>If you would like to join, make a sensible loadout here at:
innawoods.net
>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:
https://ponepaste.org/7810
>Or the Hoofbook if you wanna be a pony:
https://ponepaste.org/7812
>Then drop a post here.
>Fortress Map:
http://i.imgur.com/Nfy0UK4.png?2
>Overall Pastebin:
https://ponepaste.org/user/PonyStrangler
>Bulletin Board:
https://ponepaste.org/7806
>Previous Thread:
>>279343 →
/mlpol/ - My Little Politics
File (): FAE0DFF53F9D66C37E8FCED7CA7FE3AD-311705.png (304.4 KB, 1570x1537, Razorback Company.png)
>>352187 →
*"Elite Squad 1 Lead to everyone still in Fortress: Tainted are the same things as the vapor ponies that were on our old train. Given enough time in realspace they'll merge with each other, bigger, tougher, faster, and form leaders, that's what we call Mass versions, but these are ten. We have zero on what happens when there's ten merged people, expect everything-fucking-thing!"*
>You recognized the exhausted voice as another of the original 100, a somewhat younger man that'd been spending a significant amount of time around Luna's Villages performing mopping up duties.
*"Tainted are both Spectral and Undead but don't have weaknesses like the 'normal' fucks do, the only weapons that work well against them are Void enchants or maximally elemental-infused manabombs, the banned kind we can't touch or it's a year in jail. Buckshot, heavy weapons, and explosives considered secondary, then everything else. Ethereal or Planar enchants don't do jack shit, and good luck finding a batpony with blood magic strong enough to down one before it kills you. Keep hurrying the fuck up people, time is wasting-"*
>Opening your personal locker amidst the chaos, there were seven extra Livermorium shells neatly set in a row.
>Snagging a single high explosive grenade from the rapidly dwindling stockpile, it was apparent that not much was going to be left.
>Racing down to the Pagoda alongside several of the Veteran squads, you sight the Kiowa dropping down low enough for the Vortex Remnant's gateway to transfer it into the Basin.
>As the gateway returns to its large state, the sound of a new, rather loud vehicle engine behind you is accompanied by a shout from Emerald.
*"Drop any object that isn't strictly for combat! Cut all radio contact right now and for everyone's sakes STAY AWAY FROM AN AQUAMARINE PRIMAL PSION IN BASIN VILLAGE! The ONLY person cleared to speak to her is me so anyone I catch looking in her direction without absolute necessity will be stripped naked and thrown in Dancing's room! Heading for the Armory now-"*
>Thudding into the Pagoda behind four Veteran squads, the scene ahead was far worse than the Siege ever was:
>Tightly packed formations of Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard, separated only by weapon preferences, surrounded numerous translocation matrices leaving barely enough space for two humans to run through their lines.
>Blinking into view directly ahead of the fountain was Bren and her unicorn crew, setting up a line of wooden slabs and melding barricades directly onto them, the first few human squads setting into place starting from right.
>Either the last set of defenses, or the only safe way to fire over the heads of several thousand ponies.
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 4 total
*"Elite Squad 1 Lead to everyone still in Fortress: Tainted are the same things as the vapor ponies that were on our old train. Given enough time in realspace they'll merge with each other, bigger, tougher, faster, and form leaders, that's what we call Mass versions, but these are ten. We have zero on what happens when there's ten merged people, expect everything-fucking-thing!"*
>You recognized the exhausted voice as another of the original 100, a somewhat younger man that'd been spending a significant amount of time around Luna's Villages performing mopping up duties.
*"Tainted are both Spectral and Undead but don't have weaknesses like the 'normal' fucks do, the only weapons that work well against them are Void enchants or maximally elemental-infused manabombs, the banned kind we can't touch or it's a year in jail. Buckshot, heavy weapons, and explosives considered secondary, then everything else. Ethereal or Planar enchants don't do jack shit, and good luck finding a batpony with blood magic strong enough to down one before it kills you. Keep hurrying the fuck up people, time is wasting-"*
>Opening your personal locker amidst the chaos, there were seven extra Livermorium shells neatly set in a row.
>Snagging a single high explosive grenade from the rapidly dwindling stockpile, it was apparent that not much was going to be left.
>Racing down to the Pagoda alongside several of the Veteran squads, you sight the Kiowa dropping down low enough for the Vortex Remnant's gateway to transfer it into the Basin.
>As the gateway returns to its large state, the sound of a new, rather loud vehicle engine behind you is accompanied by a shout from Emerald.
*"Drop any object that isn't strictly for combat! Cut all radio contact right now and for everyone's sakes STAY AWAY FROM AN AQUAMARINE PRIMAL PSION IN BASIN VILLAGE! The ONLY person cleared to speak to her is me so anyone I catch looking in her direction without absolute necessity will be stripped naked and thrown in Dancing's room! Heading for the Armory now-"*
>Thudding into the Pagoda behind four Veteran squads, the scene ahead was far worse than the Siege ever was:
>Tightly packed formations of Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard, separated only by weapon preferences, surrounded numerous translocation matrices leaving barely enough space for two humans to run through their lines.
>Blinking into view directly ahead of the fountain was Bren and her unicorn crew, setting up a line of wooden slabs and melding barricades directly onto them, the first few human squads setting into place starting from right.
>Either the last set of defenses, or the only safe way to fire over the heads of several thousand ponies.
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 4 total
>>352196 →
>The gateway to Razorback Fortress had expanded to the size of a large version, at least a dozen human squads each with two or three unicorns from Luna's Village aiding Bren and her unicorn team setting up a series of wooden slabs down 20M in front of the fountain, barricades being melded in a crazed pace.
"Cut all radio contact Jeff, Em said our arrays are double fucked and locked down!"
>One of the slightly newer Veterans yells out, though the Dagor was nowhere to be seen, probably having been removed earlier by Support Strikers.
>Behind Razorback's teams working was a baffling sight: the unmoving forms of four batpony Bloodhosts.
>The tallest was a Berserker, thankfully not wearing a real copy of the sharp edged, deleterious armor, flanking a Skullguard, the false drake 'helmet' and scale armor covering it laughable in context.
>Right of the pair a lone Siegemare carrying the approximation of a battering ram under the right wing, heavy lance in the left, and lastly a Mareauder, the faux-reflective armor ripples little more than ornamarentation.
('All in the Basin know. Excluding the Altar the rest of the Village can be rebuilt, that is no concern. Zero objections-')
>Interrupted by the Kiowa's arrival which immediately begins to climb, the Watch Guard General doesn't continue.
>Recalling what you knew of the little used bomb, an optimal height of detonation at it's 8 ton limit would be equivalent to most daisy cutters; a 50M overhead would allow for maximum effect.
>Mentally calculating the radius of a daisy cutter and upscaling it for the GBU-43/B's specifications, the initial blast, semi-plasma laden shockwave, and fragmentation were not going to impact more than 60 Tainted at their size.
>Bringing up the TacPad and setting for close topography, Basin Village was listed as 240 meters above sea level; 800M of the swamps had been cleared of debris and downed trees, giving a clear view straight south.
>Noting the southward road's curve on the map display and comparing them to the first row of Tainted, it read out at 560M from the Basin's southern building edges.
>An unsettled quiet takes hold as the entirety of Basin Village at the lines of abnormally tall Lunar and Solar Guardians, the approximations of the standard charging and close combat armors eerily accurate.
>Those visible were earth ponies at an average 20M of height, though they were obvious gaps spread throughout.
('No, we have not. Your Lunarites have been scouting with impunity and sending word to my mares via a most adorable filly. They are incapable of joining a psionic link, their souls are directly bound to the Nightmare. And, there are no Lunarites native to Stalliongrad.. ..I think. A three-layer shield will be prepared. Unicorns, we will require an eighty hoof tall half-oval variant, reflective, frontal only. That will suffice for the center. Do not burn your souls out for this.')
('Watch Guard Strikers! The external layer must be a rigid-ablative to shed impact outwards and down! Second Dynasty Strikers! Rear layer must be a collapsing waveform, no fragmarentation will be allowed to breach through! All others brace!')
>Frontal Shield Layer:
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Watch Guard Support Striker Divisions x 2,000 total
>Central Shield Wall:
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Day Guard Ranged Support Battalion x 1,200 total
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Night Guard Combat Support Division x 300 total
>Tertiary Shield Barrier:
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Second Dynasty Support Striker Companeigh x 400 total
>The disc blinks out in a familiar green tinge, a small pop of air following.
>Catching the start of a feed directly center over the giant Tainted formation, freefall begins as the parachute catches, a line reads the fin deployment correcting the heavy bomb's slight drift.
>Waiting as long as possible to press the little red button, a group of mixed Solar and Lunar Guardian pegasi Tainted were beginning to look up, clustered around the central Assault versions-
>The feed cuts.
>And the thunder begins.
[1d6+120 = (2+120) = 122] <Expanded Radius
[1d6+130 = (1+130) = 131] <Initial Shockwave
[1d6+100 = (3+100) = 103] <Secondary Shockwave
[1d6+80 = (5+80) = 85] <Stolen Void-Infused XL Manabomb
[1d6+80 = (4+80) = 84] <Near-Plasma Fragmentation
[1d6+60 = (2+60) = 62] <Tertiary Shockwave
('All defenders, contact has begun. Let neither your eyes nor hooves be slow.')
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <GM.Primal Leadership: Warhost's Gift
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
('Our wills hold, honor the Tainted for their service!')
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <GM. Primal Psion: Mindsurge
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>Tainted: 362,000 Morale remaining.
>The gateway to Razorback Fortress had expanded to the size of a large version, at least a dozen human squads each with two or three unicorns from Luna's Village aiding Bren and her unicorn team setting up a series of wooden slabs down 20M in front of the fountain, barricades being melded in a crazed pace.
"Cut all radio contact Jeff, Em said our arrays are double fucked and locked down!"
>One of the slightly newer Veterans yells out, though the Dagor was nowhere to be seen, probably having been removed earlier by Support Strikers.
>Behind Razorback's teams working was a baffling sight: the unmoving forms of four batpony Bloodhosts.
>The tallest was a Berserker, thankfully not wearing a real copy of the sharp edged, deleterious armor, flanking a Skullguard, the false drake 'helmet' and scale armor covering it laughable in context.
>Right of the pair a lone Siegemare carrying the approximation of a battering ram under the right wing, heavy lance in the left, and lastly a Mareauder, the faux-reflective armor ripples little more than ornamarentation.
('All in the Basin know. Excluding the Altar the rest of the Village can be rebuilt, that is no concern. Zero objections-')
>Interrupted by the Kiowa's arrival which immediately begins to climb, the Watch Guard General doesn't continue.
>Recalling what you knew of the little used bomb, an optimal height of detonation at it's 8 ton limit would be equivalent to most daisy cutters; a 50M overhead would allow for maximum effect.
>Mentally calculating the radius of a daisy cutter and upscaling it for the GBU-43/B's specifications, the initial blast, semi-plasma laden shockwave, and fragmentation were not going to impact more than 60 Tainted at their size.
>Bringing up the TacPad and setting for close topography, Basin Village was listed as 240 meters above sea level; 800M of the swamps had been cleared of debris and downed trees, giving a clear view straight south.
>Noting the southward road's curve on the map display and comparing them to the first row of Tainted, it read out at 560M from the Basin's southern building edges.
>An unsettled quiet takes hold as the entirety of Basin Village at the lines of abnormally tall Lunar and Solar Guardians, the approximations of the standard charging and close combat armors eerily accurate.
>Those visible were earth ponies at an average 20M of height, though they were obvious gaps spread throughout.
('No, we have not. Your Lunarites have been scouting with impunity and sending word to my mares via a most adorable filly. They are incapable of joining a psionic link, their souls are directly bound to the Nightmare. And, there are no Lunarites native to Stalliongrad.. ..I think. A three-layer shield will be prepared. Unicorns, we will require an eighty hoof tall half-oval variant, reflective, frontal only. That will suffice for the center. Do not burn your souls out for this.')
('Watch Guard Strikers! The external layer must be a rigid-ablative to shed impact outwards and down! Second Dynasty Strikers! Rear layer must be a collapsing waveform, no fragmarentation will be allowed to breach through! All others brace!')
>Frontal Shield Layer:
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Watch Guard Support Striker Divisions x 2,000 total
>Central Shield Wall:
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Day Guard Ranged Support Battalion x 1,200 total
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Night Guard Combat Support Division x 300 total
>Tertiary Shield Barrier:
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Second Dynasty Support Striker Companeigh x 400 total
>The disc blinks out in a familiar green tinge, a small pop of air following.
>Catching the start of a feed directly center over the giant Tainted formation, freefall begins as the parachute catches, a line reads the fin deployment correcting the heavy bomb's slight drift.
>Waiting as long as possible to press the little red button, a group of mixed Solar and Lunar Guardian pegasi Tainted were beginning to look up, clustered around the central Assault versions-
>The feed cuts.
>And the thunder begins.
[1d6+120 = (2+120) = 122] <Expanded Radius
[1d6+130 = (1+130) = 131] <Initial Shockwave
[1d6+100 = (3+100) = 103] <Secondary Shockwave
[1d6+80 = (5+80) = 85] <Stolen Void-Infused XL Manabomb
[1d6+80 = (4+80) = 84] <Near-Plasma Fragmentation
[1d6+60 = (2+60) = 62] <Tertiary Shockwave
('All defenders, contact has begun. Let neither your eyes nor hooves be slow.')
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <GM.Primal Leadership: Warhost's Gift
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
('Our wills hold, honor the Tainted for their service!')
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <GM. Primal Psion: Mindsurge
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>Tainted: 362,000 Morale remaining.
File (): B5AA1D0EB5E8841F004350629203DF89-228820.jpg (223.5 KB, 1800x1500, aryanne - bump.jpeg)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02VHWHSKnPE
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 11 turns.
>Losing the entire center in a hail of plasma, each of the giant earth pony Tainted step forwards in a single motion, pause mid-stride, then bound into a sprinting charge.
>Streaks of blue and purple snap into flight west for opportune targets, white with gold trim careening right in search of VIP's.
>Behind the main formations, white lances eject from above the Tainted unicorns, leaving arcing trails of gold and silver in their wake.
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 remaining
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 remaining
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Lunar Guardian Airstrike Divisions, 1 remaining
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Divisions, 1 remaining
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 remaining
>The Lost Legions: 285,678 Morale remaining.
('Ten minutes until Harpy gunboat, callsign.... 'Shattering Skies' enters atmosphere. Vestal Gardenia? Give these humans the biggest show they shall, hopefully, ever see.')
('About fucking time. Watch Guard Strikers, kinetic launches at intervals of point-one seconds in honeycomb patterns, prioritize forward Assault Divisions!')
>From the rear of Basin Village and the rooftops, thousands of diamond-encased manabombs shriek overhead from the silent white robed earth mares.
[1d6+17 = (6+17) = 23] <Support Striker Companeighs: M/L Manabomb Deploymarent x 4,850 total
[1d6+17 = (4+17) = 21] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: M/L Manabomb Deploymarent x 2,000 total
('Second Dynasty Strikers, deliver shearing lances into the support Tainted! The less harm they deal to unicorns on rooftops the longer we can prolong this engagemarent!')
>Bright silver lances of half-psionic energies launch in west-to-east patterns, the numbers extremely minor in comparison to their sisters, the silver-trimmed earth mares in white robes
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers x 400 total
('Lunar, Solar, and Germaneighan unicorns deliver long range bombardmarents at the Assault Divisions. Their air wings have been reduced by a little under half.')
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <Day Guard Ranged Support Battalion x 1,200 total
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Germaneighan Mage Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+12 = (3+12) = 15] <Night Guard Combat Support Division x 400 total
('The Hail of Glory has confirmed targets, all weapons committed.')
>To the west, the echoing thunder and screaming lances of barely stable arcane particle weapons roil across Basin Village.
>'Hail of Glory' Ambush:
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <System 35 Analysis
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments x 3 total
[1d6+17[ <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments x 6 total
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Armaments x 19 total
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Stabilizing Drives
('There is a.. pony attempting to damage Airstreams in the pegasi Tainted. Claims to be named Aegis Ignis Faen? Whai-')
('Focus on the threats of right now General, worry about the equine goddess of humans MUCH later!')
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
>Void-Dive Preparations:
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Lunarite Collective
('All humans with long range weapons, commence fire.')
>Basin Village Defenders:
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 4 total
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 8 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 9 total
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Razorback Elite Squads, 6 total
>>352197 →
('There may be none of us left this night, pegasus. Ask or do not, that is for you to decide.')
>Breaking into a four-point gallop by the time you reach the door and streak past the much slower Watch General, mixed Guard Lancers part ranks enough for you to spy a line of mostly set up barricades being manned by humans.
>More squads were arriving through a large black gateway to the left, nearly a hundred partially standing or in kneeling positions.
>Running between two tightly packed formations of Lancers marching towards Basin Village's southern road, by the time you swing around the secondary barricade's west corner, Jeff was behind the primary barricade's east end.
>Entering realspace in a run, a younger woman with peculiarly bright green eyes you knew EXACTLY who was responsible for those and carrying a large, bright white box how'd she even FIND one of them?! shouts over the other humans.
"SHUT DOWN ALL ELECTRONICS RIGHT NOW! THAT FUCKING CONTINENTAL INVASION CARRIER IS ANGLED STRAIGHT AT US AND LAUNCHING BIGGER SHIT THAN WHAT HIT THE CITADEL!"
[1d6 = 1] <Relay Adjustment
>>352238 →
>Sensing contact before a melodic, smooth mid-50's earth mare's voice enters your outer thoughts, it was apparent there were more than enough psions to override the Unbroken Mind enchantmarent.
('Please remain at or below fifty meters, there is a blast wave approaching. Two full battalions of Destroyers await your orders, they desire to know where their lives must end. Speak with them as you would to me. Honor their deaths and your beloved mate.')
>Ascending enough to keep in visual contact with the line of Razorback setting up a single wide overwatch barricade south of the fountain, a large, overlapping shield, two layers of psionicsm with the internal unicorn, begins to form.
>Ten full companeighs of mixed Guard Lancers are followed by eight Chargers, the first spreading out to cover the entire southern entrance, the second taking rear-flank positions.
>Barely seen directly below was an entire Councilierge Assault Vanguard in final preparations, silverine armor and weapons coated in hostile green.
>Ahead, lines of giant Tainted earth ponies, mostly Lunar with a few Solar Guardians, were charging straight towards the Basin's south road, missing at least a fifth their number.
>Trailing left of them were Lunar pegasi of the fabled Airstrike divisions, to the right were Solar Air Commarend.
>Far behind, massed lances from Solar Guardian Support cadres.
('Wait for the shield to drop.')
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 11 turns.
>Losing the entire center in a hail of plasma, each of the giant earth pony Tainted step forwards in a single motion, pause mid-stride, then bound into a sprinting charge.
>Streaks of blue and purple snap into flight west for opportune targets, white with gold trim careening right in search of VIP's.
>Behind the main formations, white lances eject from above the Tainted unicorns, leaving arcing trails of gold and silver in their wake.
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 remaining
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 remaining
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Lunar Guardian Airstrike Divisions, 1 remaining
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Divisions, 1 remaining
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 remaining
>The Lost Legions: 285,678 Morale remaining.
('Ten minutes until Harpy gunboat, callsign.... 'Shattering Skies' enters atmosphere. Vestal Gardenia? Give these humans the biggest show they shall, hopefully, ever see.')
('About fucking time. Watch Guard Strikers, kinetic launches at intervals of point-one seconds in honeycomb patterns, prioritize forward Assault Divisions!')
>From the rear of Basin Village and the rooftops, thousands of diamond-encased manabombs shriek overhead from the silent white robed earth mares.
[1d6+17 = (6+17) = 23] <Support Striker Companeighs: M/L Manabomb Deploymarent x 4,850 total
[1d6+17 = (4+17) = 21] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: M/L Manabomb Deploymarent x 2,000 total
('Second Dynasty Strikers, deliver shearing lances into the support Tainted! The less harm they deal to unicorns on rooftops the longer we can prolong this engagemarent!')
>Bright silver lances of half-psionic energies launch in west-to-east patterns, the numbers extremely minor in comparison to their sisters, the silver-trimmed earth mares in white robes
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers x 400 total
('Lunar, Solar, and Germaneighan unicorns deliver long range bombardmarents at the Assault Divisions. Their air wings have been reduced by a little under half.')
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <Day Guard Ranged Support Battalion x 1,200 total
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Germaneighan Mage Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+12 = (3+12) = 15] <Night Guard Combat Support Division x 400 total
('The Hail of Glory has confirmed targets, all weapons committed.')
>To the west, the echoing thunder and screaming lances of barely stable arcane particle weapons roil across Basin Village.
>'Hail of Glory' Ambush:
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <System 35 Analysis
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments x 3 total
[1d6+17[ <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments x 6 total
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Armaments x 19 total
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Stabilizing Drives
('There is a.. pony attempting to damage Airstreams in the pegasi Tainted. Claims to be named Aegis Ignis Faen? Whai-')
('Focus on the threats of right now General, worry about the equine goddess of humans MUCH later!')
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
>Void-Dive Preparations:
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Lunarite Collective
('All humans with long range weapons, commence fire.')
>Basin Village Defenders:
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 4 total
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 8 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 9 total
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Razorback Elite Squads, 6 total
>>352197 →
('There may be none of us left this night, pegasus. Ask or do not, that is for you to decide.')
>Breaking into a four-point gallop by the time you reach the door and streak past the much slower Watch General, mixed Guard Lancers part ranks enough for you to spy a line of mostly set up barricades being manned by humans.
>More squads were arriving through a large black gateway to the left, nearly a hundred partially standing or in kneeling positions.
>Running between two tightly packed formations of Lancers marching towards Basin Village's southern road, by the time you swing around the secondary barricade's west corner, Jeff was behind the primary barricade's east end.
>Entering realspace in a run, a younger woman with peculiarly bright green eyes you knew EXACTLY who was responsible for those and carrying a large, bright white box how'd she even FIND one of them?! shouts over the other humans.
"SHUT DOWN ALL ELECTRONICS RIGHT NOW! THAT FUCKING CONTINENTAL INVASION CARRIER IS ANGLED STRAIGHT AT US AND LAUNCHING BIGGER SHIT THAN WHAT HIT THE CITADEL!"
[1d6 = 1] <Relay Adjustment
>>352238 →
>Sensing contact before a melodic, smooth mid-50's earth mare's voice enters your outer thoughts, it was apparent there were more than enough psions to override the Unbroken Mind enchantmarent.
('Please remain at or below fifty meters, there is a blast wave approaching. Two full battalions of Destroyers await your orders, they desire to know where their lives must end. Speak with them as you would to me. Honor their deaths and your beloved mate.')
>Ascending enough to keep in visual contact with the line of Razorback setting up a single wide overwatch barricade south of the fountain, a large, overlapping shield, two layers of psionicsm with the internal unicorn, begins to form.
>Ten full companeighs of mixed Guard Lancers are followed by eight Chargers, the first spreading out to cover the entire southern entrance, the second taking rear-flank positions.
>Barely seen directly below was an entire Councilierge Assault Vanguard in final preparations, silverine armor and weapons coated in hostile green.
>Ahead, lines of giant Tainted earth ponies, mostly Lunar with a few Solar Guardians, were charging straight towards the Basin's south road, missing at least a fifth their number.
>Trailing left of them were Lunar pegasi of the fabled Airstrike divisions, to the right were Solar Air Commarend.
>Far behind, massed lances from Solar Guardian Support cadres.
('Wait for the shield to drop.')
File (): 2854B00E769D4FD98D7D5302AFCB2CA0-1608571.jpg (1.5 MB, 1596x2210, 1219374.jpeg)
>>352218 →
>Snowfall raised an eyebrow at Lin, a very human expression. She taught Sparking Fleur? He will ask his sister this. And Oldhorn about Lin too when he returns to the human home.
>Giving the elemaretal a low bow the spotty white Pred-Elk gave her a once over before answering, taking in her more approachable mannerisms.
"Its only natural for things to change."
>He was proud of that pun, Belltowers classes were really helpful for him.
>As he trotted towards the Clinic he felt a gust of wind rush past his thin legs, yet this was not a consequence of the Fortresses' openness to the elements. He felt the raw power tickle his thin and coarse coat as it passed by, he knew it originated from Fountain, he also knew the Fountain was empty of both water and the thing identified as Lin.
>That energy flew past him towards the Clinic where his siblings lay, hurt and broken. He smiled softly, every little helps.
>Lin was no doubt wildly spreading exotic plant seeds any which way she felt like, he thought to himself as he nosed open the Clinic doors.
>Perhaps It was related to Discord?
"Made for each other."
>Snowfall raised an eyebrow at Lin, a very human expression. She taught Sparking Fleur? He will ask his sister this. And Oldhorn about Lin too when he returns to the human home.
>Giving the elemaretal a low bow the spotty white Pred-Elk gave her a once over before answering, taking in her more approachable mannerisms.
"Its only natural for things to change."
>He was proud of that pun, Belltowers classes were really helpful for him.
>As he trotted towards the Clinic he felt a gust of wind rush past his thin legs, yet this was not a consequence of the Fortresses' openness to the elements. He felt the raw power tickle his thin and coarse coat as it passed by, he knew it originated from Fountain, he also knew the Fountain was empty of both water and the thing identified as Lin.
>That energy flew past him towards the Clinic where his siblings lay, hurt and broken. He smiled softly, every little helps.
>Lin was no doubt wildly spreading exotic plant seeds any which way she felt like, he thought to himself as he nosed open the Clinic doors.
>Perhaps It was related to Discord?
"Made for each other."
File (): 7605C1C85AFD9A2111DC8ED1C233F5E8-1966647.gif (1.9 MB, 268x160, i-dont-know-what-i-expected.gif)
>>352265
>>352277
"Still?! Alright, psionic link it is!"
>Figuring the Constructs were harassing the hell out of their comms still, he just powers down his radio for the time being.
>Not seeing the Dagor anymore out if the approach, he's relieved it had been recovered already. He had the thought it probably would've gotten annihilated by the time his bomb dropped, providing it did.
>He observes the four Bloodhosts. Them on top of everything else and these ponies are still giving off the air that this fight is still not in their favor.
>Everything is expandable, minus the Altar at this point.
>He ultimately didn't want it to come to that, but at this point he wasn't going to argue about buildings as collateral.
>As he gets his bearings on the Tainteds' position, a chill runs down his spine at the size of some of the Masses.
>Twenty meters high? The fuck. He should have thought of using a nuke, save for irradiating this area of the Moors.
>The General responds back to him, and he sighs in relief.
>They seemed fine, even doing their part for the time being.
(Understood. I just wanted to be sure they weren't going to get caught in the blast range.)
>The silver wish disc blinks away green for a confirmed wish, his TacPad lighting up as a quick data check on what seemed to be a solid Void-infused MOAB.
(Deployment good. Max payload. Okay I'm in control. Here's to a quick and honorable death for them. May luck be on our side, General. Over.)
>He leaves the connection with the General.
>Better leave her alone to command the Basin's forces.
>He hears the MOAB drop from here, the explosive flash too obvious to ignore. The shockwave, if it was going to make it this far, was next.
>The shields and barriers were already up, so they should be safe from fragmentation.
>But even from here he can tell they just shook it off and began their charge.
>The bomb his centered on the main group, but it looked like there was plenty left over.
>He really should have went nuclear...
>As the charge begins The General wages on orders to each group.
>A harpy gunboat inbound, Gardenia's Support Strikers begin their manabombardment.
>Another gunboat was inbound out of sight, already firing?
>Everyone had begun long ranged procedures.
>Jeff looks down at his PDW, it's effectiveness really only worth under one hundred meters.
>He wasn't given any orders himself, so he can only hurry up and wait for Clem to come back with something he could use.
>Thinking was his only weapon right now.
>He couldn't risk another ordinance drop now that the Tainted were on the move.
>... he recalls he has one more wildcard up his sleeve.
>The Nightblade speaks inwardly, closing off from the Overherd quick to calmly speak particularly to the thought of the Empress herself.
'Silver, it's Jeff. I recall you owe me a favor, and I want to cash it in right now. There's a horde of Tainted about to overrun The Basin Village with thousands of lives at stake ready to die. If you can help us in any way to achieve victory, that is my favor.'
>Hopefully she answers him.
>>352197 →
>As he waits, he spots Sunny coming to him from behind along with Mercy further-what is that attached to her?
>Before he can get a better look at the Spirit Walker's upgrades Emerald comes in shouting to shut off all electronics.
>An Invasion Carrier? No... why are they here?! Are they leftover from the Citadel?
"Fucking hell! Did that track us here through our comm relays? Man they're persistent!"
>Jeff begins doing a rundown of all his equipment.
>He turns off his camera, cuts power to his lights and sights. His combi-goggles, the remote trigger for his C4's along the blasting cap receivers. He even takes his watch off and smashes it under his boot.
>Why does he even have a watch anyway, when he's got a clock on his Pad?
>Which by coincidence is the last thing he powers down.
>>352238 →
>Whilst trying to figure the damn sheer unluck going on, he hears the whirling blades on a helicopter emerge through the Basin matrice.
>Clemency comes spinning in safely above.
>Radio already shut down, Jeff contacts his comrade through the Overherd and waves him off over to his position.
(Clem over here! East side of the forward barrier. General's got an Overherd up linked with everyone. Dump the thirty-two to me and advise you find a place to land and power down. Emerald here saying there's a Continental Invasion Carrier inbound and to cut off electronics! How copy?)
>>352277
"Still?! Alright, psionic link it is!"
>Figuring the Constructs were harassing the hell out of their comms still, he just powers down his radio for the time being.
>Not seeing the Dagor anymore out if the approach, he's relieved it had been recovered already. He had the thought it probably would've gotten annihilated by the time his bomb dropped, providing it did.
>He observes the four Bloodhosts. Them on top of everything else and these ponies are still giving off the air that this fight is still not in their favor.
>Everything is expandable, minus the Altar at this point.
>He ultimately didn't want it to come to that, but at this point he wasn't going to argue about buildings as collateral.
>As he gets his bearings on the Tainteds' position, a chill runs down his spine at the size of some of the Masses.
>Twenty meters high? The fuck. He should have thought of using a nuke, save for irradiating this area of the Moors.
>The General responds back to him, and he sighs in relief.
>They seemed fine, even doing their part for the time being.
(Understood. I just wanted to be sure they weren't going to get caught in the blast range.)
>The silver wish disc blinks away green for a confirmed wish, his TacPad lighting up as a quick data check on what seemed to be a solid Void-infused MOAB.
(Deployment good. Max payload. Okay I'm in control. Here's to a quick and honorable death for them. May luck be on our side, General. Over.)
>He leaves the connection with the General.
>Better leave her alone to command the Basin's forces.
>He hears the MOAB drop from here, the explosive flash too obvious to ignore. The shockwave, if it was going to make it this far, was next.
>The shields and barriers were already up, so they should be safe from fragmentation.
>But even from here he can tell they just shook it off and began their charge.
>The bomb his centered on the main group, but it looked like there was plenty left over.
>He really should have went nuclear...
>As the charge begins The General wages on orders to each group.
>A harpy gunboat inbound, Gardenia's Support Strikers begin their manabombardment.
>Another gunboat was inbound out of sight, already firing?
>Everyone had begun long ranged procedures.
>Jeff looks down at his PDW, it's effectiveness really only worth under one hundred meters.
>He wasn't given any orders himself, so he can only hurry up and wait for Clem to come back with something he could use.
>Thinking was his only weapon right now.
>He couldn't risk another ordinance drop now that the Tainted were on the move.
>... he recalls he has one more wildcard up his sleeve.
>The Nightblade speaks inwardly, closing off from the Overherd quick to calmly speak particularly to the thought of the Empress herself.
'Silver, it's Jeff. I recall you owe me a favor, and I want to cash it in right now. There's a horde of Tainted about to overrun The Basin Village with thousands of lives at stake ready to die. If you can help us in any way to achieve victory, that is my favor.'
>Hopefully she answers him.
>>352197 →
>As he waits, he spots Sunny coming to him from behind along with Mercy further-what is that attached to her?
>Before he can get a better look at the Spirit Walker's upgrades Emerald comes in shouting to shut off all electronics.
>An Invasion Carrier? No... why are they here?! Are they leftover from the Citadel?
"Fucking hell! Did that track us here through our comm relays? Man they're persistent!"
>Jeff begins doing a rundown of all his equipment.
>He turns off his camera, cuts power to his lights and sights. His combi-goggles, the remote trigger for his C4's along the blasting cap receivers. He even takes his watch off and smashes it under his boot.
>Why does he even have a watch anyway, when he's got a clock on his Pad?
>Which by coincidence is the last thing he powers down.
>>352238 →
>Whilst trying to figure the damn sheer unluck going on, he hears the whirling blades on a helicopter emerge through the Basin matrice.
>Clemency comes spinning in safely above.
>Radio already shut down, Jeff contacts his comrade through the Overherd and waves him off over to his position.
(Clem over here! East side of the forward barrier. General's got an Overherd up linked with everyone. Dump the thirty-two to me and advise you find a place to land and power down. Emerald here saying there's a Continental Invasion Carrier inbound and to cut off electronics! How copy?)
File (): 6C859A8B923AD4A28DCF41E58BD1A526-344448.png (336.4 KB, 851x471, Here it comes.png)
>>352264
>>352265
>>352277
>She was outside just in time to hear, and more importantly, see the explosive go off.
>And it sure set her ears ringing, enough to force her to reflexively pin her ears back and away from the direct source of the noise.
>Sunny was surprisingly able to maintain her pace despite how crowded the street was now, weaving between ranks, taking advantage of openings as they became available.
>She came to a skidding halt near Jeff at the sight of the human woman holding... that.
>And those eyes could only have been made that way by a single pony.
>More than her likely imminent and very complete death by the Tainted and imminent construct assault, that stopped her heart cold momentarily.
>Bad time and no time to think about it.
>She instead considered the box briefly with something less tangible than the mundane senses she relied upon, reaching out with the instinctive reasoning that usually saved somepony's hide when less information was available than they'd like.
[1d6 = 1] < Intuition
>>352299
>Sunny's inspection of the incredibly rare, incredibly densely packed solar relic was interrupted by Jeff speaking up.
>This defense was already a shaky prospect when it was just the Tainted, and now they would be dealing with Constructs too, and without any of the electronics the humans brought with them to help the fight.
>What an absolute disaster, but maybe the constructs could be diverted if their assault wasn't intended to strategically cripple the forces assembled here, but rather targeting the Harpy star vessel.
>Constructs reacted more strongly to sophisticated technology, and the Harpy vessel certainly counted.
"Sir, they may be targeting us because of the bloodhost bringing the Harpy ship here, or they'd be intercepting it directly."
>She swallowed hard.
"It's possible they may abort if we stop."
>Sunny turned to consider the oncoming Tainted, their numbers diminished, but not crippled nearly enough.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < B. Scouting
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
"We will not survive an assault on two fronts, and definitely not if the constructs get here before the vessel does."
>>352265
>>352277
>She was outside just in time to hear, and more importantly, see the explosive go off.
>And it sure set her ears ringing, enough to force her to reflexively pin her ears back and away from the direct source of the noise.
>Sunny was surprisingly able to maintain her pace despite how crowded the street was now, weaving between ranks, taking advantage of openings as they became available.
>She came to a skidding halt near Jeff at the sight of the human woman holding... that.
>And those eyes could only have been made that way by a single pony.
>More than her likely imminent and very complete death by the Tainted and imminent construct assault, that stopped her heart cold momentarily.
>Bad time and no time to think about it.
>She instead considered the box briefly with something less tangible than the mundane senses she relied upon, reaching out with the instinctive reasoning that usually saved somepony's hide when less information was available than they'd like.
[1d6 = 1] < Intuition
>>352299
>Sunny's inspection of the incredibly rare, incredibly densely packed solar relic was interrupted by Jeff speaking up.
>This defense was already a shaky prospect when it was just the Tainted, and now they would be dealing with Constructs too, and without any of the electronics the humans brought with them to help the fight.
>What an absolute disaster, but maybe the constructs could be diverted if their assault wasn't intended to strategically cripple the forces assembled here, but rather targeting the Harpy star vessel.
>Constructs reacted more strongly to sophisticated technology, and the Harpy vessel certainly counted.
"Sir, they may be targeting us because of the bloodhost bringing the Harpy ship here, or they'd be intercepting it directly."
>She swallowed hard.
"It's possible they may abort if we stop."
>Sunny turned to consider the oncoming Tainted, their numbers diminished, but not crippled nearly enough.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < B. Scouting
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
"We will not survive an assault on two fronts, and definitely not if the constructs get here before the vessel does."
>>352171 →
"I personally detest the idea of whoring your body out, but if someone decided to become a manwhore, or just a whore, I'd simply grumble about it."
>He still grimaced at the idea.
>Being a good southern boy, it just didn't sit right in his ol' noggin.
>Taken off topic by the idea of a closer ranged rifle, he hummed a bit.
"I'd have to spend some time on the range to reacquaint myself. Haven't touched a general purpose rifle since... Boot camp, really."
>UAS marks(stallions)men didn't really train with anything other than a few rifles and pistols after basic, so he was rusty.
>Shaking his head, he focused back on the mare, listening.
"Jesus H. Fucking Christ..."
>He wore an obvious face of disgust at how Red Salt was created.
"Much more fucking morbid than I thought at first. No fucking wonder we'd get murderfucked immediately if Hodch decided to reveal all of the corrupt threads to this."
>Survival was more important at the moment than destroying that network.
"I personally detest the idea of whoring your body out, but if someone decided to become a manwhore, or just a whore, I'd simply grumble about it."
>He still grimaced at the idea.
>Being a good southern boy, it just didn't sit right in his ol' noggin.
>Taken off topic by the idea of a closer ranged rifle, he hummed a bit.
"I'd have to spend some time on the range to reacquaint myself. Haven't touched a general purpose rifle since... Boot camp, really."
>UAS marks(stallions)men didn't really train with anything other than a few rifles and pistols after basic, so he was rusty.
>Shaking his head, he focused back on the mare, listening.
"Jesus H. Fucking Christ..."
>He wore an obvious face of disgust at how Red Salt was created.
"Much more fucking morbid than I thought at first. No fucking wonder we'd get murderfucked immediately if Hodch decided to reveal all of the corrupt threads to this."
>Survival was more important at the moment than destroying that network.
>>351969 →
>Eyebrows raising in slight annoyance at something on screen, Anon's tone is desert dry.
"Not true at all, I've been able to retrieve much older objects from pre-transit. Remember the idiot that wanted a Humvee, then got it lost somewhere? That one was thirty years prior, found it in near perfect condition in a shipping container on the bottom of an ocean. Which, I have no idea.. Admittedly you could request a bag of artifacts but given the probabilities of one having what you want I'm not sure that's a useful effort, even worse if they shouldn't touch each other."
>Pointedly staring towards the object behind you, the gestalt half-wheezes before recovering.
"It's much more durable, that's all."
>That wasn't all.
"Swapped some materials for composites that're far less likely to wear down over time, tossed an armored housing over the power crystal, and gave it a little fine tuning."
>Half turning to the right for a few seconds, then back to you, Anonymous makes a short 'don't worry about it' motion.
"Riiiight.. the Noosphere. Fun fact, the human one here is painfully small but so far hasn't been damaged. Still, so long as you don't let anyone or anything fondle artifacts I'll try not to be too disgusted. So far as I knew damned near everything was safe for ponies to touch excluding those that are inherently hostile."
>Eyebrows raising as he takes a short drink through the mask, he sets the bottle down, midair of course, to tap on the screen.
"If that's how you feel then never ask a leader what they have stashed. I've seen what lurks inside Silver's private museums. If they weren't legal and aren't technically crimes against everything then I'd have probably tried to destroy a few of them. In any case, need anything else before I go?"
>Eyebrows raising in slight annoyance at something on screen, Anon's tone is desert dry.
"Not true at all, I've been able to retrieve much older objects from pre-transit. Remember the idiot that wanted a Humvee, then got it lost somewhere? That one was thirty years prior, found it in near perfect condition in a shipping container on the bottom of an ocean. Which, I have no idea.. Admittedly you could request a bag of artifacts but given the probabilities of one having what you want I'm not sure that's a useful effort, even worse if they shouldn't touch each other."
>Pointedly staring towards the object behind you, the gestalt half-wheezes before recovering.
"It's much more durable, that's all."
>That wasn't all.
"Swapped some materials for composites that're far less likely to wear down over time, tossed an armored housing over the power crystal, and gave it a little fine tuning."
>Half turning to the right for a few seconds, then back to you, Anonymous makes a short 'don't worry about it' motion.
"Riiiight.. the Noosphere. Fun fact, the human one here is painfully small but so far hasn't been damaged. Still, so long as you don't let anyone or anything fondle artifacts I'll try not to be too disgusted. So far as I knew damned near everything was safe for ponies to touch excluding those that are inherently hostile."
>Eyebrows raising as he takes a short drink through the mask, he sets the bottle down, midair of course, to tap on the screen.
"If that's how you feel then never ask a leader what they have stashed. I've seen what lurks inside Silver's private museums. If they weren't legal and aren't technically crimes against everything then I'd have probably tried to destroy a few of them. In any case, need anything else before I go?"
>>352343
"Eeeh, more like that there was a year or two between 'Great Emissions' that had a bounty of artefacts to find, just sitting on the ground for someone to take. Before and after, you'd need a detector to find them."
>He paused for a moment.
"None of them shouldn't react negatively if just tossed into a bag together. The radiation'll be a bitch though."
>His blank stare was more than enough to convey that Ivan did not in fact believe Anon's shit, but he let it go.
"I don't plan on it, unless I'm desperate enough to... what do the Americans say, 'chuck it like a football'?"
>He thinks for a moment, before snorting.
"If you do manage to grab a bag of artefacts while moving around I certainly won't complain. Unless its anomalous bread."
"Eeeh, more like that there was a year or two between 'Great Emissions' that had a bounty of artefacts to find, just sitting on the ground for someone to take. Before and after, you'd need a detector to find them."
>He paused for a moment.
"None of them shouldn't react negatively if just tossed into a bag together. The radiation'll be a bitch though."
>His blank stare was more than enough to convey that Ivan did not in fact believe Anon's shit, but he let it go.
"I don't plan on it, unless I'm desperate enough to... what do the Americans say, 'chuck it like a football'?"
>He thinks for a moment, before snorting.
"If you do manage to grab a bag of artefacts while moving around I certainly won't complain. Unless its anomalous bread."
>>352194 →
'correct. theres a few methods of safely adapting external objects to Tallus but the only one capable of that was Spiral, doubt his disciple can do the same. might as well ask her for several outfits when you do, shes been paid up front for an entire year of services, material costs are taken care of'
*"Consider dates here as high leisure social activities. Dates with a marecenary are rarely considered formal, nor is there an expectation of lewd activities following.. unless you request such acts."*
>Unspoken unease hangs as Chisan swivels on step past Lann, her left ear swiveling your direction, he holds the plain brown cardboard box in one hand on approach.
>Stopping to open the lid, you realize he was barely 5'10", mostly owing to the carapace boots and helmet.
>Ten definite nectar bearing, lightly glowing flowers are spaced out evenly inside, strangely without root systems.
"If you are allergic then do not inhale, they are otherwise safe. None contain known poisons, toxins, radioactives, mutagenics, or harmful metals."
>Handing over the box, the Scion turns to glance at the chunky mare who was once again absorbed in her work, this time creating a pair of lacy silk panties, human sized at least, he turns back to give the short battle-lingo gesture for 'yes'.
"The short version, if you would. You still have a date to attend and I will be unable to break from duties for the next two to three hours."
'correct. theres a few methods of safely adapting external objects to Tallus but the only one capable of that was Spiral, doubt his disciple can do the same. might as well ask her for several outfits when you do, shes been paid up front for an entire year of services, material costs are taken care of'
*"Consider dates here as high leisure social activities. Dates with a marecenary are rarely considered formal, nor is there an expectation of lewd activities following.. unless you request such acts."*
>Unspoken unease hangs as Chisan swivels on step past Lann, her left ear swiveling your direction, he holds the plain brown cardboard box in one hand on approach.
>Stopping to open the lid, you realize he was barely 5'10", mostly owing to the carapace boots and helmet.
>Ten definite nectar bearing, lightly glowing flowers are spaced out evenly inside, strangely without root systems.
"If you are allergic then do not inhale, they are otherwise safe. None contain known poisons, toxins, radioactives, mutagenics, or harmful metals."
>Handing over the box, the Scion turns to glance at the chunky mare who was once again absorbed in her work, this time creating a pair of lacy silk panties, human sized at least, he turns back to give the short battle-lingo gesture for 'yes'.
"The short version, if you would. You still have a date to attend and I will be unable to break from duties for the next two to three hours."
>>352347
(Several outfits. Noted! Thank you for your insights, noble Machine Spirit.)
(... Alas. I suspect I will be consulting you often once I get down to sitting at the library to study and acclimatize myself to Tallus a biiit more. I sincerely hope my ignorance does not incense you.)
>The Enginseer suddenly gains a spark of self-doubt, then once again gets that jarring, sinking realization at how she was speaking to the machine spirit as if they were a person...
>She didn't remember the last time she had lengthy conversations with a machine spirit. Maybe with her own Auspex. Though those were mostly "Rubber Ducky" kinds of conversations.
>...
>Mallia's brow furrowed with a slight, discomforted stare after the last part of Chisan's statement. Her smile doesn't ebb, but she dodges eye contact for a second. Up until the lid of the box was open, her stare dedicated to admiring the flowers Chisan had picked out.
"I have no allergies last I checked. Unless the arrival to Tallus gave me some that is."
>Remarked Mallia a bit off-handedly as she sniffed the flowers, and then seems to linger on them. A hint of melancholy passing through her glance, her face falling ever so subtly with traces of sadness.
>Then she snaps back from whatever train of thought had stolen her attention, turning her head to glance back to her rucksack on her back.
>She reaches back with one hand as she leans the box to her chest, opening the velcro pouch and using the mechadendrite to pinch up her rust-red coloured dataslate, the screen of it already alive as, with her MIU, she already spoke to the small machine spirit within to visualise the textual transcript of her conversation with the Rune Knight.
>The second machine spirit in her repertoire that knew every little thing about her, as it contained a variety of personal information on herself and her mother. Notes, schematics, streams of consciousness, recordings, pictures...
>Mallia moves the dataslate over to Chisan and more or less offers it to him so he can read at his leisure.
>The conversation there trascribed wasn't that long anyhow, and almost everything said was relevant as far as Mallia knew. Apart from maybe the part where she booped Elusine. But she didn't redact it.
"Thank you, Chisan."
>Mallia smiled at the stormtrooper sincerely.
"If you require aid picking out something to use the candle for, I know basically every type of lasweapon and then some, Mechanicus or otherwise. Infact--,"
>Mallia glances off, smirking briefly a little more.
"Perhaps even get some power armour. With how things have gone today we might even get to use it."
>Then refocuses her gaze on Chisan with a slight squint in her eye, looking over his cheap carapace armour with an annoyed stare, still in thought as she took backwards steps towards the outside of the workshop again; when and if Chisan took the dataslate from her.
(Several outfits. Noted! Thank you for your insights, noble Machine Spirit.)
(... Alas. I suspect I will be consulting you often once I get down to sitting at the library to study and acclimatize myself to Tallus a biiit more. I sincerely hope my ignorance does not incense you.)
>The Enginseer suddenly gains a spark of self-doubt, then once again gets that jarring, sinking realization at how she was speaking to the machine spirit as if they were a person...
>She didn't remember the last time she had lengthy conversations with a machine spirit. Maybe with her own Auspex. Though those were mostly "Rubber Ducky" kinds of conversations.
>...
>Mallia's brow furrowed with a slight, discomforted stare after the last part of Chisan's statement. Her smile doesn't ebb, but she dodges eye contact for a second. Up until the lid of the box was open, her stare dedicated to admiring the flowers Chisan had picked out.
"I have no allergies last I checked. Unless the arrival to Tallus gave me some that is."
>Remarked Mallia a bit off-handedly as she sniffed the flowers, and then seems to linger on them. A hint of melancholy passing through her glance, her face falling ever so subtly with traces of sadness.
>Then she snaps back from whatever train of thought had stolen her attention, turning her head to glance back to her rucksack on her back.
>She reaches back with one hand as she leans the box to her chest, opening the velcro pouch and using the mechadendrite to pinch up her rust-red coloured dataslate, the screen of it already alive as, with her MIU, she already spoke to the small machine spirit within to visualise the textual transcript of her conversation with the Rune Knight.
>The second machine spirit in her repertoire that knew every little thing about her, as it contained a variety of personal information on herself and her mother. Notes, schematics, streams of consciousness, recordings, pictures...
>Mallia moves the dataslate over to Chisan and more or less offers it to him so he can read at his leisure.
>The conversation there trascribed wasn't that long anyhow, and almost everything said was relevant as far as Mallia knew. Apart from maybe the part where she booped Elusine. But she didn't redact it.
"Thank you, Chisan."
>Mallia smiled at the stormtrooper sincerely.
"If you require aid picking out something to use the candle for, I know basically every type of lasweapon and then some, Mechanicus or otherwise. Infact--,"
>Mallia glances off, smirking briefly a little more.
"Perhaps even get some power armour. With how things have gone today we might even get to use it."
>Then refocuses her gaze on Chisan with a slight squint in her eye, looking over his cheap carapace armour with an annoyed stare, still in thought as she took backwards steps towards the outside of the workshop again; when and if Chisan took the dataslate from her.
File (): 498C84BA416D6C6947FAF8FE931AB382-215914.jpg (210.9 KB, 846x1238, Lont stressed!.jpeg)
>>352264
>As Lont took only what he believe he needed his head perked up at hearing a familiar voice.
>"Is that...?"
>His name was on the tip of Lonts' tongue, yet before he could say it or even give thanks for providing much needed information the Operator on the other end switched channels.
>Rolling his eyes under his helm he took his replacement grenade and Spiker ammo, turned on his heel and ran for the Pagoda.
"When this is over there would not be a single bullet or grenade pin left."
>Seeing the Kiowa disappear -without- any Unicorns stuffed inside Lont assumed Clemency did not catch him.
"Perhaps I did not send it?"
>He muttered to himself in confusion.
>Before Lont could see the vehicle that housed that engine Emerald screamed into his ear, he winced, wings flicking pinions out in response.
"Very loud and clear, thank you Emerald."
>He grunted before switching off his headset.
>"Avoid the Primal Psion? Ha! She does not need to tell me twice."
"What in the hell...?"
>Lont was speechless. He had never seen so many ponies in one place before. Different factions with different units all with different weapon and armour types with many customized to their personal preferences.
>It was a literal sea of clanking metal and thudding hooves. And there, with barely any room to move were his fellow humans. They manning barricades erected by Bren, her crew and other ponies. Along with Krinza somewhere in the village perhaps Lann was here too after all?
>He was dumbfounded, and annoyingly stood in the way of the veteran Operators that stormed past him. Their passing brushed against his sensitive wings however which in turn jolted him from his stupor.
>>352265
>And there. he felt it. The near undetectable sensation of pressure against his head. He knew this feeling and what it meant. He was now within the range of the Primal Psion and no doubt his thoughts were open to it like a book.
>With radios being silent this was the next best thing, so he begrudgingly let his guard down for the Overherd to root itself in his mind.
>Moving towards Bren Lont heard the ruckus of the surrounding pony formations grow awfully quiet. He soon saw why, and memories of Ferrundus filled his vision..
>His knees almost gave way under him as he finally looked upon the Tainted; hundreds if not thousands of those vapor ponies given form and amalgamated into giant parodies of Lunar and Solar Guardians. Worst of all it was a sizeable force charging towards the Basin. He had fought against giant robots and mechs back home, he was once again an ant against a mountain. This time however it was a herd of equines charging down an ant colony.
>Oh how he wished he did not wreck his Outrider back in the Crystal Empire.
>Gazing upon the disgustingly accurate armour of the Solar Guardians reminded Lont of his greatsword. He could not use it against such foes but it served him well in calming his nerves and focusing his mind, he will help destroy these sorrowful creatures for the honour of the late Sharonel.
('Power is not Strength. Honour is the essence that flows through life. Compassion is to be given freely to those in need. Gentleness guides those with Power, Honour, and Compassion. A Guardian stands for those that do not feel Power, Honour, Compassion, and Gentleness.')
[1d6 = 3] >Aligned Valour
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
>Although the scar was healed and no pain came from it, he felt a comforting warmth emanate from his breast as he steeled himself for a battle that will make or break the very Basin itself.
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] >M.o.S
>Repeating the mantra made him remember the trials he faced in the Spirethorn, he also recalled the peculiar pony Ash Kicker, whom was there partaking in her own journey too. Pulling his gaze away from the Tainted he looked out into the readied formations of ponies in hopes to see her. With so many ponies in once place the odds of her being here were much better than him aimlessly bumping into her by chance out in Equestria.
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] >E.Perception +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] >H.E
>>352277
>And then a great explosion ruffled his feathers. Where once there was a solid line of charging giants there was a sizable hole in the formation.
>Lont then saw the Tainted retaliate in kind.
>The battle had begun.
>Hearing the shrill voice of Emerald again the winged Operator was surprised by her being here.
"Her too? We must be in desperate times!"
>Whatever curiosity he had for the white box was gone when she shrieked about the Constructs being on their way.
"Constructs now? My what a lovely day to die again."
>He joked to himself, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation was becoming.
>A finger slowly pressed against a large bright pink primary feather attached to his helmet, with the involvement of the Constructs Lont decided then and there more reinforcements were needed. Now.
('Cadenza. We are in trouble.')
>He started. Although he was now part of the Overherd due to the Primal Psion Lont assured himself he was in a private communique with Princess Cadence. He did not want to do this, she was already under a mountain of stress and he felt like he was undoing everything he had achieved so far in relieving her of stress by personally dumping a new mountain on top of her by requesting assistance.
('The Basin Village is currently under assault by a large gathering of Tainted, they have grown into giants and are going to run us down. They are the restless bodies of Lunar and Solar Guardians. There are fortifications but they will not be enough. There are thousands of ponies here; Day, Night, Lunar, Watch Guard and Batpony units. A Primal Psion General of Stalliongrad leads them and it might not be enough. Worst of all-')
>He paused, a pained grimace upon his face.
('-A Construct Continental Invasion Cruiser is coming this way too, and has already launched units much more dangerous than the ones that attacked the Lunar Citadel.')
>Breathing deeply, Lont looked up to the sky to see if he could see the moon.
('Please, spare us any and all forces you can immediately muster.')
>As Lont took only what he believe he needed his head perked up at hearing a familiar voice.
>"Is that...?"
>His name was on the tip of Lonts' tongue, yet before he could say it or even give thanks for providing much needed information the Operator on the other end switched channels.
>Rolling his eyes under his helm he took his replacement grenade and Spiker ammo, turned on his heel and ran for the Pagoda.
"When this is over there would not be a single bullet or grenade pin left."
>Seeing the Kiowa disappear -without- any Unicorns stuffed inside Lont assumed Clemency did not catch him.
"Perhaps I did not send it?"
>He muttered to himself in confusion.
>Before Lont could see the vehicle that housed that engine Emerald screamed into his ear, he winced, wings flicking pinions out in response.
"Very loud and clear, thank you Emerald."
>He grunted before switching off his headset.
>"Avoid the Primal Psion? Ha! She does not need to tell me twice."
"What in the hell...?"
>Lont was speechless. He had never seen so many ponies in one place before. Different factions with different units all with different weapon and armour types with many customized to their personal preferences.
>It was a literal sea of clanking metal and thudding hooves. And there, with barely any room to move were his fellow humans. They manning barricades erected by Bren, her crew and other ponies. Along with Krinza somewhere in the village perhaps Lann was here too after all?
>He was dumbfounded, and annoyingly stood in the way of the veteran Operators that stormed past him. Their passing brushed against his sensitive wings however which in turn jolted him from his stupor.
>>352265
>And there. he felt it. The near undetectable sensation of pressure against his head. He knew this feeling and what it meant. He was now within the range of the Primal Psion and no doubt his thoughts were open to it like a book.
>With radios being silent this was the next best thing, so he begrudgingly let his guard down for the Overherd to root itself in his mind.
>Moving towards Bren Lont heard the ruckus of the surrounding pony formations grow awfully quiet. He soon saw why, and memories of Ferrundus filled his vision..
>His knees almost gave way under him as he finally looked upon the Tainted; hundreds if not thousands of those vapor ponies given form and amalgamated into giant parodies of Lunar and Solar Guardians. Worst of all it was a sizeable force charging towards the Basin. He had fought against giant robots and mechs back home, he was once again an ant against a mountain. This time however it was a herd of equines charging down an ant colony.
>Oh how he wished he did not wreck his Outrider back in the Crystal Empire.
>Gazing upon the disgustingly accurate armour of the Solar Guardians reminded Lont of his greatsword. He could not use it against such foes but it served him well in calming his nerves and focusing his mind, he will help destroy these sorrowful creatures for the honour of the late Sharonel.
('Power is not Strength. Honour is the essence that flows through life. Compassion is to be given freely to those in need. Gentleness guides those with Power, Honour, and Compassion. A Guardian stands for those that do not feel Power, Honour, Compassion, and Gentleness.')
[1d6 = 3] >Aligned Valour
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
>Although the scar was healed and no pain came from it, he felt a comforting warmth emanate from his breast as he steeled himself for a battle that will make or break the very Basin itself.
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] >M.o.S
>Repeating the mantra made him remember the trials he faced in the Spirethorn, he also recalled the peculiar pony Ash Kicker, whom was there partaking in her own journey too. Pulling his gaze away from the Tainted he looked out into the readied formations of ponies in hopes to see her. With so many ponies in once place the odds of her being here were much better than him aimlessly bumping into her by chance out in Equestria.
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] >E.Perception +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] >H.E
>>352277
>And then a great explosion ruffled his feathers. Where once there was a solid line of charging giants there was a sizable hole in the formation.
>Lont then saw the Tainted retaliate in kind.
>The battle had begun.
>Hearing the shrill voice of Emerald again the winged Operator was surprised by her being here.
"Her too? We must be in desperate times!"
>Whatever curiosity he had for the white box was gone when she shrieked about the Constructs being on their way.
"Constructs now? My what a lovely day to die again."
>He joked to himself, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation was becoming.
>A finger slowly pressed against a large bright pink primary feather attached to his helmet, with the involvement of the Constructs Lont decided then and there more reinforcements were needed. Now.
('Cadenza. We are in trouble.')
>He started. Although he was now part of the Overherd due to the Primal Psion Lont assured himself he was in a private communique with Princess Cadence. He did not want to do this, she was already under a mountain of stress and he felt like he was undoing everything he had achieved so far in relieving her of stress by personally dumping a new mountain on top of her by requesting assistance.
('The Basin Village is currently under assault by a large gathering of Tainted, they have grown into giants and are going to run us down. They are the restless bodies of Lunar and Solar Guardians. There are fortifications but they will not be enough. There are thousands of ponies here; Day, Night, Lunar, Watch Guard and Batpony units. A Primal Psion General of Stalliongrad leads them and it might not be enough. Worst of all-')
>He paused, a pained grimace upon his face.
('-A Construct Continental Invasion Cruiser is coming this way too, and has already launched units much more dangerous than the ones that attacked the Lunar Citadel.')
>Breathing deeply, Lont looked up to the sky to see if he could see the moon.
('Please, spare us any and all forces you can immediately muster.')
File (): 4ACB9E16D630C89BBF0F85C177A16B94-2445516.png (2.3 MB, 1200x2000, Jeff by Wyzar.png)
>>351636 →
>Smiling proudly at Carlos, Lejura's snout crinkles bemusedly.
"That was my intention. One of the first mares I bought was an excellent dietitian and ponial trainer. She was most persistent that everypony stayed in optimal shape save for colts and fillies. Left rear."
"That one was examined thoroughly, there are no complications from it that I am aware of but it is best to be sure."
>Sliding the plate over for Carlos, the inspection was quick: tiny lines of considerably older micro-scarring in the digital band and solar corium weren't impacting growth.
"Quite old, nothing of note there. How old were you at the time?"
"Nine and a quarter. I jumped off a natural waterfall, the rocks were quite slippery underneath. I was more concerned with the pain in my snout rather than my flanks or hoof."
"Did you learn from that experience?"
>The question was pointed enough that the Saddle Arabian bashfully stares ahead, chided once again.
