try to remember whatever this is before somepony or human gets the wrong ideas. Give me a couple minutes please."

>Unrolling it for a careful read, the scarred fuchsia mare's expression slowly turns from merry to confused, then on to neutral.
>Raising an eyebrow halfway through, Naliyna's jaw drops for a quarter minute straight, then looks up, though not at you, with an icy stare.
>Dropping back down to read even slower, her ears flick out sideways in outright hostility several times.
>Sitting back and leaving the scroll to partially roll up on its own, the left hoof raising to gently rub the same temple.
"I don't know a single thing about this deal. Nopony outside of maybe four hundred are involved, a few more were told about it, some ponies are trying to keep it active but secret at the same time, and now it's landing right on all our saddles. On the plus side we have friends that we didn't know existed, so-"
>Eyes directed towards the receipts in front of her, Naliyna's lips pull back into a devious smile.
"Go ahead and do whatever you wanna do Zhun, I'm gonna be really busy tonight. Might need some stuff from the Enclave, couple bottles of ink, and all that stuff Amerose loaned me."
>Noting the two groups of meta-icons on the display, Clem wonders at the possibility of conflict between the two
>It seems like posturing at the moment

>Seeing the misty figure, he draws out his blade
>Looking at it, the blade's pulse feels weird
>Never could get used to it since it has been a long time since he had fought something spectral, ethereal, or otherwise
>Stepping onto the crystalline floors , he stops to look at the small tables
>Hearing her speak, Clemency focuses on that Tainted
>Taking her words to mind, he starts a run towards the Tainted
[1d6+2 = 7]
<Master Sprint
[1d6+2 = 3]

[1d6+2 = 3]

[1d6+2 = 6]

>Charging at the creature, he swings a feint with his blade before whipping it upwards at the form
[1d6+1 = 6]
[1d6+6 = 7]
<Master Assault
[1d6+6 = 10]

[1d6+6 = 9]

[1d6+6 = 11]

[1d6+6 = 11]
<Airstream Assault
[1d6+1 = 3]
<Ethereal Strike
"Had to go to on-"
>Zhun blushes and chuckles at the attempt
"Hehe, I think there's some on base. I just steer clear away from them."
>Seeing her become serious, Zhun smiles as she expresses thank at his shopping spree
"Oh? Those three? I know right? The Consortium pony was shocked we went through the supplies that fast."
>Seeing her take the contract, Zhun prepares for the surprise
>"More politics from the past..."
>Zhun nodded at that
"Sounds like it."
>As she begins assessing the contract, Zhun waits a while and drinks the rest of his water supply
>"Be sure to remember this thing..."
>He did find some amusement in the variety of reactions the mare had
"Alrighty. I'll still see if I can get more alchemy stuff for the full resupply. You think we got floral samples from the Old Everfree around here?"

Southern Canterlot Outskirts: Twin Hill Overlook, Depository
GM Strangler
"New pony, you have good humor."
"Thanks, I've learned it through hard work and trying not to get caught by Ferron."
>Holding his gaze to yours with a touch of humor, the old Commissar makes a respectful pointing motion towards the Mechadendrite.
"No fear, all human obey rule. Not worth dying for stupid touch."

>Ticking the visor into high mode, the youngest three had an odd L-shaped flashlight clipped into their front right coat pockets.
>Looking closer showed a flat, transparent crystalline plate, behind which rested one large sphere of semi-metallic composition emitting a constant stream that registered heavily on the red spectrum bands without interruption.
>Judging the ancient potential STC's size, shape, and relatively simplicity, it was purpose built for extended ease of use, though seemed a bit heavy.

>Turning to reach into his overcoat, the old human makes a tired 'pah' sound.
"Then do what Sergei say: only make tools from metals, crystals, others from small pony world. They not break like human things do."
>Withdrawing a beaten flask and unscrewing the lid, he deadpans briefly before taking a step backwards.
>Then another step, and a quick drink for good measure before waving the other humans to do likewise.

>Breaking off a much-too-serious inspection on your tattered robe, Raindrop's helmet turns to give an impressed sounding noise at the vault.
"Didn't know mechanical stuff was that complex but I can't even picture simple designs, too marely clouds in my head. Compressed wood means a sorceror was involved so there's definitely warning and alarm spells. If you see anything glowing inside, that isn't from heat or whatever you're going to use, toss your shield up and duck really fast."
>Glancing back to the Vostroyan squad, she asks something in an aery approximation of their language.
>Shrugging at the responses pouring towards her, she scurries towards the entrance, loudly, while calling over her shoulder.
"They said to start whenever you like. There's a couple buckets and some can-tines, whatever that is. Just in case I'll fill my helmet too, be right back-"
>Followed by the Commissar and the younger rifleman, the trio of lights from behind change position several times before the sounds of scraping let you know they'd been set on the floor.

>Calculating firing angles for maximum tolerances, registering it through the micro-cogitator is a secondhand process.
>The chance of maintaining a cutting beam was high enough that being interrupted on purpose, or perhaps your restored, 100% flesh and bone hands might twitch.

>Silently pinging for your attention, Tox-11's channel displays a moving ASCII image-set featuring an Ork firing at the side of an Imperial Field Command Center using a large automatic weapon before the magazine is emptied.
>Of course, not a single shot landed or bounced off.
'welcome. was not ignoring, was creating this. approve/disapprove? corrections?'
>The Binary coding lacked the barest hints of both sarcasm and smugness, which left numerous questions as to why.
Mallia Castella
>Before Mallia did anything she, of course, had to acknowledge what Raindrop had said about 'warning and alarm spells' being present.
>She didn't have a reference as to what these "spells" were outside of what Psykers could do, but she could easily connect these 'spells' as being akin to the protection engrams of a particularly powerful or medium power Imperial Cogitator.
>Luckily, this was probably going to be a gust of flame or acid at best, and an explosion at worst. So her maiming and/or burning would have a chance of not being fatal if she took precautions.

>At the same time, Mallia seems to relax just a tiny bit at the commissar's statements. Though her mechadendrite doesn't come out of hiding, being way too protective of it.

"I'll keep it in mind."
>She would softly, but quickly tell him - not keeping him for anything more seeing as the commissar goes to wander back to his men.