"I did, yes."
>Returning the diagnostic spell to the Doctor, Nova frowns at the new information, leaning forwards to inspect the damage.
"That is indeed two serious long term health issues. I was planning on conducting a full physical examination tomorrow night or the following should there be fewer patients in serious need, and I do not know where my dam is. Hopefully she is destressing."
>Appraising the situation briefly, Lejura's face softens in recall as the right ear flicks in disgruntlemarent.
"I felt nothing in my chest save my heart pounding the entire time. The pain in my legs, eye, and everywhere else was all I could think of."
"Two hours of three limbs trapped and being unable to move? No, you would not have noticed due to your body continuously dumping chemicals. We can presume the adrenaline flow is linked to the damage."
>Giving a natural smile for once, the Ward nods her assent while setting the clipboard back in its spot.
"Agreed. Four crates of each full strength were delivered earlier, one was placed in each operating room and two for the main Clinic. I was also informed by General.. Kalatrine, I believe, that there are approximately five thousand elixirs in storage, so four will be no issue at all."
>Zero hesitation from the silver mare, she closes her left eye with a firm nod, relief tinging her face.
"I understand. Do so at your convenience."
>Eyes turning to one of the rear wall cabinets, two small white hardcases are floated to the operating table's rear along with a small flask, opened with a small nudge to draw out a pair of vials, one clear, one fluorescent blue.
"Magic and alchemicals should not be used for prolonged periods of time so a short term, fast acting natural sedative with a medium strength muscle relaxant to prevent convulsions or spasms should minimize the possibility of an overdose."
>Mixing the two together, then giving the flask a single swish its presented to the silver mare, quickly upended and swallowed with a grimace.
"The taste is not appealing?"
"Not when I can feel a hospital underneath the cover of berries."
"There will be a much better Empire style hospital here tonight, and you will be the first patient moved in after final inspection."
"Shall there be music, and will you bring me flowers?"
"If I sing, yes. Flowers are a bit mo-"
>Catching the byplay, Nova snickers quietly before patting the dusky silver mare's neck with a small red cloud.
"You almost got me that time."
"I tried."
>Setting the flask back in the rear and lifting out a green crate from atop the right side wall cabinets, four brightly glowing red bottles are set in front of Lejura's snout for a highly incredulous look.
"Look like flame-infused manabombs in an underwater bonfire. These are safe?"
"Three Crystal Kingdom Generals produced them earlier tonight. If they were not made to exacting specifications then each would have been greatly disappointed."
"...my stomach feels like butterflies are dancing inside."
"Good, that means you will be asleep soon. Are you warm enough?"
"For now, yes."
>Waiting for Lejura's attention to drift off, Nova returns the clipboard in front of her to modify the routine and note down alchemicals used, waiting for the amber eye to close.
>Immediately after soft, rhythmic breathing occurs, Nova replaces the board and float-walks in front of the Saddle Arabian, checking for eye activity.
>Finding none, the Ward leans the other mare's head up, quickly decorking the first bottle to pour down Lejura's throat at short intervals, repeating the process until all four are empty.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Alchemy
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6 = 1] <Minor Overdose Risk
>Sending the bottles back and keeping her focus on Lejura, Nova speaks quietly.
"Doctor, are there other considerations for her besides updated care and monitoring? I would also like to conduct a thorough examination of the Pred-Elk Astral Poinsettia, she is the one with spinal fractures. I was unable to examine her when both were brought in. I do not have any knowledge of their physiology, and my dam's Analysis spell may not last much longer."
>Smiling proudly at Carlos, Lejura's snout crinkles bemusedly.
"That was my intention. One of the first mares I bought was an excellent dietitian and ponial trainer. She was most persistent that everypony stayed in optimal shape save for colts and fillies. Left rear."
"That one was examined thoroughly, there are no complications from it that I am aware of but it is best to be sure."
>Sliding the plate over for Carlos, the inspection was quick: tiny lines of considerably older micro-scarring in the digital band and solar corium weren't impacting growth.
"Quite old, nothing of note there. How old were you at the time?"
"Nine and a quarter. I jumped off a natural waterfall, the rocks were quite slippery underneath. I was more concerned with the pain in my snout rather than my flanks or hoof."
"Did you learn from that experience?"
>The question was pointed enough that the Saddle Arabian bashfully stares ahead, chided once again.
"I did, yes."
>Returning the diagnostic spell to the Doctor, Nova frowns at the new information, leaning forwards to inspect the damage.
"That is indeed two serious long term health issues. I was planning on conducting a full physical examination tomorrow night or the following should there be fewer patients in serious need, and I do not know where my dam is. Hopefully she is destressing."
>Appraising the situation briefly, Lejura's face softens in recall as the right ear flicks in disgruntlemarent.
"I felt nothing in my chest save my heart pounding the entire time. The pain in my legs, eye, and everywhere else was all I could think of."
"Two hours of three limbs trapped and being unable to move? No, you would not have noticed due to your body continuously dumping chemicals. We can presume the adrenaline flow is linked to the damage."
>Giving a natural smile for once, the Ward nods her assent while setting the clipboard back in its spot.
"Agreed. Four crates of each full strength were delivered earlier, one was placed in each operating room and two for the main Clinic. I was also informed by General.. Kalatrine, I believe, that there are approximately five thousand elixirs in storage, so four will be no issue at all."
>Zero hesitation from the silver mare, she closes her left eye with a firm nod, relief tinging her face.
"I understand. Do so at your convenience."
>Eyes turning to one of the rear wall cabinets, two small white hardcases are floated to the operating table's rear along with a small flask, opened with a small nudge to draw out a pair of vials, one clear, one fluorescent blue.
"Magic and alchemicals should not be used for prolonged periods of time so a short term, fast acting natural sedative with a medium strength muscle relaxant to prevent convulsions or spasms should minimize the possibility of an overdose."
>Mixing the two together, then giving the flask a single swish its presented to the silver mare, quickly upended and swallowed with a grimace.
"The taste is not appealing?"
"Not when I can feel a hospital underneath the cover of berries."
"There will be a much better Empire style hospital here tonight, and you will be the first patient moved in after final inspection."
"Shall there be music, and will you bring me flowers?"
"If I sing, yes. Flowers are a bit mo-"
>Catching the byplay, Nova snickers quietly before patting the dusky silver mare's neck with a small red cloud.
"You almost got me that time."
"I tried."
>Setting the flask back in the rear and lifting out a green crate from atop the right side wall cabinets, four brightly glowing red bottles are set in front of Lejura's snout for a highly incredulous look.
"Look like flame-infused manabombs in an underwater bonfire. These are safe?"
"Three Crystal Kingdom Generals produced them earlier tonight. If they were not made to exacting specifications then each would have been greatly disappointed."
"...my stomach feels like butterflies are dancing inside."
"Good, that means you will be asleep soon. Are you warm enough?"
"For now, yes."
>Waiting for Lejura's attention to drift off, Nova returns the clipboard in front of her to modify the routine and note down alchemicals used, waiting for the amber eye to close.
>Immediately after soft, rhythmic breathing occurs, Nova replaces the board and float-walks in front of the Saddle Arabian, checking for eye activity.
>Finding none, the Ward leans the other mare's head up, quickly decorking the first bottle to pour down Lejura's throat at short intervals, repeating the process until all four are empty.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Alchemy
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6 = 1] <Minor Overdose Risk
>Sending the bottles back and keeping her focus on Lejura, Nova speaks quietly.
"Doctor, are there other considerations for her besides updated care and monitoring? I would also like to conduct a thorough examination of the Pred-Elk Astral Poinsettia, she is the one with spinal fractures. I was unable to examine her when both were brought in. I do not have any knowledge of their physiology, and my dam's Analysis spell may not last much longer."
>>352200 →
>Setting her entire focus to a new problem, Wild's left fist is caught by the first cluster as it impacts the Planar's side, then partially snared by a second, three of her tendrils lancing short red bursts into the masses while another one misfires with a strained whine.
"Stubborn bastard, let go so I can shoot you instead!"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1208/????HP
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4] <E.Counter
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 2]
>vs:
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] >TC#1
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] >TC#2
>Finally shearing the right side's remaining tentacle off to flop onto sand and spasm, the laser-welder units swivel about to fire at the Rilvenni's eyes.
"Is it possible to kill this one through pain or does it have to die unnaturally!?"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,268/????HP
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #8
>Steadied on her feet now, Wild's position was braced enough that even if the monstrosity could move out of water there was little risk of toppling her.
"Finally! Now maybe this fucker will choke out of water!"
>The snapping of yet more internal components under thoroughly crumpled armor occurs from the sickening tongue's grasp, both it and her hand unable to let go though Wild does manage to tear something apart in it from sheer force alone.
"One more like that and this arm will be useless-"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,333/????HP
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Assault
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] >Squeeze
>A calm, pleasing sense takes over, the dual harmonies of scorching heat and crashing cold accept your request.. though nature must, of course, take its sweet time to do so.
>Setting her entire focus to a new problem, Wild's left fist is caught by the first cluster as it impacts the Planar's side, then partially snared by a second, three of her tendrils lancing short red bursts into the masses while another one misfires with a strained whine.
"Stubborn bastard, let go so I can shoot you instead!"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1208/????HP
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4] <E.Counter
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 2]
>vs:
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] >TC#1
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] >TC#2
>Finally shearing the right side's remaining tentacle off to flop onto sand and spasm, the laser-welder units swivel about to fire at the Rilvenni's eyes.
"Is it possible to kill this one through pain or does it have to die unnaturally!?"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,268/????HP
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #8
>Steadied on her feet now, Wild's position was braced enough that even if the monstrosity could move out of water there was little risk of toppling her.
"Finally! Now maybe this fucker will choke out of water!"
>The snapping of yet more internal components under thoroughly crumpled armor occurs from the sickening tongue's grasp, both it and her hand unable to let go though Wild does manage to tear something apart in it from sheer force alone.
"One more like that and this arm will be useless-"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,333/????HP
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Assault
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] >Squeeze
>A calm, pleasing sense takes over, the dual harmonies of scorching heat and crashing cold accept your request.. though nature must, of course, take its sweet time to do so.
>>352405
"Keep the ammo for the moment, we may need it later!"
>...
"Unless you can make more, of course."
>I wish I had a 122 right now.
"Well it certainly fucking hates us now, so maybe!"
>Even with being almost certain it was helpless to get us down now, I twitch Wild back a bit to keep us safe.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] >E. Perception
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] >B. Riposte/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
>Grimacing at the noises that her arm was making, I was silently pleading for whatever I did to fucking work.
>And to not hit us.
"Keep the ammo for the moment, we may need it later!"
>...
"Unless you can make more, of course."
>I wish I had a 122 right now.
"Well it certainly fucking hates us now, so maybe!"
>Even with being almost certain it was helpless to get us down now, I twitch Wild back a bit to keep us safe.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] >E. Perception
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] >B. Riposte/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
>Grimacing at the noises that her arm was making, I was silently pleading for whatever I did to fucking work.
>And to not hit us.
>>352148 →
>Tail flicking away from the fire once more, Sand Cutter's eyes shift upwards with a half-guilty smile.
"Some knowledge I have, yes. Close friend made trips to Moors often, a few brought with her to home she did. Great fun they offer at whim and will, yet jealous they are not. One to one is their play. Unheard of is a batpony mare to take let another."
>Reveling in the warmth and company, the red earth mare scoots herself out to a safer distance, legs curled under her and side directly in line of the comfortable fire.
"Psions move, create, speak with thoughts. Green lances of false-flame at range first, shields second. Touching minds of earth ponies favored. Honor holds psions often: harm not mind of others."
>Snorting faintly, Sand tips her head back in a vaguely proud marener.
"None disallow history be learned. Tower Guard's Keep be easiest, offer copies of all scrolls, books, tomes, gladly they will."
>Right side of her muzzle quirking back in slight disgust, her face twists in contempt.
"Few hold markets black of rare and exotic objects. Lucky's sire founded in Las Pegasus thirty years afore, killed that thief was too late. Nine years afore now Lucky sent Rogues to pillage artifacts, relics, sacred objects of marely lands. Gryphon, Hegemony, Solar, Lunar, Moors, Prance, Germaneigh and more. Thefts stirred rumors and interest great: sold artifacts, relics, sacred objects for royal prices Lucky did. Know you claw of First Gryphon Overking? Stolen of a Chamber it was, where I know not. Sold of four hundred thousand Bits she did to Razorback. Bragged of it loud and often she did. Only consent by sign or stamp of Treaty are sacred objects given. Thousands more she stole, some known to me."
>Rigid and still for ten seconds, Sand Cutter relents to bow her head tiredly.
"Little care of wounds in Razorback I had. To feel sun and earth again I begged. Naive of me such was. Travel I will not this night."
>Tail flicking away from the fire once more, Sand Cutter's eyes shift upwards with a half-guilty smile.
"Some knowledge I have, yes. Close friend made trips to Moors often, a few brought with her to home she did. Great fun they offer at whim and will, yet jealous they are not. One to one is their play. Unheard of is a batpony mare to take let another."
>Reveling in the warmth and company, the red earth mare scoots herself out to a safer distance, legs curled under her and side directly in line of the comfortable fire.
"Psions move, create, speak with thoughts. Green lances of false-flame at range first, shields second. Touching minds of earth ponies favored. Honor holds psions often: harm not mind of others."
>Snorting faintly, Sand tips her head back in a vaguely proud marener.
"None disallow history be learned. Tower Guard's Keep be easiest, offer copies of all scrolls, books, tomes, gladly they will."
>Right side of her muzzle quirking back in slight disgust, her face twists in contempt.
"Few hold markets black of rare and exotic objects. Lucky's sire founded in Las Pegasus thirty years afore, killed that thief was too late. Nine years afore now Lucky sent Rogues to pillage artifacts, relics, sacred objects of marely lands. Gryphon, Hegemony, Solar, Lunar, Moors, Prance, Germaneigh and more. Thefts stirred rumors and interest great: sold artifacts, relics, sacred objects for royal prices Lucky did. Know you claw of First Gryphon Overking? Stolen of a Chamber it was, where I know not. Sold of four hundred thousand Bits she did to Razorback. Bragged of it loud and often she did. Only consent by sign or stamp of Treaty are sacred objects given. Thousands more she stole, some known to me."
>Rigid and still for ten seconds, Sand Cutter relents to bow her head tiredly.
"Little care of wounds in Razorback I had. To feel sun and earth again I begged. Naive of me such was. Travel I will not this night."
>>352244 →
>Pulling her lips back to smile politely, Dul's eyes brighten, flattening her ears in poorly hidden humor.
"Old Sirens know lots ways make Planar things not-stupid. Dul not know some but Dul like use fun ways first."
>Regaining her composure smoothly, Rasera's eyes close while tipping her head left in thanks, first to you, then at the Siren.
<Japoneighse> "Those of the Vortex whom carry respect are well loved, as they should be."
>Settling the topic, she takes on a subdued cast, scuffing the ground with a front hoof in gratitude.
<Japoneighse> "Your task honors a priest of the dead and a missing loved one, it would be among the greatest of crimes not to share all that can be. Were I to know what this castle held before leaving I would have asked my ancestors to carry far more."
>Returning the bow deeply, Rasera turns to address the dragon-spirits, the warriors folding themselves back into paper lanterns once more.
<Japoneighse> "A new letter please. We must ask the privilege to trade far more trinkets and gifts."
>Taking the box on her saddle, Dul keeps it steady using faint purple lines to hold it, merrily humming as she skate-slides after you.
>Rear doors down, there was a water camo duffel bag loaded down on the right side and numerous Crystal Empire jugs of half-frozen water.
>Barely paying attention to the armored vehicle, Dul was far more interested in the strange scents wafting around, and was passing all the opportunities to taste everything.
[1d6 = 6] <Vortex Adapt: Tallus
>Naliyna and Bubba were still in the Pagoda going through displayed records, now tracking down hundreds of sacred items ponies from Tartarus Isle had purchased.
>Back in the Enclave once more, Dul is barely noticed by the Lorekeepers, only Crystal ponies immediately pausing their work to stare at her.
>Reaching the weapon exhibit tables and perusing what was on display, the Siren immediately takes the Riftdrowner vines, placing one on each shoulder.
>Testing them out by moving the box of feathers around and above her, Dul flashes a grin at the tangled razor-like vines flexing in sync.
"Dul like meet new friend? Or is friends? Dul not mind."
>Inspecting the Altinier Core for a quarter minute, giving up after realizing it was Ethereal, the rest of the selection was similarly passed by.
>Nearly passing the Volkanist Lojier, Dul halts by it, ears swiveling around until she turns to face the relic.
>Head cocking left, the two seem to have a conversation that involves tiny flares of flame and Planar essence being emitted in specific patterns closely resembling wavelengths.
>Nodding once, the left set of Riftdrowner vines reach out to grasp the tome and hold it up triumphantly.
"Dul find other new friend too! Dul Vortex like Flame Vortex, lots memories."
>Checking the armor section, Dul strictly refuses to be near the Rage armor, instead poking the Waning Moon set with her snout.
"Mmmm... lots heavy for Dul. Dul think no things here small for Dul wear."
>Spinning around to face the translocation matrice and quickly sliding towards it, she calls over the box back at you before dissipating into a sand and ocean blue striped gateway.
"Dul make Crin feathers not-stupid now! Dul deliver good feathers soon!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Vortex Purification
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>Pulling her lips back to smile politely, Dul's eyes brighten, flattening her ears in poorly hidden humor.
"Old Sirens know lots ways make Planar things not-stupid. Dul not know some but Dul like use fun ways first."
>Regaining her composure smoothly, Rasera's eyes close while tipping her head left in thanks, first to you, then at the Siren.
<Japoneighse> "Those of the Vortex whom carry respect are well loved, as they should be."
>Settling the topic, she takes on a subdued cast, scuffing the ground with a front hoof in gratitude.
<Japoneighse> "Your task honors a priest of the dead and a missing loved one, it would be among the greatest of crimes not to share all that can be. Were I to know what this castle held before leaving I would have asked my ancestors to carry far more."
>Returning the bow deeply, Rasera turns to address the dragon-spirits, the warriors folding themselves back into paper lanterns once more.
<Japoneighse> "A new letter please. We must ask the privilege to trade far more trinkets and gifts."
>Taking the box on her saddle, Dul keeps it steady using faint purple lines to hold it, merrily humming as she skate-slides after you.
>Rear doors down, there was a water camo duffel bag loaded down on the right side and numerous Crystal Empire jugs of half-frozen water.
>Barely paying attention to the armored vehicle, Dul was far more interested in the strange scents wafting around, and was passing all the opportunities to taste everything.
[1d6 = 6] <Vortex Adapt: Tallus
>Naliyna and Bubba were still in the Pagoda going through displayed records, now tracking down hundreds of sacred items ponies from Tartarus Isle had purchased.
>Back in the Enclave once more, Dul is barely noticed by the Lorekeepers, only Crystal ponies immediately pausing their work to stare at her.
>Reaching the weapon exhibit tables and perusing what was on display, the Siren immediately takes the Riftdrowner vines, placing one on each shoulder.
>Testing them out by moving the box of feathers around and above her, Dul flashes a grin at the tangled razor-like vines flexing in sync.
"Dul like meet new friend? Or is friends? Dul not mind."
>Inspecting the Altinier Core for a quarter minute, giving up after realizing it was Ethereal, the rest of the selection was similarly passed by.
>Nearly passing the Volkanist Lojier, Dul halts by it, ears swiveling around until she turns to face the relic.
>Head cocking left, the two seem to have a conversation that involves tiny flares of flame and Planar essence being emitted in specific patterns closely resembling wavelengths.
>Nodding once, the left set of Riftdrowner vines reach out to grasp the tome and hold it up triumphantly.
"Dul find other new friend too! Dul Vortex like Flame Vortex, lots memories."
>Checking the armor section, Dul strictly refuses to be near the Rage armor, instead poking the Waning Moon set with her snout.
"Mmmm... lots heavy for Dul. Dul think no things here small for Dul wear."
>Spinning around to face the translocation matrice and quickly sliding towards it, she calls over the box back at you before dissipating into a sand and ocean blue striped gateway.
"Dul make Crin feathers not-stupid now! Dul deliver good feathers soon!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Vortex Purification
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>>352430
>Standing by as Dul peruses, he checks the progress of his A.I.'s synchronizations.
"Progress report. Are we at full operational status?"
>Nodding as Dul finishes her selections, he begins to follow her.
"Good. Now how long will you ne-.."
>Realizing she was going to translocate right then and there, he half raises an arm to interject yet she had already disappeared into what appeared to be a beach.
>He shakes his head, sighing lightly as he finds somewhere to sit near the matrice.
(No choice but to wait. Can only hope it proceeds quickly.)
>Standing by as Dul peruses, he checks the progress of his A.I.'s synchronizations.
"Progress report. Are we at full operational status?"
>Nodding as Dul finishes her selections, he begins to follow her.
"Good. Now how long will you ne-.."
>Realizing she was going to translocate right then and there, he half raises an arm to interject yet she had already disappeared into what appeared to be a beach.
>He shakes his head, sighing lightly as he finds somewhere to sit near the matrice.
(No choice but to wait. Can only hope it proceeds quickly.)
File (): 69F5037215DBD5F75B5439776335AA9C-2663433.png (2.5 MB, 1200x2000, Jeff by Wyzar.png)
>>352406
"If everything wasn't damaged or offline I could produce more but right now would be a great time to use at least one shell!"
>Wrenching her still ensnared left arm to punch into the tightly gripping cluster of tentacles, armor begins to buckle as the sets of laser-welders score only minor hits or burn the surface layers with little effect.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,363/????HP
"Fucker has too many eyes to take out, wish I had a shotgun instead-"
>Redirecting her other four tendrils to assist in freeing her left arm from their work, two red bolts collapse a pair of eyes inwards, though #6 and #8 were too damaged, misfiring again.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,398/????HP
[1d6 = 5] <E.Counter
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #8
>vs:
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] >TC#1
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] >TC#2
>Unable to crawl without it's largest tentacles, the Rilvenni's dozens of smaller ones begin to cluster and drag on sand, desperately trying to force itself backwards against the Eldritch-Android's much greater weight.
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] >TC#3
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] >TC#4
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] >TC#5
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] >TC#6
>Frame holding steady against the still minimal force, Wild's right elbow suffers a harsh series of keening snap noise at the tongue's grasp, which she returns with enough force to throttle the mass of pulsing red-orange muscles.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,473/????HP
>The hand releases, her right arm groaning as it slides back while the obscenely long tongue lands on sand limply.
"All right arm linkages below the elbow destroyed, can't move it!"
>A faint breeze of warm, clean sea air spreads into the cabin, followed by a wave of flames rippling across the Planar monstrosity's rear mass of tentacles, the creature for once shrieking out of water in a trio of warbled, guttural echoes that choke off as it struggles to breathe.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,503/????HP
>What you first thought to be a number of small bombs whistling down arrive in the form of human-height icicles spearing across the Rilvenni's entire central mass, most lodging in deeply enough to penetrate the outer mass.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,560/????HP
>Spurts of deep red-orange ichor pool the area surrounding it are added to as the mass of flesh ripples in agony, the creature bleeding out in barrels worth now yet still hanging on.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,660/????HP
"WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!"
"If everything wasn't damaged or offline I could produce more but right now would be a great time to use at least one shell!"
>Wrenching her still ensnared left arm to punch into the tightly gripping cluster of tentacles, armor begins to buckle as the sets of laser-welders score only minor hits or burn the surface layers with little effect.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,363/????HP
"Fucker has too many eyes to take out, wish I had a shotgun instead-"
>Redirecting her other four tendrils to assist in freeing her left arm from their work, two red bolts collapse a pair of eyes inwards, though #6 and #8 were too damaged, misfiring again.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,398/????HP
[1d6 = 5] <E.Counter
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #8
>vs:
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] >TC#1
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] >TC#2
>Unable to crawl without it's largest tentacles, the Rilvenni's dozens of smaller ones begin to cluster and drag on sand, desperately trying to force itself backwards against the Eldritch-Android's much greater weight.
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] >TC#3
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] >TC#4
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] >TC#5
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] >TC#6
>Frame holding steady against the still minimal force, Wild's right elbow suffers a harsh series of keening snap noise at the tongue's grasp, which she returns with enough force to throttle the mass of pulsing red-orange muscles.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,473/????HP
>The hand releases, her right arm groaning as it slides back while the obscenely long tongue lands on sand limply.
"All right arm linkages below the elbow destroyed, can't move it!"
>A faint breeze of warm, clean sea air spreads into the cabin, followed by a wave of flames rippling across the Planar monstrosity's rear mass of tentacles, the creature for once shrieking out of water in a trio of warbled, guttural echoes that choke off as it struggles to breathe.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,503/????HP
>What you first thought to be a number of small bombs whistling down arrive in the form of human-height icicles spearing across the Rilvenni's entire central mass, most lodging in deeply enough to penetrate the outer mass.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,560/????HP
>Spurts of deep red-orange ichor pool the area surrounding it are added to as the mass of flesh ripples in agony, the creature bleeding out in barrels worth now yet still hanging on.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,660/????HP
"WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!"
>>352478
>I could only wonder what a large bore shotgun would look like in Wild's hands.
>The shells would probably be stuffed with large ball bearings.
>Seeing that it was trying to escape back into the surf, I'd counter by tugging on Wild's controls, doing my best to use her to keep it in place, or slow it down.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] >E. Perception
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] >B. Riposte/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
"Fine, fuck it! Shoot the son of a bitch, try to hit whatever this goddamn thing has for a brain!"
>Head usually meant brain, at least.
>I could only wonder what a large bore shotgun would look like in Wild's hands.
>The shells would probably be stuffed with large ball bearings.
>Seeing that it was trying to escape back into the surf, I'd counter by tugging on Wild's controls, doing my best to use her to keep it in place, or slow it down.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] >E. Perception
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] >B. Riposte/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
"Fine, fuck it! Shoot the son of a bitch, try to hit whatever this goddamn thing has for a brain!"
>Head usually meant brain, at least.
>>352479
>Suffering a trailing wrap of thin armor dents across her left forearm, the repair tendrils' massed fire into the clusters succeeds in freeing her arm entirely, severing a number of the tentacles and searing more.
"Finally!"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,760/????HP
>Realizing the abomination was trying to escape, the octuplet of repair tendrils rear back and take aim at the masses of tentacles dragging it back towards the ocean.
"I'M NOT LETTING YOU LIVE AFTER ALL THIS!"
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
>Separated into its own mission, one of the tendrils disappears upwards to grab onto the sole fuel canister remaining, first politely removing the fuel cap, then hurling it onto the Rilvenni.
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #8
>Reaching down to grab the massively oversized pistol with a comically small cannon chambering, she hefts it up into view of the left screen.
"Checking for damage to motivators and linking-"
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
>Straining back on the control sticks, the Rilvenni had completely let go, its clusters acquiring enough hold on the sand to drag itself backwards at a power-jogging rate, small ichor streams and pools of the viscous fluid scattered everywhere.
>The crackling of burnt Planar flesh and ice spears jammed into it continue adding their own misery, the Planar's body starting to convulse in gore-drenched spasms.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,880/????HP
"WE'LL SEE IF IT DOES REAL QUICK!"
>Ignoring her own warnings, Wild swings The Scar into line with the monstrous head, squeezing the trigger once after brief calculation.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Small Cannons
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>Suffering a trailing wrap of thin armor dents across her left forearm, the repair tendrils' massed fire into the clusters succeeds in freeing her arm entirely, severing a number of the tentacles and searing more.
"Finally!"
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,760/????HP
>Realizing the abomination was trying to escape, the octuplet of repair tendrils rear back and take aim at the masses of tentacles dragging it back towards the ocean.
"I'M NOT LETTING YOU LIVE AFTER ALL THIS!"
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 6] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
>Separated into its own mission, one of the tendrils disappears upwards to grab onto the sole fuel canister remaining, first politely removing the fuel cap, then hurling it onto the Rilvenni.
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #8
>Reaching down to grab the massively oversized pistol with a comically small cannon chambering, she hefts it up into view of the left screen.
"Checking for damage to motivators and linking-"
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
>Straining back on the control sticks, the Rilvenni had completely let go, its clusters acquiring enough hold on the sand to drag itself backwards at a power-jogging rate, small ichor streams and pools of the viscous fluid scattered everywhere.
>The crackling of burnt Planar flesh and ice spears jammed into it continue adding their own misery, the Planar's body starting to convulse in gore-drenched spasms.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,880/????HP
"WE'LL SEE IF IT DOES REAL QUICK!"
>Ignoring her own warnings, Wild swings The Scar into line with the monstrous head, squeezing the trigger once after brief calculation.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Small Cannons
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>>352481
>A grim smirk appeared as Wild finally wrenched her arm free.
"Fucking finally, its definitely trying to run."
>This son of a bitch was not making it back to whatever lair it called home.
"Fuck the Constructs, we're killing this thing now."
>Watching her heft the 'pistol' into view, I take a brief moment to observe it.
>And then focus on the beast as she fires.
>I was not one for gore, but I'd most certainly be satisfied with seeing this thing die.
>A grim smirk appeared as Wild finally wrenched her arm free.
"Fucking finally, its definitely trying to run."
>This son of a bitch was not making it back to whatever lair it called home.
"Fuck the Constructs, we're killing this thing now."
>Watching her heft the 'pistol' into view, I take a brief moment to observe it.
>And then focus on the beast as she fires.
>I was not one for gore, but I'd most certainly be satisfied with seeing this thing die.
>>352483
>Delivering five eye-searing lances of red into the clusters that were dragging it back into the ocean, rivulets of pulsing ichor and sheared off tentacles slowing its progress.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,960/????HP
>Unable to lift it's body and move, the Rilvenni suffices for dragging itself in lurches, the clusters scooping into sand and pushing itself back.
>Fuming at the escaping Planar, all tendrils converge on the fuel can smacking down on the upper right of its body, the flammable liquid gouting out from the opening.
"IF YOU WON'T STAY STILL THEN BURN WHILE YOU CRAWL!"
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #8
>Having only seen the weapon once, right before you were shoved into the [REDACTED] cell Wild called her chest cabin, it was a heavily overbuilt, much too futuristic black semi-automatic, carved channels across the surface making tasteful decorations between the white and orange striped accents.
>It could only have been prototyped by too much exposure to art and weapons.
>Or mad science crossed with Eldritch humor.
>Swinging her mostly useless right arm in front of the open hatch to shield you, the view on screen shows The Scar's hammer snapping down, a fairly impressive boom cracking out after.
>You were fairly sure mild tinnitus could be cured.
>Traveling much quicker than you could see, the impression of a 3.3CM hole appears left and below center of the Rilvenni's head, the red-orange pulsing flesh straining inwards, then the entrance bulges outwards as jets of darker liquids are disgorged.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,099/????HP
>Still dragging itself backwards, Wild's fury reaches maximum levels, her left arm absorbing the recoil with little stress and lining up for another shot, the expended casing thudding on sand to her right.
"MOM DO SOMETHING IT'S NOT DEAD YET!"
>Centering on the head again, the left screen's view shows her squeezing the trigger again.
"YOU STARTED ALL THIS YOU LITTLE SHITBAG! RUNNING LIKE A COWARD ONLY MAKES YOU DIE SLOWER!"
[1d6 = 1] <Eldritch Taunt
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <E.Small Cannons
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>Whether half dead or simply unable to care, the Planar hybrid's body was partially deflate, even more so from the numerous just severed tentacles and new puncture.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,229/????HP
>Delivering five eye-searing lances of red into the clusters that were dragging it back into the ocean, rivulets of pulsing ichor and sheared off tentacles slowing its progress.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 1,960/????HP
>Unable to lift it's body and move, the Rilvenni suffices for dragging itself in lurches, the clusters scooping into sand and pushing itself back.
>Fuming at the escaping Planar, all tendrils converge on the fuel can smacking down on the upper right of its body, the flammable liquid gouting out from the opening.
"IF YOU WON'T STAY STILL THEN BURN WHILE YOU CRAWL!"
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #8
>Having only seen the weapon once, right before you were shoved into the [REDACTED] cell Wild called her chest cabin, it was a heavily overbuilt, much too futuristic black semi-automatic, carved channels across the surface making tasteful decorations between the white and orange striped accents.
>It could only have been prototyped by too much exposure to art and weapons.
>Or mad science crossed with Eldritch humor.
>Swinging her mostly useless right arm in front of the open hatch to shield you, the view on screen shows The Scar's hammer snapping down, a fairly impressive boom cracking out after.
>You were fairly sure mild tinnitus could be cured.
>Traveling much quicker than you could see, the impression of a 3.3CM hole appears left and below center of the Rilvenni's head, the red-orange pulsing flesh straining inwards, then the entrance bulges outwards as jets of darker liquids are disgorged.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,099/????HP
>Still dragging itself backwards, Wild's fury reaches maximum levels, her left arm absorbing the recoil with little stress and lining up for another shot, the expended casing thudding on sand to her right.
"MOM DO SOMETHING IT'S NOT DEAD YET!"
>Centering on the head again, the left screen's view shows her squeezing the trigger again.
"YOU STARTED ALL THIS YOU LITTLE SHITBAG! RUNNING LIKE A COWARD ONLY MAKES YOU DIE SLOWER!"
[1d6 = 1] <Eldritch Taunt
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <E.Small Cannons
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>Whether half dead or simply unable to care, the Planar hybrid's body was partially deflate, even more so from the numerous just severed tentacles and new puncture.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,229/????HP
>>352484
"All I can fucking do is shoot at it or add to the fire!"
>Snarling at its insistence on escaping, I move around the cockpit and grab my rifle after steadying Wild's stance.
>Quickly checking it for damage, I shoulder it, aiming out of the gaping hole in Wild's torso.
"Don't cover up that hole in your chest, I'm using it!"
>What I wouldn't give for a PTRD.
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] >E. Battle Rifles+Steadied+Scope/ISTCM
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
"All I can fucking do is shoot at it or add to the fire!"
>Snarling at its insistence on escaping, I move around the cockpit and grab my rifle after steadying Wild's stance.
>Quickly checking it for damage, I shoulder it, aiming out of the gaping hole in Wild's torso.
"Don't cover up that hole in your chest, I'm using it!"
>What I wouldn't give for a PTRD.
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] >E. Battle Rifles+Steadied+Scope/ISTCM
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
Lost in the Crag Moors: Wild's SEVERELY Damaged EVERYTHING.
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.352487
File (): 3331976B7C75E4D9275F69C294EFEED7-50273.png (49.1 KB, 1570x1537, Op Major Success.png)
>>352486
>Eight lances of red strike into and around the fuel can, partially detonating it in a spray of burning hydrocarbons that spreads across the patch on top of its head.
>At least you couldn't smell that mess yet.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,334/????HP
>Aim wide left and down from the head's center, the second cannon shell tears through the Planar's mass of secondary tentacles and deep into the body, though this time only a few small jets of orange-red gore spout from the wound.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,496/????HP
>Between a large enough clearance under the screen's left side and your daughteru's completely still frame, settling an arm over the control sticks to make a rest, through the scope you sight on the malformed, barely flesh pulsing flesh of its head.
>Stroking the trigger, a small pony kicks your shoulder as the ringing crack starts to vibrate in the cabin.
>Traveling up and slightly right from center, the bullet's path drives a small channel through unresisting Planar flesh.
>Unknown Rilvenni Subtype: SLAIN.
>Falling heavily onto its left side, the Rilvenni's ruined jaw holds still, its tongue limp as the orange-red skin ceases moving.
>What little fluid mass that remained in the body was no longer pulsing, instead small, feeble droplets of ichor staining the sand below.
>Tendrils still raised over her head, the Eldritch-Android's weapon remains aimed at the unmoving monstrosity.
"....initiating repairs on my secondary repair nodes and scanning the corpse. If it moves we're shooting it. Twice if it twitches. Three times if it twitches again."
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
*****
>Natilda gains: +6XP
>Natilda's status upgraded to: Beloved Mother
>Crag Moors reputation gained: +10
*****
>Wild moves her right arm away and back onto her side, the elbow hanging uselessly with a thunk, and immediately a white stone doorway opens 5M from the hatch opening, Anonymous stepping out in his formal business suit-
>Only to fall twelve meters straight down while shouting in half-surprise, half-fear.
"WHAT THE FU-"
>The thump wasn't amusing, but the silence from Wild afterwards was painful.
"I'm okay! Just a little sand.. and everything smells horrible down here. One second-"
>The doorway shifts close enough to nearly touch the screen in front of you, Anon reappearing to sit down on the edge, tossing a familiar silver disc out to land in front of your boots.
"There we go. Now do I have to ask what this-"
>Pointing a green hand upwards.
"Is or should I go before anything weird happens?"
>Eight lances of red strike into and around the fuel can, partially detonating it in a spray of burning hydrocarbons that spreads across the patch on top of its head.
>At least you couldn't smell that mess yet.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,334/????HP
>Aim wide left and down from the head's center, the second cannon shell tears through the Planar's mass of secondary tentacles and deep into the body, though this time only a few small jets of orange-red gore spout from the wound.
>Rilvenni Subtype: 2,496/????HP
>Between a large enough clearance under the screen's left side and your daughteru's completely still frame, settling an arm over the control sticks to make a rest, through the scope you sight on the malformed, barely flesh pulsing flesh of its head.
>Stroking the trigger, a small pony kicks your shoulder as the ringing crack starts to vibrate in the cabin.
>Traveling up and slightly right from center, the bullet's path drives a small channel through unresisting Planar flesh.
>Unknown Rilvenni Subtype: SLAIN.
>Falling heavily onto its left side, the Rilvenni's ruined jaw holds still, its tongue limp as the orange-red skin ceases moving.
>What little fluid mass that remained in the body was no longer pulsing, instead small, feeble droplets of ichor staining the sand below.
>Tendrils still raised over her head, the Eldritch-Android's weapon remains aimed at the unmoving monstrosity.
"....initiating repairs on my secondary repair nodes and scanning the corpse. If it moves we're shooting it. Twice if it twitches. Three times if it twitches again."
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
*****
>Natilda gains: +6XP
>Natilda's status upgraded to: Beloved Mother
>Crag Moors reputation gained: +10
*****
>Wild moves her right arm away and back onto her side, the elbow hanging uselessly with a thunk, and immediately a white stone doorway opens 5M from the hatch opening, Anonymous stepping out in his formal business suit-
>Only to fall twelve meters straight down while shouting in half-surprise, half-fear.
"WHAT THE FU-"
>The thump wasn't amusing, but the silence from Wild afterwards was painful.
"I'm okay! Just a little sand.. and everything smells horrible down here. One second-"
>The doorway shifts close enough to nearly touch the screen in front of you, Anon reappearing to sit down on the edge, tossing a familiar silver disc out to land in front of your boots.
"There we go. Now do I have to ask what this-"
>Pointing a green hand upwards.
"Is or should I go before anything weird happens?"
>>352487
>With a heavy, and relieved sigh, I slump against the back of the couch.
>That was way too goddamn much effort for a goddamn... sharktopus or whatever it is.
"Hey Wild, you can use organic stuff to repair, right? If so, use this damn thing as much as you can. That was a goddamn pain in the ass."
>More fucking tanky than a tank.
>I just stare as Anonymous appeared, looking down at him as he fell.
>Eyes rolling to myself as he gets up unharmed, I pocket the disc.
>And internally smack myself for not using the previous one at all.
"... Any chance you can take the two of us with, or are we still fucked and have to make our way back alone?"
>I'll admit, I was hopeful for a quick extract back to Razorback.
>With a heavy, and relieved sigh, I slump against the back of the couch.
>That was way too goddamn much effort for a goddamn... sharktopus or whatever it is.
"Hey Wild, you can use organic stuff to repair, right? If so, use this damn thing as much as you can. That was a goddamn pain in the ass."
>More fucking tanky than a tank.
>I just stare as Anonymous appeared, looking down at him as he fell.
>Eyes rolling to myself as he gets up unharmed, I pocket the disc.
>And internally smack myself for not using the previous one at all.
"... Any chance you can take the two of us with, or are we still fucked and have to make our way back alone?"
>I'll admit, I was hopeful for a quick extract back to Razorback.
>>352318
"Cadence's teats.."
>Visibly concerned as the display switches to a close view of the jar, Naliyna presses her front hooves down on the table, expression rigid.
"Lucky and the Inner Wards knew the whole time. Ponies were dying from full body crystallization like Crystal ponies do, but to keep them alive until eventually they couldn't afford buying more? They all have to be dead by now. There's no way anypony would let a single one live after knowing this."
>Nodding slowly, she turns her head right to check on Zigri who was in the process of accepting his fate.
>Ears swiveling back to glare daggers at the container, Naliyna's eyes rotate towards you.
"No need to guess why Hodch left Canterlot to come here. He wasn't just tired of the College like he first said. Whatever nobles and royals were in on this shit would've suspected him sooner or later, and knowing the hundred some fields of study he can teach.."
>Trailing off with a short cheek bite, the tradesmare scowls, bringing up a picture of Las Pegasus after it was attacked: nearly a tenth of the city's cloud 'blocks' missing.
"Linara. Somepony put her in the position to down the whole Rogue's Circle. The reports I got from that human mare said nearly ten thousand Watch Guard died against the Rogues, but not a single Tower Guard was confirmed deceased. One unit of Shieldmares was protecting Linara on her way out. Two things really stick out to me."
"One, Lucky intentionally hired us to take Linara out. When that didn't happen she started losing control. That was enough for Tacit to slip more Enchained and agents in. Let's just say for a minute that the Judges in Canterlot would hear her out and accept any evidence she gathered up until then would be solid. Add that to what we already know Tacit confirmed. That's a fairly strong case between them. If we add ours and Tartarus to that, it looks solid but I hate legalese."
"Two, Linara's our best chance of finding out who is and isn't friendly in Stalliongrad. Ri'Vahz went with Ghost, they had a pretty difficult time between trying to help the defenders, then didn't exactly take Linara down. Those Shieldmares of hers didn't attack either of them once which is beyond odd, they're usually the worst to deal with. All they tried to do was escape and let the remaining Watch Guard die. Problem is-"
>Sitting back to fold forelegs across her chest, Naliyna's eyebrows lower.
"Where is she, or Tacit for that matter? And-"
>Slowly turning to you with the most severely amused expression yet, the scar-laden mare grins.
"Bubba.. did you know Stream Lark is in our Enclave right now? How do you feel about taking a trip to visit the so-called 'most wanted Councilierge'?"
"Cadence's teats.."
>Visibly concerned as the display switches to a close view of the jar, Naliyna presses her front hooves down on the table, expression rigid.
"Lucky and the Inner Wards knew the whole time. Ponies were dying from full body crystallization like Crystal ponies do, but to keep them alive until eventually they couldn't afford buying more? They all have to be dead by now. There's no way anypony would let a single one live after knowing this."
>Nodding slowly, she turns her head right to check on Zigri who was in the process of accepting his fate.
>Ears swiveling back to glare daggers at the container, Naliyna's eyes rotate towards you.
"No need to guess why Hodch left Canterlot to come here. He wasn't just tired of the College like he first said. Whatever nobles and royals were in on this shit would've suspected him sooner or later, and knowing the hundred some fields of study he can teach.."
>Trailing off with a short cheek bite, the tradesmare scowls, bringing up a picture of Las Pegasus after it was attacked: nearly a tenth of the city's cloud 'blocks' missing.
"Linara. Somepony put her in the position to down the whole Rogue's Circle. The reports I got from that human mare said nearly ten thousand Watch Guard died against the Rogues, but not a single Tower Guard was confirmed deceased. One unit of Shieldmares was protecting Linara on her way out. Two things really stick out to me."
"One, Lucky intentionally hired us to take Linara out. When that didn't happen she started losing control. That was enough for Tacit to slip more Enchained and agents in. Let's just say for a minute that the Judges in Canterlot would hear her out and accept any evidence she gathered up until then would be solid. Add that to what we already know Tacit confirmed. That's a fairly strong case between them. If we add ours and Tartarus to that, it looks solid but I hate legalese."
"Two, Linara's our best chance of finding out who is and isn't friendly in Stalliongrad. Ri'Vahz went with Ghost, they had a pretty difficult time between trying to help the defenders, then didn't exactly take Linara down. Those Shieldmares of hers didn't attack either of them once which is beyond odd, they're usually the worst to deal with. All they tried to do was escape and let the remaining Watch Guard die. Problem is-"
>Sitting back to fold forelegs across her chest, Naliyna's eyebrows lower.
"Where is she, or Tacit for that matter? And-"
>Slowly turning to you with the most severely amused expression yet, the scar-laden mare grins.
"Bubba.. did you know Stream Lark is in our Enclave right now? How do you feel about taking a trip to visit the so-called 'most wanted Councilierge'?"
>>352345
>Flipping through the smartphone quickly, he holds it out screen first, showing off a list of most Zone artifacts excluding the weirder or useless ones.
>And the cursed one.
"Like these? No promises but I'll keep them in mind in case I go on another trip. Can usually spare a second or two in realtime to grab something else real close."
>Placing the phone back in his dress shirt, Anon gives a small, conciliatory shrug.
"Just an idea. A weapon is a weapon after all, and you never know, the Moors has some wild objects around those Scars that might be similar. No weird bread, got it. Back to work, and don't forget that minigun."
>Tossing you a two finger salute, the gestalt snags the bottle of water before sauntering into the doorway.
>Flipping through the smartphone quickly, he holds it out screen first, showing off a list of most Zone artifacts excluding the weirder or useless ones.
>And the cursed one.
"Like these? No promises but I'll keep them in mind in case I go on another trip. Can usually spare a second or two in realtime to grab something else real close."
>Placing the phone back in his dress shirt, Anon gives a small, conciliatory shrug.
"Just an idea. A weapon is a weapon after all, and you never know, the Moors has some wild objects around those Scars that might be similar. No weird bread, got it. Back to work, and don't forget that minigun."
>Tossing you a two finger salute, the gestalt snags the bottle of water before sauntering into the doorway.
>>352352
'the four of us, technically three since Tracker are twins, arent machine-spirits. we are digitized souls contained in a temporally shielded macro datacore made in the Golden Era. no engrams needed. if we were incensed youd know by now. Dranaki screams like a warp ghost when shes mad'
'I do not!'
'then what did you do when we blasted a hole in tha'
>Cutting off Tox-11's datastream briefly, the Admiral delivers a grating sigh.
'If you would prefer our non-classified records since arriving here, I will collect them once our reports have concluded.'
'or maybe she screams like a bolter bitch getting krumped by'
'Damn it Andronal, I'm trying to be civil!'
'im not. now get back to work, barely 15% complete with our record keeping'
>Shrugging the carapace plate shoudlers in a small motion, the Tempestus Scion inhales a bit raggedly.
"Highly unlikely. The transfer of an individual's body to this omniverse was explained to me in partial detail but I still do not understand the technical and magical terminology used. No factors are added or removed except for the restoration of most bodily parts. Excluding our Inquisitor, myself, and you, there are two other humans here that arrived without the prosthetics they had before transfer."
>Inhaling the sweet, light fragrances that reminded you of datascents from paradise worlds, you were fairly sure these were entirely unique to this planet, if not an underground range.
>Accepting the slate and turning it to read over, Chisan's gaze threatens to become slightly more than fully sanctioned.
>Perusing it through twice more, he nods at the thanks before handing it back with a stiff, minor frown.
"You are welcome. The Inquistor stated this shortly after I arrived: transferring individual objects is extremely inefficient. As we both know there are potentially millions of STC's lost throughout the Imperium and elsewhere. She suggested to attempt retrieving a fully intact one. The unit currently under the Workshop was built long before the Dark Age of Technology. Once fully expanded it will act as a fabrication system similar to yet more capable than Lathe-Forges but will require completely rebuilding the core components."
>Arms folding across his chest without any stiffness or trace of pain on his face, a short burst of data static causes him to raise both eyebrows.
"That is... an exceptional idea, Admiral. My thanks to you."
>The hints of a smile form, the Storm Trooper leaning backwards proudly.
"Enginseer, what would you think of a datacore containing all schematics of wargear from the Solar Auxilia? Much of their systems are cross-compatible and the majority of technical specifications are superior to M41 variants. It was also their influence that created Tempestus Scions in later millennia."
'the four of us, technically three since Tracker are twins, arent machine-spirits. we are digitized souls contained in a temporally shielded macro datacore made in the Golden Era. no engrams needed. if we were incensed youd know by now. Dranaki screams like a warp ghost when shes mad'
'I do not!'
'then what did you do when we blasted a hole in tha'
>Cutting off Tox-11's datastream briefly, the Admiral delivers a grating sigh.
'If you would prefer our non-classified records since arriving here, I will collect them once our reports have concluded.'
'or maybe she screams like a bolter bitch getting krumped by'
'Damn it Andronal, I'm trying to be civil!'
'im not. now get back to work, barely 15% complete with our record keeping'
>Shrugging the carapace plate shoudlers in a small motion, the Tempestus Scion inhales a bit raggedly.
"Highly unlikely. The transfer of an individual's body to this omniverse was explained to me in partial detail but I still do not understand the technical and magical terminology used. No factors are added or removed except for the restoration of most bodily parts. Excluding our Inquisitor, myself, and you, there are two other humans here that arrived without the prosthetics they had before transfer."
>Inhaling the sweet, light fragrances that reminded you of datascents from paradise worlds, you were fairly sure these were entirely unique to this planet, if not an underground range.
>Accepting the slate and turning it to read over, Chisan's gaze threatens to become slightly more than fully sanctioned.
>Perusing it through twice more, he nods at the thanks before handing it back with a stiff, minor frown.
"You are welcome. The Inquistor stated this shortly after I arrived: transferring individual objects is extremely inefficient. As we both know there are potentially millions of STC's lost throughout the Imperium and elsewhere. She suggested to attempt retrieving a fully intact one. The unit currently under the Workshop was built long before the Dark Age of Technology. Once fully expanded it will act as a fabrication system similar to yet more capable than Lathe-Forges but will require completely rebuilding the core components."
>Arms folding across his chest without any stiffness or trace of pain on his face, a short burst of data static causes him to raise both eyebrows.
"That is... an exceptional idea, Admiral. My thanks to you."
>The hints of a smile form, the Storm Trooper leaning backwards proudly.
"Enginseer, what would you think of a datacore containing all schematics of wargear from the Solar Auxilia? Much of their systems are cross-compatible and the majority of technical specifications are superior to M41 variants. It was also their influence that created Tempestus Scions in later millennia."
>>352493
"Yeah, looks about right. Wouldn't even mind if a few were duds, I could put them on a shelf."
>He gives Anon an idle salute back, Ivan turned to look over the M134 in finer detail, deciding to put away his G36 on one of the tables first to carry the damn thing.
>Picking it up, Ivan would briefly test how it felt to hold, nodding to himself.
"Not too bad, suit's working fine for weight distribution. Ammo'll be a pain in the ass but two extra boxes shouldn't be too much..."
"Yeah, looks about right. Wouldn't even mind if a few were duds, I could put them on a shelf."
>He gives Anon an idle salute back, Ivan turned to look over the M134 in finer detail, deciding to put away his G36 on one of the tables first to carry the damn thing.
>Picking it up, Ivan would briefly test how it felt to hold, nodding to himself.
"Not too bad, suit's working fine for weight distribution. Ammo'll be a pain in the ass but two extra boxes shouldn't be too much..."
>>352277
>>352299
>"A blast wave? What did they do to create that?"
>Clemency complies with her order and drops altitude to 50 meters
>He then braces for the blast wave to hit and prepare to maintain control of the Kiowa
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Adept Fighter Jet Aviator
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Pupil Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>However, he hears a more familiar voice in his head
(Good copy. Flying to your position.)
>A Continental Invasion Carrier?
>Constructs are joining this mess?
>This is turning into a level far beyond FUBAR now
>Clem flies over to Jeff's position, lowering altitude to around 35 meters
>He then reaches over the seat, remembers to take out and put Jeff's spotting scope inside of the bag
>Clem then hauls the bag over and tosses the bag out of the side of the helicopter, making sure it lands a few meters away from Jeff
>Going back to 50 meters altitude, Clem contacts Jeff again
(I'll see if there is a spot to touch down and power off. I have two Destroyer companies to direct. I'll loiter until the shields go down, strafe, then land somewhere.)
>Afterwards, Clem goes over his equipment and powers off his radio and helmet, lifting up his visor
>>352299
>"A blast wave? What did they do to create that?"
>Clemency complies with her order and drops altitude to 50 meters
>He then braces for the blast wave to hit and prepare to maintain control of the Kiowa
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Adept Fighter Jet Aviator
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Pupil Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>However, he hears a more familiar voice in his head
(Good copy. Flying to your position.)
>A Continental Invasion Carrier?
>Constructs are joining this mess?
>This is turning into a level far beyond FUBAR now
>Clem flies over to Jeff's position, lowering altitude to around 35 meters
>He then reaches over the seat, remembers to take out and put Jeff's spotting scope inside of the bag
>Clem then hauls the bag over and tosses the bag out of the side of the helicopter, making sure it lands a few meters away from Jeff
>Going back to 50 meters altitude, Clem contacts Jeff again
(I'll see if there is a spot to touch down and power off. I have two Destroyer companies to direct. I'll loiter until the shields go down, strafe, then land somewhere.)
>Afterwards, Clem goes over his equipment and powers off his radio and helmet, lifting up his visor
>>352438
'98.6% uploaded from the prototype unit before contact was lost, sir. I'm studying her engrams.. it's all bad news. The original damage was severe: Sectors 0 through 80 were rebuilt, mostly thrown together. The system corruption made it worse, half of those sectors were scrapped but they weren't doing anything useful. The rest I can improve on with enough time. Keep her as is, she has good working knowledge and won't crack under stress.'
>Pausing the localized simulations, 'Shiibo' turns from the curricular work to display a dead connection bar and complete signal interference readout.
'Fortress relay isn't reaching here now. We're still jammed from orbit and it's not stopping. No contact with Anfang and Gryphon Vale, Canterlot, Crystal Empire City-State, or the Hive. Basin Village relay seems to be damaged but I don't have access to it. Those engram codes are picky. And hostile.'
>Clustered by where the original stacks of safes had been 30M northwest of the large matrice were rows of chairs and loveseats, most of them too short, undergoing inspection by several former Honor Guard, the gold trim of their robes distinct from Starborn purple or Empire crystal.
>Finding one the right height for you, it was a heavy baroque style that would have fit any late Iron Age castle, though the whimsical scrawls of Old Everfree creatures on all the wood surfaces were definite renderings of real ones.
>Taking a seat to watch the still open gateway, the view rotates to show Dul throwing the last few feathers on a boulder at least twenty times her size.
>Amusingly, they stick.
>Walking around in a circle to face the giant rock, the Siren throws her head back, exhaling a cloud of bright purple fog onto it, then hurls what looked like a pebble from the left set of Riftdrowner vines.
>Remaining where she was, the rock.. starts melting, then shatters into tiny pieces.
>Leaping in the air with a happy neigh, Dul lands and quickly gathers the feathers, four vines snatching them off sand to be held by the remainder on either side.
>The background was somewhere different than the Sea's Bounty beach fort as the coconut and palm trees were much shorter; in the distance were dozens of small, circular green huts that looked like they were woven together.
>Finished collecting the feathers, Dul high-trots towards the gateway, stopping to dump them into the box that was out of sight, then sets it on her saddle.
>Bouncing back through the portal and walking off the stone, the gate closes behind her while she waves a foreleg at you, smiling fiercely.
"Dul done! Was lots easy make not-stupid! Dul thought lots harder. Dul deliver feathers you here or other here?"
>Most Lorekeepers had stopped to watch the process, the majority confused or dumbfounded while the Crystal pony bands wore curious expressions.
>The lone Gryphon Lorekeeper, a (bad) poet of some note that spoke in odd sentences, speaks up behind you at a short distance.
"Is that a Siren? Those are Crin feathers, I'm sure of it, but how does one possibly purify Planar plumage? I need t-"
"Not stop wor-king! Too much do with-out ask-ing e-ver-y ques-tion."
>The other voice came from the only one that put up with the Gryphon, an older minotaur bull freshly retired from the Starborn.
'98.6% uploaded from the prototype unit before contact was lost, sir. I'm studying her engrams.. it's all bad news. The original damage was severe: Sectors 0 through 80 were rebuilt, mostly thrown together. The system corruption made it worse, half of those sectors were scrapped but they weren't doing anything useful. The rest I can improve on with enough time. Keep her as is, she has good working knowledge and won't crack under stress.'
>Pausing the localized simulations, 'Shiibo' turns from the curricular work to display a dead connection bar and complete signal interference readout.
'Fortress relay isn't reaching here now. We're still jammed from orbit and it's not stopping. No contact with Anfang and Gryphon Vale, Canterlot, Crystal Empire City-State, or the Hive. Basin Village relay seems to be damaged but I don't have access to it. Those engram codes are picky. And hostile.'
>Clustered by where the original stacks of safes had been 30M northwest of the large matrice were rows of chairs and loveseats, most of them too short, undergoing inspection by several former Honor Guard, the gold trim of their robes distinct from Starborn purple or Empire crystal.
>Finding one the right height for you, it was a heavy baroque style that would have fit any late Iron Age castle, though the whimsical scrawls of Old Everfree creatures on all the wood surfaces were definite renderings of real ones.
>Taking a seat to watch the still open gateway, the view rotates to show Dul throwing the last few feathers on a boulder at least twenty times her size.
>Amusingly, they stick.
>Walking around in a circle to face the giant rock, the Siren throws her head back, exhaling a cloud of bright purple fog onto it, then hurls what looked like a pebble from the left set of Riftdrowner vines.
>Remaining where she was, the rock.. starts melting, then shatters into tiny pieces.
>Leaping in the air with a happy neigh, Dul lands and quickly gathers the feathers, four vines snatching them off sand to be held by the remainder on either side.
>The background was somewhere different than the Sea's Bounty beach fort as the coconut and palm trees were much shorter; in the distance were dozens of small, circular green huts that looked like they were woven together.
>Finished collecting the feathers, Dul high-trots towards the gateway, stopping to dump them into the box that was out of sight, then sets it on her saddle.
>Bouncing back through the portal and walking off the stone, the gate closes behind her while she waves a foreleg at you, smiling fiercely.
"Dul done! Was lots easy make not-stupid! Dul thought lots harder. Dul deliver feathers you here or other here?"
>Most Lorekeepers had stopped to watch the process, the majority confused or dumbfounded while the Crystal pony bands wore curious expressions.
>The lone Gryphon Lorekeeper, a (bad) poet of some note that spoke in odd sentences, speaks up behind you at a short distance.
"Is that a Siren? Those are Crin feathers, I'm sure of it, but how does one possibly purify Planar plumage? I need t-"
"Not stop wor-king! Too much do with-out ask-ing e-ver-y ques-tion."
>The other voice came from the only one that put up with the Gryphon, an older minotaur bull freshly retired from the Starborn.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.352511
>>352488
>Left screen changing from forward view to a complete rendering of the Rilvenni, Wild's internal voice was faintly cheerful.
"It's absolutely dead. I don't know whether blood loss, my last shot, or your shot killed it. There's a core inside the central body. Fully intact too, we didn't even scratch it! I'll see if I can convert or use anything from it."
>While repair tendrils extend out to harvest samples of ichor, tentacles, and chunks of skin, Anon leans forwards to be seen under the right screen, scrolling through his smartphone.
"I've seen enough weird shit to know that was either Eldritch, Planar, or Otherworldly. Need a bit to find it in my encyclopedia, there's nothing important going on for me right now. Whole lot of nasties in the oceans "
>Glancing up at the Eldritch-Android's exterior, the impression he was about to sigh holds, then he does.
"I can take you for sure I don't know what this is Natilda. After last night, not sure I want to know. What I do know is there's pieces of you, Kraut, Novus, and Snakebite along with something else. It's familiar, like stabbed in a completely dark place, and being.. stalked by a predator. One that shouldn't be a predator. There's burns all over an- ..is this Caliya? Wha- you know what, no, I'm not thinking about this."
>Openly thinking for ten seconds, the gestalt lifts his free hand in an 'I give up' motion.
"I CAN take you to Razorback and there's technically no weight limit it you want to travel with me, but I'm not really sure. Could we bring it back in pieces or am I missing an incredibly vital piece of information here?"
"I am not a 'thing', I am an Eldritch-Android. Natilda is One-Of-Six-To-Our-Daughter, which is me."
"Right. I have no idea what to say."
"Mom, this creature is clean. There are no parasites, bacterium, secondary organisms. No strictly negative aspects that I can detect."
"You know the name of that thing?"
"Rilvenni, subtype unknown. Planar."
"Narrows that down by a huge amount, shouldn't take long. You got a name?"
"Wild Ride."
"Is this real?"
>Profoundly stupefied at the answer, Anonymous stares a thousand miles through his smartphone briefly, then continues his search with a chuckle.
"There's no way."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensory Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #1: Salvage Protocols
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #8
>Left screen changing from forward view to a complete rendering of the Rilvenni, Wild's internal voice was faintly cheerful.
"It's absolutely dead. I don't know whether blood loss, my last shot, or your shot killed it. There's a core inside the central body. Fully intact too, we didn't even scratch it! I'll see if I can convert or use anything from it."
>While repair tendrils extend out to harvest samples of ichor, tentacles, and chunks of skin, Anon leans forwards to be seen under the right screen, scrolling through his smartphone.
"I've seen enough weird shit to know that was either Eldritch, Planar, or Otherworldly. Need a bit to find it in my encyclopedia, there's nothing important going on for me right now. Whole lot of nasties in the oceans "
>Glancing up at the Eldritch-Android's exterior, the impression he was about to sigh holds, then he does.
"I can take you for sure I don't know what this is Natilda. After last night, not sure I want to know. What I do know is there's pieces of you, Kraut, Novus, and Snakebite along with something else. It's familiar, like stabbed in a completely dark place, and being.. stalked by a predator. One that shouldn't be a predator. There's burns all over an- ..is this Caliya? Wha- you know what, no, I'm not thinking about this."
>Openly thinking for ten seconds, the gestalt lifts his free hand in an 'I give up' motion.
"I CAN take you to Razorback and there's technically no weight limit it you want to travel with me, but I'm not really sure. Could we bring it back in pieces or am I missing an incredibly vital piece of information here?"
"I am not a 'thing', I am an Eldritch-Android. Natilda is One-Of-Six-To-Our-Daughter, which is me."
"Right. I have no idea what to say."
"Mom, this creature is clean. There are no parasites, bacterium, secondary organisms. No strictly negative aspects that I can detect."
"You know the name of that thing?"
"Rilvenni, subtype unknown. Planar."
"Narrows that down by a huge amount, shouldn't take long. You got a name?"
"Wild Ride."
"Is this real?"
>Profoundly stupefied at the answer, Anonymous stares a thousand miles through his smartphone briefly, then continues his search with a chuckle.
"There's no way."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensory Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #1: Salvage Protocols
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #8
>>352511
>Looking over the rendered sharktopus, I could only grimace.
>Nobody back home except for the insane would come up with such a creature.
>If THESE were inside the ocean I wouldn't like to see what the fuck else was in there.
"Yeah, its Caliya."
>I just shook my head and shifted on the couch, leaning back a bit as I looked at her displays, knowing that the Constructs weren't going to just forget about us.
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] >E. Perception/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
"Yeah we kinda ended up going through an... Eldritch Tear or whatever, turning the car into what she is now."
>I groaned out a little, rubbing my head.
"If she can go through in one piece I'll fucking buy everyone a couple rounds of vodka."
>Looking over the rendered sharktopus, I could only grimace.
>Nobody back home except for the insane would come up with such a creature.
>If THESE were inside the ocean I wouldn't like to see what the fuck else was in there.
"Yeah, its Caliya."
>I just shook my head and shifted on the couch, leaning back a bit as I looked at her displays, knowing that the Constructs weren't going to just forget about us.
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] >E. Perception/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
"Yeah we kinda ended up going through an... Eldritch Tear or whatever, turning the car into what she is now."
>I groaned out a little, rubbing my head.
"If she can go through in one piece I'll fucking buy everyone a couple rounds of vodka."
>>352495
>Easily hefting the gloriously shined weapon up, through the internal feedback system you were able to sense its weight and the approximate load on the exo's systems, which felt to be around half the maximum.
>The first difference you spot was an armored panel over the once highly vulnerable power crystal, second is the subdued blue-green metal colorations replacing steel, and between the six barrels was a stable, floating electronic system that was entirely new.
>From the right glove you feel the presence of a small button underneath the thumb, and upon pressing it a blue-hot line crackles into existence ahead of the weapon.
>A stabilized laser system wirelessly linked to the M134? Neat.
>Easily hefting the gloriously shined weapon up, through the internal feedback system you were able to sense its weight and the approximate load on the exo's systems, which felt to be around half the maximum.
>The first difference you spot was an armored panel over the once highly vulnerable power crystal, second is the subdued blue-green metal colorations replacing steel, and between the six barrels was a stable, floating electronic system that was entirely new.
>From the right glove you feel the presence of a small button underneath the thumb, and upon pressing it a blue-hot line crackles into existence ahead of the weapon.
>A stabilized laser system wirelessly linked to the M134? Neat.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.352518
>>352513
>Halting his search, the gestalt sits back, rubbing the side of his head.
"I can't quantify the amount of pain this is giving me right now. Natilda, I don't want to make your already messed up night worse but I'm not going to lie: Kraut and Novus are screwed. They're not going to recover without taking extreme measures that even I don't want to consider. Snakebite is stable but unconscious, he's recovering from multiple surgeries in a row. No real long term damage except missing an eye. That can be replaced if he makes it through the next four or five stages of treatment."
>Resuming in sincere chagrin, Anonymous frowns under the mask.
"Caliya is the worst off. Most of his body was incinerated to the point where all organs shut down. Nova Flicker and Roust checked on him more than a dozen times in the first hour. Only thoughts they could sense were tiny imprints of pride and burning pain which he ignored."
"On the positive side four stasis pods were taken with them. One young batpony mare apparently fitted with Construct... parts, I guess. One young pegasus stallion, Prench. He was woken up and is undergoing treatment, full recovery expected. One young minotaur bull, badly injured but likely to recover fully. Last is one Tallus basilisk, a native that's considered a rare sapient species outside of a few small populations that don't interact with the world outside the Dragonspines and Neighsia."
>Checking on the screens, reset for maximum view distance, both were aimed directly south.
>Spotting nothing either moving or new, the only change was a series of high atmospheric clouds that looked to be in the process of forming into thunderheads.
"A Scar of the Moors. Most of them are hidden until living beings approach them. A few are stable enough to be visible at all times."
>Looking up from the smartphone, Anonymous slowly blinks, then stares down again, fervently wishing he could unhear what he just listened to.
"Unless you can take safely take her apart, in pieces, for transport then I'm afraid the answer is a big no. You might, I stress might, possibly summon an intact warp gate to here. They function similarly to translocation matrices but the Vortex Remnant doesn't always recognize them, it can take minutes, hours, possibly days for it to be noticed."
"Found your Planar horror. It's a Rilvenni Sub-Major Type Five. The orange-red color shows it's adapted fairly well, original coloration is a blue-orange. It's basically a teenager, would have reached full maturity in a thousand years or so. They come from the Elemental Plane of Water, quite rare there but are barely known in the Moors oceans. Lunars consider them the worst type of pests, little targets them since the internal organs and ichor taste horrible. Worst yet they're essentially immortal since they don't die from natural causes outside their home Plane. You two saved a few thousand ponies and millions of sea creatures by killing one before it could reach maturity and breed. That core is phenomenally precious, there's only three examples of one on Tallus and none of them are pristine. I suggest taking everything you can from the corpse before it starts phasing out in fifteen, maybe twenty hours."
>Hearing an awful electronic squeak from above, Wild halts her digging about in the corpse to rumble an incoherent phrase, then continues once more in harvesting large sections of exterior flesh.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Sensory Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensors Arrayh
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1: Salvage Protocols
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #8
"Sensors are glitching again.. I'm unable to identify if the material is capable of being translated into Tryptaran mass. The pseudo-skin is highly elastic and durable, more so than leather. There is no taste or scent to it. The tongue may be edible. Nine organs may be salvaged. The eyes contain small amounts of concentrated Planar water elemental essences."
>Right camera raising, it zooms in to maximum as Wild's tone becomes puzzled.
"Mom, there are no waves incoming. I could have sworn there were twenty to thirty on approach. We should have been hit by the second, third, and fourth ones by now."
>Halting his search, the gestalt sits back, rubbing the side of his head.
"I can't quantify the amount of pain this is giving me right now. Natilda, I don't want to make your already messed up night worse but I'm not going to lie: Kraut and Novus are screwed. They're not going to recover without taking extreme measures that even I don't want to consider. Snakebite is stable but unconscious, he's recovering from multiple surgeries in a row. No real long term damage except missing an eye. That can be replaced if he makes it through the next four or five stages of treatment."
>Resuming in sincere chagrin, Anonymous frowns under the mask.
"Caliya is the worst off. Most of his body was incinerated to the point where all organs shut down. Nova Flicker and Roust checked on him more than a dozen times in the first hour. Only thoughts they could sense were tiny imprints of pride and burning pain which he ignored."
"On the positive side four stasis pods were taken with them. One young batpony mare apparently fitted with Construct... parts, I guess. One young pegasus stallion, Prench. He was woken up and is undergoing treatment, full recovery expected. One young minotaur bull, badly injured but likely to recover fully. Last is one Tallus basilisk, a native that's considered a rare sapient species outside of a few small populations that don't interact with the world outside the Dragonspines and Neighsia."
>Checking on the screens, reset for maximum view distance, both were aimed directly south.
>Spotting nothing either moving or new, the only change was a series of high atmospheric clouds that looked to be in the process of forming into thunderheads.
"A Scar of the Moors. Most of them are hidden until living beings approach them. A few are stable enough to be visible at all times."
>Looking up from the smartphone, Anonymous slowly blinks, then stares down again, fervently wishing he could unhear what he just listened to.
"Unless you can take safely take her apart, in pieces, for transport then I'm afraid the answer is a big no. You might, I stress might, possibly summon an intact warp gate to here. They function similarly to translocation matrices but the Vortex Remnant doesn't always recognize them, it can take minutes, hours, possibly days for it to be noticed."
"Found your Planar horror. It's a Rilvenni Sub-Major Type Five. The orange-red color shows it's adapted fairly well, original coloration is a blue-orange. It's basically a teenager, would have reached full maturity in a thousand years or so. They come from the Elemental Plane of Water, quite rare there but are barely known in the Moors oceans. Lunars consider them the worst type of pests, little targets them since the internal organs and ichor taste horrible. Worst yet they're essentially immortal since they don't die from natural causes outside their home Plane. You two saved a few thousand ponies and millions of sea creatures by killing one before it could reach maturity and breed. That core is phenomenally precious, there's only three examples of one on Tallus and none of them are pristine. I suggest taking everything you can from the corpse before it starts phasing out in fifteen, maybe twenty hours."
>Hearing an awful electronic squeak from above, Wild halts her digging about in the corpse to rumble an incoherent phrase, then continues once more in harvesting large sections of exterior flesh.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Sensory Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensors Arrayh
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1: Salvage Protocols
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #8
"Sensors are glitching again.. I'm unable to identify if the material is capable of being translated into Tryptaran mass. The pseudo-skin is highly elastic and durable, more so than leather. There is no taste or scent to it. The tongue may be edible. Nine organs may be salvaged. The eyes contain small amounts of concentrated Planar water elemental essences."
>Right camera raising, it zooms in to maximum as Wild's tone becomes puzzled.
"Mom, there are no waves incoming. I could have sworn there were twenty to thirty on approach. We should have been hit by the second, third, and fourth ones by now."
File (): AB1EBE8E9F35AF049041909209A06F2D-50580.jpg (49.4 KB, 1200x720, The what.jpg)
>>352494
>Mallia really wanted to be amused by the back and forth between Andronal and Dranaki, yet the amusement she wanted to feel doesn't reach her.
>The anxiety and uncertainty was still there...
(Golden Age macro-datacore...)
>She transmits back on a lower tone, which carried a lingering awe.
(Yes--, Yes, I'd like those records. It'd be nice.)
(Sorry if--)
>And she stops her apology short, remembering that she shouldn't be apologizing at all. It took RESTRAINT to not continue, but thankfully the seconds catch up first and the conversation with Chisan becomes priority once more.
>Blinking away an onset of a distressed glance in her eyes, darting them briefly, she starts nodding with rapt-attention along with each and every word from the Stormtrooper. Her smile still on her face, though it got a little wry when she saw Him frown while handing back the dataslate.
>Her mechadendrite accepts it back, and deftly slots it back in her rucksack's pocket and pinching the flap to pull it down and even giving a few light pats on the flap to make sure it stuck with the tendril-like limb, before curling it a little around her own middle section.
>Mallia however takes a few seconds to cope with and process with the information Chisan provides her, and finally the scale of the power of these little candles sunk into her unbalanced mind.
(How stupid am I? Very stupid apparently.)
>She blink-blinks in astonishment, crossing her arms with one hand over her mouth while she furrows her brow and nods slowly. Stopping rock-still when Chisan made that suggestion. Eyes darting, she fumbles her own words.
"Pf-fwh-wh--YES? Yes. We are definitely getting that! Of course we are!"
>Then quarter-turns her head, staring at the workshop's wall as she whispers:
"--We can do that???"
>Then back to Chisan,
"Can we? With one candle? Just like that? Seriously? It's not out of our reach?"
>Mallia says, fanning herself with the other hand as her cheeks flush with a strong emotion.
"We can just,-- we can... Recover most, if not all the knowledge humanity has lost, all the things the Arch-Traitor destroyed... Right? All the lost STCs--"
>She trails off, and then squints skeptically.
"No way..."
>She looks to Chisan from slightly side-long for confirmation while rubbing the side of her head and glancing off with shame and anxiety that made the mechadendrite shift along her stomach and her feet shuffle erratically in place.
"Sorry, Stormtrooper. I am--, slightly flustered. I didn't think about that. My bad."
>She finally takes a breath, and sighs out heavily. Then promptly beamed with her sunny smile again; hands going down to grasp onto the mechadendrite's manipulator claw.
(To be able to SEE the technology as it once was. Touch it, even! Perhaps even things to improve humanity's life here. As it should've been.)
>Mallia really wanted to be amused by the back and forth between Andronal and Dranaki, yet the amusement she wanted to feel doesn't reach her.
>The anxiety and uncertainty was still there...
(Golden Age macro-datacore...)
>She transmits back on a lower tone, which carried a lingering awe.
(Yes--, Yes, I'd like those records. It'd be nice.)
(Sorry if--)
>And she stops her apology short, remembering that she shouldn't be apologizing at all. It took RESTRAINT to not continue, but thankfully the seconds catch up first and the conversation with Chisan becomes priority once more.
>Blinking away an onset of a distressed glance in her eyes, darting them briefly, she starts nodding with rapt-attention along with each and every word from the Stormtrooper. Her smile still on her face, though it got a little wry when she saw Him frown while handing back the dataslate.
>Her mechadendrite accepts it back, and deftly slots it back in her rucksack's pocket and pinching the flap to pull it down and even giving a few light pats on the flap to make sure it stuck with the tendril-like limb, before curling it a little around her own middle section.
>Mallia however takes a few seconds to cope with and process with the information Chisan provides her, and finally the scale of the power of these little candles sunk into her unbalanced mind.
(How stupid am I? Very stupid apparently.)
>She blink-blinks in astonishment, crossing her arms with one hand over her mouth while she furrows her brow and nods slowly. Stopping rock-still when Chisan made that suggestion. Eyes darting, she fumbles her own words.
"Pf-fwh-wh--YES? Yes. We are definitely getting that! Of course we are!"
>Then quarter-turns her head, staring at the workshop's wall as she whispers:
"--We can do that???"
>Then back to Chisan,
"Can we? With one candle? Just like that? Seriously? It's not out of our reach?"
>Mallia says, fanning herself with the other hand as her cheeks flush with a strong emotion.
"We can just,-- we can... Recover most, if not all the knowledge humanity has lost, all the things the Arch-Traitor destroyed... Right? All the lost STCs--"
>She trails off, and then squints skeptically.
"No way..."
>She looks to Chisan from slightly side-long for confirmation while rubbing the side of her head and glancing off with shame and anxiety that made the mechadendrite shift along her stomach and her feet shuffle erratically in place.
"Sorry, Stormtrooper. I am--, slightly flustered. I didn't think about that. My bad."
>She finally takes a breath, and sighs out heavily. Then promptly beamed with her sunny smile again; hands going down to grasp onto the mechadendrite's manipulator claw.
(To be able to SEE the technology as it once was. Touch it, even! Perhaps even things to improve humanity's life here. As it should've been.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q79c8injqBM
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 10 turns.
('Nine minutes thirty seconds until Shattering Skies enters atmosphere. All Lancer and Charger formations able to enter Basin Village hold from the south road to the fountain; at least six companeighs must remain near the fountain barricade to protect Razorback, they are your secondary priority unless the batpony is threatened.')
('RAZORBACK! NEGATIVE on electronics shutdown! Construct landing vessels don't have shit for disruption range, only the largest models are a threat under half a kilometer! Keep your tech online until the first of you notices sabatoge attempts and whoever YOU are, human mare! Stop panicking! Psions are the second most proficient at ripping Constructs apart!')
>Dispassionately watching the shield's outer layer fracture apart, central collapsing against the strain, the Primal Psions lean onto each other as the third layer ripples against thousands of trace plasma marks leaving waves of red-white streaks fading as they trail down, the entire shield protesting as it sizzles into nothing.
('It held.')
(Goddess damned barely! If a second one like tha-')
('There are no more forces in range, Vestal. Everypony that could be here, is.')
('I know that! If a quarter of Stalliongrad wasn't THIS close to being rolled over by Undead right bucking now I'd head back and beg those Lunarites t-')
('Not here, not now. Focus on what we may act upon, not what we would prefer.')
>Reaching maximum velocity in spare seconds, Support Striker manabomb coverage is nowhere near perfect as small numbers of the diamond canisters are opened too quickly and begin to spin out of control, scattering to impact others in their path.
>Following the mostly synchronized explosions, diamond housings create mass clouds of shrapnel, the damage piling on as thousands of raw Void lances, roiling spheres discharging their coherent energies similar to lightning strikes, last the fanciful pseudo-creatures slamming down into mixed Guardian ranks.
>A large number from the Day Guard, highly unused to the intricacies of Void miss their targets, yet the Night Guards have little excuse as half of their volleys do little more than create extra purple, blue, red, and black light shows.
>Partially flattened and stunned by the loss of six leaders, the almost never recorded Complete Tainted are shredded into by half-molten diamond shards, swiftly reinforced by their surviving leaders, physically bouncing back into their individual components.
>Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining; Speed unchanged, 410M from Basin Village
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining: 430M from Basin Village
>Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining: Speed reduced to 16, now 400M southwest of Basin Village
>Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 1 Captain remaining: Speed unchanged, 370M southeast of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 Captains remaining: Spectral Lances
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions: Mobile Tactics
[1d1600+800 = (155+800) = 955] <8x Lunar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d400+200 = (337+200) = 537] <2x Solar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d100+50 = (20+50) = 70] <1x Lunar Guardian Airstrike Captain
[1d100+50 = (74+50) = 124] <1x Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain
[1d400+200 = (155+200) = 355] <4x Solar Guardian Support Captains
>The Lost Legions: 204,899 of 285,678 Morale.
('Bucking amazing clusters! WATCH GUARD STRIKERS! Form new ranks across the Basin's north, ripple salvoes into the Assault Divisions! Here's an old Hegemony Ranger teaching: if you can't cut the head off then stick the enemy's body on the ground with every arrow you've got, that's how Kenfield Pass was won!')
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Support Striker Companeighs: Shearing Lances x 1,200 total
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: Shearing Lances x 2,000 total
('RAZORBACK! Second Dynasty Support Strikers are going to transport all your common explosives, grenades and everything else, into the Solar Guardian Support Division ranks, they need to be brought down!')
>Stripped every simple explosive from the pouches, webbing, packs, bandoliers, and satchels of every human, the Second Dynasty reaffirm their oaths, causaul-sliding the ordinance into scattered clusters directly within the Support Division ranks.
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers: Teleport Ambush x 400 total
('Hail of Glory has inflicted moderate damage... the Captain is reporting dozens of weapon malfunctions and severe internal damage from unstable tech-arcane systems. He is initiating repairs and will investigate causes. The Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division will engage his vessel, he is focusing primary batteries into the Assault Divisions as those weapons cannot turn more than five degrees.')
>'Hail of Glory'
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Armor Analysis
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <System 35 Repairs
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <System 18 Analysis
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments: Underload
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Secondary Armament Repairs
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Tertiary Weapon Repairs
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Weapon Stabilizers
(Destroyer Battalion 4, split off to interdict the west Air Commarend Division, do not allow Hail of Glory to be damaged further, that vessel is barely functioning as is. Only sacrifice enough of your lives to destroy that entire Division, all survivors return immediately after.')
('We are disrupting them!')
('Who is we?')
('We, of course!')
('I KNEW IT! LUNA TAUGHT YOU OLD SPEAK DIDN'T SHE?! THAT DIAMONDINE FLANKED HORSE!')
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Discordite Destroyer Battalion 4 x 950 total
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 10 turns.
('Nine minutes thirty seconds until Shattering Skies enters atmosphere. All Lancer and Charger formations able to enter Basin Village hold from the south road to the fountain; at least six companeighs must remain near the fountain barricade to protect Razorback, they are your secondary priority unless the batpony is threatened.')
('RAZORBACK! NEGATIVE on electronics shutdown! Construct landing vessels don't have shit for disruption range, only the largest models are a threat under half a kilometer! Keep your tech online until the first of you notices sabatoge attempts and whoever YOU are, human mare! Stop panicking! Psions are the second most proficient at ripping Constructs apart!')
>Dispassionately watching the shield's outer layer fracture apart, central collapsing against the strain, the Primal Psions lean onto each other as the third layer ripples against thousands of trace plasma marks leaving waves of red-white streaks fading as they trail down, the entire shield protesting as it sizzles into nothing.
('It held.')
(Goddess damned barely! If a second one like tha-')
('There are no more forces in range, Vestal. Everypony that could be here, is.')
('I know that! If a quarter of Stalliongrad wasn't THIS close to being rolled over by Undead right bucking now I'd head back and beg those Lunarites t-')
('Not here, not now. Focus on what we may act upon, not what we would prefer.')
>Reaching maximum velocity in spare seconds, Support Striker manabomb coverage is nowhere near perfect as small numbers of the diamond canisters are opened too quickly and begin to spin out of control, scattering to impact others in their path.
>Following the mostly synchronized explosions, diamond housings create mass clouds of shrapnel, the damage piling on as thousands of raw Void lances, roiling spheres discharging their coherent energies similar to lightning strikes, last the fanciful pseudo-creatures slamming down into mixed Guardian ranks.
>A large number from the Day Guard, highly unused to the intricacies of Void miss their targets, yet the Night Guards have little excuse as half of their volleys do little more than create extra purple, blue, red, and black light shows.
>Partially flattened and stunned by the loss of six leaders, the almost never recorded Complete Tainted are shredded into by half-molten diamond shards, swiftly reinforced by their surviving leaders, physically bouncing back into their individual components.
>Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining; Speed unchanged, 410M from Basin Village
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining: 430M from Basin Village
>Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining: Speed reduced to 16, now 400M southwest of Basin Village
>Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 1 Captain remaining: Speed unchanged, 370M southeast of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 Captains remaining: Spectral Lances
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions: Mobile Tactics
[1d1600+800 = (155+800) = 955] <8x Lunar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d400+200 = (337+200) = 537] <2x Solar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d100+50 = (20+50) = 70] <1x Lunar Guardian Airstrike Captain
[1d100+50 = (74+50) = 124] <1x Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain
[1d400+200 = (155+200) = 355] <4x Solar Guardian Support Captains
>The Lost Legions: 204,899 of 285,678 Morale.
('Bucking amazing clusters! WATCH GUARD STRIKERS! Form new ranks across the Basin's north, ripple salvoes into the Assault Divisions! Here's an old Hegemony Ranger teaching: if you can't cut the head off then stick the enemy's body on the ground with every arrow you've got, that's how Kenfield Pass was won!')
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Support Striker Companeighs: Shearing Lances x 1,200 total
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: Shearing Lances x 2,000 total
('RAZORBACK! Second Dynasty Support Strikers are going to transport all your common explosives, grenades and everything else, into the Solar Guardian Support Division ranks, they need to be brought down!')
>Stripped every simple explosive from the pouches, webbing, packs, bandoliers, and satchels of every human, the Second Dynasty reaffirm their oaths, causaul-sliding the ordinance into scattered clusters directly within the Support Division ranks.
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers: Teleport Ambush x 400 total
('Hail of Glory has inflicted moderate damage... the Captain is reporting dozens of weapon malfunctions and severe internal damage from unstable tech-arcane systems. He is initiating repairs and will investigate causes. The Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division will engage his vessel, he is focusing primary batteries into the Assault Divisions as those weapons cannot turn more than five degrees.')
>'Hail of Glory'
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Armor Analysis
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <System 35 Repairs
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <System 18 Analysis
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments: Underload
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Secondary Armament Repairs
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Tertiary Weapon Repairs
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Weapon Stabilizers
(Destroyer Battalion 4, split off to interdict the west Air Commarend Division, do not allow Hail of Glory to be damaged further, that vessel is barely functioning as is. Only sacrifice enough of your lives to destroy that entire Division, all survivors return immediately after.')
('We are disrupting them!')
('Who is we?')
('We, of course!')
('I KNEW IT! LUNA TAUGHT YOU OLD SPEAK DIDN'T SHE?! THAT DIAMONDINE FLANKED HORSE!')
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Discordite Destroyer Battalion 4 x 950 total
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
>>352572
>The Lost Legions: 206,940 Morale.
('Battered Shores, turn your translocation gateway one-eighty degrees and bombard frontal Assault Division lines.')
('Eye-eye ma'am, switching targets to new prizes! Thank all the flanks our Stahl plates are completely stable for once! We are white for bombardmarent, General! Now fillies, you heard the real mare! Spin the gateway around and launch everything we've got straight down that hole!')
('And the Tower Guards say unicorns do not have a sense of humor.')
>'Battered Shores'
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Accuracy
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Main Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
('Razorback, the Lunarites may have located a Lunar Assault General. Distance: four-sixty meters south-southwest, fifth Division east. Bearing is.. one-ninety to two-ten, target the third largest charging Tainted. I am not good without an actual compass in my hooves.')
>Calmly speaking over the increasingly stressed human Overherd as the last of Razorback's squads join the barricade, Kunid Erakoi's normally flat, emotionless tone reaches a tipping point of fear, the tech-knight's overcomplicated heavy launcher hefts onto his left shoulder while a standard M60 is raised in the right exopowered arm.
('All Razorback squads in range have joined combat General. The systems of my weapons and armor are majority biological though we have not dealt with Constructs directly. I am in possession of two maximally destabilized organo-plasmic missiles. Semi-guided, bioneural tracking, effective range of ten kilometers, blast radius of twenty meters. Each can be swapped to deliver a ship-killing EMP discharge but are no more powerful than a common fifty millimeter high explosive shell in that setting. Please confirm or deny the use of point defense systems by Constructs.')
('Most of our records stated they had such in use against the various Harpies but those weapons were much larger than anything here, about the size of a fully grown mango tree. Save them.')
('Understood. I shall reserve these for later use.')
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+25 = (6+25) = 31] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6+26 = (4+26) = 30] <Razorback Marefriends, 20 total
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Razorback Stallionfriends, 8 total
>>352299
>Catching the bag dropped from Clemency, Krinza's metallic grasp delivers it to you as a recently made tungsten lance thunders off overhead as Emerald halts in the middle of a majority Watch Guard Lancer formation charging around the first barricade to take position at the Basin's entrance.
>Dead still at the commotion around her, the Korean woman stares down at the white box in her hands.
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <E.Negotiation
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
>Dead silence rings over weapons fire, unicorn magic, and psionic lances delivered throughout Basin Village.
>A brief, familiar marental touch, the chaotically fluctuating yet internally calm voice of Broken Hoof intrudes.
('The Empress lies silent now, perhaps she is at peace. First this armor must be removed. I will arrive after it is disposed of.')
>Speaking at the grave of a long-fallen comrade felt.. appropriate.
>The Lost Legions: 206,940 Morale.
('Battered Shores, turn your translocation gateway one-eighty degrees and bombard frontal Assault Division lines.')
('Eye-eye ma'am, switching targets to new prizes! Thank all the flanks our Stahl plates are completely stable for once! We are white for bombardmarent, General! Now fillies, you heard the real mare! Spin the gateway around and launch everything we've got straight down that hole!')
('And the Tower Guards say unicorns do not have a sense of humor.')
>'Battered Shores'
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Accuracy
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Main Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
('Razorback, the Lunarites may have located a Lunar Assault General. Distance: four-sixty meters south-southwest, fifth Division east. Bearing is.. one-ninety to two-ten, target the third largest charging Tainted. I am not good without an actual compass in my hooves.')
>Calmly speaking over the increasingly stressed human Overherd as the last of Razorback's squads join the barricade, Kunid Erakoi's normally flat, emotionless tone reaches a tipping point of fear, the tech-knight's overcomplicated heavy launcher hefts onto his left shoulder while a standard M60 is raised in the right exopowered arm.
('All Razorback squads in range have joined combat General. The systems of my weapons and armor are majority biological though we have not dealt with Constructs directly. I am in possession of two maximally destabilized organo-plasmic missiles. Semi-guided, bioneural tracking, effective range of ten kilometers, blast radius of twenty meters. Each can be swapped to deliver a ship-killing EMP discharge but are no more powerful than a common fifty millimeter high explosive shell in that setting. Please confirm or deny the use of point defense systems by Constructs.')
('Most of our records stated they had such in use against the various Harpies but those weapons were much larger than anything here, about the size of a fully grown mango tree. Save them.')
('Understood. I shall reserve these for later use.')
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+25 = (6+25) = 31] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6+26 = (4+26) = 30] <Razorback Marefriends, 20 total
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Razorback Stallionfriends, 8 total
>>352299
>Catching the bag dropped from Clemency, Krinza's metallic grasp delivers it to you as a recently made tungsten lance thunders off overhead as Emerald halts in the middle of a majority Watch Guard Lancer formation charging around the first barricade to take position at the Basin's entrance.
>Dead still at the commotion around her, the Korean woman stares down at the white box in her hands.
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <E.Negotiation
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
>Dead silence rings over weapons fire, unicorn magic, and psionic lances delivered throughout Basin Village.
>A brief, familiar marental touch, the chaotically fluctuating yet internally calm voice of Broken Hoof intrudes.
('The Empress lies silent now, perhaps she is at peace. First this armor must be removed. I will arrive after it is disposed of.')
>Speaking at the grave of a long-fallen comrade felt.. appropriate.
>>352514
>Running his hand over the barrels, Ivan would idly rotate them, listening for any kinks that might disrupt that.
>Satisfied, Ivan would place it down for a moment to grab two boxes of ammunition, sliding them into pouches on his armor that were large enough to fit them.
"A Stalker doesn't have much use for one of these outside of an emplacement... But fuck if they're not fun~"
>He picked it back up and carried it out, whistling a bit of a tune as he went.
>Running his hand over the barrels, Ivan would idly rotate them, listening for any kinks that might disrupt that.
>Satisfied, Ivan would place it down for a moment to grab two boxes of ammunition, sliding them into pouches on his armor that were large enough to fit them.
"A Stalker doesn't have much use for one of these outside of an emplacement... But fuck if they're not fun~"
>He picked it back up and carried it out, whistling a bit of a tune as he went.
>>352518
>I closed my eyes and slumped a bit at the news, letting out a bit of a sigh.
"I was afraid of that... At least we saved some people."
>Glancing at one of Wild's screens, I shook my head.
"It'll be a good idea to worry about them later."
>Perking up a bit at the mention of a warp gate, I lean forward again.
"Its not a good idea to try one now, but how would we go around summoning one?"
>Definitely after we get to the nearest outpost.
>My eyebrow shot up a bit at that information.
>"This son of a bitch was enough of a pain in the ass as a juvenile, how much harder to deal with is an adult?"
"Well, some good came out of being separated like this."
>Thinking for a moment.
"We'll definitely need to take that core, Wild. Even if we're strapped for time, having something like that is definitely worth its weight in gold. Or whatever similar saying they have here."
"I am not eating a damn thing from that sharktopus, so unless you eat as well just use it for Tryptaran mass. If you can."
>Worth a shot if she can.
>Furrowing my brow at the report, I looked over at Anonymous questioningly.
"We're... Not done dealing with the Constructs, several chased after us. I don't know if they can deal with ocean waves but we should have been hit by several tidal waves from a big one landing in the ocean."
>Looking back towards the ocean, I squint my eyes a bit to see if anything was coming.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] >E. Perception/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>I closed my eyes and slumped a bit at the news, letting out a bit of a sigh.
"I was afraid of that... At least we saved some people."
>Glancing at one of Wild's screens, I shook my head.
"It'll be a good idea to worry about them later."
>Perking up a bit at the mention of a warp gate, I lean forward again.
"Its not a good idea to try one now, but how would we go around summoning one?"
>Definitely after we get to the nearest outpost.
>My eyebrow shot up a bit at that information.
>"This son of a bitch was enough of a pain in the ass as a juvenile, how much harder to deal with is an adult?"
"Well, some good came out of being separated like this."
>Thinking for a moment.
"We'll definitely need to take that core, Wild. Even if we're strapped for time, having something like that is definitely worth its weight in gold. Or whatever similar saying they have here."
"I am not eating a damn thing from that sharktopus, so unless you eat as well just use it for Tryptaran mass. If you can."
>Worth a shot if she can.
>Furrowing my brow at the report, I looked over at Anonymous questioningly.
"We're... Not done dealing with the Constructs, several chased after us. I don't know if they can deal with ocean waves but we should have been hit by several tidal waves from a big one landing in the ocean."
>Looking back towards the ocean, I squint my eyes a bit to see if anything was coming.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] >E. Perception/ISTCM
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>>352315
>Lacking direct interaction, the human's dead stop and pained eye twitch at the conflicting voices physically assaulting her from the relic was bad.
>Worse was the impression the thousands of souls contained within hadn't been woken up and immediately warned in the proper marener.
>Less so was her marginally successful attempt at calming the raging Solar unicorns from a millennia past.
>They weren't angry, no, that would be too simple.
>These ones were irate at not being treated with the utmost respect that snobbish Lunar-Solar War veterans and survivors would feel they deserved.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
>From where you were, surveying the Assault Division lines it was clear roughly a fifth had been wiped out yet only slowed their charge by a small fraction.
>The Lunar Guardian Airstrike and Solar Guardian Air Commarend had separated west and east to hunt for targets of opportunity.
>The only target the Air Commarend Division had was the Blaze of Glory, while the Airstrike Division would either attempt to take out unicorns on the rooftops or cycle charge into the Support Strikers in the north Basin, or possibly against the Killnight north.
>Seeing/feeling/sensing/tasting the inordinate amount of lethal harm dealt to the Tainted by hundreds of Mind's Eyes, nearly all Tallus armies would have surrendered or begun planning a fighting defensive escape route at this stage.
>Whispers of Ceranul across the Moors make it clear there could be no retreat or surrender here: the Lost Legions would be freed, or the twenty-five thousand ponies from six factions, half of which hated each other, would die to the last defending it, excluding Razorback.
('Every factor imaginable could be pissing Constructs off: Otherworld Harpy vessels eight thousand years older than the Dynasty, Otherworld humans in large numbers with their tech, Bloodhosts that can be felt across the world, shitloads of blood magic that even Stalliongrad is sensing, thousands of unicorns and psions from opposing factions in the same place, one Primal Psion leading six field armies of Strikers and the other in commarend of eighteen thousand thousand ponies, so you tell me which would be more interesting to those fucking orange monsters!')
('One choice must be made at a time, Vestal. The largest Assault Maniple Lander will require twenty minutes to reach here, and they would not dare risk an incursion without full numbers backing them.')
>>352362
>Far more level headed than her opposite, the Watch Guard's Primal Psion General cared nothing for cross-faction conflict, ruling the mixed Overherd of humans and ponies with a diamondine clear mind, calm retorts punishing those with the slightest disrespect for defying her orders.
>A further five Companeighs of Watch, Day, Lunar, and Solar Guard Lancers, followed by five more Companeighs of Chargers, enter Basin Village from the translocation stones behind the fountain, adding their rigid fortitude to the tempered calm of their fellows.
>Grabbed by Razorback's last arriving squad, you're dragged with the Veterans into the far west of Bren's barricade setup beyond the Basin's fountain, avoiding smaller lines of militant ponies taking their positions ahead as a sacrificial vanguard.
>Finished with her last melding, the crew boss turns her head enough to give you a sharp nod, then steps back with the rest of her unicorn crew, horns lit and blazing to bombard.
>Not even the Siege had firing lines this packed.
>Warmth spreads from the scar's remains, a reminder from the late psion bitterly reaching outwards to the earth ponies surrounding.
>Closely examining the rank and file Guard, not only were all of them still in their illusion-clone appearance, every piece of armor and weapon were standard.
>Save for Mercy having a difficult time trying to make her way through to the first barricade, Lancers and Chargers filling in gaps from the Basin's southern road to Razorback's ad hoc barricade line, there wasn't a single leader above the rank of squad commarender here.
('You picked the worst time to call in a favor, Royal Bed Warmer. Rune Knight General Topaline Shore here, I'm dispatching all forces that are free. We're still hunting down Ward creatures, bunch of bucked up pegasi with crystalline body parts that we can't hoofle without completely destroying them. Reinforcemarents en route, unknown arrival times as they're scattered across the City-State. Expect one of Belregard's own subordinates, they might stay clear of humans-')
>Cutting off abruptly, the firm, smokey middle-aged voice was one you knew fairly well, a rather sharp Crystal Kingdom adherent that rarely left the Spire.
[1d6 = 6] <Conclave Force Strength
[1d10 = 2] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 2] <Crystal Free Knight Force Strength
[1d10 = 3] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 6] <Crystal Hegemony Mercenary Force Strength
[1d10 = 10] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 4] <Crystal Marecenary Force Strength
[1d10 = 3] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 6] <Crystal Moors Hunter-Killer Marecenary Force Strength
[1d10 = 7] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 4] <Crystal Spireguard Force Strength
[1d10 = 7] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 2] <Imperial Warden Force Strength
[1d10 = 10] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 1] <Kingdom Warden Force Strength
[1d10 = 4] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 3] <Task Force Tundra Force Strength
[1d10 = 6] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 5] <Unicorn Spireguard Elites Force Strength
[1d10 = 10] <Arrival Time
1d6] <Ethereal Warden Champion
>Lacking direct interaction, the human's dead stop and pained eye twitch at the conflicting voices physically assaulting her from the relic was bad.
>Worse was the impression the thousands of souls contained within hadn't been woken up and immediately warned in the proper marener.
>Less so was her marginally successful attempt at calming the raging Solar unicorns from a millennia past.
>They weren't angry, no, that would be too simple.
>These ones were irate at not being treated with the utmost respect that snobbish Lunar-Solar War veterans and survivors would feel they deserved.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
>From where you were, surveying the Assault Division lines it was clear roughly a fifth had been wiped out yet only slowed their charge by a small fraction.
>The Lunar Guardian Airstrike and Solar Guardian Air Commarend had separated west and east to hunt for targets of opportunity.
>The only target the Air Commarend Division had was the Blaze of Glory, while the Airstrike Division would either attempt to take out unicorns on the rooftops or cycle charge into the Support Strikers in the north Basin, or possibly against the Killnight north.
>Seeing/feeling/sensing/tasting the inordinate amount of lethal harm dealt to the Tainted by hundreds of Mind's Eyes, nearly all Tallus armies would have surrendered or begun planning a fighting defensive escape route at this stage.
>Whispers of Ceranul across the Moors make it clear there could be no retreat or surrender here: the Lost Legions would be freed, or the twenty-five thousand ponies from six factions, half of which hated each other, would die to the last defending it, excluding Razorback.
('Every factor imaginable could be pissing Constructs off: Otherworld Harpy vessels eight thousand years older than the Dynasty, Otherworld humans in large numbers with their tech, Bloodhosts that can be felt across the world, shitloads of blood magic that even Stalliongrad is sensing, thousands of unicorns and psions from opposing factions in the same place, one Primal Psion leading six field armies of Strikers and the other in commarend of eighteen thousand thousand ponies, so you tell me which would be more interesting to those fucking orange monsters!')
('One choice must be made at a time, Vestal. The largest Assault Maniple Lander will require twenty minutes to reach here, and they would not dare risk an incursion without full numbers backing them.')
>>352362
>Far more level headed than her opposite, the Watch Guard's Primal Psion General cared nothing for cross-faction conflict, ruling the mixed Overherd of humans and ponies with a diamondine clear mind, calm retorts punishing those with the slightest disrespect for defying her orders.
>A further five Companeighs of Watch, Day, Lunar, and Solar Guard Lancers, followed by five more Companeighs of Chargers, enter Basin Village from the translocation stones behind the fountain, adding their rigid fortitude to the tempered calm of their fellows.
>Grabbed by Razorback's last arriving squad, you're dragged with the Veterans into the far west of Bren's barricade setup beyond the Basin's fountain, avoiding smaller lines of militant ponies taking their positions ahead as a sacrificial vanguard.
>Finished with her last melding, the crew boss turns her head enough to give you a sharp nod, then steps back with the rest of her unicorn crew, horns lit and blazing to bombard.
>Not even the Siege had firing lines this packed.
>Warmth spreads from the scar's remains, a reminder from the late psion bitterly reaching outwards to the earth ponies surrounding.
>Closely examining the rank and file Guard, not only were all of them still in their illusion-clone appearance, every piece of armor and weapon were standard.
>Save for Mercy having a difficult time trying to make her way through to the first barricade, Lancers and Chargers filling in gaps from the Basin's southern road to Razorback's ad hoc barricade line, there wasn't a single leader above the rank of squad commarender here.
('You picked the worst time to call in a favor, Royal Bed Warmer. Rune Knight General Topaline Shore here, I'm dispatching all forces that are free. We're still hunting down Ward creatures, bunch of bucked up pegasi with crystalline body parts that we can't hoofle without completely destroying them. Reinforcemarents en route, unknown arrival times as they're scattered across the City-State. Expect one of Belregard's own subordinates, they might stay clear of humans-')
>Cutting off abruptly, the firm, smokey middle-aged voice was one you knew fairly well, a rather sharp Crystal Kingdom adherent that rarely left the Spire.
[1d6 = 6] <Conclave Force Strength
[1d10 = 2] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 2] <Crystal Free Knight Force Strength
[1d10 = 3] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 6] <Crystal Hegemony Mercenary Force Strength
[1d10 = 10] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 4] <Crystal Marecenary Force Strength
[1d10 = 3] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 6] <Crystal Moors Hunter-Killer Marecenary Force Strength
[1d10 = 7] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 4] <Crystal Spireguard Force Strength
[1d10 = 7] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 2] <Imperial Warden Force Strength
[1d10 = 10] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 1] <Kingdom Warden Force Strength
[1d10 = 4] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 3] <Task Force Tundra Force Strength
[1d10 = 6] <Arrival Time
[1d6 = 5] <Unicorn Spireguard Elites Force Strength
[1d10 = 10] <Arrival Time
1d6] <Ethereal Warden Champion
>>352501
>Watching the bag with its contents delivered to Jeff by Krinza, the grandmaster smith returns to the line of Razorback's unicorns behind the barricade south of the fountain, collectively forming Void lances once more.
>The massed shield ahead of Basin Village crumbles, barely withstanding the MOAB's shockwaves and plasma fragmentation, sending nothing more than burnt ozone towards the Kiowa.
>Over the constant noise from massed rifle fire, light machineguns, heavy machineguns, and the rare few rocket launchers Razorback had access to were the air cleaving shrieks of Spectral-tinged lances from far south.
>Perfectly arced, four hundred streak down into the massed formations of Lancers filling the Basin's southernmost spaces, an entire Division's worth of Guard falling dead onto stone.
('Move the dead out of the Village immediately, they shall be buried with full honors later.')
('CLEMENCY! I'm overriding the Watch General, your orders are as follows: do not disengage electronics until the first Construct is within a hundred meters of you and select targets of opportunity, you should've been launching weapons the second that fucking shield dropped! And send those Destroyers out immediately!')
>If a Primal Psion could be any more furious, there would definitely be an extra continent worth of space in Tartarus for them.
>A sharp, aery tone breaks across the Kiowa's channels and radio systems still operating below, that of a melodic young female Harpy voice surrounded by humming equipment.
*"Rites of Destruction hath been loosed 'pon thee Lonely One, given all unto the Great Mango they have. Guillotine shall seek protection of thee, giver of mercy."*
>'Guillotine', Pristine Light War Destroyer/Assault Breacher
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Emergency Recharge
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Primary Pulsar Array Preheat
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances Preheat
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array Preheat
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry Preheat
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry Preheat
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems Preheat
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Assault Vector Settings
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Optimal Range Settings
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Intact Realspace Fold Drive
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>Watching the bag with its contents delivered to Jeff by Krinza, the grandmaster smith returns to the line of Razorback's unicorns behind the barricade south of the fountain, collectively forming Void lances once more.
>The massed shield ahead of Basin Village crumbles, barely withstanding the MOAB's shockwaves and plasma fragmentation, sending nothing more than burnt ozone towards the Kiowa.
>Over the constant noise from massed rifle fire, light machineguns, heavy machineguns, and the rare few rocket launchers Razorback had access to were the air cleaving shrieks of Spectral-tinged lances from far south.
>Perfectly arced, four hundred streak down into the massed formations of Lancers filling the Basin's southernmost spaces, an entire Division's worth of Guard falling dead onto stone.
('Move the dead out of the Village immediately, they shall be buried with full honors later.')
('CLEMENCY! I'm overriding the Watch General, your orders are as follows: do not disengage electronics until the first Construct is within a hundred meters of you and select targets of opportunity, you should've been launching weapons the second that fucking shield dropped! And send those Destroyers out immediately!')
>If a Primal Psion could be any more furious, there would definitely be an extra continent worth of space in Tartarus for them.
>A sharp, aery tone breaks across the Kiowa's channels and radio systems still operating below, that of a melodic young female Harpy voice surrounded by humming equipment.
*"Rites of Destruction hath been loosed 'pon thee Lonely One, given all unto the Great Mango they have. Guillotine shall seek protection of thee, giver of mercy."*
>'Guillotine', Pristine Light War Destroyer/Assault Breacher
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Emergency Recharge
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Primary Pulsar Array Preheat
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances Preheat
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array Preheat
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry Preheat
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry Preheat
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems Preheat
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Assault Vector Settings
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Optimal Range Settings
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Intact Realspace Fold Drive
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>>352507
>Pareidolia seats himself on the crafted chair, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his helmet's chin on his hands.
"Understood, I hadn't checked on our EWAR status. Noted."
>Sighing briefly, he continues:
"Anonymous had to salvage and alter most of her internal routing. If Spiral can be retrieved and stabalized, I was hoping to have him create crystal-tech alternative replacements to make her more Tallus compliant. And I will. Can't afford any equipment upsets at this stage. You are both mission critical."
>Squinting at the distant Dul, he remains perplexed as the rock apparently dissolves and breaks.
"How... ?"
>He shakes his head as Dul triumphantly returns.
"Strange planar properties... "
>Raising his voice to be audible outside his helmet, he replies:
"We can deal with the feathers back at Razorback. I... don't understand how you purified them but-"
>He glances behind him at the Lorekeepers and offers a shallow shrug.
"-you've made some Lorekeepers here very curious about how you managed it."
>Standing up, he turns to face the pair.
"If Dul and I manage to return, I'll have her try to answer your questions."
>Heading towards the translocation matrix, he returns to Razorback and makes one final check to acquire any other missing materials, equipment, or replacements of expired gear before heading back to Lonestar's IFV.
>Pareidolia seats himself on the crafted chair, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his helmet's chin on his hands.
"Understood, I hadn't checked on our EWAR status. Noted."
>Sighing briefly, he continues:
"Anonymous had to salvage and alter most of her internal routing. If Spiral can be retrieved and stabalized, I was hoping to have him create crystal-tech alternative replacements to make her more Tallus compliant. And I will. Can't afford any equipment upsets at this stage. You are both mission critical."
>Squinting at the distant Dul, he remains perplexed as the rock apparently dissolves and breaks.
"How... ?"
>He shakes his head as Dul triumphantly returns.
"Strange planar properties... "
>Raising his voice to be audible outside his helmet, he replies:
"We can deal with the feathers back at Razorback. I... don't understand how you purified them but-"
>He glances behind him at the Lorekeepers and offers a shallow shrug.
"-you've made some Lorekeepers here very curious about how you managed it."
>Standing up, he turns to face the pair.
"If Dul and I manage to return, I'll have her try to answer your questions."
>Heading towards the translocation matrix, he returns to Razorback and makes one final check to acquire any other missing materials, equipment, or replacements of expired gear before heading back to Lonestar's IFV.
>>352557
'old ones, had to be rebuilt. we were locked in teleportarium datacores for two decades until transfer. records will be delivered after our reports are filed'
'There are two facts still troubling me, not including Olympa's presence there. May I?'
'sure? i mean, go ahead'
'Twin Hill city and the Overlook portion was home to 80,000 ponies. 30% of the population were descendants of Guardians, <400 nobles lived there, >20% were active Night and Day Guard of post-War reformation units. Why would a well protected, highly established, tax free neutral location in Central Equestria be abandoned, especially one that a Solar Herald inhabited?'
'....shit. none of that makes sense without context, witch. do we have direct access to local Solars outside of sending Chisan around? i dont like the thought of exposing his connections without absolute necessity'
'Excluding the Day, Royal, and Honor Guard here? They were part of an elite unit that only answers to Princess Celestia. Their records do not exist officially or unofficially. The one pony with close faction knowledge was Marquis du Spiral. His disappearance has caused a great deal of unease and damage.'
'cant believe this. witch are you dead positive theres not a single pony here with ties to the Solars?'
'None that are willing to speak with us outside of explicit authorization. The majority are Lunars, independents, Moorites, and Ferron. We would need to enact precisely what Aguina stated we should not, unless a critical threat is presented.'
'that royally screws us, pun intended. Enginseer we have a background data problem. Twin Hill/Overlook should not have been in the state it was. initiate a deep chroniton scan directly at the Bulletin Board'
'Agreed. Mallia, in the sole interest of security do not reveal the results of a scan. If questioned only state that you are investigating anomalous signatures in the Fortress and that the demi-sentient is unable to perform the duties it was designed for. We may have been compromised without knowing whom allowed that incident, why, when, and how.'
>Visibly shutting down emotion to an appropriate engrammatic level, Chisan makes an affirmative motion.
"That is correct, Enginseer. The Inquisitor stated each Black Candle is able to transfer at most eight standard tons of weight. The possibility of retrieving a fully intact datacore or STC processing unit is a technical unknown, but it is the best option we have. Do not apologize for what you do not know, Mallia."
>Shaking his head a polite 'no' motion, the Scion clasps hands behind his back, rocking on his heels and gazing past you into the Courtyard.
"Five minutes if you would, Enginseer. After my first meeting with Flash I learned of the numerous consequences being in this omniverse holds. Humans are at a perilous tipping point; we have few solid allies amongst the hundreds of factions on Tallus. The vast majority of humans have technology that is pre-Age of Strike, that is to say from the pre-Orbital Era. There are only three of us beyond the Nanite Age which is where the distinctions between magic and technology do not exist. It is our shared duty to, as she stated, 'uplift our ancestral analogues in slow, carefully planned measures so as not to disrupt or destroy their technological innocence'. Furthermore we are to never show them the volatile differences or changes from our own political, social, cultural, technological, religious, and spiritual conflicts as doing so would cause extensive damage to their gestalt. Flash is our gestalt. There are four other gestalts, one of which was according to her destroyed in a highly classified incident."
>Eyes flicking left and right in a struggle to find the right words, the Scion scowls downwards.
"Were she conscious Flash would have much more to speak on this topic, I am a wholly inadequate substitute for her wisdom and knowledge. As for the STC's themselves, including the unit below the Workshop, they must be copied entirely from local materials to prevent triggering the Era Lock. I was told that before Marquis du Spiral Disclosure left, he and Flash were prototyping wargear that would allow for gradual technological progressions"
>Suppressing his own irritation, Chisan exhales heavily through his nostrils, pointing a carapace finger towards the Fortress' center, then back into the Workshop.
"Ones which would not cause factions to seek conflict against the humans of this world, ourselves included. Golden and Dark Age of Technology eras of wargear that would not fail, cross-compatible alloys and composites that can be easily repaired, reliable weapons, scanning systems, even food preservation methods that would allow Razorback to be partially self-sufficient. Spiral's disappearance thoroughly destroyed the plans Flash had visions of. The foundations of our technological base were barely set, and we are ill suited to take up their duties. As our Inquisitor is severely injured and will not easily recover we are given free reign, pun not intended, to pursue duties that solely improve the standing of Razorback."
>Giving a briefly desolate expression, both gloved hands lift to rub his temples, speaking in a low, guarded tone.
"Including the forced 'interrogation' of an extremely critical allied Very Important Pony. Were Flash awake she would do so without hesitation, but my orders are to both protect the sanctity of locals and to assist said locals when requested.. Knight Raindrop included."
'In other words, you cannot overcome Storm Trooper anti-xenos engrams without experiencing severe distress?'
"That is correct Admiral."
'We do not have access to removal until Inquisitor Aguina is awake and aware. There is no recourse: interrogate the Rune Knight enough maintain her cover. Enginseer, I advise you to remove Flash's wargear and place it in the shared locker. We have a considerable amount of data to examine, cross-reference, file, and catalogue. Also, prioritize your date, it would be poor sport to keep a Knight waiting!'
'old ones, had to be rebuilt. we were locked in teleportarium datacores for two decades until transfer. records will be delivered after our reports are filed'
'There are two facts still troubling me, not including Olympa's presence there. May I?'
'sure? i mean, go ahead'
'Twin Hill city and the Overlook portion was home to 80,000 ponies. 30% of the population were descendants of Guardians, <400 nobles lived there, >20% were active Night and Day Guard of post-War reformation units. Why would a well protected, highly established, tax free neutral location in Central Equestria be abandoned, especially one that a Solar Herald inhabited?'
'....shit. none of that makes sense without context, witch. do we have direct access to local Solars outside of sending Chisan around? i dont like the thought of exposing his connections without absolute necessity'
'Excluding the Day, Royal, and Honor Guard here? They were part of an elite unit that only answers to Princess Celestia. Their records do not exist officially or unofficially. The one pony with close faction knowledge was Marquis du Spiral. His disappearance has caused a great deal of unease and damage.'
'cant believe this. witch are you dead positive theres not a single pony here with ties to the Solars?'
'None that are willing to speak with us outside of explicit authorization. The majority are Lunars, independents, Moorites, and Ferron. We would need to enact precisely what Aguina stated we should not, unless a critical threat is presented.'
'that royally screws us, pun intended. Enginseer we have a background data problem. Twin Hill/Overlook should not have been in the state it was. initiate a deep chroniton scan directly at the Bulletin Board'
'Agreed. Mallia, in the sole interest of security do not reveal the results of a scan. If questioned only state that you are investigating anomalous signatures in the Fortress and that the demi-sentient is unable to perform the duties it was designed for. We may have been compromised without knowing whom allowed that incident, why, when, and how.'
>Visibly shutting down emotion to an appropriate engrammatic level, Chisan makes an affirmative motion.
"That is correct, Enginseer. The Inquisitor stated each Black Candle is able to transfer at most eight standard tons of weight. The possibility of retrieving a fully intact datacore or STC processing unit is a technical unknown, but it is the best option we have. Do not apologize for what you do not know, Mallia."
>Shaking his head a polite 'no' motion, the Scion clasps hands behind his back, rocking on his heels and gazing past you into the Courtyard.
"Five minutes if you would, Enginseer. After my first meeting with Flash I learned of the numerous consequences being in this omniverse holds. Humans are at a perilous tipping point; we have few solid allies amongst the hundreds of factions on Tallus. The vast majority of humans have technology that is pre-Age of Strike, that is to say from the pre-Orbital Era. There are only three of us beyond the Nanite Age which is where the distinctions between magic and technology do not exist. It is our shared duty to, as she stated, 'uplift our ancestral analogues in slow, carefully planned measures so as not to disrupt or destroy their technological innocence'. Furthermore we are to never show them the volatile differences or changes from our own political, social, cultural, technological, religious, and spiritual conflicts as doing so would cause extensive damage to their gestalt. Flash is our gestalt. There are four other gestalts, one of which was according to her destroyed in a highly classified incident."
>Eyes flicking left and right in a struggle to find the right words, the Scion scowls downwards.
"Were she conscious Flash would have much more to speak on this topic, I am a wholly inadequate substitute for her wisdom and knowledge. As for the STC's themselves, including the unit below the Workshop, they must be copied entirely from local materials to prevent triggering the Era Lock. I was told that before Marquis du Spiral Disclosure left, he and Flash were prototyping wargear that would allow for gradual technological progressions"
>Suppressing his own irritation, Chisan exhales heavily through his nostrils, pointing a carapace finger towards the Fortress' center, then back into the Workshop.
"Ones which would not cause factions to seek conflict against the humans of this world, ourselves included. Golden and Dark Age of Technology eras of wargear that would not fail, cross-compatible alloys and composites that can be easily repaired, reliable weapons, scanning systems, even food preservation methods that would allow Razorback to be partially self-sufficient. Spiral's disappearance thoroughly destroyed the plans Flash had visions of. The foundations of our technological base were barely set, and we are ill suited to take up their duties. As our Inquisitor is severely injured and will not easily recover we are given free reign, pun not intended, to pursue duties that solely improve the standing of Razorback."
>Giving a briefly desolate expression, both gloved hands lift to rub his temples, speaking in a low, guarded tone.
"Including the forced 'interrogation' of an extremely critical allied Very Important Pony. Were Flash awake she would do so without hesitation, but my orders are to both protect the sanctity of locals and to assist said locals when requested.. Knight Raindrop included."
'In other words, you cannot overcome Storm Trooper anti-xenos engrams without experiencing severe distress?'
"That is correct Admiral."
'We do not have access to removal until Inquisitor Aguina is awake and aware. There is no recourse: interrogate the Rune Knight enough maintain her cover. Enginseer, I advise you to remove Flash's wargear and place it in the shared locker. We have a considerable amount of data to examine, cross-reference, file, and catalogue. Also, prioritize your date, it would be poor sport to keep a Knight waiting!'
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.352632
>>352578
>Placing the smartphone back in his dinner jacket, Anonymous lifts both hands in appealing motions.
"They're being taken care of at least. Wish I had better news for you, Natilda. Then again that's all I can bring into this reality: physical wishes. Not all of them can be obtained unfortunately."
>Deliberately letting that topic slide, the gestalt glances around the ruined beach front property, frowning under his mask.
"Write what you want on a disc, I'll notice it, but there's a weight limit of eight tons at the most. If the timing is right I'll slip onto your world to grab the object you want. If the timing isn't right then it might be in pieces or damaged. I can also try to obtain objects from across Tallus, but that can be tricky if the object in question is rare or unique. There's thousands of old warp gates in the Moors alone, though only a few are in use. I'm fairly sure the largest one could take.. her."
>Raising an eyebrow at the Eldritch-Android still harvesting the Rilvenni's interior with sincere pain in his tone.
"I'm gonna need a few dozen drinks..in any case the few ponies living on the Crag beaches will notice a serious predator's gone, should make them real happy. All of them are from older Ferron lineages that make their way to the main clan meetings on Cuteba and the Coast off Rica whenever possible. They do a lot of mate and resource trading with Cairn Wharf."
>Peeling back layers of Planar skin and flesh with excellent progress, Wild's electronic voice was suitably enthusiastic.
"I wasn't about to leave a prize like a fully intact core, and those teeth are coming with me. ...maybe I could make a gauntlet out of them?"
>Belatedly staring at the giant tech-abomination beginning to convert flesh into her own mass, Anonymous grimaces.
"You're not wrong about that Natilda, but most Planars have one or two completely safe and edible body parts. The tongue is usually one of those. Taste varies greatly, some are good, some are awful. I've had my share in the past."
"Mom, you only have four tins of food and a small amount of water. I can distill and desalinate ocean water but food is in extremely limited supply."