>The Enginseer quickly sideglanced towards the Knight with a quick, quarter flick of her head in her direction, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement.
"Noted. Thank you Miss Raindrop, I'll be watchful."
>After whispering that back to her ally with a soft gratitude in her voice, her prehensile mechadendrite quickly began to whir softly as it slithered itself out from behind the shield and instead gripped it's small manipulator onto the top of the shield, lifting it from the side of her rucksack and placing it vertically, handily at her side without even looking back.
>Her off-hand slips around the grip of it, keeping it ready - propped by her side, out of the way.
"--If you ever don't know something about mechanical stuff just ask me, that's what a team is for."
>She adds, quickly. Before the knight would also move off; after speaking... Vostroyan? Or Valhallan. One of the two.

>Before starting she turned her glance to take a mental note of where the canteens and buckets were positioned, in case she needed to make a rush for them if she somehow caught on fire, or needed it in general.

>Then she would turn, much more seriously, towards the combination lock. Making calculations for the proper tolerances in the background, she began to raise the modified hellpistol - starting from the top of the center-most dial to try to remove them, and perhaps reveal the rest of the mechanism for viewing before she'd have to melt through the dials themselves.
>But before she can really focus, she pauses at what Tox-11 sends her.

"... Hahah! Heh--ahem!"
>The unexpected artistic depiction and his completely serious tone, asking for feedback, made her laugh a little bit. But quickly regains him composure, breathing a slight, cheered up sigh as she sends a response, which is motherly in a way.
(It is an amusing representation of Ork accuracy, Adronal. I approve. If you wish to take my suggestion, add a lone Guardsman on the base to hit the Ork with a single shot just to underline the duality.)

>She felt that this was incredibly cute, but she wasn't going to patronize.

>Instead she just took a moment to lessen the smile on her face beneath her respirator, before taking a deeper breath to steady her nerves and mentally prepare herself for danger. Then, she raised the hellpistol again and moved the mechadendrite closer to her targeted central dial.
>There is a distinct 'click' and a 'hiss' as the gas cutting torch is brought further out from the mechadendrite and the igniter turns on. Then moved it closer.

>She used the gas cutting torch to pre-heat and 'mark' the area for 3 seconds to make a more efficient power expenditure for the las, then used it in tandem with the hellpistol as she pulled the trigger and held it down for the minimum amount of time required to fracture it, hoping to make the most efficient use of the power pack and barrel as possible. Giving the weapon time to cool between uses.

>When the first one is down, she moved towards the left. Only removing the central ones first, and the ones furthest to the sides last.
>Uttering whispered, sing-song prayers. Uttering the Litany of the Lasgun, followed by the Prayer of Smiting, followed again by a Litany of Penetration as she worked.
>Her voice, incomprehensible to everyone now as it becomes like a strange, electronic humming and chanting completely unlike the way she was speaking before.
>The pitch rising and falling with the smoothness and melodiousness of a singing, lovingly faithful voice, as it tried to honor, appease, focus, and soothe her borrowed weapon.

(Techna-Lingua) "Bringer of death, speak your name, for you are my life, and the foe's death."
(Techna-Lingua) "O' Machine Spirits hear my prayer; guide your wrath, hold it true, let it break the weak material and armor, with my hand as your guidance."
(Techna-Lingua) "Anima Mechanica, reward my faith, and smash the target."

>Short, but sweet.

[1d6 = 5]
<B. L.E.W.
[1d6 = 6]

[1d6 = 1]
<E. Engineering
[1d6 = 4]

[1d6 = 5]

[1d6+2 = 6]
<Utility Mechadendrite: Engineering

[1d6+1 = 6]
<E. Tech-Use + Auspex Link: Prayer of Penetration
[1d6+1 = 3]

[1d6+1 = 5]

[1d6 = 1]
<B. Singing
[1d6 = 4]

>As she worked, her thoughts went back to Raindrop's warning. She enabled her preysense visor and pulsed it a few times, in her attempt to spot any 'glows' or heat signatures that might betray any 'spells', as the knight said.
>Her off-hand tightly wrapped around the grip of her shield, flexing her meager muscles in preparation but not tensing up, keeping the shield propped against her side as she focused on what she was doing.

(The Omnissiah protects. The Machine Spirits protect. And I protect the Machine Spirits. I am not afraid. I am ready. I am prepared.)

[1d6+4 = 8]
<B. Perception + Preysense Visor
[1d6 = 2]

Razorback Fortress: The Library, Filly Room
GM Strangler
>Noting dull red light streaming down in shafts among from the giant window, it was clear that your head was facing southwards.
>Hearing a sharp exhale and drawn out kekeke snore, your vision shifts upwards slightly, accompanied by the telltale sensation of tight muscles shifting under soft equine coat.
>Based on the unique sound and Malyne rarely visiting with humans she didn't know well, the only possible candidate was Foggy Patches.
>Surprisingly, her flank currently was in use as your pillow.
>Surrounded on all sides by a quartet of rumbling snores, the impression of uncomfortably warm ponies rested near both legs and arms yet didn't touch.
>Less odd were a set of oddly plush socks and heavy duty, though abnormally soft, military uniform pants that definitely were not yours.
>At least you weren't left nude this time.
>Head turning from side to side on the batfilly's flank, the three pegasi and Crystal filly recovered from Stalliongrad were snuggled face to face less than a foot from you.
>You weren't trapped in the conventional sense as they were spaced apart enough to easily sit up.

>Below the window, shifting parabolas of red, green, blue, and sharp orange hues rotate about from the distinct profile of your helmet.
>Placed on the head of a large stuffed pony doll, the surface featured a clearly enraged tricolored Crystal filly soundlessly engaging an unfamiliar image of a round, metallic Cheeto studded with odd weapons.
>The first appeared to be performing decently given the sphere's exceptional accuracy, albeit numerous fractures across her body were presently ignored in favor of all out assault.

>Shaking off the ridiculous sight and leaning back onto Patches, Thansimum's tired voice drifts in through door's cracked open state.
"-e shall recuperate fully with sleep. What I do not understand were the side effects; fever-like hallucinations, nightmareish lucidity, erratic slow twitch muscular spasms, spoken words and sentences with no clear meanings that I am able to categorize, save for one. It is likely those are purely due to human traits, yet I will leave all explanations out of my report lest somepony in the Spire Guard decide to perform 'tests'. There is a slight problem that may warrant our atten-"
>The second Crystal mare's tone was younger and highly impatient.
"Every minute here presents a new problem piled atop the rest. Make it quick Than, I need at least two more hours with that new human."
"Calm yourself, I may have misspoke. I consider this less a problem and more a surprise: that human knows a method similar to structured layering."
"The same we use to shape Empire crystal and repair our equipmarent?"
"In essence the same, but it is performed by... what sound like allied Constructs. I think."
>Silence holds for perhaps ten seconds until the third, older mare speaks half-angrily.
"You had best be pulling my tail Than! There are zero reports of humans interacting with Constructs before that hybrid was encountered. I'll give you permission to carefully ask him later, only on your off time, and only this once. If he declines to answer then leave it be, am I clear? No sense annoying more humans by pestering them with questions."
"There is little need to hoof my snout in, but I will be polite."
"Acceptable. Had none of us been ordered here this incident would constitute a high risk of corruption spread. Their technologies are slightly more resistant than ours though not enough to matter. I've taken the liberty of dispatching... 'suggestions'-"
>Without a rational or logical reason, the skin across your neck and arms tighten upon hearing the last word's exotic inflection.
"To the Crests and our kin. Perhaps one of them may accept a station here."
"I wouldn't accept being here for too long so don't expect much of them. We can discuss that later, right now can we focus on the fillies?"
>Pareidolia's brow furrows over his narrowing eyes as the deep red light bled into the room.
>He slowly pushes himself up with his right arm as a thankfully still gloved left hand rubs his eyes.

[Day is breaking. Hope Emerald got enough sleep. Need to debrief and minimize contact with foals. Transmission risk vectors, particularly Foggy Patches.]

>With deliberate care he stands up, glancing at his helmet with a nonplussed expression at its current status.

[Will likely take additional time. Need to ascertain how much they learned...]

>His head looks back to the doorway as he overhears "structured layering" and "allied Constructs".

[... Will need to address the misunderstanding during departure.]

>Stepping around or over any fillies in his way without waking them, he gently picks up the stuffed pony plush. Ensuring his helmet is not at risk of falling off its head, he then makes his way to the door.
>An involuntary tensing of his fingers delays his attempt to open the door as "suggestions" reaches his ears.

[Why is that making me uneasy? No time for this.]

>Clenching and unclenching his outstretched hand, he eases the door open and steps into the hall where the 3 Crystal generals were gathered.
>He turns and shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can manage before setting the stuffed plush down at his feet.
>Finally, he meets each of their sets of eyes before sitting down in front of the door, leaning back to rest against it.

"They are not Constructs. I am willing to explain the details, but first I need to know what you heard me say and what you learned from interfacing with one piece of my-"

>One glove splays open, gesturing at his helmet.


>His hand returns to his face, rubbing his eyes before pulling down over his cheekbones and mouth as his eyes adopt a weary, slowly focusing look.

[Would prefer expedient cooperation. Exigent circumstances for debriefing of Emerald and staff.]

"The side effects were... uncomfortably lucid and delusional."



Down the Grey Bricked Road -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
253151 253884
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>As the group walked into the tunnel proper the doors, which they had spent so much brain power into opening, closed behind them on quietly efficient hinges.

>It appeared Excelleon was not listening judging by how there was a click at the end of his rant, telling the Operator that the pony had in his possession similar intercom technology to that of humanity.

“i concur Spruce, this place gives me the goosebumps.”
>Agreed Golden Horn, whom notably slowed in his walk so that Spruce and Adon were in front of him, obviously so he could be the rearguard of the group and totally not as a cowardly move.
>not at all!

>Continuing deeper into the tunnel Spruce saw the Chitqu running back to them and with no hesitation climbed up his legs, he seeing it was now sitting on his shoulder.
>it appeared apprehensive as it shook on the spot, the Operator could even feel its vibrations through his military clothing.

>pony sized.
>That is what could be deduced as he stared at the light reflecting object in front of the trio. Whether it was moving towards him Spruce could not tell as its body was comprised of many glittering reflections as a form of light cover.

>A growl filled the Operators' ear as the Chitqu puffed its coat out, well, what coat there was that wasn't under its tiny suit of armour as a form of intimidation towards the thing before them.

“I don’t like the sound of that, let us investigate to see if its anything actually to be stressed over.”
>Gulped Golden nervously from behind the cover of Spruces back, where he bravely peeked out of to gaze down the corridor at the obstruction. His horn sparking with magical intention.
[1d6+2 = 4]
>B.arcane awareness
[1d6+2 = 5]

“A good observation there Adon, yes, I believe this could be the case. Makes you wonder what the heart of this lair must be like?”
>Piped in the old Unicorn from behind Adons broad back, his voice telling that the question was directed to himself.

>As the Witcher talked about their future situation the Chitqu came pouncing back to the group, the small ball of fluff choosing to climb up onto Spruce instead of Adons shoulder.

>Golden horn was silent for a good moment as he digested what Adon said, the sound of throaty hums coming from over his shoulder.
“I uh...hmm. I do not know a perfect answer to that Adon. Maybe I can pretend to be a Slaver and- No, that is a foalish thing to say. He knows who I am already. He wouldn’t forget one of the faces that saw him banished from Canterlot.”
>sighed Golden, memories flooding back.
“We will just have to do things one step at a time, who knows. Maybe we might be lucky.”

>Eyes squinting in Concentration on the aura of magic manifesting around his solid golden horn, the old Unicorn grunted something in response to the Witchers different plan.
“I am unsure if that will succeed either Adon. He might be expecting the Slavers he knows, the ones back in the forest. The key word is might however. If we go with this plan he might be so incensed by my presence and the return of the Chitqu he won't ask questions about you and Spruce being human. Then again he might throw you in a cell along with me.”
>A squeak made Adon turn and look at Spruces shoulder where the furball had its arms crossed, glaring at him and Golden Horn.

>Golden opened one eye slightly and looked at the sparkling object down the tunnel.
“...if we’re lucky.”
The L.O.N.T

>lont Chuckled.
“If only they can freeze or starve, easier to kill. And I will keep you to that promise, as soon as we have a problem with them.”
>”Which could happen any day now I suppose with how active they are.”