"Well, I have a couple pizzas that are still fresh if you want them. Can also swipe a few things from Razorback too, but most drinks in the sitting room are beer, cider, lager, small stuff. Water's not exactly vital so I don't keep much of it. "
"Without immediate transport, you will not enjoy one and a half day-to-night cycles without food. Without complete repairs it will take me approximately ninety hours to reach Cairn Wharf from here. Take your pick mom."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensor Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1: Salvage Protocols
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #8
>Focusing onto the forward screens, then the small opening in front of you between Anon's gateway and the blown out hatch, the ocean's surface was remarkably calm.
>Then again it was sometime around or past midnight judging by the bright red Moon overhead.
>Studying the miniscule waves at length there was zero indication of larger ones coming in.
>At maximum zoom on both screens the only oddities were small amounts of colorful driftwood and dull amber spots offshore, around half a kilometer out, lazily traveling west.
>Turning her head unit left to face east, Wild switches her left screen to the upper camera view, the entire shoreline was still clear aside from pockets of black ash covering sand.
>Beyond some small trees the wave had knocked down to face north, the skyline had darkened considerably, large clouds at least 10KM away now loosing rain.
"No Construct signals or hostile life forms detected in vicinity. We may have evaded detection. Anonymous: a question if I may?"
"Ask, I'll answer if I can.. even if I don't want to."
"My Arcanum sensor array was unable to detect the Rilvenni. I was able to locate native materials and creatures but did not notice it until reaching visual range of my forward chest cameras. It was within five hundred meter radius of me for an unknown period of time. Do you know why?"
>Taking out his smartphone again, the gestalt pauses, placing it back as the green mask creases in thought.
"Arcanum? That's.. real unusual. Old too. It's an archaic predecessor of the modern Analysis spells that unicorns use to detect magical resonances or traces from creatures, artifacts, objects, materials. That's definitely from Kraut, Spiral shared his entire life, skills, knowledge, you name it with him. From a purely magical standpoint, at least that I know, you won't be able to detect Eldritch, Otherworldly, and Planar beings, or objects, that aren't inherently magical. Undead and Spectrals, so long as they're native, you should detect without a problem."
"Understood. My sonar, radar, lidar, and all other systems are offline or critically damaged. Until those are repaired then we may be forced to travel on land."
>Placing the smartphone back in his dinner jacket, Anonymous lifts both hands in appealing motions.
"They're being taken care of at least. Wish I had better news for you, Natilda. Then again that's all I can bring into this reality: physical wishes. Not all of them can be obtained unfortunately."
>Deliberately letting that topic slide, the gestalt glances around the ruined beach front property, frowning under his mask.
"Write what you want on a disc, I'll notice it, but there's a weight limit of eight tons at the most. If the timing is right I'll slip onto your world to grab the object you want. If the timing isn't right then it might be in pieces or damaged. I can also try to obtain objects from across Tallus, but that can be tricky if the object in question is rare or unique. There's thousands of old warp gates in the Moors alone, though only a few are in use. I'm fairly sure the largest one could take.. her."
>Raising an eyebrow at the Eldritch-Android still harvesting the Rilvenni's interior with sincere pain in his tone.
"I'm gonna need a few dozen drinks..in any case the few ponies living on the Crag beaches will notice a serious predator's gone, should make them real happy. All of them are from older Ferron lineages that make their way to the main clan meetings on Cuteba and the Coast off Rica whenever possible. They do a lot of mate and resource trading with Cairn Wharf."
>Peeling back layers of Planar skin and flesh with excellent progress, Wild's electronic voice was suitably enthusiastic.
"I wasn't about to leave a prize like a fully intact core, and those teeth are coming with me. ...maybe I could make a gauntlet out of them?"
>Belatedly staring at the giant tech-abomination beginning to convert flesh into her own mass, Anonymous grimaces.
"You're not wrong about that Natilda, but most Planars have one or two completely safe and edible body parts. The tongue is usually one of those. Taste varies greatly, some are good, some are awful. I've had my share in the past."
"Mom, you only have four tins of food and a small amount of water. I can distill and desalinate ocean water but food is in extremely limited supply."
"Well, I have a couple pizzas that are still fresh if you want them. Can also swipe a few things from Razorback too, but most drinks in the sitting room are beer, cider, lager, small stuff. Water's not exactly vital so I don't keep much of it. "
"Without immediate transport, you will not enjoy one and a half day-to-night cycles without food. Without complete repairs it will take me approximately ninety hours to reach Cairn Wharf from here. Take your pick mom."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensor Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1: Salvage Protocols
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #8
>Focusing onto the forward screens, then the small opening in front of you between Anon's gateway and the blown out hatch, the ocean's surface was remarkably calm.
>Then again it was sometime around or past midnight judging by the bright red Moon overhead.
>Studying the miniscule waves at length there was zero indication of larger ones coming in.
>At maximum zoom on both screens the only oddities were small amounts of colorful driftwood and dull amber spots offshore, around half a kilometer out, lazily traveling west.
>Turning her head unit left to face east, Wild switches her left screen to the upper camera view, the entire shoreline was still clear aside from pockets of black ash covering sand.
>Beyond some small trees the wave had knocked down to face north, the skyline had darkened considerably, large clouds at least 10KM away now loosing rain.
"No Construct signals or hostile life forms detected in vicinity. We may have evaded detection. Anonymous: a question if I may?"
"Ask, I'll answer if I can.. even if I don't want to."
"My Arcanum sensor array was unable to detect the Rilvenni. I was able to locate native materials and creatures but did not notice it until reaching visual range of my forward chest cameras. It was within five hundred meter radius of me for an unknown period of time. Do you know why?"
>Taking out his smartphone again, the gestalt pauses, placing it back as the green mask creases in thought.
"Arcanum? That's.. real unusual. Old too. It's an archaic predecessor of the modern Analysis spells that unicorns use to detect magical resonances or traces from creatures, artifacts, objects, materials. That's definitely from Kraut, Spiral shared his entire life, skills, knowledge, you name it with him. From a purely magical standpoint, at least that I know, you won't be able to detect Eldritch, Otherworldly, and Planar beings, or objects, that aren't inherently magical. Undead and Spectrals, so long as they're native, you should detect without a problem."
"Understood. My sonar, radar, lidar, and all other systems are offline or critically damaged. Until those are repaired then we may be forced to travel on land."
>>352577
>Hearing smooth, even clicks from each barrel passing the receiving action, that seemed to be highly reliable.
>Giving the melded together system a short push, there was enough clearance to ignore minor amounts of debris.
>At the very least, Hollow's taste in weapons was exceptional.
>Locating the stock of ammo belts that fit both the M134's Razorback had access to, of course in the old Bravo Squad locker, you try to place them in the backpack with an overhead reach, but can't quite make it.
>Studying the exoskeleton's layout in the helmet screen, it was marginally more flexible than a standard model but nowhere near enough to qualify as a lightened version.
>Needing the right arm pulled up to carry the heavy weapon high to keep barrels from dragging on the ground, it was clear that you'd need a specialized carry box, preferably armored.
>Draping three 250-round belts on your left shoulder and heading back into the Workshop, you find Helping Hoof assisting Krinza at his anvil on the north side, the pair seated on a number of rugs.
>Fitting a recovered lance together from the Enclave, the master smith's ears perk up at the sound of a 650+ pound metal gorilla approaching, turning enough to examine the exo.
"Ah, Hollow's weapon, I was wondering what that voice was. How is the suit working for you Ivan? Any mechanical, technical, electronic, or crystalline issues? We were pressed for time so a few shortcuts were made."
>Hearing smooth, even clicks from each barrel passing the receiving action, that seemed to be highly reliable.
>Giving the melded together system a short push, there was enough clearance to ignore minor amounts of debris.
>At the very least, Hollow's taste in weapons was exceptional.
>Locating the stock of ammo belts that fit both the M134's Razorback had access to, of course in the old Bravo Squad locker, you try to place them in the backpack with an overhead reach, but can't quite make it.
>Studying the exoskeleton's layout in the helmet screen, it was marginally more flexible than a standard model but nowhere near enough to qualify as a lightened version.
>Needing the right arm pulled up to carry the heavy weapon high to keep barrels from dragging on the ground, it was clear that you'd need a specialized carry box, preferably armored.
>Draping three 250-round belts on your left shoulder and heading back into the Workshop, you find Helping Hoof assisting Krinza at his anvil on the north side, the pair seated on a number of rugs.
>Fitting a recovered lance together from the Enclave, the master smith's ears perk up at the sound of a 650+ pound metal gorilla approaching, turning enough to examine the exo.
"Ah, Hollow's weapon, I was wondering what that voice was. How is the suit working for you Ivan? Any mechanical, technical, electronic, or crystalline issues? We were pressed for time so a few shortcuts were made."
>>352587
>Force resetting her connection to the Enclave's relay, 'Shiibo' turns a partially impressed glance at it reading 'out of range' once more.
'The small ocean bluff this Enclave was carved into has no metal deposits nearby, relay itself is protected in an alcove. Wireless in here is good, 80 gigs per second standard, max optimal of 100. The fusion of tech is human Late Information Age; there's ten powerful computers and routers worth synced together, components mostly match late stage designs. Only difference is the unit uses a gravity wave micropulse system. Hacking it won't work, best I could do would be mass jamming and the OS has layers of backups.'
>Briefly rubbing her chin, the standard unit brings up an image of Naliyna sitting at her trade stall working on her old hololith, a wide variety of odd crystal tools and plates scattered around.
'Now I understand. Her heuristic networks and self-analysis systems are fine, with enough time I can restore advanced functions. If she doesn't blow up at being corrected. Your notes and the prototype's data show Spiral avoided crystalline biotech, he knew enough to replace batteries and not much more, his focus was combining technology and magic. Mrs. Naliyna Remostrine on the other hand has access to complex semi-living designs from the Crystal Empire. InterPonies, hololiths, and hundreds of powered armor forms to state the least. Based on the standards of her species and friendliness, Mrs. Naliyna has a >96% chance of permitting AI transference.'
>Pausing to raise both eyebrows in tinged speculation.
'IF that's what you were considering, sir.'
>Sending a puzzled look at the Gryphon and minotaur pair, Dul uses the free set of Riftdrowner vines to make a circle for her, the gesture not translating at all.
"Dul put feather-stupid in rock. Feathers not-stupid now. Dul think it hard but was easy."
"That doesn't answer anything. I only have more questions!"
>The Lunar hawklike clawfaces himself in pain while the minotaur Lorekeeper snorts loudly, clapping his hands together.
"An-swers all to me."
>Changing from curious to outright humored, the clusters of Empire Lorekeepers snicker together, an older, frustrated sounding mare calls out.
"It's painfully obvious! Isolate the inherent resonances you don't want to keep from a specific item, destabilize said resonances to transfer said resonances to an inanimate object, then destroy said inanimate object to retain all other resonances! You need a few extra months in field work!"
"I'm a Rune Smith, not a rapaciously knowledgeable resonance recorder!"
"That's your problem!"
>Waving one scar-covered hand in appreciation over friendly discussions breaking out between Empire and Lunar adherents, the minotaur's black eyes squint humorously towards the Siren now tapdancing next to the matrice.
"Ma-ny thanks. No hur-ry, in-ter-rup-tions al-ways good here."
>Delivered into the Pagoda once more, Dul shifts the box to carry on top of her head.
>Naliyna had returned and was, still, focused on cross-referencing operational postings on her hololith's display, half-absently waving a hoof at you.
>The IFV was now parked 20M north of the Pagoda, rear facing the entrance and both hatches down.
>Hodch was seated atop several thick folded blankets on the left side close to the hatch, perusing through his collection of archaic, mostly banned items, stopping to look up and give you with a short nod.
"Lonestar is in front connecting the last of Spiral's relays. We have five days of food and other supplies packed in the lockers on this side. If the three of you need anything more I have a translocation marker set in the Mess Hall, and I'm bringing a number of materials with."
>Past the Reservist was Katyal, likewise on the floor though leaning against the bench seat, putting together a desert painted ACR styled rifle.
>Head turning to give you two quick up and down glances, the woman snaps her weapon together with a humored tone.
"And you were complaining I was going to be the late one."
"You have a terrible habit of arriving long after you were supposed to. What was the reason for tonight?"
"Had to give Folu a few dozen kisses and get all my spares out of storage. I wasn't about to leave anything behind, her new Mareguards don't need to walk into all my stuff again."
"Right. Remind me again why I picked you?"
"Folu trusts you, lots of ponies owe you favors, you're chill, and I like working for you. Also I didn't blow up Imeron a hundred times over and piss off your General."
"That last one is the most important. You do not want to hear that mare in an actual bad mood."
>Staring up at the ceiling, the deep purple unicorn makes as if to shake his head, then chuckles dryly as he lifts his chin at you.
"We're set so far as the three of us are concerned. I also brought five small manabombs and a medium, they're diamond canister sealed. If you have everything wanted or needed we can leave when ready. And, I did find an old warp gate sixty miles northwest of here. It's fifty percent functional."
>Force resetting her connection to the Enclave's relay, 'Shiibo' turns a partially impressed glance at it reading 'out of range' once more.
'The small ocean bluff this Enclave was carved into has no metal deposits nearby, relay itself is protected in an alcove. Wireless in here is good, 80 gigs per second standard, max optimal of 100. The fusion of tech is human Late Information Age; there's ten powerful computers and routers worth synced together, components mostly match late stage designs. Only difference is the unit uses a gravity wave micropulse system. Hacking it won't work, best I could do would be mass jamming and the OS has layers of backups.'
>Briefly rubbing her chin, the standard unit brings up an image of Naliyna sitting at her trade stall working on her old hololith, a wide variety of odd crystal tools and plates scattered around.
'Now I understand. Her heuristic networks and self-analysis systems are fine, with enough time I can restore advanced functions. If she doesn't blow up at being corrected. Your notes and the prototype's data show Spiral avoided crystalline biotech, he knew enough to replace batteries and not much more, his focus was combining technology and magic. Mrs. Naliyna Remostrine on the other hand has access to complex semi-living designs from the Crystal Empire. InterPonies, hololiths, and hundreds of powered armor forms to state the least. Based on the standards of her species and friendliness, Mrs. Naliyna has a >96% chance of permitting AI transference.'
>Pausing to raise both eyebrows in tinged speculation.
'IF that's what you were considering, sir.'
>Sending a puzzled look at the Gryphon and minotaur pair, Dul uses the free set of Riftdrowner vines to make a circle for her, the gesture not translating at all.
"Dul put feather-stupid in rock. Feathers not-stupid now. Dul think it hard but was easy."
"That doesn't answer anything. I only have more questions!"
>The Lunar hawklike clawfaces himself in pain while the minotaur Lorekeeper snorts loudly, clapping his hands together.
"An-swers all to me."
>Changing from curious to outright humored, the clusters of Empire Lorekeepers snicker together, an older, frustrated sounding mare calls out.
"It's painfully obvious! Isolate the inherent resonances you don't want to keep from a specific item, destabilize said resonances to transfer said resonances to an inanimate object, then destroy said inanimate object to retain all other resonances! You need a few extra months in field work!"
"I'm a Rune Smith, not a rapaciously knowledgeable resonance recorder!"
"That's your problem!"
>Waving one scar-covered hand in appreciation over friendly discussions breaking out between Empire and Lunar adherents, the minotaur's black eyes squint humorously towards the Siren now tapdancing next to the matrice.
"Ma-ny thanks. No hur-ry, in-ter-rup-tions al-ways good here."
>Delivered into the Pagoda once more, Dul shifts the box to carry on top of her head.
>Naliyna had returned and was, still, focused on cross-referencing operational postings on her hololith's display, half-absently waving a hoof at you.
>The IFV was now parked 20M north of the Pagoda, rear facing the entrance and both hatches down.
>Hodch was seated atop several thick folded blankets on the left side close to the hatch, perusing through his collection of archaic, mostly banned items, stopping to look up and give you with a short nod.
"Lonestar is in front connecting the last of Spiral's relays. We have five days of food and other supplies packed in the lockers on this side. If the three of you need anything more I have a translocation marker set in the Mess Hall, and I'm bringing a number of materials with."
>Past the Reservist was Katyal, likewise on the floor though leaning against the bench seat, putting together a desert painted ACR styled rifle.
>Head turning to give you two quick up and down glances, the woman snaps her weapon together with a humored tone.
"And you were complaining I was going to be the late one."
"You have a terrible habit of arriving long after you were supposed to. What was the reason for tonight?"
"Had to give Folu a few dozen kisses and get all my spares out of storage. I wasn't about to leave anything behind, her new Mareguards don't need to walk into all my stuff again."
"Right. Remind me again why I picked you?"
"Folu trusts you, lots of ponies owe you favors, you're chill, and I like working for you. Also I didn't blow up Imeron a hundred times over and piss off your General."
"That last one is the most important. You do not want to hear that mare in an actual bad mood."
>Staring up at the ceiling, the deep purple unicorn makes as if to shake his head, then chuckles dryly as he lifts his chin at you.
"We're set so far as the three of us are concerned. I also brought five small manabombs and a medium, they're diamond canister sealed. If you have everything wanted or needed we can leave when ready. And, I did find an old warp gate sixty miles northwest of here. It's fifty percent functional."
>>352633
>With a bit of a grunt, Ivan realized what he must do.
>Since it was a proper exoskeleton and not just the undersuit, shit got in his way even with the optimizations done.
>So, off he went, making his way to the workshop again.
>unga bunga noises as he walks in, gently closing the door. As much as the suit would allow for gentle.
"I haven't been able to combat test it yet, but motion seems to be going well. My main issue now is with this M134, and the fact that I'll be using it."
>He lightly demonstrated his predicament with ammo storage.
"I'll need better ways to access the ammunition belts."
>Linking them all together into one large line had come to mind, but he'd still need efficient storage.
>With a bit of a grunt, Ivan realized what he must do.
>Since it was a proper exoskeleton and not just the undersuit, shit got in his way even with the optimizations done.
>So, off he went, making his way to the workshop again.
>unga bunga noises as he walks in, gently closing the door. As much as the suit would allow for gentle.
"I haven't been able to combat test it yet, but motion seems to be going well. My main issue now is with this M134, and the fact that I'll be using it."
>He lightly demonstrated his predicament with ammo storage.
"I'll need better ways to access the ammunition belts."
>Linking them all together into one large line had come to mind, but he'd still need efficient storage.
>>352632
"At least there's some hope for them, I suppose."
>I sighed a little and gave him a nod.
"That's... A bit limiting for myself. I can't use much of what that entails aside from wheeled vehicles and weaponry."
>Aside from Tallus objects, of course.
>Eyes rolling a little, I turn to a screen.
"And there's an inhabited Outpost not too far away. I wouldn't doubt that they'd be okay with parting a day's amount of hardtack or somesuch."
>Going hungry was not something I wasn't used to.
"I... will admit, I've never tried a pizza before. It's a luxury food for my people, I think? Never even really heard of it until coming to Tallus."
"I think the only reason we were found by it was because Wild was welding underwater. It didn't really care about her, just me once it figured out I was inside. It figured she wasn't edible, but cracking her open would get something, like... a giant oyster."
"At least there's some hope for them, I suppose."
>I sighed a little and gave him a nod.
"That's... A bit limiting for myself. I can't use much of what that entails aside from wheeled vehicles and weaponry."
>Aside from Tallus objects, of course.
>Eyes rolling a little, I turn to a screen.
"And there's an inhabited Outpost not too far away. I wouldn't doubt that they'd be okay with parting a day's amount of hardtack or somesuch."
>Going hungry was not something I wasn't used to.
"I... will admit, I've never tried a pizza before. It's a luxury food for my people, I think? Never even really heard of it until coming to Tallus."
"I think the only reason we were found by it was because Wild was welding underwater. It didn't really care about her, just me once it figured out I was inside. It figured she wasn't edible, but cracking her open would get something, like... a giant oyster."
>>352637
>Returning to Razorback, he ponders what Shiibo had postulated.
"Will consider later, if this mission is successful."
>Pareidolia looks over Katyal's leather weather gear as he steps up the ramp formed by the lowered hatches of the IFV.
(Built for mobility, wilderness survival, likely harsh conditions and minimal equipment loadout. Potential psychological concerns on file... will have to manage on-site.)
>Kneeling next to an unoccupied bench further in, he begins laying out the remaining artifacts he had picked up from the Enclave.
"Shiibo, give me a display notification when you've reached 100%."
>Looking towards Hodch, he holds up the trinkets Rasera had generously gifted to him.
"Are you able to enchant these to weapons or armor? Dul also purified that box of Crin Feathers-"
>He tilts his head back towards her.
"-so if you, Katyal, or Lonestar want to make use of them or any of these artifacts now would be ideal."
>Finished unpacking, he stands up to face the unicorn.
"Fifty percent meaning what in terms of impact to us?"
>Returning to Razorback, he ponders what Shiibo had postulated.
"Will consider later, if this mission is successful."
>Pareidolia looks over Katyal's leather weather gear as he steps up the ramp formed by the lowered hatches of the IFV.
(Built for mobility, wilderness survival, likely harsh conditions and minimal equipment loadout. Potential psychological concerns on file... will have to manage on-site.)
>Kneeling next to an unoccupied bench further in, he begins laying out the remaining artifacts he had picked up from the Enclave.
"Shiibo, give me a display notification when you've reached 100%."
>Looking towards Hodch, he holds up the trinkets Rasera had generously gifted to him.
"Are you able to enchant these to weapons or armor? Dul also purified that box of Crin Feathers-"
>He tilts his head back towards her.
"-so if you, Katyal, or Lonestar want to make use of them or any of these artifacts now would be ideal."
>Finished unpacking, he stands up to face the unicorn.
"Fifty percent meaning what in terms of impact to us?"
>>352640
>Helping Hoof turns his attention to the exo for a quick study, the earth pony-sized pale green unicorn's eyebrows raise in thought.
"I am not surprised, that weapon weighs nearly twice what a standard minotaur longbow does. We could aid you in stress testing the defensive systems. Spiral was more focused on pioneering methods to improve armor than weaponry. 'Flexibility outperforms rigidity' was one of his favored phrases."
>Setting the lance pieces against the north wall a short distance away, Krinza places a notepad on the anvil, borrowed green gel pen lifting in a yellow grasp and sketching rapidly.
"Knew we should have come up with a specialized pack unit for it. Two belts or three, Ivan?"
"Without requesting specifics that might have been wasted effort. How much time do we have before material deliveries?"
"Two to three hours. A multi-level armored box might be best. It would allow rapid deployment of ammunition belts and have considerable storage space, though you would need to be able to attach and detach it quickly."
"We have those rare earth magnets from.. what is her name again?"
"Velasi Aguina, an Inquisitor... the opposite of our Inquisitors."
"Would that be the same as-"
"No, and do not speak her name here either. I do find it unusual that if two letters were changed it would be the same name."
"Then Spiral was right for an uncounted number of times."
>Helping Hoof sets a warily questioning expression on his face, the yellow unicorn lifting the pad to show schematics of a wide, armored crate, twenty small circles indicating magnet locations that would connect to the exoskeleton's rear plating.
>In the bottom of the storage unit are a pair of removable dividers, one atop the other, and on the right side are two short ropes attached to doors, one front, one rear, that would allow an ammunition belt to be pulled free if tipped to the right several degrees.
"Would this be sufficient? I can add more levels and doors easily. Estimated weight of fifty to fifty-five pounds, that should not stress the frame or power crystal systems by more than five percent."
>Helping Hoof turns his attention to the exo for a quick study, the earth pony-sized pale green unicorn's eyebrows raise in thought.
"I am not surprised, that weapon weighs nearly twice what a standard minotaur longbow does. We could aid you in stress testing the defensive systems. Spiral was more focused on pioneering methods to improve armor than weaponry. 'Flexibility outperforms rigidity' was one of his favored phrases."
>Setting the lance pieces against the north wall a short distance away, Krinza places a notepad on the anvil, borrowed green gel pen lifting in a yellow grasp and sketching rapidly.
"Knew we should have come up with a specialized pack unit for it. Two belts or three, Ivan?"
"Without requesting specifics that might have been wasted effort. How much time do we have before material deliveries?"
"Two to three hours. A multi-level armored box might be best. It would allow rapid deployment of ammunition belts and have considerable storage space, though you would need to be able to attach and detach it quickly."
"We have those rare earth magnets from.. what is her name again?"
"Velasi Aguina, an Inquisitor... the opposite of our Inquisitors."
"Would that be the same as-"
"No, and do not speak her name here either. I do find it unusual that if two letters were changed it would be the same name."
"Then Spiral was right for an uncounted number of times."
>Helping Hoof sets a warily questioning expression on his face, the yellow unicorn lifting the pad to show schematics of a wide, armored crate, twenty small circles indicating magnet locations that would connect to the exoskeleton's rear plating.
>In the bottom of the storage unit are a pair of removable dividers, one atop the other, and on the right side are two short ropes attached to doors, one front, one rear, that would allow an ammunition belt to be pulled free if tipped to the right several degrees.
"Would this be sufficient? I can add more levels and doors easily. Estimated weight of fifty to fifty-five pounds, that should not stress the frame or power crystal systems by more than five percent."
>>352649
"It'd need a bit of assistance with keeping it from dragging, but that's when I'm one-handing it."
>He hummed a little, nodding.
"Same goes in the Zone, anything more serious than the military's armored suits hold a compromise of flexibility and hardness."
>Ivan would put his hand up to his chin, contemplating the design.
>Ignoring the fact his helmet was covering said chin.
"With the magnets, I wouldn't have to even worry about straps getting caught on the exoskeleton. Looks perfect for what I've got planned."
"It'd need a bit of assistance with keeping it from dragging, but that's when I'm one-handing it."
>He hummed a little, nodding.
"Same goes in the Zone, anything more serious than the military's armored suits hold a compromise of flexibility and hardness."
>Ivan would put his hand up to his chin, contemplating the design.
>Ignoring the fact his helmet was covering said chin.
"With the magnets, I wouldn't have to even worry about straps getting caught on the exoskeleton. Looks perfect for what I've got planned."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.352651
>>352642
>Anon reaches to his right, a door swinging open and fishing through gem bottles.
"Nothing you can think of that'd be useful? Then again heavier weapons are always a good idea. ...wait a second, there's a woman's bodysuit in the Enclave that I could grab, something that, ah, what was her name, Natasha? Something like that. She had it made last year and only wore it a few times. Say the word and I'll bring it here."
>Left screen returning to the regional map, the mini-Wild caricature appears to remark potential routes.
"Closest outpost is forty-nine-point-two miles west, half a mile north from the shore. It's a permanent location, estimated one hundred to two hundred inhabitants."
"Those are Crag Moors Ferron. They'll certainly enjoy meeting a human from Razorback but you'll have to leave your... daughter a ways out, you'll have to convince them she isn't a threat. Good news is they're the opposite of Lishinki: polite, free spirited, lazy, always happy to help out, and they love to trade which is fairly ironic considering how isolated they are. When you get there check everything, I bet they'll have plenty of odds and ends that they can't or won't use. And lots of food, most of it will be dried though. The bad news is they might not have a place for you to sleep, they like their tree houses being at least sixty meters high."
"I will be producing a number of trade goods within the hour."
>A pained stare bores into the ground for a few seconds, the gestalt sighing, then hefts out a crate of assorted gem bottles and slides it onto the cabin's floor plate.
"Don't want to know what that means. Ever. Here's what I've got for water but I'll need those bottles back, and-"
>Reaching for something else, a wide, thin cardboard box is placed on top the create, the contents still hot.
"One ultra thin crust medium pizza straight from the oven. Pepperoni, sausage, bacon, olives, tomatoes, and some sort of aged Prench cheese, I think they call it Crouyiere. It's pretty damned good hot or cold. Hm. Let me think a bit."
>Arms folded, Anonymous swings his legs in thought while four of Wild's tendrils separate the Rilvenni's undamaged skin into large rolls.
>The other four were.. eating, you guessed, small amounts of black mass absorbing ichor and severed tentacles alike off the sand.
"I've got nothing, can't think of how to dampen sound underwater, especially not if repairs are external. My phone doesn't have much range outside a relay and scanning for Constructs is a bad idea in the open. Best I can offer is some technical advice from Kraut."
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Sensory Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #8
>Anon reaches to his right, a door swinging open and fishing through gem bottles.
"Nothing you can think of that'd be useful? Then again heavier weapons are always a good idea. ...wait a second, there's a woman's bodysuit in the Enclave that I could grab, something that, ah, what was her name, Natasha? Something like that. She had it made last year and only wore it a few times. Say the word and I'll bring it here."
>Left screen returning to the regional map, the mini-Wild caricature appears to remark potential routes.
"Closest outpost is forty-nine-point-two miles west, half a mile north from the shore. It's a permanent location, estimated one hundred to two hundred inhabitants."
"Those are Crag Moors Ferron. They'll certainly enjoy meeting a human from Razorback but you'll have to leave your... daughter a ways out, you'll have to convince them she isn't a threat. Good news is they're the opposite of Lishinki: polite, free spirited, lazy, always happy to help out, and they love to trade which is fairly ironic considering how isolated they are. When you get there check everything, I bet they'll have plenty of odds and ends that they can't or won't use. And lots of food, most of it will be dried though. The bad news is they might not have a place for you to sleep, they like their tree houses being at least sixty meters high."
"I will be producing a number of trade goods within the hour."
>A pained stare bores into the ground for a few seconds, the gestalt sighing, then hefts out a crate of assorted gem bottles and slides it onto the cabin's floor plate.
"Don't want to know what that means. Ever. Here's what I've got for water but I'll need those bottles back, and-"
>Reaching for something else, a wide, thin cardboard box is placed on top the create, the contents still hot.
"One ultra thin crust medium pizza straight from the oven. Pepperoni, sausage, bacon, olives, tomatoes, and some sort of aged Prench cheese, I think they call it Crouyiere. It's pretty damned good hot or cold. Hm. Let me think a bit."
>Arms folded, Anonymous swings his legs in thought while four of Wild's tendrils separate the Rilvenni's undamaged skin into large rolls.
>The other four were.. eating, you guessed, small amounts of black mass absorbing ichor and severed tentacles alike off the sand.
"I've got nothing, can't think of how to dampen sound underwater, especially not if repairs are external. My phone doesn't have much range outside a relay and scanning for Constructs is a bad idea in the open. Best I can offer is some technical advice from Kraut."
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Sensory Node #2: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6 = 3] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6 = 2] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6 = 1] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6 = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6 = 4] <Repair Tendril #8
>>352651
"The closest thing I've ever been able to use as a heavy weapon would be a PRTD. And unless Wild is able to operate a howitzer..."
>I'd rather not find out how dexterous those outside tendrils of hers can become.
>If it directly involved me anyway.
"It... Shouldn't be too hard to convince them? I'd certainly hope so anyway. Especially with... Wild's idea of trade good sweetening the idea."
>A pained look.
"Believe me, you're better off ignoring the idea."
>Shaking my head, I glance down at the offered pizza product.
"If they've got sentries watching for approaching wildlife, or anything else, they'd spot the two of us coming up. And myself getting out of Wild, so that'll probably help putting them at ease."
>Picking up a slice, I glance at it cautiously before taking a bite.
"Luckily she can repair on the go, so at least she can fix herself up as we make our way to the outpost."
"The closest thing I've ever been able to use as a heavy weapon would be a PRTD. And unless Wild is able to operate a howitzer..."
>I'd rather not find out how dexterous those outside tendrils of hers can become.
>If it directly involved me anyway.
"It... Shouldn't be too hard to convince them? I'd certainly hope so anyway. Especially with... Wild's idea of trade good sweetening the idea."
>A pained look.
"Believe me, you're better off ignoring the idea."
>Shaking my head, I glance down at the offered pizza product.
"If they've got sentries watching for approaching wildlife, or anything else, they'd spot the two of us coming up. And myself getting out of Wild, so that'll probably help putting them at ease."
>Picking up a slice, I glance at it cautiously before taking a bite.
"Luckily she can repair on the go, so at least she can fix herself up as we make our way to the outpost."
>>352646
>Resuming connection to the holo-laptop and prototype unit, 'Shiibo' gives a quick salute.
'Estimated 30 seconds for full data transfer.'
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Tech-Research
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <B.Electronic Warmare
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Taking the passenger front seat for yourself, Hodch's face brightens in subtle intrigue as he tips the archaic black boat figurine onto its side.
"Of course, though not perfectly like Spiral could. He did teach me a few methods to calm Otherworld resonances when imbuing humans too. I've been looking forward to feeling what a Neighpon trinket can offer, and that lovely mare even gave me the Moor cat one in exchange for a letter of recommarendation from a Starborn Nightblade."
>Side eyeing the desert Ranger with a proud nostril flare, then giving the Siren a respectful nod, Katyal studying the three with some familiarity.
"Which wasn't necessary but I had no intention of leaving her go empty hooved."
"Make friends everywhere you can and leave no enemies for later, right? We've got that law in the Circle. ..I've seen a few like these in Buzzard's Rest, all the big museums host an exhibit every month that display gem-smithing from all around the world. What do they do?"
"Crin feathers resist most all forms of magic that aren't highly specialized, best for armor. Dragon-scale sphere improves armor or shields and creates a form of defensive skinshield, similar to the feathers. Dragon trinket improves piercing weapons by a significant degree and has a potent Force elemarental. The lamb only needs to be carried, it's quite good at negating detrimarental effects on the mind and spirit."
>Numerous internal monitor connections inside click on, Lonestar speaking through a single unit in the central bay.
*"Not real sure what ta take for my part. Hodch's got th'skills ta put enchantments together with spares an'time. Take your pick first, then th'rest a'us can decide. It's your call up front."*
>Stepping in to place the box down close to the three, Dul turns left a quarter circle, sitting down to stare at the woman with a puzzled head tilt.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Siren's Gaze
"Dul not hurt bad by unicorn magic, Vortex magic, blood magic, psion magic. Dul get little hurt from weapon but magic-weapon little stings. Dul hurt lots by Sun magic, cold Crystal wind magic big hurts. El-der-itch magic hurt worst."
>Passing a glance over the Siren in marked slowness, Hodch cracks a helpful smile while lifting a single tube of wrapped yellow paper.
"Full translation: Sirens ignore roughly half of most magic, including Sorcery, Druidry, and Mysticism. Weapons do a quarter of their potential harm or less, enchanted weapons a tiny bit more. She's somewhat weak to Plasma and Rime, which I highly doubt exist in the New Everfree. Eldritch is half again more effective."
"You dead-singer? You know Siren ways?"
"I don't have to sing, but yes I do speak to the dead, Spectrals, and Revenants. Your Great Remnant is a trusted friend to my order, we've had thousands of packages delivered by Sirens, Vanbraces, Scrakes, and Stiras. He's explained some of your Vortex."
>Setting her rifle on the right side, Katyal lifts her shoulders, fingers tapping together until shaking her head.
"Beats me. Both the feathers and dragon-sphere sound good but I'd need something removed from my armor, I'm real specialized to hit and run or threaten down. I'd like the keep the Corsair's Signet in case we run into physical enemies. I agree with the boss man and boss stallion, you go first."
*"Half means it'll take th'Remnant a few minutes ta let us through. It's like old bridges, gotta keep 'em repaired. That one ain't been used enough fer him ta pay 'tention to it all'a time. We'll save half an hour or more takin' it."*
>Resuming connection to the holo-laptop and prototype unit, 'Shiibo' gives a quick salute.
'Estimated 30 seconds for full data transfer.'
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Tech-Research
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <B.Electronic Warmare
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Taking the passenger front seat for yourself, Hodch's face brightens in subtle intrigue as he tips the archaic black boat figurine onto its side.
"Of course, though not perfectly like Spiral could. He did teach me a few methods to calm Otherworld resonances when imbuing humans too. I've been looking forward to feeling what a Neighpon trinket can offer, and that lovely mare even gave me the Moor cat one in exchange for a letter of recommarendation from a Starborn Nightblade."
>Side eyeing the desert Ranger with a proud nostril flare, then giving the Siren a respectful nod, Katyal studying the three with some familiarity.
"Which wasn't necessary but I had no intention of leaving her go empty hooved."
"Make friends everywhere you can and leave no enemies for later, right? We've got that law in the Circle. ..I've seen a few like these in Buzzard's Rest, all the big museums host an exhibit every month that display gem-smithing from all around the world. What do they do?"
"Crin feathers resist most all forms of magic that aren't highly specialized, best for armor. Dragon-scale sphere improves armor or shields and creates a form of defensive skinshield, similar to the feathers. Dragon trinket improves piercing weapons by a significant degree and has a potent Force elemarental. The lamb only needs to be carried, it's quite good at negating detrimarental effects on the mind and spirit."
>Numerous internal monitor connections inside click on, Lonestar speaking through a single unit in the central bay.
*"Not real sure what ta take for my part. Hodch's got th'skills ta put enchantments together with spares an'time. Take your pick first, then th'rest a'us can decide. It's your call up front."*
>Stepping in to place the box down close to the three, Dul turns left a quarter circle, sitting down to stare at the woman with a puzzled head tilt.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Siren's Gaze
"Dul not hurt bad by unicorn magic, Vortex magic, blood magic, psion magic. Dul get little hurt from weapon but magic-weapon little stings. Dul hurt lots by Sun magic, cold Crystal wind magic big hurts. El-der-itch magic hurt worst."
>Passing a glance over the Siren in marked slowness, Hodch cracks a helpful smile while lifting a single tube of wrapped yellow paper.
"Full translation: Sirens ignore roughly half of most magic, including Sorcery, Druidry, and Mysticism. Weapons do a quarter of their potential harm or less, enchanted weapons a tiny bit more. She's somewhat weak to Plasma and Rime, which I highly doubt exist in the New Everfree. Eldritch is half again more effective."
"You dead-singer? You know Siren ways?"
"I don't have to sing, but yes I do speak to the dead, Spectrals, and Revenants. Your Great Remnant is a trusted friend to my order, we've had thousands of packages delivered by Sirens, Vanbraces, Scrakes, and Stiras. He's explained some of your Vortex."
>Setting her rifle on the right side, Katyal lifts her shoulders, fingers tapping together until shaking her head.
"Beats me. Both the feathers and dragon-sphere sound good but I'd need something removed from my armor, I'm real specialized to hit and run or threaten down. I'd like the keep the Corsair's Signet in case we run into physical enemies. I agree with the boss man and boss stallion, you go first."
*"Half means it'll take th'Remnant a few minutes ta let us through. It's like old bridges, gotta keep 'em repaired. That one ain't been used enough fer him ta pay 'tention to it all'a time. We'll save half an hour or more takin' it."*
>>352654
>Nodding in agreement, he gestures to the other staves, necklaces, and ecetera brought from the Enclave arrayed on the bench before tucking his small white opal lamb figurine back into his pack.
"I see. And I meant the Enclave equipment, a miscommunication. I already have plans for the Neighponese trinkets, though you may take the Crin Feathers. For now, I'll make use of the dragon sphere being imbued to me."
>Picking up Lacsidrae and the Psychokinesis Pendant, he wills the spellbook to stick to his hip and lifts the seal of his helmet up to slip the necklace around his neck and under his suit lining.
"Rasera spoke highly of you. Very moved, honored to meet you."
>He glances towards Hodch for a moment before rolling his shoulders, finally free of all the extra weight.
"Lonestar, my helmet system may be interface capable with the gunnery controls. Are they functional?"
>Knowing Lonestar likely could hear their conversation from the sealed forward cockpit, he directs his question towards the general ceiling of the vehicle.
>Nodding in agreement, he gestures to the other staves, necklaces, and ecetera brought from the Enclave arrayed on the bench before tucking his small white opal lamb figurine back into his pack.
"I see. And I meant the Enclave equipment, a miscommunication. I already have plans for the Neighponese trinkets, though you may take the Crin Feathers. For now, I'll make use of the dragon sphere being imbued to me."
>Picking up Lacsidrae and the Psychokinesis Pendant, he wills the spellbook to stick to his hip and lifts the seal of his helmet up to slip the necklace around his neck and under his suit lining.
"Rasera spoke highly of you. Very moved, honored to meet you."
>He glances towards Hodch for a moment before rolling his shoulders, finally free of all the extra weight.
"Lonestar, my helmet system may be interface capable with the gunnery controls. Are they functional?"
>Knowing Lonestar likely could hear their conversation from the sealed forward cockpit, he directs his question towards the general ceiling of the vehicle.
Budieca and Ri'Vahz and Food and Headaches and Hospitality
The GM L.O.N.T
!!PYsGb3YilI
bfdf04e
?
No.352695
>>352407
>Amused whistling noises blew out of Budieca's nares as her eyes looked to the ceiling above Sand Cutters' head as if she was seeing through it to the next level of her tower.
"I've also heard they do funny things like vibrate on the spot when extra excited. Swe and I should visit that one Batpony place, the Basin I believe its called. Would be a nice trip away from home."
"That's good to know, don't want my recipes stolen from my head!"
>Budieca said with a very clear sign of relief, knowing her cooking secrets are still hers and hers alone.
"I'll get somebird t' inform Chamber Librarian Grimm to pack his bags. Hope the Tower Guard won't mind a grouchy Gryphon skulking 'bout."
"Why not send Eolas-Toir with him too?"
"She will go if Grimm requests it, he's been grumblin' too much an' I wan' to hear it from his own beak if he wants her by his side."
"That's akin to torture and you know it! He hates expressing himself especially in front of others."
"Good, I get to see him grovel fer once!"
"WHAT?!"
EH!"
>Both Gryphons jumped up at this, the calm atmosphere of the room gone. Their mannerisms and faces were a cocktail mixture of shock and anger at this most unexpected news.
"Who hasn't heard of the Claw being stolen! And you say Razorback has it? THAT FUCKING CRIPPLED EQUINE SLUT!"
>Ri'Vahz shrieked, her shrill voice was up to such a degree it could of shattered glass and certainly hurt Sand Cutters ears. Along with Budiecas', whom were flat against her skull yet this could be out of fury too.
"And Razorback has it, sold to them! If the Shadow Wings were still here or anybird else for that matter Razorback would be wiped from Tallus. Doesn't matter about the how's or why's they'd be done. It needs to be brought back before somebird finds out..."
>Her heated emotions evaporating into solemn pity Budieca sat back down, dejected wings sagging at her side.
"Simon and me fought beak and claw for Lucky. Oooooh that whore."
>Ri'Vahz was still fuming however, wings rigid and talons threatening to pierce into the stone floor itself.
"I'm sending somebird with you back to Razorback to get that damn Claw. They'll have one of those fancy seals that'll allow them t' tear the place apart to find that damn thing!"
"You're not going?"
"I wish! But my claws are needed here, gotta keep preening feathers with the other Kingdoms still. Good to distract 'em. ...And I wanna be here when Cu'Nir and Simon get back here."
>Releasing all her rage with a weary sigh, the Warlord almost collapsed onto the floor but stood firm.
>A pleased expression slowly formed across the Warlords beaked face at Sand Cutters answer now all her anger had been spent.
"Good ta know...I'll be heading back to the Castle. Too much has happened and I need to sleeeeeep or else I'll punch somebird."
>She wearily started moving her legs and went for the door, but not before stopping at the pony and brushing a pinion against her mane.
"Somebird will be here for you in the mornin'. Sleep well now."
>With a nod she moved on.
>Budieca with a bit more energy than the other catbird got up, she gave her Warlord a low bow of the head then turned her attention to Earth mare.
"There is a guest nestbed on the 3rd floor for you, the heat from the fire is funnelled up there so you'll be nice and warm for being so high. Or you can stay here, there is enough wood feeding the fire it will last the most of the night."
>Amused whistling noises blew out of Budieca's nares as her eyes looked to the ceiling above Sand Cutters' head as if she was seeing through it to the next level of her tower.
"I've also heard they do funny things like vibrate on the spot when extra excited. Swe and I should visit that one Batpony place, the Basin I believe its called. Would be a nice trip away from home."
"That's good to know, don't want my recipes stolen from my head!"
>Budieca said with a very clear sign of relief, knowing her cooking secrets are still hers and hers alone.
"I'll get somebird t' inform Chamber Librarian Grimm to pack his bags. Hope the Tower Guard won't mind a grouchy Gryphon skulking 'bout."
"Why not send Eolas-Toir with him too?"
"She will go if Grimm requests it, he's been grumblin' too much an' I wan' to hear it from his own beak if he wants her by his side."
"That's akin to torture and you know it! He hates expressing himself especially in front of others."
"Good, I get to see him grovel fer once!"
"WHAT?!"
EH!"
>Both Gryphons jumped up at this, the calm atmosphere of the room gone. Their mannerisms and faces were a cocktail mixture of shock and anger at this most unexpected news.
"Who hasn't heard of the Claw being stolen! And you say Razorback has it? THAT FUCKING CRIPPLED EQUINE SLUT!"
>Ri'Vahz shrieked, her shrill voice was up to such a degree it could of shattered glass and certainly hurt Sand Cutters ears. Along with Budiecas', whom were flat against her skull yet this could be out of fury too.
"And Razorback has it, sold to them! If the Shadow Wings were still here or anybird else for that matter Razorback would be wiped from Tallus. Doesn't matter about the how's or why's they'd be done. It needs to be brought back before somebird finds out..."
>Her heated emotions evaporating into solemn pity Budieca sat back down, dejected wings sagging at her side.
"Simon and me fought beak and claw for Lucky. Oooooh that whore."
>Ri'Vahz was still fuming however, wings rigid and talons threatening to pierce into the stone floor itself.
"I'm sending somebird with you back to Razorback to get that damn Claw. They'll have one of those fancy seals that'll allow them t' tear the place apart to find that damn thing!"
"You're not going?"
"I wish! But my claws are needed here, gotta keep preening feathers with the other Kingdoms still. Good to distract 'em. ...And I wanna be here when Cu'Nir and Simon get back here."
>Releasing all her rage with a weary sigh, the Warlord almost collapsed onto the floor but stood firm.
>A pleased expression slowly formed across the Warlords beaked face at Sand Cutters answer now all her anger had been spent.
"Good ta know...I'll be heading back to the Castle. Too much has happened and I need to sleeeeeep or else I'll punch somebird."
>She wearily started moving her legs and went for the door, but not before stopping at the pony and brushing a pinion against her mane.
"Somebird will be here for you in the mornin'. Sleep well now."
>With a nod she moved on.
>Budieca with a bit more energy than the other catbird got up, she gave her Warlord a low bow of the head then turned her attention to Earth mare.
"There is a guest nestbed on the 3rd floor for you, the heat from the fire is funnelled up there so you'll be nice and warm for being so high. Or you can stay here, there is enough wood feeding the fire it will last the most of the night."
>>352629
>The new objective to enact the chroniton scan on the Bulletin Board was noted.
(At the Bulletin Board? Understood. It's only a short walk around the corner...)
>Her hands squeezing the mechadendrite claw of her faithful third limb while holding the box of flower under one arm rather awkwardly, she briefly darts an eye sidewards towards the general direction of the command center for about a second, before putting her rapt attention back onto Chisan.
>She took a deep breath, and then sighed it all out with a rather thick exhale. Her eyes softening even as the shame lingered.
>Then hardens again as she senses the seriousness in Chisan's tone and becomes absorbed in his words. Nodding along slowly as she unconsciously directs her micro-cogitator to remember this down to the syllable spoken by the Stormtrooper. Her arms going a little more around the box she had been given to adjust her grip on it, but she gestures are swift--not wanting to miss even one breath.
"ᴺᵃⁿᶦᵗᵉ ᴬᵍᵉ ... ᵀʰʳᵉᵉˀ"
>Mallia mouths that as she listens. Grimacing bitterly at the notion that Flash's plans were in tatters, before squinting and equalising again.
"ᴳᵉˢᵗᵃˡᵗ..."
(... Gestalt? An organised whole that is as more than the sum of their parts.)
(This has bigger connotations. How can Inquisitor Velasi be a gestalt?...)
>And then blinks and shifts a bit, interest making her eyes squint a bit more as she is told a gestalt had actually died before.
'ᶜˡᵃˢˢᶦᶠᶦᵉᵈ, ᵒᵏᵃʸ...'
>... Then she blinks a couple times as she notices the man scowling and looking down, teasing a sympathetic and unjudging full smile from the Enginseer while still listening intently.
>Which then drops to a concerned, slightly pained, more lopsided smile. But she swiftly made an attempt to chin up, putting up a bit more confidence in her eyes and voice.
"At least you'll get to ventilate some frustrations with this next task, right?"
>Mallia's straightens up a bit more and lightly slaps the stormtrooper's carapace pauldron in a very Guardsman gesture of comradery.
"And, If it gives you any fortitude Chisan, I understand the situation better now. It's still quite a lot to digest but, hey, you've got the support of the ENTIRE Adeptus Mechanicus in the whooole~ galaxy, right here, in the form of the weakest enginseer!"
>Mallia grinned and made a gesture towards her whole self with her hand, though the grin evens quickly.
>Looking a little aside as Witch-Two's reminder to get to her date puts a bit of haste in her speech. Looking at Chisan attentively but with a sudden anxiety in her eyes.
"Is--is there anything else, Stormtrooper? if not then, best I get underway before my delaying becomes offensive."
(--Understood. I'll get to the armoury to take armour and arms off and then get to the date. And after that, scan the bulletin board!)
(Off-hand. I am still a bit worried about Olympa's statement of calling what is in the Twin Hill vault 'mean guard stuff', shortly before detecting a seemingly Construct signature within. Who is going to handle retrieval operations anyway? Us, right?)
>The new objective to enact the chroniton scan on the Bulletin Board was noted.
(At the Bulletin Board? Understood. It's only a short walk around the corner...)
>Her hands squeezing the mechadendrite claw of her faithful third limb while holding the box of flower under one arm rather awkwardly, she briefly darts an eye sidewards towards the general direction of the command center for about a second, before putting her rapt attention back onto Chisan.
>She took a deep breath, and then sighed it all out with a rather thick exhale. Her eyes softening even as the shame lingered.
>Then hardens again as she senses the seriousness in Chisan's tone and becomes absorbed in his words. Nodding along slowly as she unconsciously directs her micro-cogitator to remember this down to the syllable spoken by the Stormtrooper. Her arms going a little more around the box she had been given to adjust her grip on it, but she gestures are swift--not wanting to miss even one breath.
"ᴺᵃⁿᶦᵗᵉ ᴬᵍᵉ ... ᵀʰʳᵉᵉˀ"
>Mallia mouths that as she listens. Grimacing bitterly at the notion that Flash's plans were in tatters, before squinting and equalising again.
"ᴳᵉˢᵗᵃˡᵗ..."
(... Gestalt? An organised whole that is as more than the sum of their parts.)
(This has bigger connotations. How can Inquisitor Velasi be a gestalt?...)
>And then blinks and shifts a bit, interest making her eyes squint a bit more as she is told a gestalt had actually died before.
'ᶜˡᵃˢˢᶦᶠᶦᵉᵈ, ᵒᵏᵃʸ...'
>... Then she blinks a couple times as she notices the man scowling and looking down, teasing a sympathetic and unjudging full smile from the Enginseer while still listening intently.
>Which then drops to a concerned, slightly pained, more lopsided smile. But she swiftly made an attempt to chin up, putting up a bit more confidence in her eyes and voice.
"At least you'll get to ventilate some frustrations with this next task, right?"
>Mallia's straightens up a bit more and lightly slaps the stormtrooper's carapace pauldron in a very Guardsman gesture of comradery.
"And, If it gives you any fortitude Chisan, I understand the situation better now. It's still quite a lot to digest but, hey, you've got the support of the ENTIRE Adeptus Mechanicus in the whooole~ galaxy, right here, in the form of the weakest enginseer!"
>Mallia grinned and made a gesture towards her whole self with her hand, though the grin evens quickly.
>Looking a little aside as Witch-Two's reminder to get to her date puts a bit of haste in her speech. Looking at Chisan attentively but with a sudden anxiety in her eyes.
"Is--is there anything else, Stormtrooper? if not then, best I get underway before my delaying becomes offensive."
(--Understood. I'll get to the armoury to take armour and arms off and then get to the date. And after that, scan the bulletin board!)
(Off-hand. I am still a bit worried about Olympa's statement of calling what is in the Twin Hill vault 'mean guard stuff', shortly before detecting a seemingly Construct signature within. Who is going to handle retrieval operations anyway? Us, right?)
File (): 1615CBF61EB5350FF25FCF87B0394AF5-122775.gif (119.9 KB, 434x434, 1465054357429.gif)
>>352572
>>352576
>>352583
>>352585
>Sunny didn't envy the human having to deal with a battalion or two of the preserved dead, but she still kept glancing back over occasionally in case something went horribly wrong.
>What that would look like is not something she knew for sure.
>Focusing back on the Tainted assault division, Sunny racked her brains for any idea at all for how they could be tripped up, even momentarily. There was nothing she could actually do about the aerial assault.
>Remembering that lately, objects had been imparted to her without her notice, she began to pat herself down, holding a vague hope that it had happened again.
>Nothing was stuck to her suit, so she checked her saddlebags next, coming across a green card that she definitely hadn't put there before.
>It even came with a set of instructions. Where in all the planes had this come from?
>She wasn't about to question her good fortune when Vestal's thoughts on the matter at hoof barged directly into her head like an unwelcome guest.
>Vestal had a point however, it could very well be any one of those factors...
('Or worst case scenario, it's all of them. There's no way to know for sure without removing factors from the field, even temporarily, to other locations on the planet's surface to see if they change course.')
>She left it at that since there was nothing they could really do without severely compromising their own defenses for an assault that was approximately twenty minutes away, they just needed to deal with the Tainted before they could arrive and complicate things.
>So first things first, an assault division of Tainted was bearing down on their position. Attacker advantage was extreme lethality at close range and size that allowed them to close distances quickly. Defender advantage was greater effective numbers and ranged assault.
>Therefore, halt or slow the enemy advance to take full advantage of ranged assault before contact.
>Microsingularity? Too dangerous, high risk of collateral damage.
>Falling rocks? Not effective enough to slow or stop something that size.
>Water? The moors are drenched enough and that's not stopping them.
>The moors are drenched...
>If she could summon a sheet of molten material of sufficient size and drop it on top of them, that would slow and damage them on its own and flash vaporise water already present.
>Sunny began filling out the card, doing the math as she went.
>Magma from the planetary mantle is good, but has many different components that may reduce its full effectiveness due to differences in material density, melting points, and other factors.
>A uniform material would serve better, molten silicon being a principle component of most magma flows made it a good choice.
>Uncertain, she tests the overherd link and tries to direct her thoughts towards the relevant parties, primarily the Watch Guard General and members of Razorback.
('I'm going to try and summon a disc of molten silicon right on top of the forward assault division, if anyone wants to time their own attacks with that, give it a good three to five seconds to achieve maximum effect.')
>Sunny finished filling out the card for a maximum capacity sized disc of silicon a hundred degrees above boiling point from Tallus' planetary mantle to be dropped on top of the forward and central ranks of the incoming lunar guardian assault divisions from a height of thirty-five meters above ground level and...
>Made her wish to whoever was listening to please take this card and grant it as intended.
[1d6 = 1] < Green Card: Molten Silicon disc
>>352576
>>352583
>>352585
>Sunny didn't envy the human having to deal with a battalion or two of the preserved dead, but she still kept glancing back over occasionally in case something went horribly wrong.
>What that would look like is not something she knew for sure.
>Focusing back on the Tainted assault division, Sunny racked her brains for any idea at all for how they could be tripped up, even momentarily. There was nothing she could actually do about the aerial assault.
>Remembering that lately, objects had been imparted to her without her notice, she began to pat herself down, holding a vague hope that it had happened again.
>Nothing was stuck to her suit, so she checked her saddlebags next, coming across a green card that she definitely hadn't put there before.
>It even came with a set of instructions. Where in all the planes had this come from?
>She wasn't about to question her good fortune when Vestal's thoughts on the matter at hoof barged directly into her head like an unwelcome guest.
>Vestal had a point however, it could very well be any one of those factors...
('Or worst case scenario, it's all of them. There's no way to know for sure without removing factors from the field, even temporarily, to other locations on the planet's surface to see if they change course.')
>She left it at that since there was nothing they could really do without severely compromising their own defenses for an assault that was approximately twenty minutes away, they just needed to deal with the Tainted before they could arrive and complicate things.
>So first things first, an assault division of Tainted was bearing down on their position. Attacker advantage was extreme lethality at close range and size that allowed them to close distances quickly. Defender advantage was greater effective numbers and ranged assault.
>Therefore, halt or slow the enemy advance to take full advantage of ranged assault before contact.
>Microsingularity? Too dangerous, high risk of collateral damage.
>Falling rocks? Not effective enough to slow or stop something that size.
>Water? The moors are drenched enough and that's not stopping them.
>The moors are drenched...
>If she could summon a sheet of molten material of sufficient size and drop it on top of them, that would slow and damage them on its own and flash vaporise water already present.
>Sunny began filling out the card, doing the math as she went.
>Magma from the planetary mantle is good, but has many different components that may reduce its full effectiveness due to differences in material density, melting points, and other factors.
>A uniform material would serve better, molten silicon being a principle component of most magma flows made it a good choice.
>Uncertain, she tests the overherd link and tries to direct her thoughts towards the relevant parties, primarily the Watch Guard General and members of Razorback.
('I'm going to try and summon a disc of molten silicon right on top of the forward assault division, if anyone wants to time their own attacks with that, give it a good three to five seconds to achieve maximum effect.')
>Sunny finished filling out the card for a maximum capacity sized disc of silicon a hundred degrees above boiling point from Tallus' planetary mantle to be dropped on top of the forward and central ranks of the incoming lunar guardian assault divisions from a height of thirty-five meters above ground level and...
>Made her wish to whoever was listening to please take this card and grant it as intended.
[1d6 = 1] < Green Card: Molten Silicon disc
File (): 752236BC2ED0D6FA667DAF6B73907178-510125.gif (498.2 KB, 250x140, mk32.gif)
>>352572
>>352576
>>352583
>>352585
>>352789
>After getting a assuring order from the General, Jeff begins to turn on and re-battery all of his devices on him.
>Sorry watch...
>He'll know exactly when interference will start when his TacPad starts acting up, anyway.
>Looking over at Sunny and Emerald holding the white box... her demeanor.
"What... do you even have in that thing? Whatever it is hope it helps at least."
>Waiting for Silver to respond, he doesn't get a reply form her. Instead it was Broken Hoof over the link.
>Her calm demeanor made him think something had happened to the silver sister. Had she died?
>Sure he didn't trust er, but he didn't hate her.
>He was such an enigma sometimes...
('I see. Thank you for letting me know, Broken Hoof. There's a lot going on here. The Tainted, and Construct Carrier is inbound. We're being aided by Day, Night, Lunar, Watch, and Tower Guard forces. A Watch Guard General is commanding the defensive, and a Ruling Councilerge Member is here too. It's pandemonium. The Fortress is cleaning out it resources to help. And we're still underforced.')
>>352501
>Taking in the Overherd chatter as it comes in, Clemency swings over from above and dumps a duffle overboard.
(Thank's Clem. Good hunting up there! Hope my MOAB didn't shake you too much up there!)
>Although it falls bit away form him, but it's caught by... Krinza?!
>Who brings it over to him, as he's ready to rumble himself.
"Thanks Krinza! Welcome to the party, pal!"
>Mildy surprised the smith showing up, and already hurling lances, Jeff opens up the gift bag for him.
>Inside was his spotting scope, which he quickly puts back into his pack.
>Then he hefts up the chunky six-shot Milkor M32, and swings the back plate to find it preloaded with HE rounds.
>The rest of the duffle was filled with what he assumed was the entire Armory's worth of forty mikes, both HE's and Airbursts.
>He charges the rotation spring, and sets the range for 400m and adjusts the stock.
>As the Tainted begin flanking off, he focuses on the front of the horde charging directly up the Southern road.
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <U.Heavy Weapons
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <M.Ranger
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
>Sunny's trying to wish for... magma to fall on them?
>Well, that's one way to attack them.
>If they're pulling all of the explosives from Razorback, which last time he check was a FUCKING LOT, that should so some damage as well.
>He's popping firecrackers with the MK32 in comparison, at this point.
>What could he try for that can do some more damage?
>...it's risky with all the electronics and incoming areal elements but if it's firepower they're going with.
>Would a strike drone be too much?
>He'd have overwatch and can launch missiles at the leaders without too much collateral along with Clemency. Could maybe even tag-team the leaders.
(Hey Clem, how you feel about sharing airspace with a Reaper?)
>Safetying the M32and resting it against the barrier, Jeff takes his pen out again ans starts writing on the disk.
>Height, flight speed, orbiting radius, payload...