>He straightened up.
“I wont fail, it won't even be an option for me. Though speaking of which do you know any good places to take her? Razorback is good and all but its becoming to samey, along with my bed...”
>He promised with confidence, he was sure in getting Cadence out of the Spire even when she sounded stressed as fuck when she talked to him.

“Problem is I don’t have time to sit down and read, feels like I have everything to do but have no time. Thank goodness I have these Alchemy Tablets to help me with medical emergencies.”
>he smiled a genuine smile, the tablets have paid themselves in their weight of gold from the constant usage. His smile faltered slightly as he remembered where he got them from, and stopped himself from glancing back to check on the unconscious Tacit again.

>The idea of Interponies intrigued him for the moment before his stomach grumbled for him to concentrate on the now. Such as now will he get dinner?

>Another list. This time of different ponies.
>“More to add to the list.”
>he thought humorously.
“When I return to the fortress I will talk to the appropriate people in establishing a trade. More food to go around makes everyone happy! And thank you, you just added four more things to add to my fuck list.”
>Explained the Operator, a twinkle in his eye as he stared into Glaciers.

>Once the chef quieted down and Glacier asked Lont if the uppity chef could join, he reclined in his seat and exhaled an exaggerated sigh.
>He made a show on mulling it over in his head, throwing up his hands to make questionable displays too.
“I don’t know-“
>He started.
“-If she does a good enough job as our Chef she can be our naughty petmare for the night.”
>Lont promised, punctuating the end with a wink he shared with the playful Shell and the fuming Chef.
253884 258929
>Adon scratches his chin in thought, imagining lairs of usually elven sorcerers who've gone mad from their own egos.
>Aged and tasteless architecture, libraries full of tomes and arcanums even the elves themselves could hardly decipher.
>And experiments: potions, tinctures, various things in jars, and there's always at least one imposing portal opened to some place he'd never dare entering.
>Such the predicament he was currently in, right now.

>After saying his piece, Golden Horn makes some critiques.
>Excelleon just sounds far too unpredictable at this point.
"Mmm. Playing it by ear it is then. But if he knows you two, then maybe Spruce and I should do the talking if it comes to it. How we present ourselves could get us past whatever's ahead."
>Ahead, was the question for the sparkling object atthe end of the tunnel.
>The Witcher squints his eyes to try and focus on what it was from their distance, so he can at least get a idea before they get up close.
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 4]


Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson

"So what you're telling us then is that we're probably fucked? A good chance we're totally going to have him throwing everything he has at you and the kitchen sink for banishing him?"
>He asks this, shaking his head in disbeleif.
>Still, he looks between Adon and the beared unicorn, scratching his chin.
>Suddenly, like a dim lightbulb flickering on, he got a plan.
>A really dumb plan.
"So this guy... Incelleon right? Is it possible that we could convince him that me and Adon are still slavers or something? He's a recluse so maybe, just maybe we could pull it off."
>Spruce chuckles, shaking his heas at his own idea. It was stupid, but it was the kind of stupid that just might work or just fail horribly.
>He stands there, still paused as they investigate this... Light... orb thing the furball was now growling at.
>Cautiously he furrows his brow, staring at it and acting his role of meat shield to defend the poor pony professor from anything that might even come close to sunlight.

[1d6 = 2]
B. Perception
[1d6 = 1]

OIE: REG, Approx. One Month Behind Present Time
259509 259544 259588 259609 259627
>Looking over a multitude of maps strewn across the stone-lit table for Tallus' reference, Jeff rubbed the bridge of his nose.
>For the time, only he was currently in the map room. The back room currently closed off, hopefully nobody on the other side had to pee for a while.
>The bunker's main door opens, a cobalt blue batpony groggily shuffles his hooves in and over to where Jeff was.
"How did the treasure hunt go?"
"Promising. I think..."
>Torven puts his front hooves on the map table to peer at the shuffle of half opened maps, through half-lidded eyes.
"Still looking over ley lines?"
"They're definitely connected to what we're looking for, somehow. I need a more powerful one, and nothing I'm looking for is in Equestrian territory."
>The treasure hunter turns his attention to one of the lesser crammed map shelves and begins to pick through them with his claws.
"I'll begin perusing for viable locations. Can't promise anything."
"Thanks. I'm waiting on one more pair of hands."
>As if on que, a seven-foot outline of white light draws itself out of thin air. The creaking of a door emanates through the map room, the steps of dress shoes hit the floor and the door closes shut behind.
"Jeff. I take it you have a lead."
"More of an idea. Need help narrowing down likely suspects."
>The tall faceless green entity shifts an eyeless gaze over at Torven before focusing on the mess of a map table, an identical colored hand scratching his chin.
"How far do you plan on going out?"
"If they can make it from here through conventional means, so can we."
"You know I'm not omniscient, nor omnipresent. If they went in an area I can't see or go, that's really it."
"Any trails you may know of would be helpful."
"Hmm. I'll see what I can do to help."
>A wingful of maps, some larger for full kingdom territories and smaller ones for regions, litter the table even more. It's depositor looks up at Jeff confidently.
"These are good places to check."
>Both human and human-like avatar begin sifting through the newest additions, the previous maps quickly being discarded and stacked to one corner of the table. The taller of the two began murmuring under his breathe.
"No... no. Too far away. That one's much too hostile."
"What about here?"
"... that might do."

[1d6+3 = 9]
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6+3 = 6]
<E. Cartography
[1d6+3 = 7]

[1d6+3 = 4]

[1d6 = 5]
<B. Geography
[1d6 = 3]

A Light Show -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
259043 259516
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>As the party moved deeper into the bland tunnel, the walls with every step changed, dull monochrome became slightly lighter in colour.

>Adon saw in the corner of his eye that Golden Horns' ears twirled as the unicorn listened to his plan of prisoner delivery. His features furrowed in scepticism.
"The only thing I am at odds with this proposed plan Adon is the reality that you and Spruce are humans. This might complicate matters more than grant passage."
>He finished with his eyes squinting towards the sparkling object up ahead, its form covered in dazzling lights.

>As the Witcher concentrated on the obstruction in their way, his medallion began to softly vibrate his collarbone and stay at that light level of movement as he drew closer to the sparkling thing.
>He saw now it was the size of Golden, so an Equine at least. Its head and neck were larger in both width and height however. It reminded him of the bulbous head of a spoon head.