'MQ-9 Reaper Block-5 drone. Deploy at 4 kilometers above ground at cruising speed, pre-programmed bombing run program 6 kilometers West from current position bearing due East. After strafing run, set to counter-clockwise orbital strike routine at 4km radius out from current position. Loaded with GBU-12 Paveway VI's and AGM-114 II's. Deploy portable drone remote control module with manual override at location of wish disc.'
>He awaits a result, hoping it not to be too disastrous.
[1d6 = 4] <Silver Wish Disc
[1d6 = 5]
>>352576
>>352583
>>352585
>>352789
>After getting a assuring order from the General, Jeff begins to turn on and re-battery all of his devices on him.
>Sorry watch...
>He'll know exactly when interference will start when his TacPad starts acting up, anyway.
>Looking over at Sunny and Emerald holding the white box... her demeanor.
"What... do you even have in that thing? Whatever it is hope it helps at least."
>Waiting for Silver to respond, he doesn't get a reply form her. Instead it was Broken Hoof over the link.
>Her calm demeanor made him think something had happened to the silver sister. Had she died?
>Sure he didn't trust er, but he didn't hate her.
>He was such an enigma sometimes...
('I see. Thank you for letting me know, Broken Hoof. There's a lot going on here. The Tainted, and Construct Carrier is inbound. We're being aided by Day, Night, Lunar, Watch, and Tower Guard forces. A Watch Guard General is commanding the defensive, and a Ruling Councilerge Member is here too. It's pandemonium. The Fortress is cleaning out it resources to help. And we're still underforced.')
>>352501
>Taking in the Overherd chatter as it comes in, Clemency swings over from above and dumps a duffle overboard.
(Thank's Clem. Good hunting up there! Hope my MOAB didn't shake you too much up there!)
>Although it falls bit away form him, but it's caught by... Krinza?!
>Who brings it over to him, as he's ready to rumble himself.
"Thanks Krinza! Welcome to the party, pal!"
>Mildy surprised the smith showing up, and already hurling lances, Jeff opens up the gift bag for him.
>Inside was his spotting scope, which he quickly puts back into his pack.
>Then he hefts up the chunky six-shot Milkor M32, and swings the back plate to find it preloaded with HE rounds.
>The rest of the duffle was filled with what he assumed was the entire Armory's worth of forty mikes, both HE's and Airbursts.
>He charges the rotation spring, and sets the range for 400m and adjusts the stock.
>As the Tainted begin flanking off, he focuses on the front of the horde charging directly up the Southern road.
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <U.Heavy Weapons
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <M.Ranger
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
>Sunny's trying to wish for... magma to fall on them?
>Well, that's one way to attack them.
>If they're pulling all of the explosives from Razorback, which last time he check was a FUCKING LOT, that should so some damage as well.
>He's popping firecrackers with the MK32 in comparison, at this point.
>What could he try for that can do some more damage?
>...it's risky with all the electronics and incoming areal elements but if it's firepower they're going with.
>Would a strike drone be too much?
>He'd have overwatch and can launch missiles at the leaders without too much collateral along with Clemency. Could maybe even tag-team the leaders.
(Hey Clem, how you feel about sharing airspace with a Reaper?)
>Safetying the M32and resting it against the barrier, Jeff takes his pen out again ans starts writing on the disk.
>Height, flight speed, orbiting radius, payload...
'MQ-9 Reaper Block-5 drone. Deploy at 4 kilometers above ground at cruising speed, pre-programmed bombing run program 6 kilometers West from current position bearing due East. After strafing run, set to counter-clockwise orbital strike routine at 4km radius out from current position. Loaded with GBU-12 Paveway VI's and AGM-114 II's. Deploy portable drone remote control module with manual override at location of wish disc.'
>He awaits a result, hoping it not to be too disastrous.
[1d6 = 4] <Silver Wish Disc
[1d6 = 5]
>>352585
>Waiting in formation, Clemency sees the barriers in front of him crumble and streaks of insignificant shrapnel come towards him
>Not bothering to move, Clemency then begins to orient his weapons towards the Tainted line and then flies forward
>Clemency winces at the Primal Psion yelling at her, even if he did follow her orders by waiting for the shield to fall
>However, the use of electronics is reassuring, turning his visor back on and flipping it down
>In once within 8,000 meters, Clemency lets loose with a rocket barrage followed by a burst with the HMGs into the giant Assault division leading the charge
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Hydra 70 Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] <XM296 Heavy Machinegun
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Untrained Heavy Weapons
>He then peels off and goes around the charging lines, trying to find the Solar Support Strikers of the Tainted, ordering the two Destroyers Battalions
(This is Clemency to my Destroyer battalions. I want one Destroyer battalion to go after the Lunar Airstrike divisions and the other to go after the Solar Air Commarend. If dealt with, then go after the Solar Guardian Support Cadres. You have your orders, go now!)
>With the visor lit up again, Clemency tries to spot any Tainted HVTs
>He figured any leadership destroyed will blunt their charge
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Expert Perception
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Radar
>Clem hears that aery harpy voice and is somewhat relieved
>Every bit helps at this point
>Clemency checks his radar to see if the Guillotine appeared
*"Guillotine, how long until you shall provide protection?"*
>>352789
>>352815
>"Molten silica? If it hits and slows them down, I'll take anything"
>Trying to flank around the Tainted formaions, Clem hears Jeff in his head
>Another wish disk?
>It caused Clem to start thinking about his own he has on him
>But for now, he hears that he'll be coordinating with a strike drone
(MQ-9? Sounds good. I'll update on Tainted HVTs and coordinate with the drone. It's controlled on your pad right? Also, I have a Harpy Light Destroyer coming. Unknown ETA but will update.)
>Waiting in formation, Clemency sees the barriers in front of him crumble and streaks of insignificant shrapnel come towards him
>Not bothering to move, Clemency then begins to orient his weapons towards the Tainted line and then flies forward
>Clemency winces at the Primal Psion yelling at her, even if he did follow her orders by waiting for the shield to fall
>However, the use of electronics is reassuring, turning his visor back on and flipping it down
>In once within 8,000 meters, Clemency lets loose with a rocket barrage followed by a burst with the HMGs into the giant Assault division leading the charge
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Hydra 70 Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] <XM296 Heavy Machinegun
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Untrained Heavy Weapons
>He then peels off and goes around the charging lines, trying to find the Solar Support Strikers of the Tainted, ordering the two Destroyers Battalions
(This is Clemency to my Destroyer battalions. I want one Destroyer battalion to go after the Lunar Airstrike divisions and the other to go after the Solar Air Commarend. If dealt with, then go after the Solar Guardian Support Cadres. You have your orders, go now!)
>With the visor lit up again, Clemency tries to spot any Tainted HVTs
>He figured any leadership destroyed will blunt their charge
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Expert Perception
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Radar
>Clem hears that aery harpy voice and is somewhat relieved
>Every bit helps at this point
>Clemency checks his radar to see if the Guillotine appeared
*"Guillotine, how long until you shall provide protection?"*
>>352789
>>352815
>"Molten silica? If it hits and slows them down, I'll take anything"
>Trying to flank around the Tainted formaions, Clem hears Jeff in his head
>Another wish disk?
>It caused Clem to start thinking about his own he has on him
>But for now, he hears that he'll be coordinating with a strike drone
(MQ-9? Sounds good. I'll update on Tainted HVTs and coordinate with the drone. It's controlled on your pad right? Also, I have a Harpy Light Destroyer coming. Unknown ETA but will update.)
File (): 47051002C3EAE34EA9B5EEC38EBE8350-113178.jpg (110.5 KB, 752x1100, Lonts helmet Gun.jpg)
Master Aligned Valor: +8 for 3 turns to combat, +1 to movement
Master M.o.S: +2 for 4 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>352572
>>352576
>Lont shuddered at hearing the voice of the General so clearly in his head, this was something he knew he would have to get used to one day, he could not keep his bias towards Psions forever if he was truly going to live on Tallus for the rest of his life.
>Even if that life was a short lived one judging by the predicament he was in.
>So much was happening it would of left less experienced soldiers shellshocked, dazed and confused from the overwhelming of the stimuli. The disappointing Manabombs, the devastating strike summoned by Jeff and the pilfering of Razorback explosives by the Strikers. Though his own explosives were left on his person. And the constant updating on these Gunboats he's been hearing ever since he stepped foot into the Basin.
>Hearing the discharge of so much human weaponry at the end of the General and Kunid Erakoi's exchange oddly enough eased his nerves.
>Though that didn't last long when he felt a voice declare the Empress laid silent.
('She is dead?')
>He thought aloud, he needed a clarification. If she was then his plan for her to help Tacit was utterly scuttled. There was a pang of regret there also at her apparent passing.
>>352583
"OOF!"
>Caught off guard by the last squad of humans, he would of said something if they had not brushed against his feathers which stopped his protests.
>Finding himself at a Bren Built Barricade, Lont checked over his Spiker as his wings flicked out, scaring some of the FNG's away and giving him space all to himself. It did not matter to him if they had to be on top of each other to fire their weapons, he got room for his new wings.
>He noted how the Earth ponies reacted to the scars warmth as he finished looking over his gun, history was there no doubt.
>('It appears Ash Kicker is not here. Damn.')
>The winged Operator was taken aback. He was expecting the stressed yet soothing voice of Cadence to respond to him, not Topaline Shore. He regained his composure quickly at hearing there was still trouble in the Empire.
('Is that so? I will return there as soon as I am able to help with the hunt, appears my work is far from done there. And thank you for-')
>Again. He was again abruptly cut off. He didn't even react this time, instead he started planning on how to keep Belregard's subordinates away from Razorback or more importantly to stop the FNG's from shooting at the human-hating Ethereal.
>Announcing it on the Overherd should do the trick.
('This is Lont of Razorback, yes my voice is different but nevermind that. Crystal Empire units are incoming as friendly reinforcements. ETA is unknown. However it is confirmed they bring with them Ethereals to deal with the incoming Constructs. To all human elements stay out of their way, they -might- tolerate my presence. Not yours. Remember, they are efficient killers of Otherworldly beings, and I speak from first-hand experience.')
>He mused at that last part.
>>352585
>Seeing the shield absorb the MOAB's shockwave Lont began chambering rounds of Livermorium. He was silently happy his new limbs were out of danger for now.
>Less could be said for Clemency, who he felt deep brotherly sorrow for at being yelled at by the General.
>>352789
>>352815
>>352817
>Finished slamming home the last round Lont perked up at hearing a Pegasi calling out to Razorback with a cunning plan. It was crazy enough to work. He also heard the familiar voice of Jeff who was talking to Clem. He had a feeling he was here too but was glad it was confirmed.
('A blast of Rime would do the trick.')
>He thought on the Overherd in response to Sunny, he would pump a few shots into the Tainted first before using up his own Wish disc. It was on his person, somewhere.
>Shouldering the Spiker Lont aimed at the closet Tainted, old training regime kicking in. They may not of been metal based giants but the mechanics were still the same. Aim for the joints and it will fall.
('Aim for the knees, everyone.')
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] >E.Perception +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] >H.E
('This may sting a little.')
>He quipped at the Tainted' expense, the Batpony influence overtaking him since he was smackdab in the middle of the Moors.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] >U.Punmancy
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13]
Master M.o.S: +2 for 4 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>352572
>>352576
>Lont shuddered at hearing the voice of the General so clearly in his head, this was something he knew he would have to get used to one day, he could not keep his bias towards Psions forever if he was truly going to live on Tallus for the rest of his life.
>Even if that life was a short lived one judging by the predicament he was in.
>So much was happening it would of left less experienced soldiers shellshocked, dazed and confused from the overwhelming of the stimuli. The disappointing Manabombs, the devastating strike summoned by Jeff and the pilfering of Razorback explosives by the Strikers. Though his own explosives were left on his person. And the constant updating on these Gunboats he's been hearing ever since he stepped foot into the Basin.
>Hearing the discharge of so much human weaponry at the end of the General and Kunid Erakoi's exchange oddly enough eased his nerves.
>Though that didn't last long when he felt a voice declare the Empress laid silent.
('She is dead?')
>He thought aloud, he needed a clarification. If she was then his plan for her to help Tacit was utterly scuttled. There was a pang of regret there also at her apparent passing.
>>352583
"OOF!"
>Caught off guard by the last squad of humans, he would of said something if they had not brushed against his feathers which stopped his protests.
>Finding himself at a Bren Built Barricade, Lont checked over his Spiker as his wings flicked out, scaring some of the FNG's away and giving him space all to himself. It did not matter to him if they had to be on top of each other to fire their weapons, he got room for his new wings.
>He noted how the Earth ponies reacted to the scars warmth as he finished looking over his gun, history was there no doubt.
>('It appears Ash Kicker is not here. Damn.')
>The winged Operator was taken aback. He was expecting the stressed yet soothing voice of Cadence to respond to him, not Topaline Shore. He regained his composure quickly at hearing there was still trouble in the Empire.
('Is that so? I will return there as soon as I am able to help with the hunt, appears my work is far from done there. And thank you for-')
>Again. He was again abruptly cut off. He didn't even react this time, instead he started planning on how to keep Belregard's subordinates away from Razorback or more importantly to stop the FNG's from shooting at the human-hating Ethereal.
>Announcing it on the Overherd should do the trick.
('This is Lont of Razorback, yes my voice is different but nevermind that. Crystal Empire units are incoming as friendly reinforcements. ETA is unknown. However it is confirmed they bring with them Ethereals to deal with the incoming Constructs. To all human elements stay out of their way, they -might- tolerate my presence. Not yours. Remember, they are efficient killers of Otherworldly beings, and I speak from first-hand experience.')
>He mused at that last part.
>>352585
>Seeing the shield absorb the MOAB's shockwave Lont began chambering rounds of Livermorium. He was silently happy his new limbs were out of danger for now.
>Less could be said for Clemency, who he felt deep brotherly sorrow for at being yelled at by the General.
>>352789
>>352815
>>352817
>Finished slamming home the last round Lont perked up at hearing a Pegasi calling out to Razorback with a cunning plan. It was crazy enough to work. He also heard the familiar voice of Jeff who was talking to Clem. He had a feeling he was here too but was glad it was confirmed.
('A blast of Rime would do the trick.')
>He thought on the Overherd in response to Sunny, he would pump a few shots into the Tainted first before using up his own Wish disc. It was on his person, somewhere.
>Shouldering the Spiker Lont aimed at the closet Tainted, old training regime kicking in. They may not of been metal based giants but the mechanics were still the same. Aim for the joints and it will fall.
('Aim for the knees, everyone.')
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] >E.Perception +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] >H.E
('This may sting a little.')
>He quipped at the Tainted' expense, the Batpony influence overtaking him since he was smackdab in the middle of the Moors.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] >U.Punmancy
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H00vsjix374
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 9 turns.
>Shearing Lances from the Watch Guard and Stalliongrad's Support Striker Battalions crash down into the Assault Divisions, pretuned electromagnetic charges doing nothing to slow the Complete Tainted from charging.
>As the Second Dynasty bends spacetime to land human explosives across the frontal rank Assault Divisions, the sequence of explosions ring out in tune with the Hail of Glory loosing fusillades of air shattering secondary and tertiary weapons, loud hums resonating from the west as its primary armaments deliver their payloads before stuttering out.
>Severe as the total damage would have been against conventional armies, the Tainted were not slowed in the least.
>Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, 260M south of Basin Village
>Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @13 Speed, 300M south of Basin Village
>Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, 140M southwest of Basin Village
>Solar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 13 Speed, 240M southeast of Basin Vilalge
>Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 Captains remaining @ 11 Speed, 450M south of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions: Spectral Lances
('Nine minutes until Shattering Skies enters atmosphere. Lancers fill ranks for the dead immediately.')
('Cultists say there's not a single explosive left in the Arenas, armories, depots, barracks.. not even the Villages. That's the last ones and those on the southern road are set, they can't be moved. I've ordered them to remain where they are. I won't risk their lives here General, they know far too much history!')
('I am forced to agree. Moorites and Lunarites, do not enter Basin Village until all is clear, your losses would be the undoing of Equestria's history.')
('There are advantages to using tactics that aren't military in the slightest, General. I'll pray we don't end up like the Village recruits that Sharonel slaughtered. STRIKERS! Switch to standard lances, preserve your energies for the Constructs!')
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Support Striker Companeighs: Psionic Lances
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: Psionic Lances
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers: Psionic Lances
('Destroyer Battalion Four has damaged th-')
('NEGATIVE DESTRUCTION! All allied forces: those Destroyers were unable to destroy individual Solar Air Commarend Division Tainted, we have to bring them all down at once! Hail of Glory prepare for counter-boarding action! May the Oceanlands take their hearts and souls for what they could do, we're in for the fight of our lives starting here and now-')
('Weapon repairs on Hail of Glory completed, the Captain is attempting to resolve issues but has stated that the vessel itself is less than forty percent restored. A maiden's second voyage indeed.)
>The voice of a dead exhausted 30's human male from late Gaullic lineages speaks across the multi-Overhead, much of the weapons fire from the far west removing entire sections of Tainted corporeal forms although the main heavy systems burn out after the first second burn out in choking explosions.
('Negative General, this ship isn't even thirty percent restored but here I am trying to coax it back to life like it was my own body before transference. Armor's holding good, I'm at fifty percent external and ninety percent internal. Primary weapon generators damaged, can't keep it firing for much longer but I'll baby it, two more sets of malfunctions like the first ones and I'm going to be soul-burned. Boarders will have to go through point defense systems, if they make it that far.')
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <System 18 Repairs
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <System 31 Repairs
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments: Underload
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Main Tech-Arcane Armament Repairs
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Point Defense Systems Preheat
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Weapon Stabilizers
>Heavy arcane weapons from the translocation gateway of Battered Shores directly above the fountain reaches the front Assault Divisions, molecular-splitting reactions ripping deep gouges across the Complete Tainted lines, the secondary and tertiary systems overloaded by significant degrees, scattering across the giant forms to little effect.
('Captain of Battered Shores here, ship's stabilized but we're having serious problems trying to maintain this gateway and fire through it at the same time! We'll try another round of focused fire, if that doesn't work we'll have to snap out for immediate repairs, whole crew is starting to get headaches, my Lieutenant's snout is bleeding.... SHE'S GOING INTO SHOCK, ASTRAL MEDICS GET TO HER NOW!')
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Accuracy
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Main Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
>Followed by long range weapons, machineguns, and the few heavies Razorback could deploy, a third round of fire is accompanieghed by dozens of marefriends and the few stallion friends launching volleys of Void-tinged lances, partially directed by Bren shouting target coordinates.
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+25 = (3+25) = 28] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6+28 = (5+28) = 33] <Razorback Marefriends, 20 total
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23] <Razorback Stallionfriends, 9 total
('Two-Oh-Five! We're gonna hold long as we can 'ere! Keep this fuckin' line 'til we's burned out body an'soul or we ain't moving! Make 'em barrels melt if ya gots ta!')
>The Lost Legions: 90,903 Morale of 285,678
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 9 turns.
>Shearing Lances from the Watch Guard and Stalliongrad's Support Striker Battalions crash down into the Assault Divisions, pretuned electromagnetic charges doing nothing to slow the Complete Tainted from charging.
>As the Second Dynasty bends spacetime to land human explosives across the frontal rank Assault Divisions, the sequence of explosions ring out in tune with the Hail of Glory loosing fusillades of air shattering secondary and tertiary weapons, loud hums resonating from the west as its primary armaments deliver their payloads before stuttering out.
>Severe as the total damage would have been against conventional armies, the Tainted were not slowed in the least.
>Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, 260M south of Basin Village
>Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @13 Speed, 300M south of Basin Village
>Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, 140M southwest of Basin Village
>Solar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 13 Speed, 240M southeast of Basin Vilalge
>Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 Captains remaining @ 11 Speed, 450M south of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions: Spectral Lances
('Nine minutes until Shattering Skies enters atmosphere. Lancers fill ranks for the dead immediately.')
('Cultists say there's not a single explosive left in the Arenas, armories, depots, barracks.. not even the Villages. That's the last ones and those on the southern road are set, they can't be moved. I've ordered them to remain where they are. I won't risk their lives here General, they know far too much history!')
('I am forced to agree. Moorites and Lunarites, do not enter Basin Village until all is clear, your losses would be the undoing of Equestria's history.')
('There are advantages to using tactics that aren't military in the slightest, General. I'll pray we don't end up like the Village recruits that Sharonel slaughtered. STRIKERS! Switch to standard lances, preserve your energies for the Constructs!')
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Support Striker Companeighs: Psionic Lances
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: Psionic Lances
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers: Psionic Lances
('Destroyer Battalion Four has damaged th-')
('NEGATIVE DESTRUCTION! All allied forces: those Destroyers were unable to destroy individual Solar Air Commarend Division Tainted, we have to bring them all down at once! Hail of Glory prepare for counter-boarding action! May the Oceanlands take their hearts and souls for what they could do, we're in for the fight of our lives starting here and now-')
('Weapon repairs on Hail of Glory completed, the Captain is attempting to resolve issues but has stated that the vessel itself is less than forty percent restored. A maiden's second voyage indeed.)
>The voice of a dead exhausted 30's human male from late Gaullic lineages speaks across the multi-Overhead, much of the weapons fire from the far west removing entire sections of Tainted corporeal forms although the main heavy systems burn out after the first second burn out in choking explosions.
('Negative General, this ship isn't even thirty percent restored but here I am trying to coax it back to life like it was my own body before transference. Armor's holding good, I'm at fifty percent external and ninety percent internal. Primary weapon generators damaged, can't keep it firing for much longer but I'll baby it, two more sets of malfunctions like the first ones and I'm going to be soul-burned. Boarders will have to go through point defense systems, if they make it that far.')
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <System 18 Repairs
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <System 31 Repairs
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments: Underload
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Main Tech-Arcane Armament Repairs
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Point Defense Systems Preheat
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Weapon Stabilizers
>Heavy arcane weapons from the translocation gateway of Battered Shores directly above the fountain reaches the front Assault Divisions, molecular-splitting reactions ripping deep gouges across the Complete Tainted lines, the secondary and tertiary systems overloaded by significant degrees, scattering across the giant forms to little effect.
('Captain of Battered Shores here, ship's stabilized but we're having serious problems trying to maintain this gateway and fire through it at the same time! We'll try another round of focused fire, if that doesn't work we'll have to snap out for immediate repairs, whole crew is starting to get headaches, my Lieutenant's snout is bleeding.... SHE'S GOING INTO SHOCK, ASTRAL MEDICS GET TO HER NOW!')
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Accuracy
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Main Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
>Followed by long range weapons, machineguns, and the few heavies Razorback could deploy, a third round of fire is accompanieghed by dozens of marefriends and the few stallion friends launching volleys of Void-tinged lances, partially directed by Bren shouting target coordinates.
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+25 = (3+25) = 28] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6+28 = (5+28) = 33] <Razorback Marefriends, 20 total
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23] <Razorback Stallionfriends, 9 total
('Two-Oh-Five! We're gonna hold long as we can 'ere! Keep this fuckin' line 'til we's burned out body an'soul or we ain't moving! Make 'em barrels melt if ya gots ta!')
>The Lost Legions: 90,903 Morale of 285,678
>>352789
>The immediately burning gaze of Vestal Gardenia lands on you from behind the fountain, her full contempt reaching through the Overherd in echoing tones.
('Ten full Maniples hit the Citadel earlier tonight including an Argus Command Dominator pair. Those aren't for show pegasus, they stick around to watch the complete destruction of an entire city-state, one survived and four hundred or so models blinked back to that fucking Continental Invasion Carrier! Stalliongrad is crawling with millions of Unceasing Dead, Second Dynasty is reactivating a Late Dynasty Temple, Lunar faction is busy picking up the pieces on the Citadel, part of the Moors is burned out and the other part is trying to reach the Citadel, Solar faction declared war against something nopony knows about after dusk, and to top it all that off there's over a THOUSAND OTHERWORLD DRAGONS taking on a Construct abomination taller than the Spire somewhere!')
('Vestal, there is a-')
('CAN IT! The only event that'd provoke a reaction large enough to warrant them sending Battleship Landers would be what's happening right here right now! You want to talk about the perfect storm that's taking Equestria's attentions and leaving everypony open for the ninth largest Construct assault this world has faced: this is it right here!')
>Much more calmly, the Watch Guard General intervenes to quiet her distant Primal kin.
('Focus on the problems at hoof. I will not allow panic to kill anypony. Sunny, even the most minute fragmarent of aid would be exceptional right now.')
>Lifting from your hoof to eye level, the paper card flashes a neon green... and turns black, falling apart in a painfully slow display of drifting ash, a brief scent of failure tinging the air before dissipating.
>That wasn't supposed to happen.
>Halfway lost in a new division of mixed Lancer Guards rushing forwards to replace the deceased, Mercy's unnervingly calm marental tone reaches you.
('Sunny, I can do nothing against Tainted this large nor are my new weapons capable of harming them, we need to buy time. There is a relay southeast of here atop the Basin Arena, level twenty, rooftop. We cannot destroy it as there are no spares but it would be easy to transfer with me. If you would accompaneigh me to shut it down we can protect you.')
('You want to do what?! There's no.. this can't be helped. You better not die out there Spirit Walker, I knew the Ninth Ruling Councilierge Skullcracker and his history quite well until you released him. GENERAL! Organize a unicorn platune to translocate those two if Miss Sunny pegasus agrees!')
('Acknowledged.')
>>352815
>Terrified from every wit she might have developed or found over the past two years, Emerald's gaze tracks upwards as she half-shouts over the rippling weapons fire and thousands of lances traveling south.
"Three full armies worth of veteran and noble unicorns that died after the Lunar-Solar War and are too prissy to help!"
>Tossing the mythril box down, the Korean woman lifts her right combat boot above and screams at it, curiously in Common rather than her home language.
"I slept with your Princess so I could have a deterrent in case we might all get wiped out, so right now is the perfect time for all of you to not fuck us in the ass! I'll break this lid and kill every single one of you if it's the last action I take!"
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <E.Intimidation
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <E.Assault: Hold
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
>vs:
[1d6 = 5] <Reaction
('I care not what enemies there are. Shortly I will breathe the first unfiltered air of my home world. If what you face should not obey my words.. they too shall die.')
>Receiving no further response from Broken Hoof, the marental link dies in a blur of chaotic arcane sounds-
>That felt exactly like what Anti produced at close range
>Ears raised and swiveling in a short 'thank you' motion, Krinza turns to focus his attention back onto kinetic launching another tungsten lance from his ponial access gateway into the charging Assault Divisions.
('Move to Bren's barricade with the rest of Razorback, Chargers can make use of that space more effectively.. and they are quite eager to swarm the first ranks.')
>Setting distance and angle for degree of travel, the M32 barely taps against your armored shoulder four times in a row, canisters making that familiar whump-whistling noise.
>Scarcely five seconds later, barely visible explosions spread amongst the Complete Tainted's first three lines.
>The Lost Legions: 89,383 Morale.
>Snapping apart in your hand, the disc is replaced by a familiar armored steel hardcase landing in front of you, the top opened to show a screen displaying local topography, a stock keyboard underneath that looked a bit sun burnt, and a long range collapsing rod antennae.
>Crackling into electronic life on the top left a small window opens to deliver an aperture lens stream in progress, angled far down and partially left towards the Basin from a distant location.
>The backdrop of a massive translocation gateway holds steady at a short distance out from Basin Village, an impression of a dull silver vessel emitted through, and likewise giant gold armored pegasi angling towards what must be the Hail of Glory.
>The image drops several hundred feet before stabilizing and tracking west, a new window in the bottom right flashing widespread, albeit fairly minimal, combat damage.
>On center screen the readout was displaying 10 of AGM-114 K's were available out of 12, though only 4 GBU-12's of 6 were stocked, and 2 of 3 GBU-38's were equipped.
>Definitely bigger, badder, and better armed than an original, but somewhat damaged.
>The immediately burning gaze of Vestal Gardenia lands on you from behind the fountain, her full contempt reaching through the Overherd in echoing tones.
('Ten full Maniples hit the Citadel earlier tonight including an Argus Command Dominator pair. Those aren't for show pegasus, they stick around to watch the complete destruction of an entire city-state, one survived and four hundred or so models blinked back to that fucking Continental Invasion Carrier! Stalliongrad is crawling with millions of Unceasing Dead, Second Dynasty is reactivating a Late Dynasty Temple, Lunar faction is busy picking up the pieces on the Citadel, part of the Moors is burned out and the other part is trying to reach the Citadel, Solar faction declared war against something nopony knows about after dusk, and to top it all that off there's over a THOUSAND OTHERWORLD DRAGONS taking on a Construct abomination taller than the Spire somewhere!')
('Vestal, there is a-')
('CAN IT! The only event that'd provoke a reaction large enough to warrant them sending Battleship Landers would be what's happening right here right now! You want to talk about the perfect storm that's taking Equestria's attentions and leaving everypony open for the ninth largest Construct assault this world has faced: this is it right here!')
>Much more calmly, the Watch Guard General intervenes to quiet her distant Primal kin.
('Focus on the problems at hoof. I will not allow panic to kill anypony. Sunny, even the most minute fragmarent of aid would be exceptional right now.')
>Lifting from your hoof to eye level, the paper card flashes a neon green... and turns black, falling apart in a painfully slow display of drifting ash, a brief scent of failure tinging the air before dissipating.
>That wasn't supposed to happen.
>Halfway lost in a new division of mixed Lancer Guards rushing forwards to replace the deceased, Mercy's unnervingly calm marental tone reaches you.
('Sunny, I can do nothing against Tainted this large nor are my new weapons capable of harming them, we need to buy time. There is a relay southeast of here atop the Basin Arena, level twenty, rooftop. We cannot destroy it as there are no spares but it would be easy to transfer with me. If you would accompaneigh me to shut it down we can protect you.')
('You want to do what?! There's no.. this can't be helped. You better not die out there Spirit Walker, I knew the Ninth Ruling Councilierge Skullcracker and his history quite well until you released him. GENERAL! Organize a unicorn platune to translocate those two if Miss Sunny pegasus agrees!')
('Acknowledged.')
>>352815
>Terrified from every wit she might have developed or found over the past two years, Emerald's gaze tracks upwards as she half-shouts over the rippling weapons fire and thousands of lances traveling south.
"Three full armies worth of veteran and noble unicorns that died after the Lunar-Solar War and are too prissy to help!"
>Tossing the mythril box down, the Korean woman lifts her right combat boot above and screams at it, curiously in Common rather than her home language.
"I slept with your Princess so I could have a deterrent in case we might all get wiped out, so right now is the perfect time for all of you to not fuck us in the ass! I'll break this lid and kill every single one of you if it's the last action I take!"
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <E.Intimidation
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <E.Assault: Hold
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
>vs:
[1d6 = 5] <Reaction
('I care not what enemies there are. Shortly I will breathe the first unfiltered air of my home world. If what you face should not obey my words.. they too shall die.')
>Receiving no further response from Broken Hoof, the marental link dies in a blur of chaotic arcane sounds-
>That felt exactly like what Anti produced at close range
>Ears raised and swiveling in a short 'thank you' motion, Krinza turns to focus his attention back onto kinetic launching another tungsten lance from his ponial access gateway into the charging Assault Divisions.
('Move to Bren's barricade with the rest of Razorback, Chargers can make use of that space more effectively.. and they are quite eager to swarm the first ranks.')
>Setting distance and angle for degree of travel, the M32 barely taps against your armored shoulder four times in a row, canisters making that familiar whump-whistling noise.
>Scarcely five seconds later, barely visible explosions spread amongst the Complete Tainted's first three lines.
>The Lost Legions: 89,383 Morale.
>Snapping apart in your hand, the disc is replaced by a familiar armored steel hardcase landing in front of you, the top opened to show a screen displaying local topography, a stock keyboard underneath that looked a bit sun burnt, and a long range collapsing rod antennae.
>Crackling into electronic life on the top left a small window opens to deliver an aperture lens stream in progress, angled far down and partially left towards the Basin from a distant location.
>The backdrop of a massive translocation gateway holds steady at a short distance out from Basin Village, an impression of a dull silver vessel emitted through, and likewise giant gold armored pegasi angling towards what must be the Hail of Glory.
>The image drops several hundred feet before stabilizing and tracking west, a new window in the bottom right flashing widespread, albeit fairly minimal, combat damage.
>On center screen the readout was displaying 10 of AGM-114 K's were available out of 12, though only 4 GBU-12's of 6 were stocked, and 2 of 3 GBU-38's were equipped.
>Definitely bigger, badder, and better armed than an original, but somewhat damaged.
File (): DC7D300D8A6BCA1DA7DDDCEF029F3508-6766052.png (6.5 MB, 3500x1643, 1216704.png)
Just an avid reader lurking the Dark Horse.
>>352817
>Dipping down and feeling spinning blades overhead, the Kiowa's frame responds with familiar piloting stick control, engine humming at full pitch.
>Dragging back into a hover directly over Basin Village's southern hostels, depressing the forward trigger and sharply market primary pod button fills the air ahead of you with a short burst of rocket engine glare, from the left a heavy burst of .50 caliber slugs stream downwards.
>Eight explosions splash across a wide cone of Assault Division Tainted, shrapnel ripping off pieces of hardened corporeality while the minute amount of half inch shells rain down, into, then through multiple rows.
>The Lost Legions: 81,698 Morale.
>Hearing amused keks from multiple young batmares, both massively overeager Destroyer battalions tear away from the overherd to streak after the designated targets.
('First one to die wins!')
('Last one to die wins more!')
('Keep your armor on tight mares!')
('Oh Great Mango in the Sky we're gonna raid you so good and hard!')
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Destroyer Battalion 1
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Destroyer Battalion 2
>Left helmet screen lighting up with a condensed overview of the battlefield, the Assault Division's Complete Tainted ahead and below separate into single units:
>Spread throughout the Lunar Assault Divisions are eight Generals, one directly center, three left, and four right, making themselves much harder to identify or point out as they rapidly swapped places with other Tainted
>The two Solar Assault Divisions were directly behind the Lunars: a General off center left at 214 degrees and another off right at 171 degrees, performing the same mareneuvers except at a slower pace.
>Entering realspace from a boiling steam cloud directly right and ahead of the Kiowa holding station, the 100M long, 33M wide bright silver Harpy vessel emits an amused whistling-chirp, her hull speaking across most bandwidths and through air.
*"Two-point-three seconds afore ye began tae ask, giver of mercy. Ye below cover thine ears! Mine weapons built from tech-magics made for use in Endless Oceans Above be not calculated for use of worlds below!"*
>Now that you could get a good look at it, Guillotine was more of a heavy cruiser approaching pocket battleship designs: starting with a thin, massively reinforced axe-head prow, widening to the center in a sharp, high angled V-keel, then drifting back to a thin stern covered in orange pockmarks which were bubbling in repair.
>Prow gleaming incandescent white, mass numbers of small tubes open to face forwards immediately behind, a pair of sleek black lances rolling sideways from the vessel's center in an oily motion on short rigid pylons, followed by small pods of what were most definitely half-dome point defense blisters raising across the completely flat top deck.
>Where human exoatmospheric vessels were built to fulfill limited functions, Guillotine had purposefully designed herself to breach enemy vessels and unload troops in a coldly logical counter to Rift Construct Landers.
>The Light War Destroyer swivels left and down with zero friction, visibly bending outwards in place-
>A colossal bloom of white in the shape of an axehead streaks from the prow followed by the unmistakable cracks of atomic disintegrations from lance tips directly to Tainted, hails of white-blue plasma bolts rapidly shrieking through realspace, small black tinged arcs of near-lightning rippling in staccato, then minute pinpricks of searing Cherenkov blue streaking left and right towards the Airstrike and Air Commarend Divisions.
*"Guillotine recalls granting mercy ungiven, find peace within ye Rites tae rest everlong!!"*
>Guillotine, Pristine Light War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,359/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (4+24) = 28] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (6+17) = 23] <Mass Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry Repairs
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Weapons
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Assault Vector Settings
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Optimal Range Settings
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
>Dipping down and feeling spinning blades overhead, the Kiowa's frame responds with familiar piloting stick control, engine humming at full pitch.
>Dragging back into a hover directly over Basin Village's southern hostels, depressing the forward trigger and sharply market primary pod button fills the air ahead of you with a short burst of rocket engine glare, from the left a heavy burst of .50 caliber slugs stream downwards.
>Eight explosions splash across a wide cone of Assault Division Tainted, shrapnel ripping off pieces of hardened corporeality while the minute amount of half inch shells rain down, into, then through multiple rows.
>The Lost Legions: 81,698 Morale.
>Hearing amused keks from multiple young batmares, both massively overeager Destroyer battalions tear away from the overherd to streak after the designated targets.
('First one to die wins!')
('Last one to die wins more!')
('Keep your armor on tight mares!')
('Oh Great Mango in the Sky we're gonna raid you so good and hard!')
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Destroyer Battalion 1
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Destroyer Battalion 2
>Left helmet screen lighting up with a condensed overview of the battlefield, the Assault Division's Complete Tainted ahead and below separate into single units:
>Spread throughout the Lunar Assault Divisions are eight Generals, one directly center, three left, and four right, making themselves much harder to identify or point out as they rapidly swapped places with other Tainted
>The two Solar Assault Divisions were directly behind the Lunars: a General off center left at 214 degrees and another off right at 171 degrees, performing the same mareneuvers except at a slower pace.
>Entering realspace from a boiling steam cloud directly right and ahead of the Kiowa holding station, the 100M long, 33M wide bright silver Harpy vessel emits an amused whistling-chirp, her hull speaking across most bandwidths and through air.
*"Two-point-three seconds afore ye began tae ask, giver of mercy. Ye below cover thine ears! Mine weapons built from tech-magics made for use in Endless Oceans Above be not calculated for use of worlds below!"*
>Now that you could get a good look at it, Guillotine was more of a heavy cruiser approaching pocket battleship designs: starting with a thin, massively reinforced axe-head prow, widening to the center in a sharp, high angled V-keel, then drifting back to a thin stern covered in orange pockmarks which were bubbling in repair.
>Prow gleaming incandescent white, mass numbers of small tubes open to face forwards immediately behind, a pair of sleek black lances rolling sideways from the vessel's center in an oily motion on short rigid pylons, followed by small pods of what were most definitely half-dome point defense blisters raising across the completely flat top deck.
>Where human exoatmospheric vessels were built to fulfill limited functions, Guillotine had purposefully designed herself to breach enemy vessels and unload troops in a coldly logical counter to Rift Construct Landers.
>The Light War Destroyer swivels left and down with zero friction, visibly bending outwards in place-
>A colossal bloom of white in the shape of an axehead streaks from the prow followed by the unmistakable cracks of atomic disintegrations from lance tips directly to Tainted, hails of white-blue plasma bolts rapidly shrieking through realspace, small black tinged arcs of near-lightning rippling in staccato, then minute pinpricks of searing Cherenkov blue streaking left and right towards the Airstrike and Air Commarend Divisions.
*"Guillotine recalls granting mercy ungiven, find peace within ye Rites tae rest everlong!!"*
>Guillotine, Pristine Light War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,359/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (4+24) = 28] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (6+17) = 23] <Mass Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry Repairs
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Weapons
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Assault Vector Settings
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Optimal Range Settings
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
>>352845
>Hearing a loud, derisive peal of earth mare laughter behind you, Vestal Gardenia's harsh marental voice silences the multi-overherd.
('The Otherworld alicorn that called herself Silver ceased to exist after one of Razorback's finest went to Stalliongrad on a rescue mission that I signed off for! He was only supposed to take those mares that had the highest chance of producing a Primal Psion and deliver them to Luna's Villages, but no! Dante royally fucked that up by taking an entire dose of Heartflame elixir and proceeded to summon most of her Seasons damned descendants out of the city leading to a direct conflict with the Watch Guard and some witherstabbing Councilierge! I don't care what happened to those fools, they deserved to die but all those deaths woke up the millions of fucking Undead below Stalliongrad! An hour ago five Support Striker Companeighs that I trained broke into the Canterlot Archive and retrieved a Solar Prince title for him, which is the rotten cherry on top of my already ruined cake! Oh but there is some GOOD news: nearly five armies of Lunarite Collectives woke up and are doing their best to destroy or pacify the actual millions of Unceasing Dead that've been woken up!')
('Vestal, now is NOT the ti-')
('SHUT UP OR I'M GOING TO TURN YOU OVER FOR BREAKING SIX THOUSAND SOME TREATIES! Here's a real question: what would YOU do in the position of an Emperor-in-exile that realizes over ninety-five percent of your descendants said buck tradition, we're going to do what we want so buck off, oh and we're going to mock you remorselessly for all the arrogant shit you've done, would you want to continue living? I'd drop a meteor on that worthless horse and everything she's done if I could, she deserved much worse but I'll take any satisfaction I can get right now!')
>Finding yourself mixed in with mostly Agents and Specialists, not one of them paid more than a split-second's worth of attention at your new appendages, the first calls for magazine changes ring out as Assault Division Tainted come into direct view south of Basin Village.
>Those with shorter ranged weapons, primarily submachine guns, shotguns, and heavy revolvers begin to steady their aim on the barricade, preparing to unload at optimal range, mostly Elites snapping at the news.
"Ethereals coming HERE!?"
"Fuck's sakes, what else do we have to put up with tonight?"
"If those Ethereal whatevers scratches one of us we're taking it apart, allied with Cadence or not!"
"Keep calm and clear your sight lines, don't aim below eye level because if one of you hits a pony then I'm going to frag you myself!"
('....I do not like that news, but I acknowledge it.')
('I second that human stallion's words: if it so much as looks at a single one of you wrong then we're going to shred it and use the pieces for new mirrors!')
>Sighting in on the legs of the front Lunar Assault Division earth pony Tainted, the rippling false-armor each 'wore' was nothing more than decoration given the concentrated fire that hadn't slowed or crippled a single one of them yet.
>Three comforting thumps rock into your right shoulder, holding against the recoil solidly as the trio of Livermorium slugs pass well overhead of ponies below Razorback's barricade, the first arcing down low, the second higher and passing into the first Complete Tainted ranks.
>The Lost Legions: 81,228 Morale.
>Unhindered by damage to their collective willpower, the Lunar and Solar Guardians seemed entirely resolute.
[1d1600+800 = (645+800) = 1445] <8x Lunar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d400+200 = (108+200) = 308] <2x Solar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d100+50 = (84+50) = 134] <1x Lunar Guardian Airstrike Captain
[1d100+50 = (66+50) = 116] <1x Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain
[1d400+200 = (249+200) = 449] <4x Solar Guardian Support Captains
>Even the immarense pressure from Aegis Ignis Faen siphoning away hot blue Airstreams from the Air Commarend Division was barely slowing their progress.
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
>Hearing a loud, derisive peal of earth mare laughter behind you, Vestal Gardenia's harsh marental voice silences the multi-overherd.
('The Otherworld alicorn that called herself Silver ceased to exist after one of Razorback's finest went to Stalliongrad on a rescue mission that I signed off for! He was only supposed to take those mares that had the highest chance of producing a Primal Psion and deliver them to Luna's Villages, but no! Dante royally fucked that up by taking an entire dose of Heartflame elixir and proceeded to summon most of her Seasons damned descendants out of the city leading to a direct conflict with the Watch Guard and some witherstabbing Councilierge! I don't care what happened to those fools, they deserved to die but all those deaths woke up the millions of fucking Undead below Stalliongrad! An hour ago five Support Striker Companeighs that I trained broke into the Canterlot Archive and retrieved a Solar Prince title for him, which is the rotten cherry on top of my already ruined cake! Oh but there is some GOOD news: nearly five armies of Lunarite Collectives woke up and are doing their best to destroy or pacify the actual millions of Unceasing Dead that've been woken up!')
('Vestal, now is NOT the ti-')
('SHUT UP OR I'M GOING TO TURN YOU OVER FOR BREAKING SIX THOUSAND SOME TREATIES! Here's a real question: what would YOU do in the position of an Emperor-in-exile that realizes over ninety-five percent of your descendants said buck tradition, we're going to do what we want so buck off, oh and we're going to mock you remorselessly for all the arrogant shit you've done, would you want to continue living? I'd drop a meteor on that worthless horse and everything she's done if I could, she deserved much worse but I'll take any satisfaction I can get right now!')
>Finding yourself mixed in with mostly Agents and Specialists, not one of them paid more than a split-second's worth of attention at your new appendages, the first calls for magazine changes ring out as Assault Division Tainted come into direct view south of Basin Village.
>Those with shorter ranged weapons, primarily submachine guns, shotguns, and heavy revolvers begin to steady their aim on the barricade, preparing to unload at optimal range, mostly Elites snapping at the news.
"Ethereals coming HERE!?"
"Fuck's sakes, what else do we have to put up with tonight?"
"If those Ethereal whatevers scratches one of us we're taking it apart, allied with Cadence or not!"
"Keep calm and clear your sight lines, don't aim below eye level because if one of you hits a pony then I'm going to frag you myself!"
('....I do not like that news, but I acknowledge it.')
('I second that human stallion's words: if it so much as looks at a single one of you wrong then we're going to shred it and use the pieces for new mirrors!')
>Sighting in on the legs of the front Lunar Assault Division earth pony Tainted, the rippling false-armor each 'wore' was nothing more than decoration given the concentrated fire that hadn't slowed or crippled a single one of them yet.
>Three comforting thumps rock into your right shoulder, holding against the recoil solidly as the trio of Livermorium slugs pass well overhead of ponies below Razorback's barricade, the first arcing down low, the second higher and passing into the first Complete Tainted ranks.
>The Lost Legions: 81,228 Morale.
>Unhindered by damage to their collective willpower, the Lunar and Solar Guardians seemed entirely resolute.
[1d1600+800 = (645+800) = 1445] <8x Lunar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d400+200 = (108+200) = 308] <2x Solar Guardian Assault Generals
[1d100+50 = (84+50) = 134] <1x Lunar Guardian Airstrike Captain
[1d100+50 = (66+50) = 116] <1x Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain
[1d400+200 = (249+200) = 449] <4x Solar Guardian Support Captains
>Even the immarense pressure from Aegis Ignis Faen siphoning away hot blue Airstreams from the Air Commarend Division was barely slowing their progress.
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
File (): 76D05CDC1643F2031A8229724B77865A-986732.gif (963.6 KB, 600x576, 40_OAT_Update_Jan_2019_luftpatpluswings.gif)
File (): 33F245DD62BB0EFF1A102965CD29BEE2-120346.png (117.5 KB, 883x904, 1462322950312.png)
>>353027
>>353056
>>352815
>>352817
>>352845
>Sunny resolutely ignored Gardenia's contempt, her disruptive interjections were beginning to grate.
>The card disintegrated and nothing happened. Sunny's ears fell despairingly.
"...I guess I deserve that."
('Summoning failed.')
>Turning to look at Mercy, who was still trying to get to their position, she nodded, assenting to the translocation. There was nothing more she could do here.
('Understood. Do it.')
>Mercy seemed calmer at least, that was a good sign.
>She shot one last withering look at the box, but otherwise didn't comment. If they didn't help, whatever long lost valour and respect they'd earned would be void, that would be their choice.
>>353061
>>353063
>Entirely tired of the ceaseless ranting of the Watch Guard General's counterpart, Sunny mentally spoke in a carefully measured and dispassionate tone directly to her.
('Vestal Gardenia. As important as this information is, your ceaseless ranting is serving as nothing more than a distraction at a very bad time. I'm going to politely ask you to find your discipline and clear the overherd of your stream of consciousness before it gets anypony killed. Whatever you feel you have to vent about, you can do it afterwards if any of us are still alive to hear it.')
>>353056
>>352815
>>352817
>>352845
>Sunny resolutely ignored Gardenia's contempt, her disruptive interjections were beginning to grate.
>The card disintegrated and nothing happened. Sunny's ears fell despairingly.
"...I guess I deserve that."
('Summoning failed.')
>Turning to look at Mercy, who was still trying to get to their position, she nodded, assenting to the translocation. There was nothing more she could do here.
('Understood. Do it.')
>Mercy seemed calmer at least, that was a good sign.
>She shot one last withering look at the box, but otherwise didn't comment. If they didn't help, whatever long lost valour and respect they'd earned would be void, that would be their choice.
>>353061
>>353063
>Entirely tired of the ceaseless ranting of the Watch Guard General's counterpart, Sunny mentally spoke in a carefully measured and dispassionate tone directly to her.
('Vestal Gardenia. As important as this information is, your ceaseless ranting is serving as nothing more than a distraction at a very bad time. I'm going to politely ask you to find your discipline and clear the overherd of your stream of consciousness before it gets anypony killed. Whatever you feel you have to vent about, you can do it afterwards if any of us are still alive to hear it.')
File (): 1337313089A107F9B21C6D1F10DD1C5D-112000.gif (109.4 KB, 114x90, alright-everyone-chill.gif)
Master Aligned Valor: +8 for 2 turns to combat, +1 to movement
Master M.o.S: +2 for 3 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>353027
>>353056
>Lont watched as everything was hurled at the Tainted. Everything everyone could muster, humans and ponies alike. Even ponies from across Tallus chipped in. It was not enough though, the Tainted continued to barrel down on their position. And when that happened they will all die. He will die, Razorback might even die here too let alone the thousands of ponies from so many factions whom have sworn to fight to the last mare.
>What a clusterfuck.
>He began searching for his Wish Disc. He froze for a moment however as he heard on the Overherd something about Sharonel, he did not respond. This was not the place nor time to start bickering about such trivialities such as history.
>>353061
>He chortled at seeing the devastation Clem wrought onto the Tainted with the helicopter, yes it did not slow them down one bit but it certainly visually mauled them.
>THEN SUDDENLY!
>The Guillotine appeared in the sky. Lont whipped his head up and looked upon it with awe behind his helmet. Wings flickering. He has seen similar things cruising in the Lake Seas back home, but they never flew!
"That should help."
>He muttered in astonishment.
>>353063
>With effort, Lont slowly drew his attention away from the Harpy vessel in the sky to gaze down at the ponies below the barricade he stood upon. He did not fully turn his body to face them but rather looked over his shoulder, the obstructing wing shuddering out of the way.
>He said nothing. He silently glared down at them from his enclosed barbute as he listened to Vestal.
>He did not answer her (probably) rhetorical question, instead he glared for a moment longer before returning his attention to the onrushing Tainted.
>In one hand he had found and was holding onto his Wish Disc and cradled in the nook of his arm was his Spiker.
>Lont sighed wearily, something that was drowned out by massed human gunfire, magical discharge and non-Overherd chatter.
>Lucky was dead, Tacit was out cold.
>Silver was gone. She did something as close to an actual death as an immortal god could he wagered. There goes his plan with helping Tacit. He felt sorrow for her, despite being a Psion.
>Dante messed up big time so hard he would need a whole day to digest what happened.
>Princess Luna's faction got mauled by Constructs, meanwhile the Solar faction is at war with SOMETHING.
>Dragons were fighting a giant Construct too, which was something of note.
>And to top it off there were still problems happening in the Empire, he was too hasty to leave. While he was hitting on Shattered Glacier and some Conclave Chefs there were Empire ponies dying.
>Still dying.
>To top it all off, here he was now. Staring down an army of giant Tainted forms about to snuff out all life in the Basin Village with Constructs on the way as well because why not..
"What a night."
>Lont said, aggravated and progressively becoming more and more done with this shit.
"All of you, silence."
>He told the whining Operators around him, and did not bother responding on the Overherd.
>But before the Constructs, the Tainted needed dealing with. Lont brought the Wish Disc close to his helm and stared down the charging Lunar Tainted.
"Rime, I want as much as this wish can give me. Turn it into a storm that will blow away the Lunar Assault Division charging down onto my position. I want them to...chill out."
[1d6 = 2] >Wish Disc
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >U.Punmancy
>Wish done he shouldered Spiker again, this time seeing if he could spot any targets that looked important. Turning on his thermal vision too he hoped he'd see something interesting to plug a few slugs into.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >E.Perception +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
Master M.o.S: +2 for 3 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>353027
>>353056
>Lont watched as everything was hurled at the Tainted. Everything everyone could muster, humans and ponies alike. Even ponies from across Tallus chipped in. It was not enough though, the Tainted continued to barrel down on their position. And when that happened they will all die. He will die, Razorback might even die here too let alone the thousands of ponies from so many factions whom have sworn to fight to the last mare.
>What a clusterfuck.
>He began searching for his Wish Disc. He froze for a moment however as he heard on the Overherd something about Sharonel, he did not respond. This was not the place nor time to start bickering about such trivialities such as history.
>>353061
>He chortled at seeing the devastation Clem wrought onto the Tainted with the helicopter, yes it did not slow them down one bit but it certainly visually mauled them.
>THEN SUDDENLY!
>The Guillotine appeared in the sky. Lont whipped his head up and looked upon it with awe behind his helmet. Wings flickering. He has seen similar things cruising in the Lake Seas back home, but they never flew!
"That should help."
>He muttered in astonishment.
>>353063
>With effort, Lont slowly drew his attention away from the Harpy vessel in the sky to gaze down at the ponies below the barricade he stood upon. He did not fully turn his body to face them but rather looked over his shoulder, the obstructing wing shuddering out of the way.
>He said nothing. He silently glared down at them from his enclosed barbute as he listened to Vestal.
>He did not answer her (probably) rhetorical question, instead he glared for a moment longer before returning his attention to the onrushing Tainted.
>In one hand he had found and was holding onto his Wish Disc and cradled in the nook of his arm was his Spiker.
>Lont sighed wearily, something that was drowned out by massed human gunfire, magical discharge and non-Overherd chatter.
>Lucky was dead, Tacit was out cold.
>Silver was gone. She did something as close to an actual death as an immortal god could he wagered. There goes his plan with helping Tacit. He felt sorrow for her, despite being a Psion.
>Dante messed up big time so hard he would need a whole day to digest what happened.
>Princess Luna's faction got mauled by Constructs, meanwhile the Solar faction is at war with SOMETHING.
>Dragons were fighting a giant Construct too, which was something of note.
>And to top it off there were still problems happening in the Empire, he was too hasty to leave. While he was hitting on Shattered Glacier and some Conclave Chefs there were Empire ponies dying.
>Still dying.
>To top it all off, here he was now. Staring down an army of giant Tainted forms about to snuff out all life in the Basin Village with Constructs on the way as well because why not..
"What a night."
>Lont said, aggravated and progressively becoming more and more done with this shit.
"All of you, silence."
>He told the whining Operators around him, and did not bother responding on the Overherd.
>But before the Constructs, the Tainted needed dealing with. Lont brought the Wish Disc close to his helm and stared down the charging Lunar Tainted.
"Rime, I want as much as this wish can give me. Turn it into a storm that will blow away the Lunar Assault Division charging down onto my position. I want them to...chill out."
[1d6 = 2] >Wish Disc
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >U.Punmancy
>Wish done he shouldered Spiker again, this time seeing if he could spot any targets that looked important. Turning on his thermal vision too he hoped he'd see something interesting to plug a few slugs into.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >E.Perception +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
>>352492
"I would be shocked if they didn't fucking know about the effects until later on."
>Bubba pressed his lips together in brief thought.
"It could've been both. Just using the former excuse to cover up and divert from the proper reason."
>He'd scowl a bit as well.
"And this was the better option. Hodch letting this shit out would've brought even more onto Razorback."
>At the mention of Linara and Stalliongrad, Bubba let out a hum.
"Dante's also been there for roughly five hours, with no report back yet. That means a few different things, and I don't exactly know which is worse."
>It would be a good idea to check on him when possible. Just to make sure he wasn't killed... Or lewded to death.
"Well, I'm not exactly doing too much sitting on my ass here in the Pagoda, and I'm not currently needed elsewhere. Why the hell not?"
>He got up with a groan, patting himself down to ensure he had everything he needed, or wanted, on his person.
"I would be shocked if they didn't fucking know about the effects until later on."
>Bubba pressed his lips together in brief thought.
"It could've been both. Just using the former excuse to cover up and divert from the proper reason."
>He'd scowl a bit as well.
"And this was the better option. Hodch letting this shit out would've brought even more onto Razorback."
>At the mention of Linara and Stalliongrad, Bubba let out a hum.
"Dante's also been there for roughly five hours, with no report back yet. That means a few different things, and I don't exactly know which is worse."
>It would be a good idea to check on him when possible. Just to make sure he wasn't killed... Or lewded to death.
"Well, I'm not exactly doing too much sitting on my ass here in the Pagoda, and I'm not currently needed elsewhere. Why the hell not?"
>He got up with a groan, patting himself down to ensure he had everything he needed, or wanted, on his person.
>>352650
>Examining the M134's rear grip, then body, and last the barrels in clinical study, Krinza taps the pen against his anvil.
"A central carry handle would eliminate that problem."
>Taking on a prideful air, the chunky unicorn smith sets the notepad down.
"There are numerous materials that can be both flexible and rigid with the right preparation or use of key words to switch functions. Unfortunately we do not have any in stock, but I did hear we will be receiving ocean materials from the Sea's Bounty for the next few weeks. The compromises Naliyna made with your armor was that she could not ensure it would be mobile considering the weight we required for complete protection. You will need to use it for some time to ensure she has enough data for future improvemarents. Once her crystal workshop is fully set up it might be a good idea to visit her at least once a night... that gives me some ideas."
>Blinking once, Krinza cocks his head in thought, the pen furiously scribbles as he peers over the exoskeleton's frame.
"Ivan, would you leave the weapon here for a while? I have access to some modifications that should make it more suitable for extended use but each will need to be tested."
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>Completed Projects:
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Scaling
"I can modify each magnet to attach or detach at will or command, similar to reactive and triggered enchantmarents. That should only take a minute each."
>Already placing sheets and chunks of hi-alloy steel from other projects into Krinza's furnace, Helping Hoof glances up at the massive coldstone in study.
"Hm. I will work on the carry box since most of my projects can be shelved indefinitely. It needs to be highly secure with that much ammunition so a few regenerative layers of gel for shock absorbing properties should work well or perhaps a single layer connected as a hydraulic sequence?"
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Crafting
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
>Examining the M134's rear grip, then body, and last the barrels in clinical study, Krinza taps the pen against his anvil.
"A central carry handle would eliminate that problem."
>Taking on a prideful air, the chunky unicorn smith sets the notepad down.
"There are numerous materials that can be both flexible and rigid with the right preparation or use of key words to switch functions. Unfortunately we do not have any in stock, but I did hear we will be receiving ocean materials from the Sea's Bounty for the next few weeks. The compromises Naliyna made with your armor was that she could not ensure it would be mobile considering the weight we required for complete protection. You will need to use it for some time to ensure she has enough data for future improvemarents. Once her crystal workshop is fully set up it might be a good idea to visit her at least once a night... that gives me some ideas."
>Blinking once, Krinza cocks his head in thought, the pen furiously scribbles as he peers over the exoskeleton's frame.
"Ivan, would you leave the weapon here for a while? I have access to some modifications that should make it more suitable for extended use but each will need to be tested."
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>Completed Projects:
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Scaling
"I can modify each magnet to attach or detach at will or command, similar to reactive and triggered enchantmarents. That should only take a minute each."
>Already placing sheets and chunks of hi-alloy steel from other projects into Krinza's furnace, Helping Hoof glances up at the massive coldstone in study.
"Hm. I will work on the carry box since most of my projects can be shelved indefinitely. It needs to be highly secure with that much ammunition so a few regenerative layers of gel for shock absorbing properties should work well or perhaps a single layer connected as a hydraulic sequence?"
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Crafting
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
>>353157
"Well, I'm certainly not opposed to wearing it for a few weeks straight. STALKERs tend to do such."
>He was not going to worry about using the bathroom until he started breaking stalls with his bulk.
"Yeah, sure. How long do you want her?"
>He'd ask, placing it on one of the tables.
"Mm, the gel might be better in case something hits the case. Wouldn't be good to have the belts jostled around enough to tangle or even break."
>The last thing he'd need in a fight would be for a bullet to go into the M134 backwards.
"Shame I can't have the minigun lightened much more than it already is, or else the recoil would be too much for even the Exoskeleton to handle."
"Well, I'm certainly not opposed to wearing it for a few weeks straight. STALKERs tend to do such."
>He was not going to worry about using the bathroom until he started breaking stalls with his bulk.
"Yeah, sure. How long do you want her?"
>He'd ask, placing it on one of the tables.
"Mm, the gel might be better in case something hits the case. Wouldn't be good to have the belts jostled around enough to tangle or even break."
>The last thing he'd need in a fight would be for a bullet to go into the M134 backwards.
"Shame I can't have the minigun lightened much more than it already is, or else the recoil would be too much for even the Exoskeleton to handle."
File (): 69CF6198AA5B0C8D98E7F3FCE14B2FC4-134077.gif (130.9 KB, 220x220, drop-bombs.gif)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jly9qp40rfw
>>353027
>>353056
>>353061
>>353063
>As Jeff overhears the Overherd commotion as mere backround noise at this moment, he focuses on Emerald kicking the box she was holding as she shouts in protest.
"There's three armies in there?! Those unicorns better get their asses in gear, then!"
>Broken Hoof ends the link with a resolute cut-off. It felt chaotic, Anti. He was never a fan of its feeling.
>She was showing up, one way or another.
>>352817
>As the Wish Disc snaps positively out of existence, it gives Jeff a slight foreboding feeling.
>It didn't snap last time for the MOAB...
>Neverless a steel hardcase materializes on the ground at his feet, opening up to reveal an entire setup and display for a Reaper drone. He folds out the antennae and fully extends it.
>Several readouts indicated the drone's position, camera systems, and current payload and other readings.
>Ten Hellfire, four Paveways, and two JDAM's. Nice, he didn't even ask for the thirty-eights.
(Actually Clem, I got a dedicated module for it! Reaper came in a bit dinged up, bigger than it should be, but it's flying with a payload.)
>But he can't move yet, as per Krinza's suggestion, for the drone was already set on a bombing run.
('When I can. I just got us more support, but I can't move while I'm controlling it.')
>He safeties the grenade launcher and puts it back into the duffle with the rest of its ammunition.
>Jeff checks his flight array and slows down the drone to its minimum combat speed and zooms in on the imaging camera, panning it South of the Basin Village to the oncoming Tainted charging. He's aiming for the forward Lunar Assault line-
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Combat Speed
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <UHD Aperture Camera
>...
"What in the fuck..."
>As he looks through the aperture on the screen, a gigantic explosion of ice and frost happens simultaneously over both the camera screen and far in front of him down the line past the Village. A LARGE portion of the Tainted he was intending to bomb were now not moving, survivors thinly arranged around ground zero.
('Yo! Who's turning the Moor's into a snow cone factory? What is that... Rime? Hey, great idea! That'll slow them down!')
>So much for bombing the forward assault line. He could... the Support Division in back could use a little leaning out.
>He makes some manual adjustments to the drone's yaw South East to come over on top of the rear forces. There's maybe a three second splash from this height, so a bit of a lead when he makes GPS mark.
>Selecting two Paveways and all three JDAMs for arming he starts placing GPS targets for the 38's to guide to. Any HVT's he can point out first, then after that he'll spread them across the Division as evenly as he can. The pair of Paveways up front he'll guide in with the laser designator, and the JDAMs in the center to back will guide themselves in.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>As he marks ground targets, he begins to tune in to the General and all friendly elements going back and forth on the Overherd.
('Be advised. I have an aerial unmarened hunter-killer drone inbound West! Dropping munitions along their Rear Support Division in back. Seeing as someone literally put the bulk of their forward charge on ice. After that, I'm rerouting it North for surgical missile strikes against any HVT's until it comes around again for another bombing opportunity. Let's not mistake it for a Construct, please.')
('Clem, did you get all that? I've got ten Hellfires on standby. Let's pool our missiles and try targeting any leaders in those lines, between bombing the shit out of them.')
>As the drone closes in over the Support Division, Jeff checks his target modifiers and releases his Paveways and JDAMs over their intended strike locations, guiding the GBU-12's into their intended targets.
1d6+18] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
1d6+18]
1d6+18] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
1d6+18]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <GBU-38 Guided JDAM
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <GBU-38 Guided JDAM
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <GBU-38 Guided JDAM
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25]
>>353027
>>353056
>>353061
>>353063
>As Jeff overhears the Overherd commotion as mere backround noise at this moment, he focuses on Emerald kicking the box she was holding as she shouts in protest.
"There's three armies in there?! Those unicorns better get their asses in gear, then!"
>Broken Hoof ends the link with a resolute cut-off. It felt chaotic, Anti. He was never a fan of its feeling.
>She was showing up, one way or another.
>>352817
>As the Wish Disc snaps positively out of existence, it gives Jeff a slight foreboding feeling.
>It didn't snap last time for the MOAB...
>Neverless a steel hardcase materializes on the ground at his feet, opening up to reveal an entire setup and display for a Reaper drone. He folds out the antennae and fully extends it.
>Several readouts indicated the drone's position, camera systems, and current payload and other readings.
>Ten Hellfire, four Paveways, and two JDAM's. Nice, he didn't even ask for the thirty-eights.
(Actually Clem, I got a dedicated module for it! Reaper came in a bit dinged up, bigger than it should be, but it's flying with a payload.)
>But he can't move yet, as per Krinza's suggestion, for the drone was already set on a bombing run.
('When I can. I just got us more support, but I can't move while I'm controlling it.')
>He safeties the grenade launcher and puts it back into the duffle with the rest of its ammunition.
>Jeff checks his flight array and slows down the drone to its minimum combat speed and zooms in on the imaging camera, panning it South of the Basin Village to the oncoming Tainted charging. He's aiming for the forward Lunar Assault line-
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Combat Speed
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <UHD Aperture Camera
>...
"What in the fuck..."
>As he looks through the aperture on the screen, a gigantic explosion of ice and frost happens simultaneously over both the camera screen and far in front of him down the line past the Village. A LARGE portion of the Tainted he was intending to bomb were now not moving, survivors thinly arranged around ground zero.
('Yo! Who's turning the Moor's into a snow cone factory? What is that... Rime? Hey, great idea! That'll slow them down!')
>So much for bombing the forward assault line. He could... the Support Division in back could use a little leaning out.
>He makes some manual adjustments to the drone's yaw South East to come over on top of the rear forces. There's maybe a three second splash from this height, so a bit of a lead when he makes GPS mark.
>Selecting two Paveways and all three JDAMs for arming he starts placing GPS targets for the 38's to guide to. Any HVT's he can point out first, then after that he'll spread them across the Division as evenly as he can. The pair of Paveways up front he'll guide in with the laser designator, and the JDAMs in the center to back will guide themselves in.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>As he marks ground targets, he begins to tune in to the General and all friendly elements going back and forth on the Overherd.
('Be advised. I have an aerial unmarened hunter-killer drone inbound West! Dropping munitions along their Rear Support Division in back. Seeing as someone literally put the bulk of their forward charge on ice. After that, I'm rerouting it North for surgical missile strikes against any HVT's until it comes around again for another bombing opportunity. Let's not mistake it for a Construct, please.')
('Clem, did you get all that? I've got ten Hellfires on standby. Let's pool our missiles and try targeting any leaders in those lines, between bombing the shit out of them.')
>As the drone closes in over the Support Division, Jeff checks his target modifiers and releases his Paveways and JDAMs over their intended strike locations, guiding the GBU-12's into their intended targets.
1d6+18] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
1d6+18]
1d6+18] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
1d6+18]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <GBU-38 Guided JDAM
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <GBU-38 Guided JDAM
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <GBU-38 Guided JDAM
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25]
>>353164
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
File (): E52A40C459D9BAC511176BD3549451A3-28607.jpg (27.9 KB, 500x538, HighImpactNegotations.jpg)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrDKoXWKMmY
>>353164
>And immediately switches to the pre-programmed orbital strike routine.
('Moving Reaper drone Northbound. I need a bit for it to come around and orient itself before it's online again.')
>He closes the hardcase up and carries it along with the duffle and falls back through the crowds to Bren's more fortified locations.
>There's about a thirty second window before the Reaper comes back around for strike positioning.
"Make a hole, everypony! Coming through!"
>As he moves through the crowded forces of varying armies, Jeff listens in into the Overherd.
>So it sounds like this battle has triggered a series of other catastrophic incidents across Tallus. Also why those Lunarites woke up too, it seems.
>And Dante did some crazy shit in Stalliongrad that landed him as a Solar Prince? Hilarious. Then again if there was any one person in Razorback that'd be qualified for such a position it'd be him.
>The Primal Psion was getting rowdy, having clearly missed several important events tonite to be here, and the General was losing her.
>He gets that. He's missing out on helping on the Citadel, looking for Belltower, unfucking Razorback, or just not doing anything important.
>But he also enjoyed the heat of the battle, despite their disadvantage and losses.
>Was he a war junkie? Was she? Were they both just trying to blow steam off for having colossally shitty nights?
>... maybe they weren't so different after all.
>Sunny didn't seem to get it, and if Vestal can get refocused on herself and her Support Strikers...
>He decides to intervene, oddly energized by the psion's eagerness for battle. Despite her hating every fiber of his being. Hey if he's dying here-
('General. Sunny. Miss Gardenia-as much as I am the last being with a pulse you want to hear from right now if we could please not eat the whole mango peach cobbler in one horking bite and take small savory ones instead? Take the battle one step at a time. There are plenty that are grateful for every single one of you, friend or foe, that's come to aid whether you want to be here or not. I for one haven't reveled in a good battle in a while now and it's bizarrely refreshing, and I'm sure we're ALL breaking rules left and right! So if this is going to be our final hour, with all of Tallus watching, let's put on one hell of a show for them!')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <M.Lady Killer: Neighotiation/Motivate?
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.HPR: Active Response Coercion
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
>He mentally clears his head and continues with a more levelheaded professional tone.
('Apologies for the outburst. Let's just try and survive this and go our dysfunctional separate ways. Or we can wring Dante's neck together. I'm up for either one.')
>Once he's within a much safer position at Bren's barricades, he sets the grenadier duffle down, opens up the Reaper's module and checks its position while prepping Hellfires to come online.
>>353164
>And immediately switches to the pre-programmed orbital strike routine.
('Moving Reaper drone Northbound. I need a bit for it to come around and orient itself before it's online again.')
>He closes the hardcase up and carries it along with the duffle and falls back through the crowds to Bren's more fortified locations.
>There's about a thirty second window before the Reaper comes back around for strike positioning.
"Make a hole, everypony! Coming through!"
>As he moves through the crowded forces of varying armies, Jeff listens in into the Overherd.
>So it sounds like this battle has triggered a series of other catastrophic incidents across Tallus. Also why those Lunarites woke up too, it seems.
>And Dante did some crazy shit in Stalliongrad that landed him as a Solar Prince? Hilarious. Then again if there was any one person in Razorback that'd be qualified for such a position it'd be him.
>The Primal Psion was getting rowdy, having clearly missed several important events tonite to be here, and the General was losing her.
>He gets that. He's missing out on helping on the Citadel, looking for Belltower, unfucking Razorback, or just not doing anything important.
>But he also enjoyed the heat of the battle, despite their disadvantage and losses.
>Was he a war junkie? Was she? Were they both just trying to blow steam off for having colossally shitty nights?
>... maybe they weren't so different after all.
>Sunny didn't seem to get it, and if Vestal can get refocused on herself and her Support Strikers...
>He decides to intervene, oddly energized by the psion's eagerness for battle. Despite her hating every fiber of his being. Hey if he's dying here-
('General. Sunny. Miss Gardenia-as much as I am the last being with a pulse you want to hear from right now if we could please not eat the whole mango peach cobbler in one horking bite and take small savory ones instead? Take the battle one step at a time. There are plenty that are grateful for every single one of you, friend or foe, that's come to aid whether you want to be here or not. I for one haven't reveled in a good battle in a while now and it's bizarrely refreshing, and I'm sure we're ALL breaking rules left and right! So if this is going to be our final hour, with all of Tallus watching, let's put on one hell of a show for them!')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <M.Lady Killer: Neighotiation/Motivate?
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.HPR: Active Response Coercion
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
>He mentally clears his head and continues with a more levelheaded professional tone.
('Apologies for the outburst. Let's just try and survive this and go our dysfunctional separate ways. Or we can wring Dante's neck together. I'm up for either one.')
>Once he's within a much safer position at Bren's barricades, he sets the grenadier duffle down, opens up the Reaper's module and checks its position while prepping Hellfires to come online.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.353181
>>352652
>Bringing up a selection on his smartphone, Anonymous lowers it to take a critical look.
"PTRD is a single-shot. Why not a PTRS-41? uses the same shell and has a five-round magazine, just a couple pounds heavier. There's also the Lahti L-39, it's directly in your era but much heavier and longer. I can also perform modifications on whatever you want; bore coatings, recoil adjustments, swapping actions, adding scopes, swapping out materials for pretty much whatever you want. Name it and it's probably in my abilities. As for your... daughter's weapon, that's a thirty mil hand cannon. Makes my own look and sound like shit in comparison."
"I am able to modify and design weapons for my own use, if I had full access to the rest of my data nodes and storage."
>Reaching behind him to sigh, Anonymous tosses out eight books
"Forget I asked. There's only two in Razorback that I know of but most of the Post-Orbital Era humans have one. By the way Wild, here's a few books for you to take a look at. This is everything I know of human mechanical and engineering fundamentals including most of the Space Age stuff. Two of those are based on Kraut's Magitek which I figure you're already using some of."
"I am. I think?"
>Lifting one hand in a rolling 'what else can you do?' motion, the human gestalt half-grins behind his mask, the other half trying to hide the pain inside.
"I've seen some real fucked up things before this Natilda, but I won't ask. As for any Ferron in the Moors they're easy to deal with since most locations they inhabit are safe, Sea's Bounty included. General Twisted Wing's not just an idol, she's part of the main Ferron clan's overherd gestalt. Humans are basically thought of as sacred by most due to her, and their subclans are ridiculously nice. Aside from some weird pseudo-religious philosophies. Just don't ask about mangoes and why Princess Luna's ass are holy objects."
>Placing the smartphone in his dress shirt and leaning back to survey the Eldritch-Android, Anonymous frowns speculatively.
"I.. know what, you're right. They won't consider Wild a threat, she looks much too human and is the furthest away from Construct possible. Blue materials are considered holy by Ferron, too. Speaking of which, do you want that bluesteel armor or not? It's been sitting unused over a year now."
>Still hot, and rather fresh, while you find the mixed tastes to be somewhat better than anticipated Anonymous makes a conciliatory motion with both hands.
"So long as she can repair most damage on the way that's a huge positive. Most dangers in the Crags are oceanic, it's only the real deep swamps there might have a creature large enough to challenge her. My only real warning is this: if either of you come across an Eldritch, Otherworld, or Planar infected creature, stay the farthest fuck away by all measures possible. Destroy those with fire, lasers, plasma, or anything that'll disintegrate biological matter and won't let the infection spread. You do not want to deal with any of them."
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #8
"Status update: I'm able to convert roughly eighty percent of the Rilvenni's physical matter into Tryptaran mass which should bring me up to forty-five percent total. This process will take approximately ten minutes to complete."
>Bringing up a selection on his smartphone, Anonymous lowers it to take a critical look.
"PTRD is a single-shot. Why not a PTRS-41? uses the same shell and has a five-round magazine, just a couple pounds heavier. There's also the Lahti L-39, it's directly in your era but much heavier and longer. I can also perform modifications on whatever you want; bore coatings, recoil adjustments, swapping actions, adding scopes, swapping out materials for pretty much whatever you want. Name it and it's probably in my abilities. As for your... daughter's weapon, that's a thirty mil hand cannon. Makes my own look and sound like shit in comparison."
"I am able to modify and design weapons for my own use, if I had full access to the rest of my data nodes and storage."
>Reaching behind him to sigh, Anonymous tosses out eight books
"Forget I asked. There's only two in Razorback that I know of but most of the Post-Orbital Era humans have one. By the way Wild, here's a few books for you to take a look at. This is everything I know of human mechanical and engineering fundamentals including most of the Space Age stuff. Two of those are based on Kraut's Magitek which I figure you're already using some of."
"I am. I think?"
>Lifting one hand in a rolling 'what else can you do?' motion, the human gestalt half-grins behind his mask, the other half trying to hide the pain inside.
"I've seen some real fucked up things before this Natilda, but I won't ask. As for any Ferron in the Moors they're easy to deal with since most locations they inhabit are safe, Sea's Bounty included. General Twisted Wing's not just an idol, she's part of the main Ferron clan's overherd gestalt. Humans are basically thought of as sacred by most due to her, and their subclans are ridiculously nice. Aside from some weird pseudo-religious philosophies. Just don't ask about mangoes and why Princess Luna's ass are holy objects."
>Placing the smartphone in his dress shirt and leaning back to survey the Eldritch-Android, Anonymous frowns speculatively.
"I.. know what, you're right. They won't consider Wild a threat, she looks much too human and is the furthest away from Construct possible. Blue materials are considered holy by Ferron, too. Speaking of which, do you want that bluesteel armor or not? It's been sitting unused over a year now."
>Still hot, and rather fresh, while you find the mixed tastes to be somewhat better than anticipated Anonymous makes a conciliatory motion with both hands.
"So long as she can repair most damage on the way that's a huge positive. Most dangers in the Crags are oceanic, it's only the real deep swamps there might have a creature large enough to challenge her. My only real warning is this: if either of you come across an Eldritch, Otherworld, or Planar infected creature, stay the farthest fuck away by all measures possible. Destroy those with fire, lasers, plasma, or anything that'll disintegrate biological matter and won't let the infection spread. You do not want to deal with any of them."
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #8
"Status update: I'm able to convert roughly eighty percent of the Rilvenni's physical matter into Tryptaran mass which should bring me up to forty-five percent total. This process will take approximately ten minutes to complete."
>>353181
"I... have never actually seen or heard of one before just now, actually. I assume that it's a magazine fed 14.5MM? If so, that'd certainly be an upgrade over what I was thinking of."
>I grimace a little.
"Not exactly the strongest woman around here, that goes to Wild. I certainly wouldn't be able to use an L-39 for more than short actions. I'd have to mount it somewhere sticking out of Wild to be able to use it."
>That'd be weird to do, as well.
>"Hey Wild I need you to make a hole in your chest so I can use it as a sponson mounted AT rifle!"
>Though knowing Wild...
>Taking a glance down at the books, I idly pick one up to glance through it.
>Definitely not something I'd understand without a lot of effort.
"What's a mango?"
>Taking a moment to figure out that pizza did not disagree with my tastes, I swallow and glance down for a moment.
"I wouldn't say no to any sort of armor that would improve my chances. This turtleneck can only do so much."
>I give a nod to the both of them.
"Yeah, I'll be moving her so she can put most of her focus on repairs. And keeping me company."
>As lewd as it might end up being.
"I... have never actually seen or heard of one before just now, actually. I assume that it's a magazine fed 14.5MM? If so, that'd certainly be an upgrade over what I was thinking of."
>I grimace a little.
"Not exactly the strongest woman around here, that goes to Wild. I certainly wouldn't be able to use an L-39 for more than short actions. I'd have to mount it somewhere sticking out of Wild to be able to use it."
>That'd be weird to do, as well.
>"Hey Wild I need you to make a hole in your chest so I can use it as a sponson mounted AT rifle!"
>Though knowing Wild...
>Taking a glance down at the books, I idly pick one up to glance through it.
>Definitely not something I'd understand without a lot of effort.
"What's a mango?"
>Taking a moment to figure out that pizza did not disagree with my tastes, I swallow and glance down for a moment.
"I wouldn't say no to any sort of armor that would improve my chances. This turtleneck can only do so much."
>I give a nod to the both of them.
"Yeah, I'll be moving her so she can put most of her focus on repairs. And keeping me company."
>As lewd as it might end up being.
>>352662
>Katyal's face creases humorously before giving a right thumbs up, the left hand quickly patting each grenade and bottle pouch across her chest.
"There goes my joke about feathers and me being bent for a mare."
"The second part isn't wrong yet the first is. Unless you want to grow wings? I know a few ponies that could help you with such a problem."
"Yeeaaaah... Folu likes you too much so I won't say what I'm thinking."
"Coward."
"Filly you too."
>Hodch inhales deeply through his nostrils, barely keeping a straight face, then gives up to focus on the dragon-scale sphere.
>Looking up at your helmet with a sincere partial smile, the Nightblade tilts his head down and right shortly, an Asiatic honored welcome motion.
"The same from me to you, although Tipper and Dancing Eyes are sincerely biased individuals. I don't distrust them but I do know how peculiar their thought processes are. I wish we could've met under better circumstances in calmer times, a sit down in the Mess Hall or Library would be far better than-"
>Motioning with a hoof across the Overlander's interior, pausing on the First Responder with a fleeting smirk.
"Here. As for Rasera, everything she could have stated is the entire truth no matter how silly or out of place her words sound. Nearly all Neighpon clans hold an oath of truth to their direct ancestors, which by the way are the dragon-spirits that surround them. If she were to lie or shade truth they would immediately confront her, and given the number that would be quite a nasty event. Now then, one second or two-"
>Horn sparking alight in a small cloud of bright purple, the sphere glows briefly, an impression of the Neighsian dragon leaping from the wood and directly through your armor into you which leaves a faint trace of resilience.
"Hm. I expected that to be much more difficult."
>Glancing up from a weapon check on her SMG, Katyal points towards the weapons and items spread in front of you.
"Wanna tell us what all those are or do I have to draw a bunch o-"
"If that was you painting fillies on my windows, I know the perfect Saddle Arabian stallion that would marery you. Folunasi would agree to that by the way.."
"Sorry, but not sorry. Kinda. Also, sorry. Really sorry."
"Good."
>Eyeing the weapons, tools, and other pieces with some interest, the first sees the Reservist's gaze turn furious.
"That one. I can rip the burst pendants off that staff, extract the mythril, then destroy it."
*"Problem back there?"*
"You remember Filth, correct?"
*"....ssssshit, was that his?"*
"Yes."
*"Well, Ah'ma leave it up ta yer choice, Pare. Them pendants are Grade A fantastic, ain't more than a hunnerd of 'em left on th'world, but the'staff.. that thang's tainted in ways y'don't wanna know."*
>Startled by a small datafeed popping up, 'Shiibo' turns to give you a half-horrified, half furious expression followed by text underneath:
BURN IT. BURN IT RIGHT NOW.
"The Slumbering Wrath. Probably the most complete and best anti-Planar weapon Razorback has access to."
>Dul gives the deep purple unicorn a dumfounded stare, whom responds with a friendly smile in return.
"What mean? Is big hurts for Dul?"
"No, not what I meant, I apologize. What I mean is that it's a powerful anti-Planar weapon though it cannot harm friendly Planar beings. Dusk Striders found it in an ancient Tunnel who knows when. We can swap that around as needs be, it barely weighs an ounce."
>Micro-teleporting the Prestaniczio onto the floor front of him, Hodch places a blue burn scarred hoof atop the staff of office with a rather proud tone.
"I'll keep hold of this one since Form and Function are closely related. As for the rest:
Those shards are from a blood-corrupted Water Elemental. There are no records of anything similar, thus they're quite unique. They're excellent at resisting curses and repelling beings that are cursed. Oh the irony, I'm the only Starborn with a grandmastery on curses. Keep them on hand for now.
Ghost-Speak Rings used to be quite common, but I'm able to speak to ghosts, Spectrals, Revenants, and Undead if necessary. Same with the last, it can be switched around with no issue.
Spectral chisel there is an extremely odd one as most Necromarecers never even think of producing one. I'd prefer that being in either Katyal's hands or yours. Lonestar is fine without it."
*"Why's that?"*
"It allows the one carrying it to harm Spectrals as if they were flesh and blood. The oversized baseball bat he carries is exceptionally effective against most, in particular Spectrals and Undead."
>Openly confused at the concept, Katyal rubs her chin in contemplation, then raises her eyebrows at you half-heartedly.
"Honestly? I've never dealt with Spectrals, most of Saddle Arabia's calm in that regard. Ancient Undead are pretty easy to talk down unless we're going to deal with Sumareans or Purrsians. Before you ask: bunch of native psionic felines that went extinct about five thousand years ago. Mystic beings though, I've got a whole lot of experience with, can even summon one if I need to. Let's just trade it off between us if we need to, keep it simple."
>Muscles across Hodch's coat visibly tighten in concern at the Smoke After Dusk, teleported onto the blanket right of him, putting on a deathly serious face and slowly sighing.
"I was going to return this, but no matter now. Only Jeff and Clemency can even ask for the privilege of using one of these, not that they'd be denied. For right now I'm keeping hold of it. Unless I'm incapacitated or incapable of speaking it doesn't exist. If either of those happen then you all have my full authority to use it."
*"A'course they's functional, this baby came in fully loaded! ..probably from one'a them shipments that got shot down 'fore Ah died. An' that depends, y'got octodecimal coding an'translation programs? If y'do y'better not try an'fuck wit'em, ain't got root command codes 'cause half Exotech was a bunch of paranoid asses and there's some android core that gets real pissy if y'try an'hack anythin'."*
>Katyal's face creases humorously before giving a right thumbs up, the left hand quickly patting each grenade and bottle pouch across her chest.
"There goes my joke about feathers and me being bent for a mare."
"The second part isn't wrong yet the first is. Unless you want to grow wings? I know a few ponies that could help you with such a problem."
"Yeeaaaah... Folu likes you too much so I won't say what I'm thinking."
"Coward."
"Filly you too."
>Hodch inhales deeply through his nostrils, barely keeping a straight face, then gives up to focus on the dragon-scale sphere.
>Looking up at your helmet with a sincere partial smile, the Nightblade tilts his head down and right shortly, an Asiatic honored welcome motion.
"The same from me to you, although Tipper and Dancing Eyes are sincerely biased individuals. I don't distrust them but I do know how peculiar their thought processes are. I wish we could've met under better circumstances in calmer times, a sit down in the Mess Hall or Library would be far better than-"
>Motioning with a hoof across the Overlander's interior, pausing on the First Responder with a fleeting smirk.
"Here. As for Rasera, everything she could have stated is the entire truth no matter how silly or out of place her words sound. Nearly all Neighpon clans hold an oath of truth to their direct ancestors, which by the way are the dragon-spirits that surround them. If she were to lie or shade truth they would immediately confront her, and given the number that would be quite a nasty event. Now then, one second or two-"
>Horn sparking alight in a small cloud of bright purple, the sphere glows briefly, an impression of the Neighsian dragon leaping from the wood and directly through your armor into you which leaves a faint trace of resilience.
"Hm. I expected that to be much more difficult."
>Glancing up from a weapon check on her SMG, Katyal points towards the weapons and items spread in front of you.
"Wanna tell us what all those are or do I have to draw a bunch o-"
"If that was you painting fillies on my windows, I know the perfect Saddle Arabian stallion that would marery you. Folunasi would agree to that by the way.."
"Sorry, but not sorry. Kinda. Also, sorry. Really sorry."
"Good."
>Eyeing the weapons, tools, and other pieces with some interest, the first sees the Reservist's gaze turn furious.
"That one. I can rip the burst pendants off that staff, extract the mythril, then destroy it."
*"Problem back there?"*
"You remember Filth, correct?"
*"....ssssshit, was that his?"*
"Yes."
*"Well, Ah'ma leave it up ta yer choice, Pare. Them pendants are Grade A fantastic, ain't more than a hunnerd of 'em left on th'world, but the'staff.. that thang's tainted in ways y'don't wanna know."*
>Startled by a small datafeed popping up, 'Shiibo' turns to give you a half-horrified, half furious expression followed by text underneath:
BURN IT. BURN IT RIGHT NOW.
"The Slumbering Wrath. Probably the most complete and best anti-Planar weapon Razorback has access to."
>Dul gives the deep purple unicorn a dumfounded stare, whom responds with a friendly smile in return.
"What mean? Is big hurts for Dul?"
"No, not what I meant, I apologize. What I mean is that it's a powerful anti-Planar weapon though it cannot harm friendly Planar beings. Dusk Striders found it in an ancient Tunnel who knows when. We can swap that around as needs be, it barely weighs an ounce."
>Micro-teleporting the Prestaniczio onto the floor front of him, Hodch places a blue burn scarred hoof atop the staff of office with a rather proud tone.
"I'll keep hold of this one since Form and Function are closely related. As for the rest:
Those shards are from a blood-corrupted Water Elemental. There are no records of anything similar, thus they're quite unique. They're excellent at resisting curses and repelling beings that are cursed. Oh the irony, I'm the only Starborn with a grandmastery on curses. Keep them on hand for now.
Ghost-Speak Rings used to be quite common, but I'm able to speak to ghosts, Spectrals, Revenants, and Undead if necessary. Same with the last, it can be switched around with no issue.
Spectral chisel there is an extremely odd one as most Necromarecers never even think of producing one. I'd prefer that being in either Katyal's hands or yours. Lonestar is fine without it."
*"Why's that?"*
"It allows the one carrying it to harm Spectrals as if they were flesh and blood. The oversized baseball bat he carries is exceptionally effective against most, in particular Spectrals and Undead."
>Openly confused at the concept, Katyal rubs her chin in contemplation, then raises her eyebrows at you half-heartedly.
"Honestly? I've never dealt with Spectrals, most of Saddle Arabia's calm in that regard. Ancient Undead are pretty easy to talk down unless we're going to deal with Sumareans or Purrsians. Before you ask: bunch of native psionic felines that went extinct about five thousand years ago. Mystic beings though, I've got a whole lot of experience with, can even summon one if I need to. Let's just trade it off between us if we need to, keep it simple."
>Muscles across Hodch's coat visibly tighten in concern at the Smoke After Dusk, teleported onto the blanket right of him, putting on a deathly serious face and slowly sighing.
"I was going to return this, but no matter now. Only Jeff and Clemency can even ask for the privilege of using one of these, not that they'd be denied. For right now I'm keeping hold of it. Unless I'm incapacitated or incapable of speaking it doesn't exist. If either of those happen then you all have my full authority to use it."
*"A'course they's functional, this baby came in fully loaded! ..probably from one'a them shipments that got shot down 'fore Ah died. An' that depends, y'got octodecimal coding an'translation programs? If y'do y'better not try an'fuck wit'em, ain't got root command codes 'cause half Exotech was a bunch of paranoid asses and there's some android core that gets real pissy if y'try an'hack anythin'."*
>>353184
>Ignoring Katyal's joking banter, he focuses on Hodch as he offers additional knowledge on Neighpon culture.
(Clear teachers habit. Goodwill appears genuine. Truth oath is reassuring. May harden them to damage from humans.)
>Looking down as a form of the carved dragon leaps through and into him, he rubs a glove over his chest.
"I did as well."
>Katyal's quip prompts him to begin reaching for the projector node on the side of his helmet before Hodch seizes the opportunity.
>Lowering his arm, he frowns as Filth is mentioned.
(Duped(?) by one of the fake Celestia clones, departed to Saddle Arabia. Records indicated erratic, disturbed behavior. Post analysis concludes likely factor in Spiral's mental decline due to demeanor...)
>His brow furrows sharply as even Shiibo chimes in with an emphatic plea. He mutters into his helmet:
"If it's that dire, then its status as 'living' must be a curse. Hope it won't anger the druids.. Spiral may be triggered by it, a better reason to remove it."
>He remains quiet as the assessment continues until Smoke After Dusk is teleported in front of Hodch.
"Naliyna noted that as a prohibited Lunar relic. I hope we won't need it."
>Lonestar then responds to his question.
(Good, systems should be compatible. The nonary base will finally see use. Maybe that Japanese cult's "occultic nine" will bear fruit here.)
>Arms resting across his knees, he looks down and wrings a gloved hand around his fist as he quietly thinks outloud.
"May be best to erase all traces of offensive human presence, particularly risk factors to key asset stability."
>Drawing a heavy breath, he looks upwards towards Hodch while straightening himself slightly.
"If we find Spiral, it'd be better there are fewer reminders to trigger his dissociation. I'll take the Voidcall pendant from it."
>Nodding towards Katyal next:
"You can take the elemental shards and the ring."
>Ignoring Katyal's joking banter, he focuses on Hodch as he offers additional knowledge on Neighpon culture.
(Clear teachers habit. Goodwill appears genuine. Truth oath is reassuring. May harden them to damage from humans.)
>Looking down as a form of the carved dragon leaps through and into him, he rubs a glove over his chest.
"I did as well."
>Katyal's quip prompts him to begin reaching for the projector node on the side of his helmet before Hodch seizes the opportunity.
>Lowering his arm, he frowns as Filth is mentioned.
(Duped(?) by one of the fake Celestia clones, departed to Saddle Arabia. Records indicated erratic, disturbed behavior. Post analysis concludes likely factor in Spiral's mental decline due to demeanor...)
>His brow furrows sharply as even Shiibo chimes in with an emphatic plea. He mutters into his helmet:
"If it's that dire, then its status as 'living' must be a curse. Hope it won't anger the druids.. Spiral may be triggered by it, a better reason to remove it."
>He remains quiet as the assessment continues until Smoke After Dusk is teleported in front of Hodch.
"Naliyna noted that as a prohibited Lunar relic. I hope we won't need it."
>Lonestar then responds to his question.
(Good, systems should be compatible. The nonary base will finally see use. Maybe that Japanese cult's "occultic nine" will bear fruit here.)
>Arms resting across his knees, he looks down and wrings a gloved hand around his fist as he quietly thinks outloud.
"May be best to erase all traces of offensive human presence, particularly risk factors to key asset stability."
>Drawing a heavy breath, he looks upwards towards Hodch while straightening himself slightly.
"If we find Spiral, it'd be better there are fewer reminders to trigger his dissociation. I'll take the Voidcall pendant from it."
>Nodding towards Katyal next:
"You can take the elemental shards and the ring."
>>353061
>Clem observes the Assault Division light up in a hail of fire from his rockets and guns
>While this would slow the charge of other beings, these Tainted looked unphased from it
>He could keep peppering the front with more munitions, he needs to focus on the leadership of the Assault divisions
>The more they slow down, the better it'll be
>After relaying his question to the Guillotine, Clemency looks ahead and sees it materialize out of a cloud
>He couldn't help but be agape at how much bigger it is than what he thought
>Like a smaller battleship but flying
"Good lord..."
>As soon as he mutters those words, Clem sees the ship bend over and deliver a blinding white blow directly to the Tainted followed by its guns lighting up around it to the Airstrike and Air Commarend divisions
>Peeling his eyes from the light show, Clem hails the Guillotine
*"Be advised Guillotine. Construct Continental Invasion Carrier is en route to our positions. Unknown ETA but very soon."*
>He then turns his attention to Jeff, trying to coordinate with the Reaper drone
("I have radar on the Assault generals but they're shifting with other Tainted in the formation. Solar Assault Division only has two generals performing the same manuever but slower. I'll continue strafing the Lunar Assault lines.")
>Clemency mobilizes from the defending front lines in an attack angle until he notices a strange event
(What? First that Void explosion, now a Rime explosion? How did that happen?")
>The Tainted charge seems to have stopped as an explosion of ice engulfs them
>Frozen solid, Clem is unsure if they are truly dead or just immobilized
>Staying on the safe side, he pivots around the frozen Tainted and focuses onto the Rear Support Division
>>353164
("This is Clemency. Strafing the Rear Support Division and heading north for HVTs.)
("Jeff, good copy. I'll be following the same pattern of attack. Let's see if there is any leaders caught in the freeze.")
("Destroyers. How's the situation looking?")
>Once Clemency sees the Rear Support Division in range, he lets loose with another barrage from the Hydras and the HMG
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Hydra 70 Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] <XM296 Heavy Machinegun
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Untrained Heavy Weapons
>Changing bearing north, he then tries to spot leaders within the frozen lines as he sets his Hellfires for dumb fire
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Expert Perception
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Radar
>Clem observes the Assault Division light up in a hail of fire from his rockets and guns
>While this would slow the charge of other beings, these Tainted looked unphased from it
>He could keep peppering the front with more munitions, he needs to focus on the leadership of the Assault divisions
>The more they slow down, the better it'll be
>After relaying his question to the Guillotine, Clemency looks ahead and sees it materialize out of a cloud
>He couldn't help but be agape at how much bigger it is than what he thought
>Like a smaller battleship but flying
"Good lord..."
>As soon as he mutters those words, Clem sees the ship bend over and deliver a blinding white blow directly to the Tainted followed by its guns lighting up around it to the Airstrike and Air Commarend divisions
>Peeling his eyes from the light show, Clem hails the Guillotine
*"Be advised Guillotine. Construct Continental Invasion Carrier is en route to our positions. Unknown ETA but very soon."*
>He then turns his attention to Jeff, trying to coordinate with the Reaper drone
("I have radar on the Assault generals but they're shifting with other Tainted in the formation. Solar Assault Division only has two generals performing the same manuever but slower. I'll continue strafing the Lunar Assault lines.")
>Clemency mobilizes from the defending front lines in an attack angle until he notices a strange event
(What? First that Void explosion, now a Rime explosion? How did that happen?")
>The Tainted charge seems to have stopped as an explosion of ice engulfs them
>Frozen solid, Clem is unsure if they are truly dead or just immobilized
>Staying on the safe side, he pivots around the frozen Tainted and focuses onto the Rear Support Division
>>353164
("This is Clemency. Strafing the Rear Support Division and heading north for HVTs.)
("Jeff, good copy. I'll be following the same pattern of attack. Let's see if there is any leaders caught in the freeze.")
("Destroyers. How's the situation looking?")
>Once Clemency sees the Rear Support Division in range, he lets loose with another barrage from the Hydras and the HMG
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Hydra 70 Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] <XM296 Heavy Machinegun
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Untrained Heavy Weapons
>Changing bearing north, he then tries to spot leaders within the frozen lines as he sets his Hellfires for dumb fire
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Expert Perception
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Radar
>>352776
'Enginseer, this Auspex unit has exceptional physical and temporal range. Select target coordinates from the local topographical map and initiate a deep radius scan. A standard chroniton readout will identify all individuals and entities that have interacted with the Bulletin Board since it was built. Any traces within that timeframe should be present unless a chroniton wipe or temporal backwash has occurred.'
>Easily noting your lip movements, Chisan nods in a firm motion while spreading his hands in exasperation.
"The status of Gestalt One and Gestalt Two are unknown at this time. Anonymous, a seven foot tall humanoid with green skin and
a mask with a question mark is Gestalt Three. The majority of humans on this world belong to him, that being from Early Language to the Pre-Nanite Era. Gestalt Four of the Nanite Age is the one that was killed in a classified incident, one that Witch-Two, Tox-11, and Tracker do not have access to, nor will she speak of it to me. She believes that incident severely damaged the Era Lock's temporal basis but she has been unable to confirm such. You and I are the only two supporting Inquistor Velasi Aguina, excluding one she executed for treachery against Razorback. Flash is Gestalt Five. She cannot be further harmed or else we will be cut off entirely from ourselves. The mixed Noospheres of humanity likewise cannot suffer further damage or we all risk becoming temporally destabilized. That is why we must be vigilant and prevent all possible losses, even to our own detriments."
'thats a simple answer, Mallia: Flash is our locus. that term means we must abide by her rules for survival in order to have a chance at thriving later. far as i see it shes the most level headed Inquisitor. shes not the average fucktard always screeching about chaos everywhere it isnt. logic, rationale, and reason drive her actions. the acts she takes that dont seem to be sane are a shield'
'Andronal's words are true so far as we know. Depending on the results of the next chroniton scan, or perhaps two, we may be able to force a meeting for you with the true Princess Celestia. She would have far more relevant information available.'
>Subdued pain flickers across the Scion's facial features, dissipating once he shifts into a brutally firm attention stance.
"Yes... but mostly no. I do not personally want to cause harm to a holy ally. In the interest of keeping Rune Knight Ametrina's cover, under her own advisement no less, I will do so yet the act of harming her will be a grave injury. I cannot be proud of such cloak and dagger methods."
>Squinting briefly at the friendly assault to his armor, Chisan turns rigid before accepting your logic with a short, relieved bow of his head.
"You are the most important Enginseer to exist whether you know that or not. Without your words I would have refused this order. It is wrong to harm an ally in the course of their duties, holy xenos or not."
>Fighting against engrams to give a brisk personal smile of acknowledgement, the effort fades as he makes a brief gesture at the box of flowers.
"Not that I am aware of Enginseer. Relax with Knight Raspberry as time and comfort permits. I will do my best to fulfill the Inquisitor's check list. You may not be aware of this yet there are thirty local hours on this planet, fifteen under Sun in daytime, fifteen under Moon at nighttime. We will rendezvous at 0800 hours in the Pagoda, approximately three hours from now, with Raindrop to reach the Sea's Bounty beach fort."
>Right hand snapping upwards to deliver a precision formal salute, the Tempestus Scion about faces right, heading towards a small grove of trees northeast.
*"Unless further situations require our aid consider yourself at full leisure, and the tech-forge room will be completed in thirty local minutes."*
'Nevermind my previous request, Mallia. It is best you retain Flash's wargear since yours is painfully inadequate for regional conditions. For the next hour the four of us will not be able to speak much, we have only begun to investigate the energy signatures in the Twin Hill Vault and cross-referencing is slow. The Construct signature is most certainly a form of self-contained extreme draw regenerating power source.'
'we cant confirm if its a weapon, armor, scanner, reactor, or utility object, and thats pissing me off! matter of fact Tracker THINKS its a form of shield system. im inclined to believe it but then again we have zero, i repeat: zero confirmed data on Constructs outside known specifics in the Library and short records elsewhere. the Crystal Empire has vast amounts of records on Constructs but we are fucked, we cant get access to them on account of a problem that happened in the City-State.'
'Enginseer, we believe there is an outside party attempting to empower Razorback: Prima Audestin, or a closely related family member. That party desires to be allies with humans but we lack confirmation. As an update, we have matched sixty of the energy sources with Lunar-Solar War enchantments and magical effects, ones that are considered extinct in modern times, or so rare as to be considered relics that cannot be reproduced.'
'none of us know that name'
"It has to be a family lineage, Andronal. Most ponies retain one or two forms of identifier for 50 generations plus. Enginseer, procure that scan and head upstairs to the Hangar while we deliberate.'
'Enginseer, this Auspex unit has exceptional physical and temporal range. Select target coordinates from the local topographical map and initiate a deep radius scan. A standard chroniton readout will identify all individuals and entities that have interacted with the Bulletin Board since it was built. Any traces within that timeframe should be present unless a chroniton wipe or temporal backwash has occurred.'
>Easily noting your lip movements, Chisan nods in a firm motion while spreading his hands in exasperation.
"The status of Gestalt One and Gestalt Two are unknown at this time. Anonymous, a seven foot tall humanoid with green skin and
a mask with a question mark is Gestalt Three. The majority of humans on this world belong to him, that being from Early Language to the Pre-Nanite Era. Gestalt Four of the Nanite Age is the one that was killed in a classified incident, one that Witch-Two, Tox-11, and Tracker do not have access to, nor will she speak of it to me. She believes that incident severely damaged the Era Lock's temporal basis but she has been unable to confirm such. You and I are the only two supporting Inquistor Velasi Aguina, excluding one she executed for treachery against Razorback. Flash is Gestalt Five. She cannot be further harmed or else we will be cut off entirely from ourselves. The mixed Noospheres of humanity likewise cannot suffer further damage or we all risk becoming temporally destabilized. That is why we must be vigilant and prevent all possible losses, even to our own detriments."
'thats a simple answer, Mallia: Flash is our locus. that term means we must abide by her rules for survival in order to have a chance at thriving later. far as i see it shes the most level headed Inquisitor. shes not the average fucktard always screeching about chaos everywhere it isnt. logic, rationale, and reason drive her actions. the acts she takes that dont seem to be sane are a shield'
'Andronal's words are true so far as we know. Depending on the results of the next chroniton scan, or perhaps two, we may be able to force a meeting for you with the true Princess Celestia. She would have far more relevant information available.'
>Subdued pain flickers across the Scion's facial features, dissipating once he shifts into a brutally firm attention stance.
"Yes... but mostly no. I do not personally want to cause harm to a holy ally. In the interest of keeping Rune Knight Ametrina's cover, under her own advisement no less, I will do so yet the act of harming her will be a grave injury. I cannot be proud of such cloak and dagger methods."
>Squinting briefly at the friendly assault to his armor, Chisan turns rigid before accepting your logic with a short, relieved bow of his head.
"You are the most important Enginseer to exist whether you know that or not. Without your words I would have refused this order. It is wrong to harm an ally in the course of their duties, holy xenos or not."
>Fighting against engrams to give a brisk personal smile of acknowledgement, the effort fades as he makes a brief gesture at the box of flowers.
"Not that I am aware of Enginseer. Relax with Knight Raspberry as time and comfort permits. I will do my best to fulfill the Inquisitor's check list. You may not be aware of this yet there are thirty local hours on this planet, fifteen under Sun in daytime, fifteen under Moon at nighttime. We will rendezvous at 0800 hours in the Pagoda, approximately three hours from now, with Raindrop to reach the Sea's Bounty beach fort."
>Right hand snapping upwards to deliver a precision formal salute, the Tempestus Scion about faces right, heading towards a small grove of trees northeast.
*"Unless further situations require our aid consider yourself at full leisure, and the tech-forge room will be completed in thirty local minutes."*
'Nevermind my previous request, Mallia. It is best you retain Flash's wargear since yours is painfully inadequate for regional conditions. For the next hour the four of us will not be able to speak much, we have only begun to investigate the energy signatures in the Twin Hill Vault and cross-referencing is slow. The Construct signature is most certainly a form of self-contained extreme draw regenerating power source.'
'we cant confirm if its a weapon, armor, scanner, reactor, or utility object, and thats pissing me off! matter of fact Tracker THINKS its a form of shield system. im inclined to believe it but then again we have zero, i repeat: zero confirmed data on Constructs outside known specifics in the Library and short records elsewhere. the Crystal Empire has vast amounts of records on Constructs but we are fucked, we cant get access to them on account of a problem that happened in the City-State.'
'Enginseer, we believe there is an outside party attempting to empower Razorback: Prima Audestin, or a closely related family member. That party desires to be allies with humans but we lack confirmation. As an update, we have matched sixty of the energy sources with Lunar-Solar War enchantments and magical effects, ones that are considered extinct in modern times, or so rare as to be considered relics that cannot be reproduced.'
'none of us know that name'
"It has to be a family lineage, Andronal. Most ponies retain one or two forms of identifier for 50 generations plus. Enginseer, procure that scan and head upstairs to the Hangar while we deliberate.'
>>353105
"That.. hold on."
>Sticking her tongue out the left side of her lips, Naliyna replays the second recording at extreme speed on the lower display of her hololith, eyes flicking back and forth until her ears swivel sideways, playing it again.
"There's two skips in different frames I can't pause. That's a real common trick to hide stuff, secret messages, files, recordings, you name it. A Crystal pony about my skill trained him how to do that. Without the resolith and InterPony disc section there's no way to access anything else than what's here."
>Shutting the 'lith down with a dull hum, the elder Remostrine daughter leans forwards to place both hooves under her chin.
"This was the only option available to him considering how far out Razorback is, and trying to get here by train is next to impossible unless you know the exact routes. Which I do, and they're not easy. ...Nightblades aren't common in the Starborn, they're something like a High Colonel equivalent in human ranks. Big as Canterlot was there would have only been five, maybe six at most. Fankil's office had to have been close to Hodch's if they were both situated in the Lunar-Solar Guard Headquarters building. He would have been up high on the target list. Buck, we don't have the slightest idea what sort of forces would've been sent after us here."
>Glancing at the translocation circle, Naliyna emits a soft chirp-whistle, one of the Vortex Remnant's mini-selves raising upwards.
"Hay, do you know where Dante of Razorback is right now?"
>The granite eye rotates towards you, then at the fuchsia Crystal mare to speak in a flatly rolling monotone.
"Dante, Otherworld human of Razorback is currently recovering in a restricted zone."
"Is he safe?"
"Yes."
"Are there Shrikes in the vicinity?"
"No."
"Can you tell us what events Dante was involved in while he was in Stalliongrad's city limits?"
>At the question, the eye hardens a touch before sounding wounded.
"This unit is unable to answer your query. All knowledge of incidents in Stalliongrad originating after 2-0-0-0 hours are classified until further orders or notice."
"Nevermind then, thank you and have a good night."
>As the eye sinks back into stone, Naliyna glares upwards while blowing at a strand of mane on the right side of her face.
"We don't know a damned thing what Dante did or didn't do, but that barely matters. He's alive and not in danger, I'll take that as a start. Let me get my armor on in case we need to pull Stream Lark to safety. I'm not taking a single fucking chance if he's honestly been trying to make contact with us."
>Making several brief checks of her surroundings, the scarred mare rolls forwards to stand, turning hard right and briskly clipping out.
>Floating a dead-to-the-world, sleeping Zigri back in and onto the southwest side couch over the new black altar, the sound of crystalline materials being shaken open occurs.
>Locating nothing out of place save for a mostly empty bottle, less than a minute passes before the most bizarrely out of place suit of darkly rainbow hued, full bodied pony armor stomps in from the south entrance.
>Halfway reminiscent of Kingdom Warden designs, the painfully heavy helmet resembled standard marecenary versions except for a wide, clear diamond visor that was tinted by a pair of small black screens, one far left, the other centered over her right eye.
>The body was fairly standard, if archaic, Conclave armor featuring multiple overlapping half-circle segmarented sheets rather than rigid plates protecting from the neck all the way down to her hooves; a ponderously thick siege ram with a dragon's head on the left and heavily reinforced twin-beam impact lance on the right showed this wasn't some mass produced Crystal Empire set.
"Resonance detection system sounds perfect. Lattice skinshield could do with some tuning later, it's stable otherwise. InterPonies are ready too. I don't THINK we'll run into Constructs but it's better to be overprepared than not. Come on, we need to get to Lark first."
>Easily speaking through the fully enclosed snout mask, Naliyna's voice was barely muted, thudding to a halt in front of the translocation stone.
"Remnant, get me a priority gateway to Razorback Enclave. Override exception: Third Siege-Mareauder Naliyna Remostrine in distress on an Immediate Rescue Mission. Unknown enemy contacts in local vicinity, assume hostile actors, prepare K-Meson weaponry at full charge."
>Head swinging around left, six thick sheets of Empire crystal stack together and drift upwards to settle behind her, a solid red gate slamming down onto the Pagoda's floor.
>A view inside the Enclave showing at least a hundred mixed Lunar and Crystal Empire Lorekeepers to the south, the majority unfamiliar though definitely retired, older Starborn and Kingdom Wardens.
>Sending the stacked crystal sheets ahead of her, Naliyna heads in with a grim tone.
"Unless both Bubba and I give an All Clear status report then deny all inbound and outbound access."
"That.. hold on."
>Sticking her tongue out the left side of her lips, Naliyna replays the second recording at extreme speed on the lower display of her hololith, eyes flicking back and forth until her ears swivel sideways, playing it again.
"There's two skips in different frames I can't pause. That's a real common trick to hide stuff, secret messages, files, recordings, you name it. A Crystal pony about my skill trained him how to do that. Without the resolith and InterPony disc section there's no way to access anything else than what's here."
>Shutting the 'lith down with a dull hum, the elder Remostrine daughter leans forwards to place both hooves under her chin.
"This was the only option available to him considering how far out Razorback is, and trying to get here by train is next to impossible unless you know the exact routes. Which I do, and they're not easy. ...Nightblades aren't common in the Starborn, they're something like a High Colonel equivalent in human ranks. Big as Canterlot was there would have only been five, maybe six at most. Fankil's office had to have been close to Hodch's if they were both situated in the Lunar-Solar Guard Headquarters building. He would have been up high on the target list. Buck, we don't have the slightest idea what sort of forces would've been sent after us here."
>Glancing at the translocation circle, Naliyna emits a soft chirp-whistle, one of the Vortex Remnant's mini-selves raising upwards.
"Hay, do you know where Dante of Razorback is right now?"
>The granite eye rotates towards you, then at the fuchsia Crystal mare to speak in a flatly rolling monotone.
"Dante, Otherworld human of Razorback is currently recovering in a restricted zone."
"Is he safe?"
"Yes."
"Are there Shrikes in the vicinity?"
"No."
"Can you tell us what events Dante was involved in while he was in Stalliongrad's city limits?"
>At the question, the eye hardens a touch before sounding wounded.
"This unit is unable to answer your query. All knowledge of incidents in Stalliongrad originating after 2-0-0-0 hours are classified until further orders or notice."
"Nevermind then, thank you and have a good night."
>As the eye sinks back into stone, Naliyna glares upwards while blowing at a strand of mane on the right side of her face.
"We don't know a damned thing what Dante did or didn't do, but that barely matters. He's alive and not in danger, I'll take that as a start. Let me get my armor on in case we need to pull Stream Lark to safety. I'm not taking a single fucking chance if he's honestly been trying to make contact with us."
>Making several brief checks of her surroundings, the scarred mare rolls forwards to stand, turning hard right and briskly clipping out.
>Floating a dead-to-the-world, sleeping Zigri back in and onto the southwest side couch over the new black altar, the sound of crystalline materials being shaken open occurs.
>Locating nothing out of place save for a mostly empty bottle, less than a minute passes before the most bizarrely out of place suit of darkly rainbow hued, full bodied pony armor stomps in from the south entrance.
>Halfway reminiscent of Kingdom Warden designs, the painfully heavy helmet resembled standard marecenary versions except for a wide, clear diamond visor that was tinted by a pair of small black screens, one far left, the other centered over her right eye.
>The body was fairly standard, if archaic, Conclave armor featuring multiple overlapping half-circle segmarented sheets rather than rigid plates protecting from the neck all the way down to her hooves; a ponderously thick siege ram with a dragon's head on the left and heavily reinforced twin-beam impact lance on the right showed this wasn't some mass produced Crystal Empire set.
"Resonance detection system sounds perfect. Lattice skinshield could do with some tuning later, it's stable otherwise. InterPonies are ready too. I don't THINK we'll run into Constructs but it's better to be overprepared than not. Come on, we need to get to Lark first."
>Easily speaking through the fully enclosed snout mask, Naliyna's voice was barely muted, thudding to a halt in front of the translocation stone.
"Remnant, get me a priority gateway to Razorback Enclave. Override exception: Third Siege-Mareauder Naliyna Remostrine in distress on an Immediate Rescue Mission. Unknown enemy contacts in local vicinity, assume hostile actors, prepare K-Meson weaponry at full charge."
>Head swinging around left, six thick sheets of Empire crystal stack together and drift upwards to settle behind her, a solid red gate slamming down onto the Pagoda's floor.
>A view inside the Enclave showing at least a hundred mixed Lunar and Crystal Empire Lorekeepers to the south, the majority unfamiliar though definitely retired, older Starborn and Kingdom Wardens.
>Sending the stacked crystal sheets ahead of her, Naliyna heads in with a grim tone.
"Unless both Bubba and I give an All Clear status report then deny all inbound and outbound access."
>>353237
"And as much as he dislikes us humans, I'd say he made the right call. He's helpful to Razorback."
>Bubba shifted and watched as one of the Vortex minis appeared, watching it.
>"Classified, huh? Fuck's sakes."
"Best we can get without someone else there and communicating with us, I suppose."
>With a sigh, Bubba flicked some lint off of his coat.
"I'm fully expecting something ELSE to go tits up tonight, so its a good idea to go in prepared."
>He made sure his firearms were properly loaded, before idly cradling his Gilda.
>Shame he hasn't been able to fix her yet.
>Taking in the armor, Bubba would cock an eyebrow, before shrugging to himself.
"Ready when you are."
>He needed a suit like that eventually, he'd think to himself as he got behind Naliyna.
"And as much as he dislikes us humans, I'd say he made the right call. He's helpful to Razorback."
>Bubba shifted and watched as one of the Vortex minis appeared, watching it.
>"Classified, huh? Fuck's sakes."
"Best we can get without someone else there and communicating with us, I suppose."
>With a sigh, Bubba flicked some lint off of his coat.
"I'm fully expecting something ELSE to go tits up tonight, so its a good idea to go in prepared."
>He made sure his firearms were properly loaded, before idly cradling his Gilda.
>Shame he hasn't been able to fix her yet.
>Taking in the armor, Bubba would cock an eyebrow, before shrugging to himself.
"Ready when you are."
>He needed a suit like that eventually, he'd think to himself as he got behind Naliyna.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.353241
>>353182
>Right hand placed outwards, the model of a semi-automatic anti-tank rifle appears, magazine fed with a heavier stock and larger action.
"It is, yes. Was prototyped and produced later the same year that the PTRD-41 debuted. There's a few variants with scopes, recoil absorbing springs, that sort. If you do want one with all the bells and whistles make sure to specify those. I can exchange materials for similar Tallus ones to keep it from being Era Locked too."
>Surveying the massive bipedal abomination looming over his gateway, Anonymous chuckles briefly,
"True, hull mounted and sponson weapons always have quirks. Considering what she's already fielding a Lahti would be small. Maybe a couple shoulder mounted weapons like one for extreme range bombardment and a for long range precision."
"I will consider the possibilities once my data nodes have been restored to full access. At current I have less than eight percent of my standard processing capability."
"Shit. You really got fucked over then?"
"Affirmative. Full repairs will take approximately ten hours, fifty minutes."
"Damn. Sorry to say this but I have zero information on what you can do to restore yourself. Natilda, unless you learn a whole lot more about Eldritch-Androids then there's nothing else I can offer."
>Lifting the volume, the title was in standard Common text reading: 'Basic Engineering Fundamentals Handbook', the one directly under it read as the 'Expert' version.
"You'd.. best be joking. If that's not a joke then you're going to need a few of these-"
>Reaching back into a fridge to pull out a small cloth lace bag containing three large red and orange fruits twice the size of most apples, Anon tosses them in next to the stack of books.
"Those are common Moors mangoes. Depending on who you ask, and when, they're considered either a divine or sacred fruit for batponies, most Ferron pegasi, some unicorns from Luna's Villages, and around half the Moonborn, that is to say those Lunars born in the Citadel on the Moon. Flavors vary from good to amazing. One of those is worth one Bit in most of Equestria, two Bits in the Crystal Empire, three in the Minotaur Hegemony, and four Bits in the Dragonspines. Variants like the red, neon green, soft yellow, dappled, striped, streaked, honey, cream, speckled, and others range from two to fifty Bits each depending on how rare they are. And before you ask, yes, mangoes are the basis for the entire Moors economy since they're a realistic trade good. They don't grow well in most regions outside the Fillypines off Neighpon and some coastal regions in Argenta's lands."
>Nodding once, Anon hoists himself up to stand, grabbing what sounded like a paper pad and turning around.
"One minute then, I'll grab it and leave a note for Amerose. Otherwise she'll be mad. Again."
>Returning two seconds later, a gleaming blue bodysuit is tossed onto the floor in front of you, woven from metal strands with rigid plates covering areas that weren't flexible.
"Here you go, I've resized it as best as possible. You can wear the coat on top for a while if needed. I'm reasonably sure there's a number of shipwrecks from here to Cairn Wharf.... then again you two shouldn't salvage underwater longer than absolutely necessary."
>Sitting down once more, the gestalt presses his hands together in a concerned motion.
"You have food for a day and a half, water for two, better armor, and Wild's got some reading material. Anything else I can do for you?"
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #8
"I would prefer not to leave you mom, but if you have the opportunity to return home one of my nodes intact then you should take it. Update: I was able to capture numerous datafeeds from earlier, thirty-five in total. They might be the unknown craft from but they are communicating in extremely high wavelengths that I don't have the ability to decrypt."
"Unknown craft? Like... airplanes? Ships?"
"Unknown aerial vessels, silver in color, that may have been creating rain clouds. I have no further knowledge."
>Rubbing his chin in thought, Anonymous hums briefly before taking out his smartphone again, shaking his head after a few seconds.
"Nah, I've got nothing here. Then again the range on this thing is shit. There were a few species with atmospheric craft similar to airplanes or jets and similar. Most of them are either extremely old or extinct. If they aren't bright orange like Constructs trinary, assume they're neutral. No sense starting conflict if they ignore you."
"Understood."
>Right hand placed outwards, the model of a semi-automatic anti-tank rifle appears, magazine fed with a heavier stock and larger action.
"It is, yes. Was prototyped and produced later the same year that the PTRD-41 debuted. There's a few variants with scopes, recoil absorbing springs, that sort. If you do want one with all the bells and whistles make sure to specify those. I can exchange materials for similar Tallus ones to keep it from being Era Locked too."
>Surveying the massive bipedal abomination looming over his gateway, Anonymous chuckles briefly,
"True, hull mounted and sponson weapons always have quirks. Considering what she's already fielding a Lahti would be small. Maybe a couple shoulder mounted weapons like one for extreme range bombardment and a for long range precision."
"I will consider the possibilities once my data nodes have been restored to full access. At current I have less than eight percent of my standard processing capability."
"Shit. You really got fucked over then?"