>The old unicorn fidgeted under Spruces’ bleak questions about their immediate future, a small yellow aura materialising to rapidly stroke his moustache. A force of habit perhaps.
"W-well I uh yes um-“
>He paused, grunting, clearing his throat of his stammering and to sound more confident.
"-A possible scenario that could occur if we are not careful, or we are unlucky when the time comes."
>Continued Golden Horn, his fidgeting ceasing now that some semblance of a plan was emerging.
"From what I can tell Spruce, this is our only idea at the moment. If I keep quiet and stop our little friend from making too much noise I think you and Adon could pull it off."

>At being referred too, the Chitqu turned its fluffy head back to stare at the two humans and the one unicorn, squeak, then turned its attention back to the shimmering object in front of them all.
"And as I said before, my one worry is that he might be too fixated on you being a human, Spruce."
>Golden said to the Operator, concern at the edge of his voice.

>Perhaps it was an errant twinkle or Spruce stared too long and hard at the dazzling object, but he could not see anything significant about it other than it being pony sized and having a really fat head.
>And all it cost him was having some stinging eyes for a moment.

>Golden too began to stare at the thing, the aura on his moustache moving to engulf his horn as he spread his awareness to gleam something about the groups obstruction before coming face to face with the it in this narrow corridor they were all in.
[1d6+2 = 7]
>B.arcane awareness
[1d6+2 = 6]

>The party was about 19 yards away from the reflective pony shaped thing now, it unmoving as a statue blocking their way forward.
>Although there was no sign of it happening, Adon and Spruce felt they were being watched, as if the object in their way was meeting their stares with its own more intense stare.
[1d6+3 = 4]

>Seemingly in response the Chitqu' began to puff its fur out to make itself look bigger and ergo scarier. Who would find it scary at all was the real mystery.
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson
259516 266477

>The Norwegian looked between the golden, horse shaped glowing statue and the mustached unicorn, unsure what exactly to make of this strange phenomena before him.
>Was this the medieval equivalent of a security camera...?
"... Well, what if you made us look not like humans then? Is it at all possible we could fool him with some sort of magical disguise? I've got no idea how this magic stuff works, but pulling a trick like that would make Loki proud."
>He glances to Adon, the man who is apparently somewhat more familiar with magic than the soldier is.
"... Well, what do you think, Witcher?"
>He asks, before looking back towards the statue, then around the hall at anything else that may be around that they might have missed in their focus on this... Thing in their way.
"... Whatever this is, it's giving me a bad feeling, like we're being watched."

[1d6 = 1]
B. Perception
[1d6 = 6]

OIE: REG, Approx. One Month Behind Present Time
259544 259588 259591 259609 259627 259817
>While you were waiting for a radio message from Jeff, your time was currently occupied with either getting armor and weapons upgraded, equipment restocked, something to eat or drink (some of you, Everclear), or taking a nap.
>Krinza wasn't a sport about getting five different orders from five different operators at once, so some of your gear was either currently getting worked on or it was in que to getting worked on later.
>Finally, your peace and quiet was expectedly interrupted via your radio.
*"It's Jeff. Head to the command bunker. I'm pretty sure I've got a spot picked out."*
>The Witcher carefully mulls over Golden Horns concerns with his plan, as well as Spruce's.
"I'm sure a magically and alchemically mutated human would be even more of an interest. I've been prodded before where humans are the common, can't imagine how well I'm gonna fair in a world where humans are a rare novelty."
>It would also explain the mugging from earlier. He'll have to keep an eye on his gear where ever he plans to go from now on.
"As long as it can fool whatever's ahead of us, but if we get found our our first impressions are gonna be sore from here on."
>Speaking lightly, of course.
>But as they continued to move forward, the object ahead of them began to give definition to its silhouette.
>A warning stare pricked at his instincts, and he lightly felt his medallion's vibration with his left hand to gauge its intensity.
>His right arm and gloved hand began flexing for a sudden sword drawing.
"As long as we don't have to fight it..."
Citrine Blaze

>Citrine was near one of the entrances built into the walls that surrounded the human fortress, his cheeks extended as he chewed some food. He didn't really examine what it was he snatched from the Mess Hall but from the taste it was a pie with sweet apple chunks, seasoned carrot strips and a thick flaky crust.
>"Bucking score. Now to get the Tartarus out of here. I paid my debts so I ain't feeling sorry for leaving!"
>He thought, lips curling into a grin.

>The shimmering Crystal Pony was tip-hooving for the gate that led outside when Jeffs' voice blared into his unprepared ear.
>Neighing like a filly and falling onto his stomach, Blaze swallowed several times to get his food down his throat so he could respond in hast.
"R-right boss!"

>The last thing he needed was for anypony to notice his absence when they were looking for his flank. So he got up, sighed turned his back on the outside world for now. The clop of his trotting hooves were accompanied by rattling coughs, produced from the crust flakes stuck in the back of his throat.
Lucius the Weary
>Lucius stretches his limbs dramatically, groaning against the sloth still clinging to his body
>regretting deeply the parting of company with his warm bed sheets, he swings one leg, then the other, over the side of the wooden bed frame, resting and flexing briefly both tired feet and worn out toes on the splinter-prone floorboards below
"Sir Jeff is quite the slave driver, to be sure."
>the ranger scratches at his stubble for a moment before shrugging and rising bodily from his bed, strapping on his gear and muttering to himself
"Would have liked a few more hours' sleep..."
>he turns towards the door, striding forward and pushing the door open absentmindedly with the back of his right forearm
"Well, won't do to keep the master waiting."
>with this, Lucius sets out for the Command Bunker, his mind definitely still stuck on his pillow
>Noah was doing maintenance on the Dagor when the radio beeped
>The maintenance was basically getting bug guts out of the engine block and wheel wells
>Pulling a giant proboscis out, he threw it to the side before messing with his radio package and comm bead
"On the way."
>Giving another cursory look over the Dagor, he heads over to the rear to gets his vest and armor on
>Too hot to keep wearing the stuff but got to wear the uniform when duty calls
>He will leave his shield though as he leaves the garage for the Command Bunker
>He does sniff himself though
>Don't want to smell too much like insect
Hildemar Veiel
259817 260168
>Hildemar suddenly jerks his head up at the sudden voice interrupting him reading his scriptures and hastily written notes and conjectures on this world's magic.
>It is only after a few moments that he begrudgingly decides to answer, cursing this new technologythat serves only to interrupt personal matters.
*"Very well then."*
>The witch hunter's belongings are swiftly packed up and he once again dons his armor and his far more important hat.
>Before he can meet back up with his current boss, he stops at the dagor to collect the fancy small repeater he's been allowed to use.
>If he's on duty then he's taking his duty repeater over his own, much more cumbersome one.
>He follows the Noah to the command bunker and successfully suppresses a sigh at the sight of his current least favorite colleague.
>Not the worst by far, but the crystal vagabond was far from professional.
"Right then, where shall we explore today?"
LCDR. Nevil Wayne

>Nevil Wayne had an almost irrational amount of guilt over giving Krinza work for his behalf. He ALMOST decided to not improve his arsenal ... Until he thought more about it.

>He still had work to do. As much as he wished it, he still had future missions to look forward to - infact he was waiting to be called that very day; his 'squad' might count on him to have himself squared away to support them. Maybe this one improvement might even be the difference between an easy fight and a less easy fight,
>He'd apologize to Krinza in his own professional way. A resolute, but genuinely guilty tone in their voice.
"I'm very sorry, Krinza. I would not be asking for your services if I didn't think I needed it. If it matters at all, I appreciate what you do for us very much."

>Still. Despite everything, he always felt guilty asking anything from Krinza. He was always thankful, but he always felt more and more guilty whenever he came to ask anything. It felt heavy to ask for other's help now-days.
>Or so he thought, at least. In his head he was a burden to everyone. A byproduct of all his regrets. It's probably why he was always so thankful for everything, even the smallest of things, from others.

>He left his M3 pattern armor for Krinza so that they could work on it, leaving himself in his finely remade service uniform and advanced weapons when he'd saunter himself back outside.
>Of course, his "squad" had already dispersed to make use of their free time by that time.
>As for HIS use of free time... Nevil decided to go back to the second building of the barracks. Though not to nap, like others.
>He went straight to his assigned room to stow his trusty M41A and (mostly pointless) combat pistol, and satchel. Then his service uniform in the armoire. To transition into a more shower friendly nakedness, with a towel.
>He takes a "hollywood" shower of about 3 minutes. Mostly to unwind, and think back to what happened.

>He knew he fucked up on the last mission. Or rather, those under his command fucked up. He just hadn't watched them diligently enough.
> ... ... ...

>Before more bitter thoughts - before thoughts of the past could come back to haunt him, he shuts off the water and goes to dry up. brush his crewcut hair, shave for 5 minutes, wash his teeth.
>He makes sure his personal hygiene is well taken care of for the long day he expects to come.

>Though he still had an hour or so left, he wagered.
>So he returned to his room, put his undershirt and garments back on, and the uniform, helmet beside him so he would hear the radio... And... Sat down on his bedside for a long time. Elbows on either lap, hands between... While he's away from everyone else, behind closed doors where nobody would be bothered by his bad mood, he lets his face fall a bit more. Looking just a bit older. As his shoulders fall.
>His eyes went to his shoulder patch. It bore the USCM insignia. Still pristine as the day he was given it. Regularly cleaned, regularly maintained, like one maintains a dress uniform.

>He breathed an angsty sigh through his nose, and stood up to do his daily ritual. Which was to stand up, go to his locker, open it, and start re-reading the names of the bundle of 48 dogtags that composed the two platoons that fought by his side, once upon a time. On another Earth.
>Every, single, day, - whenever there was time - every morning, he committed those names to memory, and wrote a new letter to a family he would probably never get to see to deliver said letter.

>Without his knowing, 30 minutes would pass.
>He looked at the wall clock. Then hurriedly put the dogtags in their place, in the locker, and withdraws his weapons. Slinging on his M41A, clicking the belt buckle of his pistol holster rig, putting on the explosive's pouches on the velcro of the belt.
>He takes the somewhat heavily modified, cream colored M10 helmet and puts it under his arm, as he strides back outside with a slight hurry in his gait.
>At least his hair was properly dry now!

>He hadn't been called yet. But that didn't mean he had to linger.
>Looking around outside once he left the barracks, eyeing the other operators that there were and the ponies that might've been there.
>Specifically, a certain crystal pony. He spies them in the distance, as they wandered from the Mess Hall. But he just followed them with his glance, not following them.

>He made a beeline for the Command Center. Posting himself outside the front entrance in anticipation of a call. Until the call finally did come in.
>He didn't even chime into the radio, he just walked inside as he was already there. And reports to Jeff instantly, as soon as he'd see them.

>Nevil carried himself with a straight back and a more purposeful and confident gait now that he was in the command bunker. And despite the lidded, weary look of his eyes, he nods quickly to Jeff and gives them a salute in greeting. Resting one arm over the butt of his M41A, while the holds the helmet under the arm.
>He waits patiently. Waiting for the others to inevitably file in. Or for Jeff to address him.

260168 260606

"N' Noah's drivin' us in circles, skiddin' awl over th'place n' Nevil's yellin' SHOOT 'EM SHOOT 'EM n' Blaze's doin' his pony magic keepin' the bug bits outta the grill n' awl us together's showin' them thangs a preview o' bug hell!"

>Joel is getting near the end of his drunken, rambling explaination of his adventures with the RE-whachacallit.
>His friends form around Razorback are gathered around a table at the mess hall, listening and becomming increasingly unruly and drunk as the story reaches its climax.

"Ah tell ya'll, ah ain't felt so young in... Ah don't remember how long."

>Joel eventually notices the faint noise coming from the ear piece which long ago fell out.
>Raising his flask to his lips, he finds it

"Awraht, I guess that's prolly Jeff wants a word with us, Ah'll tell ya'll the rest later own."

>He scoops up Annabelle in his arms and thanks himself for giving his armor to Krinza, so at least he wouldn't have to hike down to the command center in full kit.
>Arriving at the command center, Joel finds his team has already arrived.

"Y'know Blaze, Hildemar. He wants ta explore lots o' places, an' awl of 'em got girls' names!"