"Affirmative. Full repairs will take approximately ten hours, fifty minutes."
"Damn. Sorry to say this but I have zero information on what you can do to restore yourself. Natilda, unless you learn a whole lot more about Eldritch-Androids then there's nothing else I can offer."
>Lifting the volume, the title was in standard Common text reading: 'Basic Engineering Fundamentals Handbook', the one directly under it read as the 'Expert' version.
"You'd.. best be joking. If that's not a joke then you're going to need a few of these-"
>Reaching back into a fridge to pull out a small cloth lace bag containing three large red and orange fruits twice the size of most apples, Anon tosses them in next to the stack of books.
"Those are common Moors mangoes. Depending on who you ask, and when, they're considered either a divine or sacred fruit for batponies, most Ferron pegasi, some unicorns from Luna's Villages, and around half the Moonborn, that is to say those Lunars born in the Citadel on the Moon. Flavors vary from good to amazing. One of those is worth one Bit in most of Equestria, two Bits in the Crystal Empire, three in the Minotaur Hegemony, and four Bits in the Dragonspines. Variants like the red, neon green, soft yellow, dappled, striped, streaked, honey, cream, speckled, and others range from two to fifty Bits each depending on how rare they are. And before you ask, yes, mangoes are the basis for the entire Moors economy since they're a realistic trade good. They don't grow well in most regions outside the Fillypines off Neighpon and some coastal regions in Argenta's lands."
>Nodding once, Anon hoists himself up to stand, grabbing what sounded like a paper pad and turning around.
"One minute then, I'll grab it and leave a note for Amerose. Otherwise she'll be mad. Again."
>Returning two seconds later, a gleaming blue bodysuit is tossed onto the floor in front of you, woven from metal strands with rigid plates covering areas that weren't flexible.
"Here you go, I've resized it as best as possible. You can wear the coat on top for a while if needed. I'm reasonably sure there's a number of shipwrecks from here to Cairn Wharf.... then again you two shouldn't salvage underwater longer than absolutely necessary."
>Sitting down once more, the gestalt presses his hands together in a concerned motion.
"You have food for a day and a half, water for two, better armor, and Wild's got some reading material. Anything else I can do for you?"
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #8
"I would prefer not to leave you mom, but if you have the opportunity to return home one of my nodes intact then you should take it. Update: I was able to capture numerous datafeeds from earlier, thirty-five in total. They might be the unknown craft from but they are communicating in extremely high wavelengths that I don't have the ability to decrypt."
"Unknown craft? Like... airplanes? Ships?"
"Unknown aerial vessels, silver in color, that may have been creating rain clouds. I have no further knowledge."
>Rubbing his chin in thought, Anonymous hums briefly before taking out his smartphone again, shaking his head after a few seconds.
"Nah, I've got nothing here. Then again the range on this thing is shit. There were a few species with atmospheric craft similar to airplanes or jets and similar. Most of them are either extremely old or extinct. If they aren't bright orange like Constructs trinary, assume they're neutral. No sense starting conflict if they ignore you."
"Understood."
>>353241
"Got it. I've only had very brief experience with a PTRD, basically how to sight and load one. I'll need some time for practice with it."
>Looking the model over, I idly nod as I rub at one of my discs.
"And that sharktopus didn't exactly do her any favors. I'm lucky this hole didn't appear until AFTER we were exiting the water."
>Drowning is probably not a fun way to go.
"This looks like a deformed apple, I'll be honest."
>Picking one up, I gave it a quick look over.
"If it's a tropical fruit that'd be why. Anything that can't grow in Europe is considered a luxury... and pretty much non-existant. This would probably get me questioned by the NKVD back home."
>Putting the mango down, I shift my attention to the armor, giving it an appraising eye.
"You stop that, we're going home together."
>Humming a little, I sigh in relief.
"That's good to hear, that means we're not going to be pursued on the way to the outpost."
"Got it. I've only had very brief experience with a PTRD, basically how to sight and load one. I'll need some time for practice with it."
>Looking the model over, I idly nod as I rub at one of my discs.
"And that sharktopus didn't exactly do her any favors. I'm lucky this hole didn't appear until AFTER we were exiting the water."
>Drowning is probably not a fun way to go.
"This looks like a deformed apple, I'll be honest."
>Picking one up, I gave it a quick look over.
"If it's a tropical fruit that'd be why. Anything that can't grow in Europe is considered a luxury... and pretty much non-existant. This would probably get me questioned by the NKVD back home."
>Putting the mango down, I shift my attention to the armor, giving it an appraising eye.
"You stop that, we're going home together."
>Humming a little, I sigh in relief.
"That's good to hear, that means we're not going to be pursued on the way to the outpost."
>>353234
>With Witch-Two's correction, Mallia feels a moment of shame and curbs the near-instant reflex to apologize. She makes up for it by immediately getting started: Opening the topographical map exloaded onto her micro-cogitator and using memory to pinpoint the coordinates alongside her machine spirit, outside accurately and west of the command bunker as she had last seen it.
>Then gives the scan command.
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <Chroniton Wave-Reader
>With the scan underway, she reflexively lingers a part of her focus on it to ensure there were no issues, and if there where she could help Witch-Two correct them quicker given they were busy as is.
>And also because she was curious what it would catch...
>In the same timeframe, she was also still squinting and nodding along in rapt attention to the Storm Trooper's replies. She darts her eyes a bit in a moment of thought as she processes the event that a gestalt had already died. Dwelling on that briefly. Moreso than she dwells on the news that Aguina had executed someone.
>That would be a topic for another time.
(Catastrophic... And depressing. What of the Nanite Age operators and their Tech'? Have they suffered from the loss of their gestalt?)
>Mallia's half-nervous grin continued to persist as Chisan replied. Her eyes though soften in response to the Scion's genuine regard for their ally, despite the engrams.
>Then that look turned to sheer, taken aback confusion from the compliment. Compounded by the now increasingly nervous grin and her still flushed cheeks, she couldn't help but wry her lips into a rather awkward and lopsided smile, even avoiding fully making eye contact with Chisan.
>She didn't say anything at first. But the moment she noticed the Tempestus Scion snapping for a salute, she, despite having her hands occupied and thus not needing to, straightens her back properly and snaps a crisp salute with her off-hand.
>She lingers for just a moment. Just to utter a devoted blessing quietly as the Storm Trooper departs.
<Techna Lingua> "++... May you walk with the Light of the Deus Mechanicus at your back. With the blessing of the Anima Mechanicus you faithfully care for...++"
>She pours maybe too much heart into it, knowing she was in another galaxy entirely. But the Machine Spirits were still there, and they were a shred of the Omnissiah themselves.
(Oo, I get to keep hanging out with you all? Awesome!)
>Mallia breathes out and strains a smile, trying to get herself back to a merry outlook given she was heading for a "date". The fact that she gets to keep such good company does give her something to smile about though.
(Prima Audestin. The Underprincess--royal of New Canterlot, right? Nashka mentioned them. I assume it's the Solar faction that controls New Canterlot? If Celestia goes by 'Princess' then I guess she is a... Regent? And she's the one who gave us rights to take Twin Hill, as far as I heard during our exchange with Olympa. She certainly sounds like she's trying to improve relations at least.)
(I'm hoping at least one of those energy sources can help us restore some of the demi-sentient.)
(And hopefully whatever that "Construct" tech' is it doesn't contain an Abominable Intelligence. I'm still not over that...)
>She speeds up to a quick military stride while heading for the stairs and starting to walk up them eagerly two steps at a time, sparing a hand for the handrail (if there was one). Ignoring the fact that climbing up the stairs while everything ached was kind of painful, making speed to get to meet with Raindrop.
>With Witch-Two's correction, Mallia feels a moment of shame and curbs the near-instant reflex to apologize. She makes up for it by immediately getting started: Opening the topographical map exloaded onto her micro-cogitator and using memory to pinpoint the coordinates alongside her machine spirit, outside accurately and west of the command bunker as she had last seen it.
>Then gives the scan command.
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <Chroniton Wave-Reader
>With the scan underway, she reflexively lingers a part of her focus on it to ensure there were no issues, and if there where she could help Witch-Two correct them quicker given they were busy as is.
>And also because she was curious what it would catch...
>In the same timeframe, she was also still squinting and nodding along in rapt attention to the Storm Trooper's replies. She darts her eyes a bit in a moment of thought as she processes the event that a gestalt had already died. Dwelling on that briefly. Moreso than she dwells on the news that Aguina had executed someone.
>That would be a topic for another time.
(Catastrophic... And depressing. What of the Nanite Age operators and their Tech'? Have they suffered from the loss of their gestalt?)
>Mallia's half-nervous grin continued to persist as Chisan replied. Her eyes though soften in response to the Scion's genuine regard for their ally, despite the engrams.
>Then that look turned to sheer, taken aback confusion from the compliment. Compounded by the now increasingly nervous grin and her still flushed cheeks, she couldn't help but wry her lips into a rather awkward and lopsided smile, even avoiding fully making eye contact with Chisan.
>She didn't say anything at first. But the moment she noticed the Tempestus Scion snapping for a salute, she, despite having her hands occupied and thus not needing to, straightens her back properly and snaps a crisp salute with her off-hand.
>She lingers for just a moment. Just to utter a devoted blessing quietly as the Storm Trooper departs.
<Techna Lingua> "++... May you walk with the Light of the Deus Mechanicus at your back. With the blessing of the Anima Mechanicus you faithfully care for...++"
>She pours maybe too much heart into it, knowing she was in another galaxy entirely. But the Machine Spirits were still there, and they were a shred of the Omnissiah themselves.
(Oo, I get to keep hanging out with you all? Awesome!)
>Mallia breathes out and strains a smile, trying to get herself back to a merry outlook given she was heading for a "date". The fact that she gets to keep such good company does give her something to smile about though.
(Prima Audestin. The Underprincess--royal of New Canterlot, right? Nashka mentioned them. I assume it's the Solar faction that controls New Canterlot? If Celestia goes by 'Princess' then I guess she is a... Regent? And she's the one who gave us rights to take Twin Hill, as far as I heard during our exchange with Olympa. She certainly sounds like she's trying to improve relations at least.)
(I'm hoping at least one of those energy sources can help us restore some of the demi-sentient.)
(And hopefully whatever that "Construct" tech' is it doesn't contain an Abominable Intelligence. I'm still not over that...)
>She speeds up to a quick military stride while heading for the stairs and starting to walk up them eagerly two steps at a time, sparing a hand for the handrail (if there was one). Ignoring the fact that climbing up the stairs while everything ached was kind of painful, making speed to get to meet with Raindrop.
>Another bright morning greeted the gold gilded and white marbled city of New Canterlot.
>The encroaching sun that crested the horizon signalled the singing birds to fill the city with their many songs, which for the early risers was their alarm clock. While mother mares yanked their reluctant foals awake Nightguards that had been patrolling hours prior trotted off to bed, their Dayguard counterparts taking up the vacant positions.
>Positions that were vacant for but a moment, as the changing of the Guard was a well trained and practiced routine for the soldiers that protected Canterlot and its residents.
>By the time the sun was free from the distant mountain ranges and in the open bright blue sky there were thousands of ponies and other beings filling the wide thoroughfares, streets, gardens and plazas. Mares escorting their foals to school before reaching their own occupations for the day
>Mailponies on their routes.
>Diplomats being escorted from one important duty to another.
>Venders hawking their wares and so much more.
>Involved in this morning life were students of Canterlot University heading to their first class of the day.
>And for some, their last. For this cadre of students this day was their last official day of lessons to be taught. Everything afterwards being mere formalities and ceremony.
>But before then, they must face one more trial to prove everything they had learned at the University has stuck...
>...
>..
>.
"RIGHT CLASS!"
>Boomed the voice of Professor Steel Mane, silencing his students as he entered his domain for the past 2 years with a proud canter.
>The surprisingly muscled Unicorn surveyed his students with a keen eye, his horn alight with a soft green glow as a stack of papers trailed behind him. The door shut closed when the papers entered the Lecture Hall.
"Your last day. Your last time trapped in this room with me."
>A ripple of hushed laughter came from his students at that. He was a harsh mentor and was not afraid of taking advantage of someponies glaring weakness. Not out of malice, mostly, but to excise that flaw from those he has been charged to teach.
>Sitting down in front of his desk the gruff grey pony silently levitated the papers to his students, whom all caught their piece mid air with their own magic. They learned -very- early on if they couldn't catch his papers they did not get them after.
"Short and sweet this time. You love hearing my voice as much as I do however I feel this day we will speak with our actions, not our words."
>Seeing all his students had their respective papers he continued with a click of his tongue.
"For the rest of the day and following night all 50 of you will be participating in the a final exam, a gauntlet that will put your body to the test. There have been enough written exams to know you're all bleeding sharp, so its time to see how you fare in the field."
>He stood up and went to stand behind his desk, horn igniting again.
"The gauntlet will start by the end of the hour and that is all the knowledge I know about it, the other faculty obvious don't trust me to keep my mouth shut so they will come and collect you for the trial."
>A hoof shot up.
"Yes Dandalian?"
>Asked Steel Mane, who didn't see it was Dandalian yet knew it was him.
"Uh, h-how do we know when its our turn and-"
"Random s-e-l-e-c-t-i-o-n."
>Steel Mane answered bluntly.
"Another Professor will come in here and select the first to go. And when I mean random I do mean random. Random number of students at random times and taken to random locations. You could all be taken in one go for all I know, I am merely your glorified foalsitter for the next hour. If you want to quickly study with your books here or catch some shut eye go for it. After the first herd or pony is taken the rest of you lot will have free reign to wonder the whole Campus."
>Many of the students were whispering to each other at this information. Steel stamped his hoof onto his desk to silence the murmuring.
"And of course don't bother the other classes that are in session, don't annoy the staff and DO NOT leave the premises of the University. If you somehow miss your chance to partake in this final exam I cannot guarantee your written work will carry you through as this is 60% of your final marks."
>A lit smoking pipe appeared from under his desk, rainbow sparks dancing out of its Bowl as he buffed from it.
>A hoof from a different student shot up, most of the students were already reading and discussing plans while a select few mavericks slept. The rest had looks of concern, this was where the raised hoof came from.
"Yes Green Pearl?"
"Is this 'gauntlet' dangerous?"
>This question got the attention of most of the class, who in turn gazed at their Professor expectantly. Steel Mane puffed at his pipe for a moment in thought.
"As far as I know you cannot or will not be allowed to die in this final exam, that doesn't rule out the possibility of being hurt however but remember what I taught you all."
>He stood up from behind his desk, pipe swinging from one side of his mouth to the other.
"You are all Unicorns, you are all young masters at magic. This does not mean you should rely on magic for everything in life. Sometimes you have to get your hooves dirty and think quick on them too. Think smart and work smarter with both horn and hoof and you will all make it out of the gauntlet unscathed, got it?"
>All his students nodded. Everypony began to ease, even Steel Mane felt himself relax though he did not show it unlike his students.
>With his motivational speech over the Professor quietly moved throughout his Lecture Hall, coming to the side of any student that raised a hoof for assistance. This went on for the remaining hour.
>Half an hour in the door swung open and a few latched closed chests levitated in, the pony that delivered them not entering the Hall thus could not be seen. By the time Steel Mane got to the chests the door was closed again.
>Hoofing a chest open the grey Unicorns' eyebrows shot up.
"Oh well that's something."
>The encroaching sun that crested the horizon signalled the singing birds to fill the city with their many songs, which for the early risers was their alarm clock. While mother mares yanked their reluctant foals awake Nightguards that had been patrolling hours prior trotted off to bed, their Dayguard counterparts taking up the vacant positions.
>Positions that were vacant for but a moment, as the changing of the Guard was a well trained and practiced routine for the soldiers that protected Canterlot and its residents.
>By the time the sun was free from the distant mountain ranges and in the open bright blue sky there were thousands of ponies and other beings filling the wide thoroughfares, streets, gardens and plazas. Mares escorting their foals to school before reaching their own occupations for the day
>Mailponies on their routes.
>Diplomats being escorted from one important duty to another.
>Venders hawking their wares and so much more.
>Involved in this morning life were students of Canterlot University heading to their first class of the day.
>And for some, their last. For this cadre of students this day was their last official day of lessons to be taught. Everything afterwards being mere formalities and ceremony.
>But before then, they must face one more trial to prove everything they had learned at the University has stuck...
>...
>..
>.
"RIGHT CLASS!"
>Boomed the voice of Professor Steel Mane, silencing his students as he entered his domain for the past 2 years with a proud canter.
>The surprisingly muscled Unicorn surveyed his students with a keen eye, his horn alight with a soft green glow as a stack of papers trailed behind him. The door shut closed when the papers entered the Lecture Hall.
"Your last day. Your last time trapped in this room with me."
>A ripple of hushed laughter came from his students at that. He was a harsh mentor and was not afraid of taking advantage of someponies glaring weakness. Not out of malice, mostly, but to excise that flaw from those he has been charged to teach.
>Sitting down in front of his desk the gruff grey pony silently levitated the papers to his students, whom all caught their piece mid air with their own magic. They learned -very- early on if they couldn't catch his papers they did not get them after.
"Short and sweet this time. You love hearing my voice as much as I do however I feel this day we will speak with our actions, not our words."
>Seeing all his students had their respective papers he continued with a click of his tongue.
"For the rest of the day and following night all 50 of you will be participating in the a final exam, a gauntlet that will put your body to the test. There have been enough written exams to know you're all bleeding sharp, so its time to see how you fare in the field."
>He stood up and went to stand behind his desk, horn igniting again.
"The gauntlet will start by the end of the hour and that is all the knowledge I know about it, the other faculty obvious don't trust me to keep my mouth shut so they will come and collect you for the trial."
>A hoof shot up.
"Yes Dandalian?"
>Asked Steel Mane, who didn't see it was Dandalian yet knew it was him.
"Uh, h-how do we know when its our turn and-"
"Random s-e-l-e-c-t-i-o-n."
>Steel Mane answered bluntly.
"Another Professor will come in here and select the first to go. And when I mean random I do mean random. Random number of students at random times and taken to random locations. You could all be taken in one go for all I know, I am merely your glorified foalsitter for the next hour. If you want to quickly study with your books here or catch some shut eye go for it. After the first herd or pony is taken the rest of you lot will have free reign to wonder the whole Campus."
>Many of the students were whispering to each other at this information. Steel stamped his hoof onto his desk to silence the murmuring.
"And of course don't bother the other classes that are in session, don't annoy the staff and DO NOT leave the premises of the University. If you somehow miss your chance to partake in this final exam I cannot guarantee your written work will carry you through as this is 60% of your final marks."
>A lit smoking pipe appeared from under his desk, rainbow sparks dancing out of its Bowl as he buffed from it.
>A hoof from a different student shot up, most of the students were already reading and discussing plans while a select few mavericks slept. The rest had looks of concern, this was where the raised hoof came from.
"Yes Green Pearl?"
"Is this 'gauntlet' dangerous?"
>This question got the attention of most of the class, who in turn gazed at their Professor expectantly. Steel Mane puffed at his pipe for a moment in thought.
"As far as I know you cannot or will not be allowed to die in this final exam, that doesn't rule out the possibility of being hurt however but remember what I taught you all."
>He stood up from behind his desk, pipe swinging from one side of his mouth to the other.
"You are all Unicorns, you are all young masters at magic. This does not mean you should rely on magic for everything in life. Sometimes you have to get your hooves dirty and think quick on them too. Think smart and work smarter with both horn and hoof and you will all make it out of the gauntlet unscathed, got it?"
>All his students nodded. Everypony began to ease, even Steel Mane felt himself relax though he did not show it unlike his students.
>With his motivational speech over the Professor quietly moved throughout his Lecture Hall, coming to the side of any student that raised a hoof for assistance. This went on for the remaining hour.
>Half an hour in the door swung open and a few latched closed chests levitated in, the pony that delivered them not entering the Hall thus could not be seen. By the time Steel Mane got to the chests the door was closed again.
>Hoofing a chest open the grey Unicorns' eyebrows shot up.
"Oh well that's something."
>>353299
>One of the unicorn students in the classroom, a grey mare, softly lost her previously nonchalant resting smile as her ear flickered at attention.
>While she understood that magic included having to use it in strenuous situations, she didn't quite grasp the apparent intensity of what was to come.
>It was hard to ignore the confirmation that wounds and bruises were going to be a common occurrence from what her professor said, but a part of her still clung in the hope that nopony would be permarently hurt.
>Even with such concerns and doubts regarding the incoming exam, the unicorn mare didn't try to ask any questions as she hoped she recalled the spell formulas for whatever's coming at them.
>One of the unicorn students in the classroom, a grey mare, softly lost her previously nonchalant resting smile as her ear flickered at attention.
>While she understood that magic included having to use it in strenuous situations, she didn't quite grasp the apparent intensity of what was to come.
>It was hard to ignore the confirmation that wounds and bruises were going to be a common occurrence from what her professor said, but a part of her still clung in the hope that nopony would be permarently hurt.
>Even with such concerns and doubts regarding the incoming exam, the unicorn mare didn't try to ask any questions as she hoped she recalled the spell formulas for whatever's coming at them.
>>353301
"What is it Professor?"
>Asked one of the students before any of the others could do so, which triggered a deluge of other inane questions.
"Quiet!"
>Shouted Steel Mane as he pulled out familiar items from the chest with his telekinesis. All the students recognized them the small rings.
>They were Horn Rings. One for each student as the Professor levitated them all onto his desk emptying the chest. They were all the same, plain polished silver with a twisting band of gold in the centre of each ring. To denote the face of a ring a decently sized ruby was set into the ring.
"Can wager a guess what's in the other chests.."
>Steel Mane muttered to himself as he hoofed around in the empty chest ensuring there was nothing else in there. Looking up to his transfixed students he puffed on his pipe before a small smile formed on his lip.
"Time for an experimarent! I will need a volunteer to see what kind of Horn Rings you all have been given."
>At this all the students had their hooves raised, some throwing both hooves into the air.
"Me!"
"I wanna try!"
"I SUBMIT MYSELF AS TRIBUTE!"
"This part of the test!"
"Can I go to the bathroom?!"
>Scanning across the Lecture Hall with a keen eye as Professor Steel Mane stabbed his hoof towards one mare near the very back.
"Kissy Booboo! Get down here and don a Horn Ring, please."
"What is it Professor?"
>Asked one of the students before any of the others could do so, which triggered a deluge of other inane questions.
"Quiet!"
>Shouted Steel Mane as he pulled out familiar items from the chest with his telekinesis. All the students recognized them the small rings.
>They were Horn Rings. One for each student as the Professor levitated them all onto his desk emptying the chest. They were all the same, plain polished silver with a twisting band of gold in the centre of each ring. To denote the face of a ring a decently sized ruby was set into the ring.
"Can wager a guess what's in the other chests.."
>Steel Mane muttered to himself as he hoofed around in the empty chest ensuring there was nothing else in there. Looking up to his transfixed students he puffed on his pipe before a small smile formed on his lip.
"Time for an experimarent! I will need a volunteer to see what kind of Horn Rings you all have been given."
>At this all the students had their hooves raised, some throwing both hooves into the air.
"Me!"
"I wanna try!"
"I SUBMIT MYSELF AS TRIBUTE!"
"This part of the test!"
"Can I go to the bathroom?!"
>Scanning across the Lecture Hall with a keen eye as Professor Steel Mane stabbed his hoof towards one mare near the very back.
"Kissy Booboo! Get down here and don a Horn Ring, please."
>>353349
>The titular mare blinked in a little surprise, a little taken aback thanks to all the volunteering, hollering and screaming.
>Taking a little moment to ensure she was the chosen one amidst the crowd by glancing from side to side, the mare would wordlessly get off from her chair and daintly trotted towards the Professor with a slightly befuddled yet ultimately neutral expression.
>Why would they be given horn rings of all things? Why did it feel she was going to be thrown into the wolves with a number of other unfortunate souls?
>These pessimistic, gloomy thoughts didn't make her waiver in her stride, however.
>She knew that in order to care for others, sometimes you need to lead a life of danger.
>Kissy had to face the scary prospect of a sea of unattended wounds caused by horrible circumstances.
>Paper cuts.
>Burned hooves
>Scrunched snouts
>She needed to keep herself steady and be prepared for the harrowing damage that could come out of it.
>No matter how dastard the perpetrator.
>With a steeled gaze and a small puff of her chest, Booboo looked down at the various horn rings that were on offer first to see if any of them jumped out as useful for her.
>Sure, they all looked the same, but that did not mean they all had the same spells, right?
>...right?
[1d6}
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception
>The titular mare blinked in a little surprise, a little taken aback thanks to all the volunteering, hollering and screaming.
>Taking a little moment to ensure she was the chosen one amidst the crowd by glancing from side to side, the mare would wordlessly get off from her chair and daintly trotted towards the Professor with a slightly befuddled yet ultimately neutral expression.
>Why would they be given horn rings of all things? Why did it feel she was going to be thrown into the wolves with a number of other unfortunate souls?
>These pessimistic, gloomy thoughts didn't make her waiver in her stride, however.
>She knew that in order to care for others, sometimes you need to lead a life of danger.
>Kissy had to face the scary prospect of a sea of unattended wounds caused by horrible circumstances.
>Paper cuts.
>Burned hooves
>Scrunched snouts
>She needed to keep herself steady and be prepared for the harrowing damage that could come out of it.
>No matter how dastard the perpetrator.
>With a steeled gaze and a small puff of her chest, Booboo looked down at the various horn rings that were on offer first to see if any of them jumped out as useful for her.
>Sure, they all looked the same, but that did not mean they all had the same spells, right?
>...right?
[1d6}
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception
>>353351
>>353352
>A chorus of disgruntled noises and neighs came from the rest of the students as they all gave you various glares, and oddly some were glares of worry.
>Weird.
"Yes you Ms.Booboo, come here please."
>Steel Mane confirmed when the you looked left and right to your fellow students.
>Stepping aside to allow you to ascertain all the collected rings on his desk, Steel Mane quietly observed your actions.
"See anything that jumps out at you?"
>Analysing them thoroughly the only thing you found was the name of the various students were on the inside of each ring.
>Green Pearl
>Dandalian.
>Whimsy Willow.
>Mallovin.
>And finally finding yours, Kissy Booboo.
>Apart from this the rings do appear incredibly clean, as if made this week. Now checking out your own ring up close with telekinesis, you saw that the ruby set into the ring dazzled in the morning sunlight that beamed aplenty into the Hall.
"Perhaps you should try it on, here."
>Yanking the ring from your telekinetic grasp with his own Steel Mane set the ring onto your horn without waiting for your permission.
>A jolt of energy ran down your spine as you felt the innate magic of the ring boost your own. Wobbling in place you felt the ring was not cold but gave off a warm sensation against your sensitive horn.
"So, can you enlighten us Kissy?"
>>353352
>A chorus of disgruntled noises and neighs came from the rest of the students as they all gave you various glares, and oddly some were glares of worry.
>Weird.
"Yes you Ms.Booboo, come here please."
>Steel Mane confirmed when the you looked left and right to your fellow students.
>Stepping aside to allow you to ascertain all the collected rings on his desk, Steel Mane quietly observed your actions.
"See anything that jumps out at you?"
>Analysing them thoroughly the only thing you found was the name of the various students were on the inside of each ring.
>Green Pearl
>Dandalian.
>Whimsy Willow.
>Mallovin.
>And finally finding yours, Kissy Booboo.
>Apart from this the rings do appear incredibly clean, as if made this week. Now checking out your own ring up close with telekinesis, you saw that the ruby set into the ring dazzled in the morning sunlight that beamed aplenty into the Hall.
"Perhaps you should try it on, here."
>Yanking the ring from your telekinetic grasp with his own Steel Mane set the ring onto your horn without waiting for your permission.
>A jolt of energy ran down your spine as you felt the innate magic of the ring boost your own. Wobbling in place you felt the ring was not cold but gave off a warm sensation against your sensitive horn.
"So, can you enlighten us Kissy?"
>>353358
>It's a good thing these rings had names on them, otherwise Booboo would've been staring at rings for a few more minutes.
>Speaking of, the titular mare shivered lightly at the sudden flow of magic flowing into her horn.
>Her snout scrunched a little and her ears drooped as well from the rather rude gesture, but she wasn't going to make a fuss right now that school was almost over.
>She had to be strong for the sake of the other ponies that needed attention!
>With a small, calming breath, Kissy soon lit up her horn and took a deep breath to give her professor the faint tingle associated with healing of the magic kind.
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]< Master Recovery (+2)
>It's a good thing these rings had names on them, otherwise Booboo would've been staring at rings for a few more minutes.
>Speaking of, the titular mare shivered lightly at the sudden flow of magic flowing into her horn.
>Her snout scrunched a little and her ears drooped as well from the rather rude gesture, but she wasn't going to make a fuss right now that school was almost over.
>She had to be strong for the sake of the other ponies that needed attention!
>With a small, calming breath, Kissy soon lit up her horn and took a deep breath to give her professor the faint tingle associated with healing of the magic kind.
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]< Master Recovery (+2)
>>353359
>Steel Mane cocked an eyebrow as your horn lit up with magic, the ruby set within the ring sparkling with concentrated magic, the same colour as your eyes.
>You had done this so many time for the past several years you lost count, so you knew immediately this felt different. There was more focus to the magic, to the casting. The ring slightly rattled against your horn as magic coursed through it. It was hard to explain to a non-Unicorn but you could feel the innate magic in the world around you being pulled towards your horn, and the ring on it.
>Enveloping your Professor in an aura of magic, Steel Mane shivered and sighed in delight. Take deep puffs from his pipe.
"That feels lovely, my frogs have been sore all morning."
>He said, having a little tap dance to test his revigorated hooves. A few students laughed at the sight.
"It appears your magic has been enhanced by that ring, no doubt the same will be for the rest of you lot."
>Steel addressed the class, giving them all a once over.
"Since you got yours Ms.Booboo you can return to your seat, the rest of you can come and collect your- IN TIMELY MANNER!"
>The Professor shouted, preventing a stampede from happening.
"First row, from left too right. As soon as you get your ring you'll return to your seat and don't test them out on me! Kissy was an exception."
>With that, he gave you a nod as he turned to give a ring to the first incoming student.
>Steel Mane cocked an eyebrow as your horn lit up with magic, the ruby set within the ring sparkling with concentrated magic, the same colour as your eyes.
>You had done this so many time for the past several years you lost count, so you knew immediately this felt different. There was more focus to the magic, to the casting. The ring slightly rattled against your horn as magic coursed through it. It was hard to explain to a non-Unicorn but you could feel the innate magic in the world around you being pulled towards your horn, and the ring on it.
>Enveloping your Professor in an aura of magic, Steel Mane shivered and sighed in delight. Take deep puffs from his pipe.
"That feels lovely, my frogs have been sore all morning."
>He said, having a little tap dance to test his revigorated hooves. A few students laughed at the sight.
"It appears your magic has been enhanced by that ring, no doubt the same will be for the rest of you lot."
>Steel addressed the class, giving them all a once over.
"Since you got yours Ms.Booboo you can return to your seat, the rest of you can come and collect your- IN TIMELY MANNER!"
>The Professor shouted, preventing a stampede from happening.
"First row, from left too right. As soon as you get your ring you'll return to your seat and don't test them out on me! Kissy was an exception."
>With that, he gave you a nod as he turned to give a ring to the first incoming student.
>>353363
>Kissy perked up immediately at her professor's satisfaction, giving him a parting nuzzle across the side of his neck before daintily trotting back to her seat with big, dumb smile on her face.
>It felt good to make others feel good, no doubt about that.
>Still, that strange feeling of magic suction right into her horn made her feel a tad woozy.
>Why would Steel give them amplifiers for this exam?
>Just how treacherous was the path ahead?
>Oh, she hoped she wouldn't be left by their lonesome for this test.
>As Booboo proceeded to sit down, she'd take a cursory look at the other students around the room, keeping track of ones that seemed prone to injury or seemed eager to jump into danger.
>Kissy instinctively felt that perhaps this won't be an individual exam if she's meant to prove herself.
>At least she hoped so.
>...she might be a little rusty with her magical prowess, but she won't tell anyone that.
>Kissy perked up immediately at her professor's satisfaction, giving him a parting nuzzle across the side of his neck before daintily trotting back to her seat with big, dumb smile on her face.
>It felt good to make others feel good, no doubt about that.
>Still, that strange feeling of magic suction right into her horn made her feel a tad woozy.
>Why would Steel give them amplifiers for this exam?
>Just how treacherous was the path ahead?
>Oh, she hoped she wouldn't be left by their lonesome for this test.
>As Booboo proceeded to sit down, she'd take a cursory look at the other students around the room, keeping track of ones that seemed prone to injury or seemed eager to jump into danger.
>Kissy instinctively felt that perhaps this won't be an individual exam if she's meant to prove herself.
>At least she hoped so.
>...she might be a little rusty with her magical prowess, but she won't tell anyone that.
>>353364
>Watching the rest students gather their own rings one after the other you saw a mixture of reactions; some were nervous, excited and restless. Some had their heads shoved into their books, their horns sticking out the top of said books. Others were openly sleeping, soft snores emanating from them.
>Except Tater Biter, he would make a Minotaur blush with how loud he snored. Thankfully he wasn't disturbing class this time due to it.
>Eventually everypony had a Horn Ring, and naturally over time the Lecture Hall took on the tense silence you were used to. Even Professor Steel Mane sat at his desk and was penning notes.
>You must of dazed off at some point because a familiar chime came from the door. This sent you sitting bolt upright along with the rest of your colleagues, the Professor simply stopped writing down whatever he was doing.
>The door was creaked open by a nose belonging to a faculty member of the University, the snoot wrinkled and sniffed the air of the Hall, disappeared, and came trotting in a moment later was a Campus Guardmare.
>You learned in your first year their number were comprised of retiree's and rookies from both Day and NightGuard. The former did so because they wished to spend the last few years of their service in relative peace and sometimes taking up positions to teach the students of the University a thing or too. The latter were placed here so they could learn how to patrol, guard ViP's and other general security duties.
>Judging by how youthful this mare looked, younger than you by a year or so, she was a rookie. Her armour was the standard gold of the Dayguard with the purple trimmings, hoofshoes and emblem of the University stamped on her chest piece.
>She meekly smiled, clearly nervous at having all eyes on her.
"Um, Professor Steel Mane?"
"Yeeeeeees?"
>Asked the Professor, who had an amused expression at watching the Earth pony fidget in place.
"I uh, have come to collect your student for the trial."
>Steel Manes humorous expression turned into an inquisitive one.
"Student? As in just the one?"
>The Guardmare nodded in affirmation.
"Yup! You know the rules and so do I."
>That sounded oddly familiar to you...
"Cannot argue with that, so be it then. Go on take them."
>He waved at her with a hoof to hurry her along.
"Right right! Ms.Booboo can you please come with me?"
>Although the Guardmare asked, it was not like you had any other choice but to go along with her. Much to your shock.
>Watching the rest students gather their own rings one after the other you saw a mixture of reactions; some were nervous, excited and restless. Some had their heads shoved into their books, their horns sticking out the top of said books. Others were openly sleeping, soft snores emanating from them.
>Except Tater Biter, he would make a Minotaur blush with how loud he snored. Thankfully he wasn't disturbing class this time due to it.
>Eventually everypony had a Horn Ring, and naturally over time the Lecture Hall took on the tense silence you were used to. Even Professor Steel Mane sat at his desk and was penning notes.
>You must of dazed off at some point because a familiar chime came from the door. This sent you sitting bolt upright along with the rest of your colleagues, the Professor simply stopped writing down whatever he was doing.
>The door was creaked open by a nose belonging to a faculty member of the University, the snoot wrinkled and sniffed the air of the Hall, disappeared, and came trotting in a moment later was a Campus Guardmare.
>You learned in your first year their number were comprised of retiree's and rookies from both Day and NightGuard. The former did so because they wished to spend the last few years of their service in relative peace and sometimes taking up positions to teach the students of the University a thing or too. The latter were placed here so they could learn how to patrol, guard ViP's and other general security duties.
>Judging by how youthful this mare looked, younger than you by a year or so, she was a rookie. Her armour was the standard gold of the Dayguard with the purple trimmings, hoofshoes and emblem of the University stamped on her chest piece.
>She meekly smiled, clearly nervous at having all eyes on her.
"Um, Professor Steel Mane?"
"Yeeeeeees?"
>Asked the Professor, who had an amused expression at watching the Earth pony fidget in place.
"I uh, have come to collect your student for the trial."
>Steel Manes humorous expression turned into an inquisitive one.
"Student? As in just the one?"
>The Guardmare nodded in affirmation.
"Yup! You know the rules and so do I."
>That sounded oddly familiar to you...
"Cannot argue with that, so be it then. Go on take them."
>He waved at her with a hoof to hurry her along.
"Right right! Ms.Booboo can you please come with me?"
>Although the Guardmare asked, it was not like you had any other choice but to go along with her. Much to your shock.
>>353369
>Kissy blinked out of her wondering stupor in an instant the moment she heard her name being called out of the classroom.
>And without any other students to boot.
>Granted, it didn't sound particularly different from the other tests, but if she was meant to experience high amounts of danger...
>Kissy's body shivered a bit from the anxiety building up inside her, but she quickly breathed herself out of it.
>She can do it.
>She won't let herself give anypony up or let them down!
>Not when she's so close!
>With a mighty puff of her soft grey chest fluff and the faintest of snout scrunches, Booboo wordlessly stood up with a determined stare and boldly trotted towards the rookie Dayguard earth mare.
>She had ailments to cure and worries to soothe.
>No amount of dread for this test will stop her from reaching it.
>Kissy blinked out of her wondering stupor in an instant the moment she heard her name being called out of the classroom.
>And without any other students to boot.
>Granted, it didn't sound particularly different from the other tests, but if she was meant to experience high amounts of danger...
>Kissy's body shivered a bit from the anxiety building up inside her, but she quickly breathed herself out of it.
>She can do it.
>She won't let herself give anypony up or let them down!
>Not when she's so close!
>With a mighty puff of her soft grey chest fluff and the faintest of snout scrunches, Booboo wordlessly stood up with a determined stare and boldly trotted towards the rookie Dayguard earth mare.
>She had ailments to cure and worries to soothe.
>No amount of dread for this test will stop her from reaching it.
>>353409
>Both Steel Mane and the Guardmare nodded as you approached them, and you felt hoof bumps come from some of your fellow students as you passed by them.
"Okay, follow me please Ms.Booboo!"
>Said the Guardmare, turning on the spot she trotted towards the door.
>Passing your Professor you felt him give you a pat on the back with his hoof rather than using his magic.
"You'll be fine, you are one of my students after all!"
>The Guardmare waited for you as you exited the Lecture Hall then closed the door behind you.
"Follow me!"
>You followed her by her side and you instantly noticed her movements were a well trained canter rather than a casual walk, you figured she must of been transferred from the training barracks to here not but a few days ago.
>An ear flicked and she turned to look at you.
"Just remembered! They said this'll-"
>She scrunched hard and shook her head.
"-THIS WILL, this will be a timed exam. You have an hour. The Head Mistress told me to tell you that running out of time is not an automatic failure, all you students are timed for expediencies sake."
>The rookie Guardmare gave a sheepish smile.
"Do you understand, d-did I do A good job of conveying the message?"
>Both Steel Mane and the Guardmare nodded as you approached them, and you felt hoof bumps come from some of your fellow students as you passed by them.
"Okay, follow me please Ms.Booboo!"
>Said the Guardmare, turning on the spot she trotted towards the door.
>Passing your Professor you felt him give you a pat on the back with his hoof rather than using his magic.
"You'll be fine, you are one of my students after all!"
>The Guardmare waited for you as you exited the Lecture Hall then closed the door behind you.
"Follow me!"
>You followed her by her side and you instantly noticed her movements were a well trained canter rather than a casual walk, you figured she must of been transferred from the training barracks to here not but a few days ago.
>An ear flicked and she turned to look at you.
"Just remembered! They said this'll-"
>She scrunched hard and shook her head.
"-THIS WILL, this will be a timed exam. You have an hour. The Head Mistress told me to tell you that running out of time is not an automatic failure, all you students are timed for expediencies sake."
>The rookie Guardmare gave a sheepish smile.
"Do you understand, d-did I do A good job of conveying the message?"
>>353425
>Kissy flashed an appreciative, supportive smile of her own, nodding along with all the good luck omens thrown at her.
>Before fully crossing the door, the mare gave everypony a thankful wave their way before the guardsmare closed the door.
>If it weren't for the fact she had to go right now, she would've given them all a boop for all the mental aid.
>Right now, though? She had to do it for the good of ponykind!
>Booboo tilted her head along with an ear droop at the guardsmare's correction, but she seemed to comprehend her tidbit of information
>Letting the question hang for a second or two, the unicorn pursed her lips a little before tentatively raising a hoof as her mouth opened softly...
>...only to send the tip of her hoof gently into her snout with a small little giggle.
>Following that, she nodded in the affirmative with a bright smile to signal the earth mare's successful communication effort.
>Kissy flashed an appreciative, supportive smile of her own, nodding along with all the good luck omens thrown at her.
>Before fully crossing the door, the mare gave everypony a thankful wave their way before the guardsmare closed the door.
>If it weren't for the fact she had to go right now, she would've given them all a boop for all the mental aid.
>Right now, though? She had to do it for the good of ponykind!
>Booboo tilted her head along with an ear droop at the guardsmare's correction, but she seemed to comprehend her tidbit of information
>Letting the question hang for a second or two, the unicorn pursed her lips a little before tentatively raising a hoof as her mouth opened softly...
>...only to send the tip of her hoof gently into her snout with a small little giggle.
>Following that, she nodded in the affirmative with a bright smile to signal the earth mare's successful communication effort.
>>353428
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCfimZEArAQ
>Positively beaming at performing her task correctly the rookie Guardmare puffed her chest out and trotted at a faster pace.
"Good! Now follow me!"
>You tailed her throughout the whole University. Not that you needed the guide, you have clopped through these hallways for years and knew them all like the back of your hoof. Well the areas where students were permitted access to.
>In this section of the Campus you passed the many courtyards and gardens where 1st year students were busy studying, the rookie snickered at seeing the young Unicorns attempt to pull apples off their horns with telekinesis. You remember this lesson, the Professors made you all close your eyes and then skewered the apples onto your horns where you were instructed to pry them off with magic.
>It made the apple all the more sweeter when you finally got it off your own horn.
>Taking a right turn and then a left you saw the Guardmare was now taking you down a restricted area, you knew this as you passed a purple strip of carpet on the stone and marble floor to denote the boundary of where a student was not allowed to go.
>Obviously many curious students figured out the hard way it wasn't just a piece of carpet that kept them out of the restricted areas, but this time it was, and you passed it without issue or comment.
>For a few minutes you were sorely let down as this particular restricted area was nothing more but Break Rooms for faculty staff along with Storage Rooms.
>This sensation of disappointment did not last, as with another turn down another hallway had changed the scenery of the University you were used to, there was no longer any richly carved wooden wall panels or soft carpets or inlaid glowstones. This hallway was bare rough stone with lit candles being the only source of illumination.
>You could not even see the end of it, it appeared to go on a while. Perhaps the length of the University itself.
>The Guardmare trotted down this hall without a care and you followed suit, the warmth of the Campus slowly leeched from you.
>After some time you shivered and could see your breath now, it was gradually getting colder. The shadows danced across the pitted surfaces of the stone walls, you think its due to the flickering candles. That didn't account for what you could clearly see were wickedly smiling faces in your periphery.
"I was taken here too on my first day by my superior officer. Still gives me the chills."
>The rookie snickered.
"Pun intended."
>The shadows silently laughed across the walls.
>10 minutes later you were still clopping along down this straight hallway, your hooves echoing deeper into it before you. In fact it was way too long. By your estimates you should of walked out of the Campus grounds and be roaming through Canterlot itself now.
"Finally here!"
>The Guardmare announced, her voice oddly not echoing this time. You peered ahead and saw a set of double doors lay before you. They were massive slabs of Diamondine cut away into the shape of doors, the hinges and hoofles were of polished metal either bronze or brass you could not tell from this distance. You did know they were big. Easily able to allow a Minotaur to pass through unhindered.
>And before them was University Dean, his golden horn twinkling in the candlelight.
"Aaah Aquarian Field, right on time. Good good."
"Yessir Golden Horn sir."
>He waved a dismissive hoof at the Guardmare, magnificent moustache being stroked by his magic.
"Pishposh! No need to call me sir."
>The Dean looked at you directly now, the wide brim hat of his office casting a deep shadow that hid most of his face save his snout.
"Now Ms.Booboo, are you ready for your final exam~?"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCfimZEArAQ
>Positively beaming at performing her task correctly the rookie Guardmare puffed her chest out and trotted at a faster pace.
"Good! Now follow me!"
>You tailed her throughout the whole University. Not that you needed the guide, you have clopped through these hallways for years and knew them all like the back of your hoof. Well the areas where students were permitted access to.
>In this section of the Campus you passed the many courtyards and gardens where 1st year students were busy studying, the rookie snickered at seeing the young Unicorns attempt to pull apples off their horns with telekinesis. You remember this lesson, the Professors made you all close your eyes and then skewered the apples onto your horns where you were instructed to pry them off with magic.
>It made the apple all the more sweeter when you finally got it off your own horn.
>Taking a right turn and then a left you saw the Guardmare was now taking you down a restricted area, you knew this as you passed a purple strip of carpet on the stone and marble floor to denote the boundary of where a student was not allowed to go.
>Obviously many curious students figured out the hard way it wasn't just a piece of carpet that kept them out of the restricted areas, but this time it was, and you passed it without issue or comment.
>For a few minutes you were sorely let down as this particular restricted area was nothing more but Break Rooms for faculty staff along with Storage Rooms.
>This sensation of disappointment did not last, as with another turn down another hallway had changed the scenery of the University you were used to, there was no longer any richly carved wooden wall panels or soft carpets or inlaid glowstones. This hallway was bare rough stone with lit candles being the only source of illumination.
>You could not even see the end of it, it appeared to go on a while. Perhaps the length of the University itself.
>The Guardmare trotted down this hall without a care and you followed suit, the warmth of the Campus slowly leeched from you.
>After some time you shivered and could see your breath now, it was gradually getting colder. The shadows danced across the pitted surfaces of the stone walls, you think its due to the flickering candles. That didn't account for what you could clearly see were wickedly smiling faces in your periphery.
"I was taken here too on my first day by my superior officer. Still gives me the chills."
>The rookie snickered.
"Pun intended."
>The shadows silently laughed across the walls.
>10 minutes later you were still clopping along down this straight hallway, your hooves echoing deeper into it before you. In fact it was way too long. By your estimates you should of walked out of the Campus grounds and be roaming through Canterlot itself now.
"Finally here!"
>The Guardmare announced, her voice oddly not echoing this time. You peered ahead and saw a set of double doors lay before you. They were massive slabs of Diamondine cut away into the shape of doors, the hinges and hoofles were of polished metal either bronze or brass you could not tell from this distance. You did know they were big. Easily able to allow a Minotaur to pass through unhindered.
>And before them was University Dean, his golden horn twinkling in the candlelight.
"Aaah Aquarian Field, right on time. Good good."
"Yessir Golden Horn sir."
>He waved a dismissive hoof at the Guardmare, magnificent moustache being stroked by his magic.
"Pishposh! No need to call me sir."
>The Dean looked at you directly now, the wide brim hat of his office casting a deep shadow that hid most of his face save his snout.
"Now Ms.Booboo, are you ready for your final exam~?"
>>353446
>The mixture between seeing how accomplished the guardsmare felt plus the memories of her beginnings in the school caused Booboo to lighten up her step and brighten up her smile.
>It wavered a little when she passed the usual student boundary.
>It got muted even further now that she was amidst this cold, dark hallway
>Who would want to live in such a scary place?
>The guardsmare's talk caused her to briefly break out of the spooks, blinking out of her stupor before giving her a sheepish smile and droopy ears.
>If she wasn't bothered by it, then it must be fine, right?
>She hoped this wasn't part of the test...
>Kissy's eyes widened at the sight of the dean right in front of the finely crafted, giant doors, her heart skipping a beat from anxiety by all the fanfare she was being subjected.
>And to think she hasn't really started yet...
>The unicorn mare gulped softly before giving out a swift exhale, putting on a determined look, puffing up her chest and giving University Dean a resounding nod.
>Keep your hooves steady and horn ready. Now's the time to put your skills for the betterment of ponykind!
>Hold yourself together!
>You can do it!
>The mixture between seeing how accomplished the guardsmare felt plus the memories of her beginnings in the school caused Booboo to lighten up her step and brighten up her smile.
>It wavered a little when she passed the usual student boundary.
>It got muted even further now that she was amidst this cold, dark hallway
>Who would want to live in such a scary place?
>The guardsmare's talk caused her to briefly break out of the spooks, blinking out of her stupor before giving her a sheepish smile and droopy ears.
>If she wasn't bothered by it, then it must be fine, right?
>She hoped this wasn't part of the test...
>Kissy's eyes widened at the sight of the dean right in front of the finely crafted, giant doors, her heart skipping a beat from anxiety by all the fanfare she was being subjected.
>And to think she hasn't really started yet...
>The unicorn mare gulped softly before giving out a swift exhale, putting on a determined look, puffing up her chest and giving University Dean a resounding nod.
>Keep your hooves steady and horn ready. Now's the time to put your skills for the betterment of ponykind!
>Hold yourself together!
>You can do it!
>>353510
>Dean Golden Horn smiled proudly at you, his ears rotating underneath his hat.
"Very good! You have come a long way Ms.Booboo since your first year here, I am sure you won't disappoint us."
>With that the Dean stepped aside as his horn lit up with his own magic, a thud came from the large doors then a resounding creaking noise filled the area. The noise went through your whole body and the spooky corridor. The Guardmare scrunched her snoot while her ears flattened against her skull.
"SO LOUD!"
>She shouted over the doors slowly opening.
"WHAT?!"
>Golden Horn shouted back as he faced the doors.
"I SAID ITS-"
>The doors finally came to a stop against the rough stone walls, the noise immediately dying down to manageable levels.
"-LOUD!"
"No need to shout, Guardmare."
>Chastised the Dean, though you saw a wry grin behind his moustache. Aquarian simply scrunched harder at him before taking up position to guard the hallway you came from.
"Good luck Ms.Booboo."
"This way."
>You followed the Dean through the now open doors, beyond it was a circular chamber that must of been 50 square metres in circumference. Instead of the gloomy stonework of the hallway you trotted through previously it was comprised of polished black marble, both the floor and curved wall. The air was cool, not as cold as before yet it was not as warm back in the University proper. The lighting for the chamber came from hundreds of small glowstones that filled the dome ceiling, with a massive one in the very centre shaped as a stylized sun. You realize they were placed exactly like the stars over Canterlot during the night sky, you could even tell the constellations from them.
>And there, in the centre of the chamber floor was a Translocation Matrice, you sensed it was rippling with energy already. Waiting for you.
"Step onto the Matrice and you will be translocated to the exam, as soon as you step a hoof off of the Matrice your hour begins."
>The Dean got close to you and booped your snoot with the rim of his hat.
"If you dally too long on it however we will start the countdown anyway, so don't be smart with us. Now, up up!"
>Dean Golden Horn smiled proudly at you, his ears rotating underneath his hat.
"Very good! You have come a long way Ms.Booboo since your first year here, I am sure you won't disappoint us."
>With that the Dean stepped aside as his horn lit up with his own magic, a thud came from the large doors then a resounding creaking noise filled the area. The noise went through your whole body and the spooky corridor. The Guardmare scrunched her snoot while her ears flattened against her skull.
"SO LOUD!"
>She shouted over the doors slowly opening.
"WHAT?!"
>Golden Horn shouted back as he faced the doors.
"I SAID ITS-"
>The doors finally came to a stop against the rough stone walls, the noise immediately dying down to manageable levels.
"-LOUD!"
"No need to shout, Guardmare."
>Chastised the Dean, though you saw a wry grin behind his moustache. Aquarian simply scrunched harder at him before taking up position to guard the hallway you came from.
"Good luck Ms.Booboo."
"This way."
>You followed the Dean through the now open doors, beyond it was a circular chamber that must of been 50 square metres in circumference. Instead of the gloomy stonework of the hallway you trotted through previously it was comprised of polished black marble, both the floor and curved wall. The air was cool, not as cold as before yet it was not as warm back in the University proper. The lighting for the chamber came from hundreds of small glowstones that filled the dome ceiling, with a massive one in the very centre shaped as a stylized sun. You realize they were placed exactly like the stars over Canterlot during the night sky, you could even tell the constellations from them.
>And there, in the centre of the chamber floor was a Translocation Matrice, you sensed it was rippling with energy already. Waiting for you.
"Step onto the Matrice and you will be translocated to the exam, as soon as you step a hoof off of the Matrice your hour begins."
>The Dean got close to you and booped your snoot with the rim of his hat.
"If you dally too long on it however we will start the countdown anyway, so don't be smart with us. Now, up up!"
>>353552
>Kissy shut her eyes and drooped her ears from the unbearable scraping of door against rough terrain.
>Her snout scrunched soon after and lowered her head down to withstand such grating soundscape in front of her.
>She hoped she didn't have to face such doors in the future.
>Breathing out a weary exhale, her still scrunched snout aimed back at the front along with a determined glare and a puffed up chest.
>As soon as the dean presented the portal, her heart sped up its beating from the imminent trial ahead.
>It'll be fine.
>It'll be fine!
>She's been here for this long. She must be ready for what's ahead!
>She soon crossed her eyes at the little indirect poke to her snout, causing her to exhale a little in relief and relax a little.
>In turn, the mare smiled appreciatively and booped her dean as a little thank you before walking onto the Translocation Matrice to begin her exam.
>Kissy shut her eyes and drooped her ears from the unbearable scraping of door against rough terrain.
>Her snout scrunched soon after and lowered her head down to withstand such grating soundscape in front of her.
>She hoped she didn't have to face such doors in the future.
>Breathing out a weary exhale, her still scrunched snout aimed back at the front along with a determined glare and a puffed up chest.
>As soon as the dean presented the portal, her heart sped up its beating from the imminent trial ahead.
>It'll be fine.
>It'll be fine!
>She's been here for this long. She must be ready for what's ahead!
>She soon crossed her eyes at the little indirect poke to her snout, causing her to exhale a little in relief and relax a little.
>In turn, the mare smiled appreciatively and booped her dean as a little thank you before walking onto the Translocation Matrice to begin her exam.
>>353554
>Dean Golden Horn snorted bemusedly before stepping back.
"And remember, we will be watching so you will not be in ANY deathly danger."
>He assured, stroking his moustache again.
>You have used Translocation Matrices before, they're all over Canterlot for Celestia sake! Apart from the environment this one was no different; a sense of vertigo, a flashing tunnel of colours, weightlessness and done!
>You didn't even have wobbly legs syndrome, as you lost that in your second year here at the University.
>Blinking you saw the chamber before you was an exact copy of the previous one. If it were not for the lacking presence of the Dean you would of thought you did not go anywhere at all.
>And like the other chamber there were a set of double doors, that were thankfully wide open already.
>Peering through them you saw a chamber, it was as illuminated as the one you were standing in, dimly.
>You could not see anything further beyond it from where you were.
(60:00)
>Dean Golden Horn snorted bemusedly before stepping back.
"And remember, we will be watching so you will not be in ANY deathly danger."
>He assured, stroking his moustache again.
>You have used Translocation Matrices before, they're all over Canterlot for Celestia sake! Apart from the environment this one was no different; a sense of vertigo, a flashing tunnel of colours, weightlessness and done!
>You didn't even have wobbly legs syndrome, as you lost that in your second year here at the University.
>Blinking you saw the chamber before you was an exact copy of the previous one. If it were not for the lacking presence of the Dean you would of thought you did not go anywhere at all.
>And like the other chamber there were a set of double doors, that were thankfully wide open already.
>Peering through them you saw a chamber, it was as illuminated as the one you were standing in, dimly.
>You could not see anything further beyond it from where you were.
(60:00)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=be1POFOwa0U
>>351921 →
>Quickly realizing that he was about to receive a flood of potentially useful information, and not trusting to his human (or daemonic) mind to retain it all, Indurian scrabbles about the room in search of his pack
>From its depths he pulls a lightly used, leather-bound book - his personal journal
"Uh, my lady, forgive me, I must take your words down somewhere. Blast it, the quills are always at the bottom..."
>Rooting around for another moment he returns with a battered-looking feather quill and a small vial of aging ink, and begins to transcribe her every word into his book
>As she finishes her explanations, the knight nods with an appreciative smile
"Verily, thou art a well of information! I must say, I've understood very little of the whole, but -"
>He jabs a finger into the spine of the book
"-I've taken it all down, in hopes that one with better understanding may take note!"
>He scratches his chin thoughtfully, glancing over his notes again, and without looking up from them asks:
"I had no idea that constructs had such human things as blood and sex. Do these strange beings... reproduce, then?"
>He reads furhter
"And, you said something about a, 'Ka.' Praytell, my lady, what is a Ka?"
>He adds:
"Also, if I may say so, what we found seemed... almost completely abandoned. I would not think that this URA is coming back - rather it seems to me most likely that my companions and I simply found ourselves in one of their ruins, and perhaps that monstrous construct has simply been lying in wait. Though, I may still alert this Tanisvine Enclave if thou think it prudent."
>He then gives the ghost mare a curious look
"As a final inquest, I would like to take down the message ye carry for Sir Thrill - someone ought to pass it along, after all."
>>351921 →
>Quickly realizing that he was about to receive a flood of potentially useful information, and not trusting to his human (or daemonic) mind to retain it all, Indurian scrabbles about the room in search of his pack
>From its depths he pulls a lightly used, leather-bound book - his personal journal
"Uh, my lady, forgive me, I must take your words down somewhere. Blast it, the quills are always at the bottom..."
>Rooting around for another moment he returns with a battered-looking feather quill and a small vial of aging ink, and begins to transcribe her every word into his book
>As she finishes her explanations, the knight nods with an appreciative smile
"Verily, thou art a well of information! I must say, I've understood very little of the whole, but -"
>He jabs a finger into the spine of the book
"-I've taken it all down, in hopes that one with better understanding may take note!"
>He scratches his chin thoughtfully, glancing over his notes again, and without looking up from them asks:
"I had no idea that constructs had such human things as blood and sex. Do these strange beings... reproduce, then?"
>He reads furhter
"And, you said something about a, 'Ka.' Praytell, my lady, what is a Ka?"
>He adds:
"Also, if I may say so, what we found seemed... almost completely abandoned. I would not think that this URA is coming back - rather it seems to me most likely that my companions and I simply found ourselves in one of their ruins, and perhaps that monstrous construct has simply been lying in wait. Though, I may still alert this Tanisvine Enclave if thou think it prudent."
>He then gives the ghost mare a curious look
"As a final inquest, I would like to take down the message ye carry for Sir Thrill - someone ought to pass it along, after all."
>>353557
>Kissy was admittedly a little fidgety as she stepped off the matrice.
>Recounting the facts, the mare knew that:
- She had an hour (60:00) to finish this 'exam'
- There was enough danger to potentially kill her if there wasn't any ponesonnel on standby to save her
- This was supposed to be a sort of practical test to make use of her casting skills as well as grueling physical activity (at least from what the professor said before coming here)
>Knowing this, danger was ahoof and she needed to balance both speed and caution in order to avoid falling into any pitfalls or run straight to dangerous creatures.
>With a muted, slightly shaky sigh, Booboo braved the incoming trial by first trying to sneakily walk forth towards the hallway in front of her with a wary step and a scrutinous gaze.
>Running head on blindly is a major cause for boobooes after all.
>Besides, she had time to analyze the situation.
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]<Basic Stealth:Sneeki Beeki like
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception: Spotting for traps and/or scary creatures lurking about
>Kissy was admittedly a little fidgety as she stepped off the matrice.
>Recounting the facts, the mare knew that:
- She had an hour (60:00) to finish this 'exam'
- There was enough danger to potentially kill her if there wasn't any ponesonnel on standby to save her
- This was supposed to be a sort of practical test to make use of her casting skills as well as grueling physical activity (at least from what the professor said before coming here)
>Knowing this, danger was ahoof and she needed to balance both speed and caution in order to avoid falling into any pitfalls or run straight to dangerous creatures.
>With a muted, slightly shaky sigh, Booboo braved the incoming trial by first trying to sneakily walk forth towards the hallway in front of her with a wary step and a scrutinous gaze.