>Joel slaps his knee and laughs uproariously, more proud of his joke than is reasonable.
OIE: REG, Approx. One Month Behind Present Time
260214 260267 260565 260577 260606
>Your near instant entrance made Jeff, hand still on his radio's broadcast button, turn his head at you reactively in surprise.
"Well then. Excellent timing, there, Nevil."
>Other than him, Torven was overlooking the map table Jeff was currently hovering over.
>Hanging in the back was the towering figure of the well-suited, blank-green faced man you've met on rare occasion. He initially gave you proper introductions to Tallus, and explained your predicament. He made the transition... easier.
"He posted himself outside for the last ten minutes, that's why. Greetings, Lieutenant Commander."
>Despite his faceless features you feel him give you a curt smirk and a two-fingered salute off of his bald forehead.
"Nevil, Krinza told me most of the upgrades you requested are a little too electronically advanced for him. I will handle them for you, later on."

>The rest of you make your way to the Command Center at your own paces, but you all end up arriving one after another.
>Upon making your way into the bunker, Nevil apparently beat you all there first. The others being Jeff, Torven, and a seven-foot tall green-faced man giving you a silent greet of acknowledgement.
>For those of you that weren't human- his face came of blank and mysterious, unable to read his featureless facade.
"Right. Now that everyone's here, time to unveil our next stop."
>Jeff reaches for an open map on the map table, and spins it around to orientate it so you can all read it on your end.
>The majority of the regional map mostly consisted of Saddle Arabia and outlying borders of other territories. One city in the southern end was circled, along with a red line drawn drawn over what looked like established railroad tracks. This trailed out of Saddle Arabia's borders, and towards the border of two regions on the South-Southeast corner of the map.
"Saddle Arabia. Neighmara, to be exactly. We're going to take a freighter train, southbound, to these two regions: Horsepen and Maren. There's a ley junction there dangerous enough to fit what we're looking for. Despite that there is some long history of activity going on there, even up to a few years ago. Problem is that its a lot of lawless, civilization-devoid, eldritch-filled territory so we're going to need to be extra prepared before venturing there."
>Jeff claps his hands together and looks at you all expectedly.
"Before I go any further and tell you the reason we're all doing this for, I need to make sure you're all in for the long haul. So if you want to back out, now's your final chance."
>Noah nods at Nevil, acknowledging his punctuality
>The rest files in and Jeff delivers his briefing, Noah following the map closely
>He did glance over at the seven foot faceless man
>Interesting garb he thought
>A freight train?
"Train got commissioned for this?"
>He then poured some thought into his ride and looked over at the map, seeing if the terrain is good for it
>Should be better really, with it being a desert
"Think we going to need the Dagor for this? And is there more wildlife to be wary of?"
>Hopefully the junction is consistent with it's telltale signs

Lucius the Weary
>His forest green cloak swirling about him, Lucius steps smoothly through the door of the command center
>He spares a polite nod at Nevil
"Good to be working with you again, Nevil. On time as usual."
>Jeff's expounding on their new objective and plan gets a puzzled look from the ranger
>Leaning on an elbow against a nearby wall, he groans at the mention of the train
"Another metal steed to bear us. I prefer my own two legs, but... I see the advantage of expediency in these cases."
>With a look, the ranger gets the attention of Jeff
"This place is a desert, yes? Then I'll have a job keeping myself hidden, if I need to hide. Should I arrange to have my colors altered to suit this environment? I am currently working with a set aimed towards forest environments."
>After this, Lucius resigns himself to leaning fully on the wall, arms folded in resignation
"I would not abandon this company, in any case. I'm in, for the long haul, as you say Jeff."
LCDR. Nevil Wayne
>Nevil seems to smile a little bit to the surprise he had elicited from Jeff. The Lieutenant Commander always looked a little bit tired one way or another, but for once Nevil couldn't help but look a little bit proud of himself - looking almost nostalgic as the dulled look in his eyes softens somewhat.
>Though that lasts only a few seconds. He quickly returns to a neutral expression; saying nothing mainly because the other, more (uncanny) familiar man in the room had clarified his methods.
>Anonymous manages to pinch out a smirk in return from Nevil, as the masked man is nodded too in kind and in earnest.
"Good to see you again, Anonymous."
>His response was dry in tone compared to his expressions.

>The knowledge that his request was complex for Krinza made the Lieutenant Commander purse his lip a little bit, and they could hear a slight sigh coming through his nose; drumming the butt of his advanced assault rifle with his fingers once.
"I see. I should've thought about that... Thank you again Anonymous, for all the help."
>Nevil gave another nod and a weak, but genuine smile, before quickly turning his glance more towards the map to give it some thought as well. See what location had been picked out in advance while the others are still coming.
>Quirking his brow slightly with interest when he recognizes the Region... But stays quiet, since they'll be informed soon enough.

>As Noah comes in, Nevil is quick to move his eyes from the map table and to him. They exchange a nod, giving him a silently pleased glance at having him there, even if he didn't smile.
>Nevil takes a step back to be more in line with the coming, familiar operators as they came in. Listening to the questions, but otherwise turning again as others come in.

>A greeting, slightly deeper nod is given to Lucius when he came in.
"Welcome back."
>Nevil simply said, in his indoor, soft-spoken voice. Then fell quiet as he briefly casts a glance back - expecting a certain Crystal Pony to be coming soon.

>Though his attention does move back to Jeff when the briefing begins.
>The Lieutenant Commander straightens subtly, then listens with rapt attention. The word 'Eldritch' elicits a reaction; a deeply pursed lip and a slight roll of his neck. Already expecting something.
>Despite the danger's involved, He doesn't even hesitate for even a second to reply.
"I am committed."
>Simply put, and matter-of-factly spoken. A resolute look in his eyes and a focused looking frown.

>And he had his own reasons to keep wanting to help Razorback.

Citrine Blaze

>One of Blaze's eyebrows cocked at seeing Nevil there first. He must of been in the Bunker when the call was made.
>Though that was nothing compared to seeing the tall green human with no bucking face!
>Mentally screamed Citrine at the sight of the big weirdo.

>Although Jeff talked, Blaze stared unblinkingly at the green giant as maps were unfurled.
>Eldrich filled?
"L-like this big human right?"
>Asked the stupor stallion as he pointed a hoof at the anonymous humanoid.

>The clap snapped Citrine back to reality. Back out? Really? Was he still dreaming? This could be it this could be how he can leave this place with no debts!
>He pursed his lips as he side-eyed the others. And gulped. So far everpony else was for it and for him to scoot out it would bring all eyes on him, especially Jeffs. He can still taste the stolen food on his dry lips.
"I uh, yoh yes I am for this."
>'who knows, maybe there is a lot of treasure lying around.'

Hildemar Veiel
>Hildemar’s gaze seldom left the faceless man as Jeff gave most of his briefing.
>Can’t trust anything you can’t look in the eye.
>He does perk up slightly and shift his attention when he heard about a more active ley junction in what sounds like horse araby.
>Although his decision was already made, Hildemar made a show of closing his eyes in thought before nodding in approval.
“I’ll certainly not be refusing opportunities to explore areas with abnormal flows of magic.”
>The possibility of purging foul, eldritch sorcery didn’t hurt either.

>The witch hunter turned toward and crouched closer to Citrine’s height once he was done stammering.
>He had done some thinking on how he treated the crystal vagabond as though he had spent every last bit on his hedonism.
>It was a not entirely accurate judgement.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I may have judged you a tad too harshly before and it would be an insult to my goddess to leave it be. I’m sorry.”
>Hildemar then stands back up and returns to his usual glaring.
“However, that does not mean you’re free to do it again.”

Disco Fever -A Small Nuisance
The GM L.O.N.T
Ambush: +1 Token to Spruce

>Golden Horn cracked open an eye slightly to look at Spruce as the magic swirling around his horn flashed with intent.
"I am afraid conjuring up disguises or illusions were not something I studied."
>He admitted’ voice low in concentration.
"The idea is sound sadly we cannot use magic due to my limitations, another practical way for subterfuge is needed. And I assume 'Loki' is some form of Trickster, Spruce?"
>He asked with a hint of interest in his hushed voice.

>At first Spruce could not see anything out of the ordinary, as much as that word applied to a depressing grey hallway where its stand out features were its square light sources embedded in the ceiling.
>He looked at the sparkling statue again. It was certainly in the shape of a pony yet its features were made of small shiny angular shapes that flashed randomly from refracting light.
>The Operators’ gaze led to the hooves of the statue and there, saw that there were instinct dark rings on the floor surrounding the hooves. The rings looked like they were made from a sudden discharge of energy, an explosion perhaps? There! On surface of the ceiling directly above the statue there was a similar marking too, however more faint than the ones on the floor.
"That would not surprise me Spruce, maybe Excelleon knows who and what we are already and is just observing us. For now..."
>Golden speculated grimly before closing his eye again.

>Vibrating from the chittering noise it was making the Chitqu slowly moved close to the reflective statue.

>With a pop the magic surrounding the old Unicorns horn was dispelled, leaving it slightly glowing from overuse. Golden sighed in slight discomfort as a hoof rubbed his horn soothingly.
"Knowing what I know about that deranged nutcase he will covet you, Adon. I do not wish to see that happening, no living creature should be used for experiments, no matter its level of sapience."
>He spat as his tail flagged in agitation. Sounded like he was resuming an argument he had rather than responding to the Witcher directly.

>The medallion in Adons' grasp was continuously vibrating with what could be assumed was the latent background magic exuding from...somewhere, either the shimmering statue or the hallway the Witcher could not discern.

>Upon reaching one of the hooves of the obstructing statue the Chitqu tapped on its surface with its paw experimentally. It squeaked, removed its paw, examined it then returned to patting at hooves’ sparkling skin.
>Golden watched this carefully, brow knitted in thought.
"We will not need to do such a thing Adon."

>Stepping tentatively closer to the statue, Golden Horns’ ears were flat against his head as he tippy-hooved nearer.
[1d6+1 = 5] >B.Stealth
[1d6+1 = 2]

"This used to be a pony all alive and well. Now they are this metallic golem. It reeks of displaced power. Whether they can be reverted back to normal I suppose only Excelleon would know."
>He swung his head to stare back at Adon and Spruce with worry at the edge of his features.
"I think we should traverse through this hallway by being a bit more discreet."




Naliyna_Remostrine_a_happy_gal Small.png

>Adon thought over Golden Horn's statement, grimly. If Excelleon was that much of an experimenter, he might be able to use it as a convenient distraction for the others.
>At the cost of his own well being, that is. He'd cross that bridge, if it came to that.
>His medallion only grew in intensity as they closed in on the statue, which of course was a clear warning to him.
>Maybe it was the golem they were steadily approaching.
>He did not like the look of that. Mages and sorcerers kept them and elementals as guard dogs, and most of the time they were made in the same way: by casting a heavy spell on an unfortunate individual. Usually it was someone that crossed them, HARD. Occasionally, an ex.
>But it was also a good sign, as they were normally reserved for a hideouts's inner sanctum. A last line of the defense.
>Oddly enough the chiqtu was able to get right up and touch the sentinel without reaction. Either the small animal wasn't big enough to be a threat, trip the security spell.
"Just another sign we're closing in on him. Huh, it didn't do anything. Maybe it's more of a warning? Remote activation, maybe?"
>The Witcher silently agrees to keep his discretion at its utmost, even though he still can't fully grasp the whole personal invisibility thing...
[1d6 = 4] <U.Stealth
Karl "Spruce" Osmundsson

>Spruce sighs in a bit of disappointment. It seems magic wasn't as limitless as he thought...
>Or well, this particular unicorn just wasn't that good at it.
"Yes... Loki is the trickster God in Ásatrú. The 'Old' Norse religion. As for other ways of subterfuge I uh... I'm a soldier, not a spy. I blow more things up than try to sneak into them."
>He explains as he looks over the... Statue in all of its strange. golden mystical glory.
>Given its look, he almost expected it to come alive at any moment and try to attack them, given his... Limited knowledge of such things.
>Though it wouldn't be too far out there from the things he'd seen already in this world...
"... He could, I don't see any cameras but i'm sure there's some way he'd have of observing us magically or something."

>Spruce double takes at the explanation that this golem used to be a pony, he blinks in surprise and horror.
"... This... This was a pony? By the Gods..."
>He mutters, in a bit of shock and horror.
>The Norwegian then frowns, starting to get a bit of an angry look in his eyes as he looks at the Golem, then back to Golden.
"This is a great crime. It should not go unpunished."
>He growled those words, sounding more than a little bit angry at the thought of such a thing.
>Still, he decides to play it smart along with the others and try and be a little more sneaky in his approach.

[1d6 = 5] <B. Stealth
[1d6 = 1]