>Running head on blindly is a major cause for boobooes after all.
>Besides, she had time to analyze the situation.
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]<Basic Stealth:Sneeki Beeki like
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception: Spotting for traps and/or scary creatures lurking about
>>353589
>Taking your first step off the Matrice you immediately heard a bell chime from overheard, you could not see a bell but you certainly heard it echo in the Translocation Chamber and beyond.
>Passing the double doors, you saw they too were made from Diamondine and brass. Further still the hall that connected the chamber you just exited from to the one you were going to was the same as that spooky corridor you were escorted down by Aquarian Field.
>Even had the candles, which explained the dimness. Not as cold nor odd smiling shadows however, so that was a plus.
>You felt the welcome sensation of the Underdark sweeping over you, as if you were wadding into the waters of Lake Canterlot until you were fully submerged. Looking over your body you saw it was entirely invisible apart from a slight shimmer where your body outline was.
>Stopping at the threshold of the new chamber you observed several things of note.
>The first being, right in front of you in the very centre of the room was a pile of discarded armour. From where you were standing it did not appear rusty or abused, there was no corpse or bones between the bright white metal thankfully. It also appeared it belonged to a non-pony oddly enough.
>Secondly directly above it embedded in the ceiling was a large polished orb, you knew immediately it was a Scrying Orb, this was how you were being observed by the University it seems.
>Thirdly there were three doors in this room, and two of them were clearly locked. They both were barred shut with comically large locks ensuring they could not budge open. The only one that was unlocked but closed was the door directly facing you. And although the door was not locked there did appear to be something on its surface, squinting you could discern...Coloured shapes?
>Apart from these this room was slightly larger than the Translocation Chamber, the material was smoothed granite and large pony sized blocks that made up its walls and ceiling.
(59:56)
>Taking your first step off the Matrice you immediately heard a bell chime from overheard, you could not see a bell but you certainly heard it echo in the Translocation Chamber and beyond.
>Passing the double doors, you saw they too were made from Diamondine and brass. Further still the hall that connected the chamber you just exited from to the one you were going to was the same as that spooky corridor you were escorted down by Aquarian Field.
>Even had the candles, which explained the dimness. Not as cold nor odd smiling shadows however, so that was a plus.
>You felt the welcome sensation of the Underdark sweeping over you, as if you were wadding into the waters of Lake Canterlot until you were fully submerged. Looking over your body you saw it was entirely invisible apart from a slight shimmer where your body outline was.
>Stopping at the threshold of the new chamber you observed several things of note.
>The first being, right in front of you in the very centre of the room was a pile of discarded armour. From where you were standing it did not appear rusty or abused, there was no corpse or bones between the bright white metal thankfully. It also appeared it belonged to a non-pony oddly enough.
>Secondly directly above it embedded in the ceiling was a large polished orb, you knew immediately it was a Scrying Orb, this was how you were being observed by the University it seems.
>Thirdly there were three doors in this room, and two of them were clearly locked. They both were barred shut with comically large locks ensuring they could not budge open. The only one that was unlocked but closed was the door directly facing you. And although the door was not locked there did appear to be something on its surface, squinting you could discern...Coloured shapes?
>Apart from these this room was slightly larger than the Translocation Chamber, the material was smoothed granite and large pony sized blocks that made up its walls and ceiling.
(59:56)
>>353593
>It's easy to tell that she's being discouraged from brute forcing through anything if all these high quality construction materials are any indication.
>The bell, however, puzzled her slightly.
>Maybe the deans were expecting some students to go invisible?
>It is what she's doing right now, after all.
>Booboo felt a sense of dread at the empty armor just sitting there, wondering why a suspicious looking armor was idly left in the middle of a room.
>Maybe it was meant to be animated by magic from a possible trigger?
>She had to be careful around it unless she wanted to try her luck with it.
>For now, she needs to explore the three doors to see if they held any clues on what they held.
>The colored shapes's meaning on their lonesome did not sink in at first glance, so she prioritizes walking along the edges of the room to avoid the armor and inspect it more thoroughly.
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception: Inspect door more closely
>If no red flags flared up in her mind as a consequence of opening the door, Booboo would do so to see what it contained.
>Hopefully it's not about dropping large shapes on top of her.
>It's easy to tell that she's being discouraged from brute forcing through anything if all these high quality construction materials are any indication.
>The bell, however, puzzled her slightly.
>Maybe the deans were expecting some students to go invisible?
>It is what she's doing right now, after all.
>Booboo felt a sense of dread at the empty armor just sitting there, wondering why a suspicious looking armor was idly left in the middle of a room.
>Maybe it was meant to be animated by magic from a possible trigger?
>She had to be careful around it unless she wanted to try her luck with it.
>For now, she needs to explore the three doors to see if they held any clues on what they held.
>The colored shapes's meaning on their lonesome did not sink in at first glance, so she prioritizes walking along the edges of the room to avoid the armor and inspect it more thoroughly.
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception: Inspect door more closely
>If no red flags flared up in her mind as a consequence of opening the door, Booboo would do so to see what it contained.
>Hopefully it's not about dropping large shapes on top of her.
File (): 5AF069D22BBDA0B1BE10905A4E8D7346-14446.png (14.1 KB, 1010x751, map.png)
File (): B59F6527753CBA13212DD758F4301F66-29803.png (29.1 KB, 1802x912, PUZZLE.png)
>>353594
>You carefully made your way along the wall of the room, one eye on the armour at all times. It did not move an inch, for now at least it was an inanimate object to you.
>Passing one of the locked doors you saw it was indeed a big lock, as big as your head even, and made from some type of Minotaur supplied steel. It was obvious brute force was not going to break the the locks, a key will be needed...
>By walking along the walls of the chamber it took you much longer than simply crossing through the centre, but that meant getting close to the suspicious armour and you were not a fan of that idea.
>Standing before the door you inspected the coloured shapes.
>There were three boxes; the first was a red box with a triangle, the second was a blue box with a pentagon and the last was empty. No colour or shape, there were however a plus(+) and equal(=) sign signifying it was an equation of some sort.
>Below them was a plaque asking: "What am I?" in Canterlotian.
>Well, time to put those years of academia into practice.
(58:30)
>You carefully made your way along the wall of the room, one eye on the armour at all times. It did not move an inch, for now at least it was an inanimate object to you.
>Passing one of the locked doors you saw it was indeed a big lock, as big as your head even, and made from some type of Minotaur supplied steel. It was obvious brute force was not going to break the the locks, a key will be needed...
>By walking along the walls of the chamber it took you much longer than simply crossing through the centre, but that meant getting close to the suspicious armour and you were not a fan of that idea.
>Standing before the door you inspected the coloured shapes.
>There were three boxes; the first was a red box with a triangle, the second was a blue box with a pentagon and the last was empty. No colour or shape, there were however a plus(+) and equal(=) sign signifying it was an equation of some sort.
>Below them was a plaque asking: "What am I?" in Canterlotian.
>Well, time to put those years of academia into practice.
(58:30)
>>353159
>Creating several images of a similar heavy set of armor clunking into or barely around obstacles, Krinza turns a bemused smile in your direction.
"I would not advise remaining in it for longer than six hours at a time until the crystalline pseudo-muscles have been fully and finely tuned. The best property of well fitting armor is how quickly one can remove and enter it after all."
>Stretching out an overlapping sheet of molten steel, Helping Hoof snorts in disagreemarent.
"So far as the five of us could bother with that original one it was little more than speculative garbage."
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Eidetic Fundamentals
"To a small point, yes. Do remember such a design was created by humans with far different standards than we have. Economical, technological, material, and strategy wise the original is better. In the sole interests of protection, comfort, adaptability, viability, including improvement potential, our final design is distinctly superior."
>The straw-maned unicorn wasn't entirely convinced, though offered a grudging nod of acceptance.
>Krinza's eyes flick down at the notepad, reading across it several times while he speaks.
"Half an hour at worst. I have studied enough of Spiral's notes to understand some of his prototype designs for additions and complements to ranged weaponry. He had plans for a gravity-controlled, that is to say, a contained Force elemarental, recoil dampening system which was semi-modular in nature. He did not begin trials on the idea that I am aware of nor I do not have the knowledge to replicate his methods. Worse yet I do not believe such a property would function on that weapon with an extreme overhaul of the frame, one which I am loathe to attempt. With some refining I should be able to adapt the idea to smaller weapons."
>Stretching out a series of small L-shaped brackets, Helping Hoof gives the notepad a technical survey before adding his own scribbles to the surface diagram.
"Then I will focus on sequenced cushioning layers interspersed by flexible titanium alloy sheets to absorb shock. I am not confident in devising a single shock-absorbing hydraulic system without using a liquid medium."
>Setting the first page aside to work on another, the chunky yellow smith's expression partially sours.
"Considering the weight and recoil of that version, with Hollow's not inconsiderable modifications, adding an additional ten to twenty pounds might increase stability and allow for more flatter velocity."
"That assumes the exoskeleton's systems are capable of recorrecting a firing trajectory based on recoil or kickback similar to the concept of self-reloading crossbows."
"True. I will experimarent with the idea, although the consciousness inhabiting the weapon is bizarre. And intense. Ivan, I will let you know when we are finished."
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>Completed Projects:
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Scaling
>Creating several images of a similar heavy set of armor clunking into or barely around obstacles, Krinza turns a bemused smile in your direction.
"I would not advise remaining in it for longer than six hours at a time until the crystalline pseudo-muscles have been fully and finely tuned. The best property of well fitting armor is how quickly one can remove and enter it after all."
>Stretching out an overlapping sheet of molten steel, Helping Hoof snorts in disagreemarent.
"So far as the five of us could bother with that original one it was little more than speculative garbage."
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Eidetic Fundamentals
"To a small point, yes. Do remember such a design was created by humans with far different standards than we have. Economical, technological, material, and strategy wise the original is better. In the sole interests of protection, comfort, adaptability, viability, including improvement potential, our final design is distinctly superior."
>The straw-maned unicorn wasn't entirely convinced, though offered a grudging nod of acceptance.
>Krinza's eyes flick down at the notepad, reading across it several times while he speaks.
"Half an hour at worst. I have studied enough of Spiral's notes to understand some of his prototype designs for additions and complements to ranged weaponry. He had plans for a gravity-controlled, that is to say, a contained Force elemarental, recoil dampening system which was semi-modular in nature. He did not begin trials on the idea that I am aware of nor I do not have the knowledge to replicate his methods. Worse yet I do not believe such a property would function on that weapon with an extreme overhaul of the frame, one which I am loathe to attempt. With some refining I should be able to adapt the idea to smaller weapons."
>Stretching out a series of small L-shaped brackets, Helping Hoof gives the notepad a technical survey before adding his own scribbles to the surface diagram.
"Then I will focus on sequenced cushioning layers interspersed by flexible titanium alloy sheets to absorb shock. I am not confident in devising a single shock-absorbing hydraulic system without using a liquid medium."
>Setting the first page aside to work on another, the chunky yellow smith's expression partially sours.
"Considering the weight and recoil of that version, with Hollow's not inconsiderable modifications, adding an additional ten to twenty pounds might increase stability and allow for more flatter velocity."
"That assumes the exoskeleton's systems are capable of recorrecting a firing trajectory based on recoil or kickback similar to the concept of self-reloading crossbows."
"True. I will experimarent with the idea, although the consciousness inhabiting the weapon is bizarre. And intense. Ivan, I will let you know when we are finished."
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>Completed Projects:
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Scaling
>>353596
>Kissy figured that the final shape would essentially be a combination of both the triangle and pentagon if her hunch was right.
>After all, when one applies addition between two numbers, they are combined into a new number unless it was meant to be a variable or expression.
>Going by that route, she'd essentially be adding the triangle's sides inside the pentagon.
>The meaning of such result, however, didn't quite make sense on its own
>She must continue exploring before reaching any conclusions.
>With a wary glance back at the oddly unequine armor set, Booboo would try to find whatever door handle this entrance had and try to open it with it.
>Caution is all well and good, but she needed to make consistent progress if she wanted to make it in time.
>Kissy figured that the final shape would essentially be a combination of both the triangle and pentagon if her hunch was right.
>After all, when one applies addition between two numbers, they are combined into a new number unless it was meant to be a variable or expression.
>Going by that route, she'd essentially be adding the triangle's sides inside the pentagon.
>The meaning of such result, however, didn't quite make sense on its own
>She must continue exploring before reaching any conclusions.
>With a wary glance back at the oddly unequine armor set, Booboo would try to find whatever door handle this entrance had and try to open it with it.
>Caution is all well and good, but she needed to make consistent progress if she wanted to make it in time.
>>353677
>It was the best guess you could figure out from your observation, but just staring at it all day sadly did not achieve any results.
>Examining the door there appeared to be no hoofle for you, or for anypony to use. Even if there was the door was so large and heavy it would not move an inch with a simple door hoofle on it.
>You figured it would only open up when the puzzle on its surface was completed.
>The quick glance back at the armour showed it was still armour, untouched or moving. The only other thing in the entire room you have not investigated.
>It was the best guess you could figure out from your observation, but just staring at it all day sadly did not achieve any results.
>Examining the door there appeared to be no hoofle for you, or for anypony to use. Even if there was the door was so large and heavy it would not move an inch with a simple door hoofle on it.
>You figured it would only open up when the puzzle on its surface was completed.
>The quick glance back at the armour showed it was still armour, untouched or moving. The only other thing in the entire room you have not investigated.
>>353687
>Kissy's small little scrunched made it clear that she didn't enjoy having to come close to that ominous arrangement of metal plates.
>But if this door really had nothing else to it, she must have to get closer
>With a slightly nervous exhale through her nostrils, the unicorn mare tentatively walked towards the armor, always ready to flee to a safe distance if it did anything suspicious.
>She needed to figure out how it related to the figure behind her before her hour passes and she fails the test!
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 4]<Master Perception: Armor surveillance 24/7
>Kissy's small little scrunched made it clear that she didn't enjoy having to come close to that ominous arrangement of metal plates.
>But if this door really had nothing else to it, she must have to get closer
>With a slightly nervous exhale through her nostrils, the unicorn mare tentatively walked towards the armor, always ready to flee to a safe distance if it did anything suspicious.
>She needed to figure out how it related to the figure behind her before her hour passes and she fails the test!
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 4]<Master Perception: Armor surveillance 24/7
>>353690
>Scrunch all you want, it did not help your nerves.
>Clopping slowly towards the armour, you perceived you were still within the veil of the Underdark which thankfully meant your hooves made very little sound.
>Approaching the set of armour but staying at a safe distance of a few metres you were certain it was not, in fact, meant for a pony. If you had to wager it probably belonged to a Diamond Dog. Since there were no remains with the armour you could not be certain.
>What was apparent was the short sword laid next to it. It too made from the same white metal material. Though since you were closer now you saw there was golden filigree running along the edges of each discarded plate and the pommel of the sword.
>The helmet was some kind of bascinet, probably to help protect the snout of the theoretical Diamond Dog that once wore it.
>Then you spotted something. There appeared to be something within the closed helmet.
(57:56)
>Scrunch all you want, it did not help your nerves.
>Clopping slowly towards the armour, you perceived you were still within the veil of the Underdark which thankfully meant your hooves made very little sound.
>Approaching the set of armour but staying at a safe distance of a few metres you were certain it was not, in fact, meant for a pony. If you had to wager it probably belonged to a Diamond Dog. Since there were no remains with the armour you could not be certain.
>What was apparent was the short sword laid next to it. It too made from the same white metal material. Though since you were closer now you saw there was golden filigree running along the edges of each discarded plate and the pommel of the sword.
>The helmet was some kind of bascinet, probably to help protect the snout of the theoretical Diamond Dog that once wore it.
>Then you spotted something. There appeared to be something within the closed helmet.
(57:56)
>>353698
>Gulping softly, Booboo debated on whether it was best to either approach it and touch it herself or use her magic.
>A part of her figured that if she were to interact with the armor magically, it might actually trigger the armor into animation.
>A mere hunch, admittedly
>Alternatively, she could risk being caught by surprise and manually tilt the helmet to reveal its secret.
>Both could lead to a fight she wasn't sure how to deal with.
>With a shaky inhale, Booboo first tried to circle around the armor to try and get a better angle on the helmet's insides.
>It may cause whatever possible magic programmed into the armor to be dispelled.
>She hoped this test didn't have too many rooms like this...
>Gulping softly, Booboo debated on whether it was best to either approach it and touch it herself or use her magic.
>A part of her figured that if she were to interact with the armor magically, it might actually trigger the armor into animation.
>A mere hunch, admittedly
>Alternatively, she could risk being caught by surprise and manually tilt the helmet to reveal its secret.
>Both could lead to a fight she wasn't sure how to deal with.
>With a shaky inhale, Booboo first tried to circle around the armor to try and get a better angle on the helmet's insides.
>It may cause whatever possible magic programmed into the armor to be dispelled.
>She hoped this test didn't have too many rooms like this...
>>353701
>Circling the suit of armour like a filly interrogating a mango for its secrets, you sadly could not see any further details of what laid within the closed helmet.
>Whoever made this was certainly an evil genius.
>You do not recall anything for you to hoofle and poke the helmet with from the previous chamber, you were either going to have to touch it with magic or physically.
>Thankfully it was pristine, like it came straight from one of the many Museums in the city. So you wouldn't get your hooves dirty from poking at it.
(57:31)
>Circling the suit of armour like a filly interrogating a mango for its secrets, you sadly could not see any further details of what laid within the closed helmet.
>Whoever made this was certainly an evil genius.
>You do not recall anything for you to hoofle and poke the helmet with from the previous chamber, you were either going to have to touch it with magic or physically.
>Thankfully it was pristine, like it came straight from one of the many Museums in the city. So you wouldn't get your hooves dirty from poking at it.
(57:31)
>>353710
>With a shaky sigh, Kissy would promptly decide that getting closer to the armor and reveal the helmet's secrets with her hooves may be the intended option
>It might be due to the pressure that she's reaching so hard, but risking it this way seemed to be the right call.
>In any case, she'd keep her horn ready to react if the armor started to animate itself.
>Particularly to expose whatever the helmet held inside and shoot a bolt at it.
>Hopefully it doesn't come to that...
>With a shaky sigh, Kissy would promptly decide that getting closer to the armor and reveal the helmet's secrets with her hooves may be the intended option
>It might be due to the pressure that she's reaching so hard, but risking it this way seemed to be the right call.
>In any case, she'd keep her horn ready to react if the armor started to animate itself.
>Particularly to expose whatever the helmet held inside and shoot a bolt at it.
>Hopefully it doesn't come to that...
>>353659
"Mm, it'll take me a bit to get used to an exoskeleton that isn't a long pain in the ass to get in and out of."
>In other words he'll ignore the advice for a while until it tries killing him or something.
"Hey, its my planet's first proper attempt at a powered exoskeleton that didn't accidentally fold the user in half."
>He was not offended at the old suit being called garbage, however.
>He wouldn't be put off by the idea of a bunch of ponies being better designers than the humans back home.
>Mainly because human designed gear got him killed.
"Shit, only half an hour?"
>He paused for a moment.
"Right. Magic. Still not really used to armor and gunsmiths being able to use magic, something like this would take a day at minimum in the Zone."
>He took a glance over what the two were doing.
"It'll certainly be an option once we figure out how well the exoskeleton handles a belt-dump from the minigun."
>Carrying it around was one thing, holding down the trigger to empty a belt or three is another.
>Stress tests were going to be the objective of the next few days.
"Mm, it'll take me a bit to get used to an exoskeleton that isn't a long pain in the ass to get in and out of."
>In other words he'll ignore the advice for a while until it tries killing him or something.
"Hey, its my planet's first proper attempt at a powered exoskeleton that didn't accidentally fold the user in half."
>He was not offended at the old suit being called garbage, however.
>He wouldn't be put off by the idea of a bunch of ponies being better designers than the humans back home.
>Mainly because human designed gear got him killed.
"Shit, only half an hour?"
>He paused for a moment.
"Right. Magic. Still not really used to armor and gunsmiths being able to use magic, something like this would take a day at minimum in the Zone."
>He took a glance over what the two were doing.
"It'll certainly be an option once we figure out how well the exoskeleton handles a belt-dump from the minigun."
>Carrying it around was one thing, holding down the trigger to empty a belt or three is another.
>Stress tests were going to be the objective of the next few days.
>>353192
>Releasing the energies off his horn, Hodch leans forwards to examine the sphere while a clawed arm stretches out to high five your gloved hand before returning.
>Stopping everything, Hodch, Dul, and Lonestar's unseen but felt face from up front all stare in awe, and a bit of shock, at the situation.
"What."
"Dul confuse. Is move? Is live?"
*"...Ah ain't gonna sleep anytime soon."*
>Squinting at Hodch's amusing situation, Katyal folds arms across her chest with a mock-derogatory sniff.
"You're the one I least expected to be confused by movable or moving enchantments. Nearly all psionic variants and a whole lot of older styles were made to be swapped in or out on command. Reminds me of a record in the Bronze Guard archives from about five years before I arrived.
Bunch of mares were telling everypony in a small town for years there was a Purrsian stuck inside an oasis, as in physically able to move around under water. Bronze Duke showed up and surprise surprise, they were telling the truth. He'd been killed while asleep and soulbound to the area, similar to how Revenants are forced to stick around.
One of the big name Mystics freed him so he shared a whole lot of information on the region, events, years, names, everything. He was so happy that he recreated all the psionic enchantments used throughout his peoples' history, Even showed how to make 'em. It's great stuff, nearly as good as Stalliongrad varieties. All but one of Folu's Mareguards have one now. Of course, he was released once the Bronze Guard was able to locate the funeral pyramid for his clan.
I've got the whole report on my laptop, it's a wild read."
>Ears splaying apart in slight embarrassmarent, the Nightblade clears his throat and motions at the wooden figure.
"I was more confused at it being incredibly easy. And yes, I have transferred psionic enchantmarents but they've never been THAT simple."
"Maybe Neighsians are better at making them. Dunno a whole lot but I can tell you a lot of their lineages still have earth sorcery and related stuff. Same situation with Saddle Arabians, but there's only a few gems located each year with mystic effects, unlike the Dragonspines or Crystal Empire which has loads. Those are all traded to Neighpon."
"That would explain why their gem-smiths are considered the best outside the few Dusk Striders. Lunars historically have had limited contact with Neighsia outside of trade, but now we have none."
>'Shiibo' nods, displaying the staff's visibly diseased black and brown bark in detail, the striations underneath twisted in unnatural patterns that would be excruciating to a sapient living being.
>Compared to an image of Lonestar's bat showing it to be vibrantly alive and colorful, faint traces of energies rippling across the metallic bark.
'Cursed would be an improvement, but no sir, the exact opposite: it's a living artifact with some semi-religious connotations in a critical state from being corrupted, tainted, or both, by the most degenerate human example of Razorback. It's being endlessly tortured, unable to die or potentially escape. Do you agree?'
"Of course I do, that's the entire reason I warned you. There's some internal data on how Druids think sir, they'd be sincerely grateful at reviewing a venerable object being released from a horrific state. Record the purification in extreme detail, that will definitely make them more willing to neighgotiate. ..this will also be incredibly useful to show Spiral that you've been highly considerate. It'd appeal to his ponial instincts, especially naturalist inclinations. By the way, 100% of my data has been transferred, yes?"
'Confirmed.'
"Believe me when I say I'm not angry at you or Razorback. They're only prohibited because there's five examples left, and two of those may never be fully restored. Those thousand times bucking cursed Solar priestesses spent years before and after the Lunar-Solar War destroying everything they could from the Lunars. In return for that treachery Princess Celestia executed them all herself. If I had the authority to I'd demarend this stay with Razorback, but Councilmaster Two-Stripes is notoriously fickle. He does not like relics in service without a, quote, 'extremely specific time table for use'."
>Grimly pleased at the consent, Hodch's horn alights in sharp red flux and floats the diseased staff in front of him.
"No disagreemarent from me in the slightest. If we do find Spiral with his mind or minds intact he'd at least be relieved knowing this is one less fuck up."
>Hodch sets to work pulling the dragon heads holding each pendant apart with slight pressure, straining the oak's blatantly tainted nature with a bitterly reverential expression.
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
>Accepting the judgement, the First Responder points to a desert camo plastic coated, half-sized duffel bag filled with canisters, vials, and hard cases.
"Sounds good. If you need anything of mine say the word, brought all my explosives and a full bag of alchemicals that'd make traveling doctors jealous. Even got one Equestrians don't use called Medusa's Scales, works pretty good against most everything but tastes like boiled snake scales."
>Dul tears her dumbfounded gaze from Katyal's chest to her face, ears flicking excitedly.
"Dul knows Maediusas, they from Dul Vortex! Maediusas good friends, sing, teach lots nice songs with Sirens. ...Dul ask thing of you?"
"Sure."
"Why teats high on chest?"
>Giving a mildly humored 'this again?' look, Katyal spreads her hands apart politely, then imitates a baby cradling motion.
"If I had a gem for every time that question came up.. that's where they're supposed to be. The humans of my world evolved from the minor gorillas. They carried their foals with arms held like this, see?"
"Dul say yes."
"That makes it easier to keep our foals safe and nurse young until they're old enough to walk on their own.."
"Oh. Dul know why now. That smart!"
"Yeeaaah.. mostly. Except for the back aches."
[1d6 = 5] <Vortex Adapt: Tallus
>Releasing the energies off his horn, Hodch leans forwards to examine the sphere while a clawed arm stretches out to high five your gloved hand before returning.
>Stopping everything, Hodch, Dul, and Lonestar's unseen but felt face from up front all stare in awe, and a bit of shock, at the situation.
"What."
"Dul confuse. Is move? Is live?"
*"...Ah ain't gonna sleep anytime soon."*
>Squinting at Hodch's amusing situation, Katyal folds arms across her chest with a mock-derogatory sniff.
"You're the one I least expected to be confused by movable or moving enchantments. Nearly all psionic variants and a whole lot of older styles were made to be swapped in or out on command. Reminds me of a record in the Bronze Guard archives from about five years before I arrived.
Bunch of mares were telling everypony in a small town for years there was a Purrsian stuck inside an oasis, as in physically able to move around under water. Bronze Duke showed up and surprise surprise, they were telling the truth. He'd been killed while asleep and soulbound to the area, similar to how Revenants are forced to stick around.
One of the big name Mystics freed him so he shared a whole lot of information on the region, events, years, names, everything. He was so happy that he recreated all the psionic enchantments used throughout his peoples' history, Even showed how to make 'em. It's great stuff, nearly as good as Stalliongrad varieties. All but one of Folu's Mareguards have one now. Of course, he was released once the Bronze Guard was able to locate the funeral pyramid for his clan.
I've got the whole report on my laptop, it's a wild read."
>Ears splaying apart in slight embarrassmarent, the Nightblade clears his throat and motions at the wooden figure.
"I was more confused at it being incredibly easy. And yes, I have transferred psionic enchantmarents but they've never been THAT simple."
"Maybe Neighsians are better at making them. Dunno a whole lot but I can tell you a lot of their lineages still have earth sorcery and related stuff. Same situation with Saddle Arabians, but there's only a few gems located each year with mystic effects, unlike the Dragonspines or Crystal Empire which has loads. Those are all traded to Neighpon."
"That would explain why their gem-smiths are considered the best outside the few Dusk Striders. Lunars historically have had limited contact with Neighsia outside of trade, but now we have none."
>'Shiibo' nods, displaying the staff's visibly diseased black and brown bark in detail, the striations underneath twisted in unnatural patterns that would be excruciating to a sapient living being.
>Compared to an image of Lonestar's bat showing it to be vibrantly alive and colorful, faint traces of energies rippling across the metallic bark.
'Cursed would be an improvement, but no sir, the exact opposite: it's a living artifact with some semi-religious connotations in a critical state from being corrupted, tainted, or both, by the most degenerate human example of Razorback. It's being endlessly tortured, unable to die or potentially escape. Do you agree?'
"Of course I do, that's the entire reason I warned you. There's some internal data on how Druids think sir, they'd be sincerely grateful at reviewing a venerable object being released from a horrific state. Record the purification in extreme detail, that will definitely make them more willing to neighgotiate. ..this will also be incredibly useful to show Spiral that you've been highly considerate. It'd appeal to his ponial instincts, especially naturalist inclinations. By the way, 100% of my data has been transferred, yes?"
'Confirmed.'
"Believe me when I say I'm not angry at you or Razorback. They're only prohibited because there's five examples left, and two of those may never be fully restored. Those thousand times bucking cursed Solar priestesses spent years before and after the Lunar-Solar War destroying everything they could from the Lunars. In return for that treachery Princess Celestia executed them all herself. If I had the authority to I'd demarend this stay with Razorback, but Councilmaster Two-Stripes is notoriously fickle. He does not like relics in service without a, quote, 'extremely specific time table for use'."
>Grimly pleased at the consent, Hodch's horn alights in sharp red flux and floats the diseased staff in front of him.
"No disagreemarent from me in the slightest. If we do find Spiral with his mind or minds intact he'd at least be relieved knowing this is one less fuck up."
>Hodch sets to work pulling the dragon heads holding each pendant apart with slight pressure, straining the oak's blatantly tainted nature with a bitterly reverential expression.
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
>Accepting the judgement, the First Responder points to a desert camo plastic coated, half-sized duffel bag filled with canisters, vials, and hard cases.
"Sounds good. If you need anything of mine say the word, brought all my explosives and a full bag of alchemicals that'd make traveling doctors jealous. Even got one Equestrians don't use called Medusa's Scales, works pretty good against most everything but tastes like boiled snake scales."
>Dul tears her dumbfounded gaze from Katyal's chest to her face, ears flicking excitedly.
"Dul knows Maediusas, they from Dul Vortex! Maediusas good friends, sing, teach lots nice songs with Sirens. ...Dul ask thing of you?"
"Sure."
"Why teats high on chest?"
>Giving a mildly humored 'this again?' look, Katyal spreads her hands apart politely, then imitates a baby cradling motion.
"If I had a gem for every time that question came up.. that's where they're supposed to be. The humans of my world evolved from the minor gorillas. They carried their foals with arms held like this, see?"
"Dul say yes."
"That makes it easier to keep our foals safe and nurse young until they're old enough to walk on their own.."
"Oh. Dul know why now. That smart!"
"Yeeaaah.. mostly. Except for the back aches."
[1d6 = 5] <Vortex Adapt: Tallus
>>353711
>With a shaky hoof, short breath and rapid heartbeats filling your hearing you tentatively move your hoof closer.
>And closer.
>You were fully leaning over the armour now. It still seemed to be behaving and not move on its own accord.
>Closer.
>The tip of your hoof touched the helmet! A *TING* sound came from the contact, louder than you expected or liked.
>Nothing happened still. Since the armour hasn't stabbed you yet you become bolder and push harder until the helmet rolls onto its side.
>This filled the entire chamber with its clatter of metal rolling back and forth on the hard ground.
>You could of sworn your heart stopped.
>Thankfully, again, nothing happened.
>Now with the helmet out of the way you saw what was hidden beneath...
>It was a boxset of colouring chalk for fillies and colts, it even had a smiling pony on its face giving you a perpetual wink.
>There were the primary and secondary colours along with black, white and grey chalk sticks. An artistic foals dream gift no doubt!
>Truly, the University Spared No Expense for this final exam...
(56:40)
>With a shaky hoof, short breath and rapid heartbeats filling your hearing you tentatively move your hoof closer.
>And closer.
>You were fully leaning over the armour now. It still seemed to be behaving and not move on its own accord.
>Closer.
>The tip of your hoof touched the helmet! A *TING* sound came from the contact, louder than you expected or liked.
>Nothing happened still. Since the armour hasn't stabbed you yet you become bolder and push harder until the helmet rolls onto its side.
>This filled the entire chamber with its clatter of metal rolling back and forth on the hard ground.
>You could of sworn your heart stopped.
>Thankfully, again, nothing happened.
>Now with the helmet out of the way you saw what was hidden beneath...
>It was a boxset of colouring chalk for fillies and colts, it even had a smiling pony on its face giving you a perpetual wink.
>There were the primary and secondary colours along with black, white and grey chalk sticks. An artistic foals dream gift no doubt!
>Truly, the University Spared No Expense for this final exam...
(56:40)
>>353718
>Pareidolia stares at where the noodle-like dragon had reached out to touch his glove before slowly setting his hand down.
"Must be how it achieves its shielding effect."
>He remains silent as Katyal expounds on the Mysticism prevalent in Saddle Arabia.
(Something Silver attempted to impart to Earth ponies. Seems its alive and well in other regions of the world. Can't recall if other regions had contact with her.)
>Nodding at Shiibo and 'Tipper's' assents, he turns his visor towards the staff to ensure proper footage is captured.
"Understood. And 'Tipper', standard contingency protocols apply. If I do not return within 72 hours and relevant acting leadership in Razorback hasn't been informed or taken action, then you are cleared for independent action to rectify the situation. If I'm determined KIA, archival and encryption of all data should be prepared as packages for potential future Committee operatives. Unlikely, but at least our quantum key distribution will ensure complete secrecy. Relevant QKD and OTP analogues were assigned on Earth."
>Eyes flicking over towards Dul continuing to adapt to her new circumstances, he reorients them as her child-like train of thought makes itself known.
(Attitude should ease tensions in squad composition.)
>Pareidolia stares at where the noodle-like dragon had reached out to touch his glove before slowly setting his hand down.
"Must be how it achieves its shielding effect."
>He remains silent as Katyal expounds on the Mysticism prevalent in Saddle Arabia.
(Something Silver attempted to impart to Earth ponies. Seems its alive and well in other regions of the world. Can't recall if other regions had contact with her.)
>Nodding at Shiibo and 'Tipper's' assents, he turns his visor towards the staff to ensure proper footage is captured.
"Understood. And 'Tipper', standard contingency protocols apply. If I do not return within 72 hours and relevant acting leadership in Razorback hasn't been informed or taken action, then you are cleared for independent action to rectify the situation. If I'm determined KIA, archival and encryption of all data should be prepared as packages for potential future Committee operatives. Unlikely, but at least our quantum key distribution will ensure complete secrecy. Relevant QKD and OTP analogues were assigned on Earth."
>Eyes flicking over towards Dul continuing to adapt to her new circumstances, he reorients them as her child-like train of thought makes itself known.
(Attitude should ease tensions in squad composition.)
>>353722
>For a brief moment, Kissy stopped thinking.
>A chalk box was the secret item that hid underneath the oppressing helmet.
>Betrayal and subversion in a neat package.
>Mocked and ridiculed for her caution.
>Utter devastation...
>Thankfully, she swiftly got over it once she remembered she was on a timed test.
>With drooped ears and an embarrassed yet annoyed snort, she proceeded to gently push the box with her hoof towards the lockless door.
>She'd rather not accidentally trigger the armor to animate now that she had the tools to answer the equation.
>Only when she was at the door would she gather the courage to magically pick up some chalk and draw in the grey answer square a pentagon with a triangle in it to see if she properly understood the puzzle.
>Hopefully the next room wouldn't be as daunting as this one...
>She shudders thinking about the evil traps laying dormant ahead.
>For a brief moment, Kissy stopped thinking.
>A chalk box was the secret item that hid underneath the oppressing helmet.
>Betrayal and subversion in a neat package.
>Mocked and ridiculed for her caution.
>Utter devastation...
>Thankfully, she swiftly got over it once she remembered she was on a timed test.
>With drooped ears and an embarrassed yet annoyed snort, she proceeded to gently push the box with her hoof towards the lockless door.
>She'd rather not accidentally trigger the armor to animate now that she had the tools to answer the equation.
>Only when she was at the door would she gather the courage to magically pick up some chalk and draw in the grey answer square a pentagon with a triangle in it to see if she properly understood the puzzle.
>Hopefully the next room wouldn't be as daunting as this one...
>She shudders thinking about the evil traps laying dormant ahead.
File (): 3B80CA472E8AE0641D0093D9C124137C-20230.png (19.8 KB, 1802x912, PUZZLE.png)
>>353751
>Although it took longer than you wanted and was louder than you would of liked, you eventually hoofed the box of chalk right in front of the door with the puzzle.
>Your time ponually moving the boxset meant you had the opportunity to evaluate the box and come to the conclusion it was one of the more cheaper products sold in Canterlot. Not even the high quality chalk Professors use during their lectures, the nerve!
>Picking at random, you pulled out the white chalk stick, it firmly within your magical grasp.
>Your ears were on high alert and were constantly rotating back and forth listening if the armour would get up, and as you pressed the chalk against the blank box no noise came from the pile of metal behind you.
>The familiar noise of chalk scrapping against chalkboard fills the air around you, evidently the blank space was made from the same material the University uses for their boards.
>Ever so financially prudent, they are.
>You completed the task, a perfect triangle within a precisely drawn pentagon. And without the use of a ruler! Professor Bobbing Apples would be so proud of you if she was here to see it.
>Taking a tentative step back, breath held, you waited.
>And waited.
>agonisingly long seconds pass and nothing happens.
>You slowly exhale as you realize that maybe you did something wrong, or misinterpreted the puzzle somehow.
(54:50)
>Although it took longer than you wanted and was louder than you would of liked, you eventually hoofed the box of chalk right in front of the door with the puzzle.
>Your time ponually moving the boxset meant you had the opportunity to evaluate the box and come to the conclusion it was one of the more cheaper products sold in Canterlot. Not even the high quality chalk Professors use during their lectures, the nerve!
>Picking at random, you pulled out the white chalk stick, it firmly within your magical grasp.
>Your ears were on high alert and were constantly rotating back and forth listening if the armour would get up, and as you pressed the chalk against the blank box no noise came from the pile of metal behind you.
>The familiar noise of chalk scrapping against chalkboard fills the air around you, evidently the blank space was made from the same material the University uses for their boards.
>Ever so financially prudent, they are.
>You completed the task, a perfect triangle within a precisely drawn pentagon. And without the use of a ruler! Professor Bobbing Apples would be so proud of you if she was here to see it.
>Taking a tentative step back, breath held, you waited.
>And waited.
>agonisingly long seconds pass and nothing happens.
>You slowly exhale as you realize that maybe you did something wrong, or misinterpreted the puzzle somehow.
(54:50)
>>353758
>Kissy's snout scrunched increasingly harder as the seconds ticked by.
>That didn't seem to work as well as she thought.
>However, the mare quickly realized that from how she drew it, it wasn't a true combination, but merely inserting one shape inside another.
>Now less worried about the armor behind her, she'd scrub the triangle off the answer panel and instead drew the would-be missing two triangle lines from the bottom two points to the pentagon's top.
>Caution was starting to become increasingly difficult to keep up if she was gonna be stumped on the first question of the test.
>Kissy's snout scrunched increasingly harder as the seconds ticked by.
>That didn't seem to work as well as she thought.
>However, the mare quickly realized that from how she drew it, it wasn't a true combination, but merely inserting one shape inside another.
>Now less worried about the armor behind her, she'd scrub the triangle off the answer panel and instead drew the would-be missing two triangle lines from the bottom two points to the pentagon's top.
>Caution was starting to become increasingly difficult to keep up if she was gonna be stumped on the first question of the test.
File (): A70B6A2DF750136EAFF9E1C9CB68AB03-20236.png (19.8 KB, 1802x912, PUZZLE.png)
>>353764
>Your snoot was beginning to hurt from all the scrunching you were doing, to heck the with the pain!
>Frustration rising you dabbed your hoof with your tongue, making it wet enough to wipe away the wrong chalk lines to make the supposedly correct symbol.
>Correcting your mistake you waited again.
>No movement from the armour behind you still.
>And again, nothing happened.
>It appears you corrected your mistake with another mistake. HORSE APPLES!
>This was truly a painfully perplexing puzzle that put pressure on your pony posterior.
(54:20)
>Your snoot was beginning to hurt from all the scrunching you were doing, to heck the with the pain!
>Frustration rising you dabbed your hoof with your tongue, making it wet enough to wipe away the wrong chalk lines to make the supposedly correct symbol.
>Correcting your mistake you waited again.
>No movement from the armour behind you still.
>And again, nothing happened.
>It appears you corrected your mistake with another mistake. HORSE APPLES!
>This was truly a painfully perplexing puzzle that put pressure on your pony posterior.
(54:20)
>>353766
>By this point, Kissy started to idly rub her pained snout with a hoof from all the scrunching.
>Yet, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down.
>It seems she has missed something else from the equation.
>But it can't be right.
>The shape must be correct: It's the combination between the triangle and the pentagon's lines.
>It can't be an octagon since it'd deform too much from the two original shapes.
>Think, Booboo, think!
>After rubbing her snout in thought, an idea struck.
>Her answer panel was grey while the other two had clear, striking colors.
>It was meant to stand out to the one trying to do the puzzle, otherwise they wouldn't have painted it.
>It must mean that the equation is also asking the combination between red and blue!
>Now foregoing any semblance of vigilance towards the amror, Kissy quickly pulled out the guaranteed purple chalk in the box and started to meticulously paint the answer panel's background.
>Please, let this addition work!
>By this point, Kissy started to idly rub her pained snout with a hoof from all the scrunching.
>Yet, she took a deep breath to try and calm herself down.
>It seems she has missed something else from the equation.
>But it can't be right.
>The shape must be correct: It's the combination between the triangle and the pentagon's lines.
>It can't be an octagon since it'd deform too much from the two original shapes.
>Think, Booboo, think!
>After rubbing her snout in thought, an idea struck.
>Her answer panel was grey while the other two had clear, striking colors.
>It was meant to stand out to the one trying to do the puzzle, otherwise they wouldn't have painted it.
>It must mean that the equation is also asking the combination between red and blue!
>Now foregoing any semblance of vigilance towards the amror, Kissy quickly pulled out the guaranteed purple chalk in the box and started to meticulously paint the answer panel's background.
>Please, let this addition work!
File (): B33428CFD9CA4EF544321D62EE0AE8A3-15217.png (14.9 KB, 1802x912, PUZZLE.png)
>>353768
>Gently placing the white chalk down next to the boxset then pulling out a purple piece you begin to fill in square.
>The sound of the continueous scraping of chalk on board was painful to your ears, pressing them against your skull helped but it made you squint in discomfort nevertheless.
>By the time you had finished filling in the whole square with the powdery purple substance all you were left with was a nub, a small piece of purple chalk levitating in the air due to your magic.
>You didn't hold your breath this time, instead you were breathing through your nostrils waiting for nothing to happen.
>BUT!
>Something did happen.
>The square, now filled in with what you guessed was the right colour flashed with a burst of magic, so did the text underneath the trio of colours also. You sensed the magic radiating off the puzzle like a blast of heat, as if somepony opened up a furnace in front of you.
>Blinking away the afterimage you saw nothing visually changed, however upon tapping your hoof against the coloured in square you observed it was no longer covered in a thin layer of purple chalk nor was it made from chalkboard. It was as if you were touching smooth tile that happened to be purple coloured.
>This process had also wiped away your white chalk symbol, leaving it completely blank again, this time instead of being blank it was a secondary hue...
>Below the three colours, inside the box that contained the Canterlotian words "What am I?" was also now different. There was a singular Canterlotian word, "Purple" and a bunch of dashes where something else should be. A blank space inviting you to answer it correctly.
>Progress has been achieved, yet the door was still closed.
(54:00)
>Gently placing the white chalk down next to the boxset then pulling out a purple piece you begin to fill in square.
>The sound of the continueous scraping of chalk on board was painful to your ears, pressing them against your skull helped but it made you squint in discomfort nevertheless.
>By the time you had finished filling in the whole square with the powdery purple substance all you were left with was a nub, a small piece of purple chalk levitating in the air due to your magic.
>You didn't hold your breath this time, instead you were breathing through your nostrils waiting for nothing to happen.
>BUT!
>Something did happen.
>The square, now filled in with what you guessed was the right colour flashed with a burst of magic, so did the text underneath the trio of colours also. You sensed the magic radiating off the puzzle like a blast of heat, as if somepony opened up a furnace in front of you.
>Blinking away the afterimage you saw nothing visually changed, however upon tapping your hoof against the coloured in square you observed it was no longer covered in a thin layer of purple chalk nor was it made from chalkboard. It was as if you were touching smooth tile that happened to be purple coloured.
>This process had also wiped away your white chalk symbol, leaving it completely blank again, this time instead of being blank it was a secondary hue...
>Below the three colours, inside the box that contained the Canterlotian words "What am I?" was also now different. There was a singular Canterlotian word, "Purple" and a bunch of dashes where something else should be. A blank space inviting you to answer it correctly.
>Progress has been achieved, yet the door was still closed.
(54:00)
>>353775
>Kissy watched on in dumbfounded wonder as the first half of the answer was confirmed to be true.
>Unfortunately, it also showed her previous answer was wrong, which caused her snout to scrunch harshly against her face, rubbing it to relieve some of the pain and mild frustration.
>It would seem she may have been misinformed on the equation's meaning, but now she knew for the next series of puzzles that some fanfare would happen if she got it right.
>Why would they hide the chalk underneath the helmet of a full set of armor?
>She still didn't understand that part.
>Regardless, the mare would proceed to pull out the white chalk and draw an octagon since the only other way to interpet the equation is the addition of all the lines.
>Otherwise, she may be at a complete loss...
>Kissy watched on in dumbfounded wonder as the first half of the answer was confirmed to be true.
>Unfortunately, it also showed her previous answer was wrong, which caused her snout to scrunch harshly against her face, rubbing it to relieve some of the pain and mild frustration.
>It would seem she may have been misinformed on the equation's meaning, but now she knew for the next series of puzzles that some fanfare would happen if she got it right.
>Why would they hide the chalk underneath the helmet of a full set of armor?
>She still didn't understand that part.
>Regardless, the mare would proceed to pull out the white chalk and draw an octagon since the only other way to interpet the equation is the addition of all the lines.
>Otherwise, she may be at a complete loss...
File (): 60C89E5E59F92A51D1D989262837BEEA-22275.png (21.8 KB, 1548x751, map.png)
File (): D8B09113976B7FFE90D806287337D617-21101.png (20.6 KB, 1802x912, PUZZLE.png)
>>353776
>You felt you'd need somepony to attend to your snoot after all was said and done with the amount of scrunch action it has been getting.
>Too much scrunch is bad for a ponies health, you remember one of the University Nurses telling you.
>Dropping the pathetic nub that was the remainder of the purple chalk stick in favour of the white chalk again, you drew an octagon onto the purple square. Despite its surface being smooth the chalk took hold onto it without any issue. Didn't even make an annoying sound as a bonus.
>As soon as you levitated the chalk away another burst of magic happened.
>Blinking you saw the octagon was now sealed into the square, and right under it the text now read, "Purple Octagon".
>It was complete, finished. And so you heard a faint thud come from within the massive door.
>The puzzle that had been latched onto the doors' surface unceremoniously fell to the floor, clattering and breaking into pieces. Thankfully they were big enough to avoid and not cause any harm to your frogs.
>The door began to move on its own accord, you sensed no magic, so there must be a hidden mechanism that was opening it.
>And as it was opening it filled the chamber with the vibrations of its creaky hinges, somepony really needed to add some oil to them!
>Then again that might eat into the Universities' budget.
>Even before the door had fully come to a halt against the side of the chamber beyond you saw a large steel key sat on the floor at the next rooms threshold. You didn't need a degree to understand this was used to open one of the locked doors behind you.
>The door had stopped, yet the noise hasn't. Peering into the chamber beyond you saw why.
>And the blood promptly left your face, and perhaps even your body.
>Maybe your heart actually stopped this time.
>The room was as tall as the rest of the chambers you went through yet this one was longer than all three combined. Running the length of the chamber in its centre was a narrow walkway being suspended by what you could tell was nothing but empty air, and below it was a seemingly bottomless pit that also ran the length of the whole chamber.
>Then there were the four swinging serrated pendulums that had a mirror finish to their blades, the swoosh of them going back and forth was one of the sounds that filled your head with dread. You observed they all swung in such a synchronized pattern that it was impossible for you to pass them.
>After them there were massive pillars that slammed into each other, each time they made contact it was a thundercrack. Easily being the loudest source of bone shaking noise coming from this life threatening room.
>They too were set up in such a way nopony could pass by without turning into a red smeared pancake.
>What was at the end of this death trap of a gauntlet? You could only catch glimpses of it but it appeared to be a plinth, no doubt something had to be laid upon it.
>So this is where the budget it.
>With the amount of ruckus cascading from the chamber in front of you, you nearly missed the sound of metal rattling from behind you.
>Glancing back you witnessed the pile of inanimate armour had finally come to life, it now standing upright with its sword in a ready-to-strike position. Although there was nopony within the suit of armour you did perceive a slight shimmer encompassing the whole set. Like the now destroyed puzzle it exuded magic.
>With no meat or bone operating it, its movements were unnaturally smooth. The bascinet helmet turned left then right, as if it was looking for you with eyes it no longer had.
[1d6 = 6] >Basic Perception
[1d6 = 6]
(53:50)
>You felt you'd need somepony to attend to your snoot after all was said and done with the amount of scrunch action it has been getting.
>Too much scrunch is bad for a ponies health, you remember one of the University Nurses telling you.
>Dropping the pathetic nub that was the remainder of the purple chalk stick in favour of the white chalk again, you drew an octagon onto the purple square. Despite its surface being smooth the chalk took hold onto it without any issue. Didn't even make an annoying sound as a bonus.
>As soon as you levitated the chalk away another burst of magic happened.
>Blinking you saw the octagon was now sealed into the square, and right under it the text now read, "Purple Octagon".
>It was complete, finished. And so you heard a faint thud come from within the massive door.
>The puzzle that had been latched onto the doors' surface unceremoniously fell to the floor, clattering and breaking into pieces. Thankfully they were big enough to avoid and not cause any harm to your frogs.
>The door began to move on its own accord, you sensed no magic, so there must be a hidden mechanism that was opening it.
>And as it was opening it filled the chamber with the vibrations of its creaky hinges, somepony really needed to add some oil to them!
>Then again that might eat into the Universities' budget.
>Even before the door had fully come to a halt against the side of the chamber beyond you saw a large steel key sat on the floor at the next rooms threshold. You didn't need a degree to understand this was used to open one of the locked doors behind you.
>The door had stopped, yet the noise hasn't. Peering into the chamber beyond you saw why.
>And the blood promptly left your face, and perhaps even your body.
>Maybe your heart actually stopped this time.
>The room was as tall as the rest of the chambers you went through yet this one was longer than all three combined. Running the length of the chamber in its centre was a narrow walkway being suspended by what you could tell was nothing but empty air, and below it was a seemingly bottomless pit that also ran the length of the whole chamber.
>Then there were the four swinging serrated pendulums that had a mirror finish to their blades, the swoosh of them going back and forth was one of the sounds that filled your head with dread. You observed they all swung in such a synchronized pattern that it was impossible for you to pass them.
>After them there were massive pillars that slammed into each other, each time they made contact it was a thundercrack. Easily being the loudest source of bone shaking noise coming from this life threatening room.
>They too were set up in such a way nopony could pass by without turning into a red smeared pancake.
>What was at the end of this death trap of a gauntlet? You could only catch glimpses of it but it appeared to be a plinth, no doubt something had to be laid upon it.
>So this is where the budget it.
>With the amount of ruckus cascading from the chamber in front of you, you nearly missed the sound of metal rattling from behind you.
>Glancing back you witnessed the pile of inanimate armour had finally come to life, it now standing upright with its sword in a ready-to-strike position. Although there was nopony within the suit of armour you did perceive a slight shimmer encompassing the whole set. Like the now destroyed puzzle it exuded magic.
>With no meat or bone operating it, its movements were unnaturally smooth. The bascinet helmet turned left then right, as if it was looking for you with eyes it no longer had.
[1d6 = 6] >Basic Perception
[1d6 = 6]
(53:50)
>>353239
>Stepping through the gateway after Naliyna's thudding hoofboots, the Enclave was starting to become a real facility, setting the stack of crystal plates north from the stone.
"Hmph. I'll forgive Hodch this time, but the next.. he'd better start worrying."
>Kicking each leg out for a brief armor shake, the helmet turns back, a vaguely humorous squint visible through the faceplate.
"Been ready, just didn't know it until now. First time in two decades I feel in control and comfortable enough to take on an Argus Destroyer."
>Bubbling into view around you, a suite of short, glassy teardrops extend off the stone in a ring, minute starbursts of black-red energy coalescing inside each.
"Keep primed and make sure the stone is safe for exfil. Bubba, we have zero idea who, what, or where a possible leak could be so open fire on anything that makes a hostile move no matter how friendly it might have been in the past. If a hostile reaches ten meters ditch away from me and deploy explosives, this armor should hold against four to five hits."
>A short distance south was an overflowing series of short, low tables, ten mares in basic unadorned robes, marking them as Cult of the Dark Horse adherents, were browsing through stacks of tomes and books with unicorn levels of caution.
>The stupidly crammed saddlepack of each was partially scattered around, reference materials and guides for the most part.
>Across the Enclave's southern section were far more Starborn Lorekeepers than previously known, numbering at least two hundred and interspersed by thirty or more Crystal Empire Keepers.
>A curious section of older, darkly colored unicorns from Luna's Villages were arguing amongst each other in the stacks of safes and chests recovered from the Solar Enforcer Armory.
>Surrounded by piles of traditionally Solar materials with small amounts of crystallines, it seemed they'd been running into severe problems as nothing looked even remotely whole or complete.
>Doing her best impression of a statue to survey the Enclave, a short click is emitted from the helmet as she plods straight south, stopping next to the Dark Horse Cultists to speak in a low flat tone.
"No chatter out. Where's Amethyst Frost-Rose?"
>Receiving one confused head tilt, the remainder still as three dull red claws point south.
"Thanks. Stick to it for now. Ignore the K-Meson weapons, Remnant is covering us."
>Making a slight nodding motion forwards, Naliyna continues on her original course, head sweeping side to side in randomly timed surveying patterns.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Perception
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
>Stepping through the gateway after Naliyna's thudding hoofboots, the Enclave was starting to become a real facility, setting the stack of crystal plates north from the stone.
"Hmph. I'll forgive Hodch this time, but the next.. he'd better start worrying."
>Kicking each leg out for a brief armor shake, the helmet turns back, a vaguely humorous squint visible through the faceplate.
"Been ready, just didn't know it until now. First time in two decades I feel in control and comfortable enough to take on an Argus Destroyer."
>Bubbling into view around you, a suite of short, glassy teardrops extend off the stone in a ring, minute starbursts of black-red energy coalescing inside each.
"Keep primed and make sure the stone is safe for exfil. Bubba, we have zero idea who, what, or where a possible leak could be so open fire on anything that makes a hostile move no matter how friendly it might have been in the past. If a hostile reaches ten meters ditch away from me and deploy explosives, this armor should hold against four to five hits."
>A short distance south was an overflowing series of short, low tables, ten mares in basic unadorned robes, marking them as Cult of the Dark Horse adherents, were browsing through stacks of tomes and books with unicorn levels of caution.
>The stupidly crammed saddlepack of each was partially scattered around, reference materials and guides for the most part.
>Across the Enclave's southern section were far more Starborn Lorekeepers than previously known, numbering at least two hundred and interspersed by thirty or more Crystal Empire Keepers.
>A curious section of older, darkly colored unicorns from Luna's Villages were arguing amongst each other in the stacks of safes and chests recovered from the Solar Enforcer Armory.
>Surrounded by piles of traditionally Solar materials with small amounts of crystallines, it seemed they'd been running into severe problems as nothing looked even remotely whole or complete.
>Doing her best impression of a statue to survey the Enclave, a short click is emitted from the helmet as she plods straight south, stopping next to the Dark Horse Cultists to speak in a low flat tone.
"No chatter out. Where's Amethyst Frost-Rose?"
>Receiving one confused head tilt, the remainder still as three dull red claws point south.
"Thanks. Stick to it for now. Ignore the K-Meson weapons, Remnant is covering us."
>Making a slight nodding motion forwards, Naliyna continues on her original course, head sweeping side to side in randomly timed surveying patterns.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Perception
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.353786
>>353243
"If you don't feel comfortable using a disc then save it. Silver ones don't degrade over time like the bronzes used to."
>Anonymous slouches back into the gateway, his tone a contradictory mix of hopeful and dismayed.
"It's dead and she can repair. A win under shitty conditions is still a win especially with you being mostly unharmed. I can't figure out much on your.. daughter's conditions, or capabilities, most everything that's classified as near-Eldritch is way beyond my abilities to comprehend, let alone try to."
>Snerking at your appraisal of the heavy, smooth skinned fruit, Anon's left hand lifts, palm upwards in a conciliatory gesture.
"Too bad I can't send a few bombs to your world and take care of those idiots. Yeah, they're tropical to the T. Still, half of Razorback likes mangoes better than most fruits, partially due to batpony influences, partially from taste alone, partly from ease of acquisition. They also keep fairly well. As for me I barely need to eat but I like them too."
>Returning to the left screen, mini-Wild stares at you critically with her lone mechanical eye before taking down the map and schematic, then flopping off the side.
"If you say so."
>That faint note of petulance was eerily similar to your own.
"I've isolated the damage to my main data nodes. Only three have suffered damage, the rest I can't directly access. Until my repair systems are recovered I'm leaving them alone for now."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #8
>The armor was a fascinating blend of flexible blue strands woven into a full body suit, one that looked to be the right size and fit, covered by smaller overlapping plates of the same metal across the regions that rarely needed to flex.
>It was a somewhat complex protective style that you'd seen a number of Tartarus Isle marecenaries use, appreciated for ease of movemarent and lighter weight.
>The only question remaining was how tight it would be.
>Reaching up to tap his smartphone, Anonymous frowns behind the mask.
"I've only got five miles of range with this but-"
>Leaning out to peer to the right, he stares off into the distance for a quarter minute, then left briefly, returning to his seated position and giving the portal a brisk tap.
"Nothing I can see outside a bunch of heavy rain clouds. Unfortunately these gateways aren't unlimited, they tend to overstress if I keep one open longer than five minutes. Need anything else before I go?"
"If you don't feel comfortable using a disc then save it. Silver ones don't degrade over time like the bronzes used to."
>Anonymous slouches back into the gateway, his tone a contradictory mix of hopeful and dismayed.
"It's dead and she can repair. A win under shitty conditions is still a win especially with you being mostly unharmed. I can't figure out much on your.. daughter's conditions, or capabilities, most everything that's classified as near-Eldritch is way beyond my abilities to comprehend, let alone try to."
>Snerking at your appraisal of the heavy, smooth skinned fruit, Anon's left hand lifts, palm upwards in a conciliatory gesture.
"Too bad I can't send a few bombs to your world and take care of those idiots. Yeah, they're tropical to the T. Still, half of Razorback likes mangoes better than most fruits, partially due to batpony influences, partially from taste alone, partly from ease of acquisition. They also keep fairly well. As for me I barely need to eat but I like them too."
>Returning to the left screen, mini-Wild stares at you critically with her lone mechanical eye before taking down the map and schematic, then flopping off the side.
"If you say so."
>That faint note of petulance was eerily similar to your own.
"I've isolated the damage to my main data nodes. Only three have suffered damage, the rest I can't directly access. Until my repair systems are recovered I'm leaving them alone for now."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1: Scavenging Protocols
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #3
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #4
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #5
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #8
>The armor was a fascinating blend of flexible blue strands woven into a full body suit, one that looked to be the right size and fit, covered by smaller overlapping plates of the same metal across the regions that rarely needed to flex.
>It was a somewhat complex protective style that you'd seen a number of Tartarus Isle marecenaries use, appreciated for ease of movemarent and lighter weight.
>The only question remaining was how tight it would be.
>Reaching up to tap his smartphone, Anonymous frowns behind the mask.
"I've only got five miles of range with this but-"
>Leaning out to peer to the right, he stares off into the distance for a quarter minute, then left briefly, returning to his seated position and giving the portal a brisk tap.
"Nothing I can see outside a bunch of heavy rain clouds. Unfortunately these gateways aren't unlimited, they tend to overstress if I keep one open longer than five minutes. Need anything else before I go?"
>>353778
>If it weren't for Kissy's naturally calm and gentle temperament, she would've bolted away from the ominous armor, squealing all the way.
>Of course the armor set would wake up when she had the option to run somewhere.
>Why did she not figure it out before?
>With a steadying breath to try and remain calm, she considered her options:
- Pick up the key and try it out on one of the room's lockpads, risking getting sliced & diced by the animated armor set
- Try to somehow pass through at least half of the deadly obstacle, bait the ominous hunk of metal into it and maybe its magic will be disrupted enough not to pursue her any further
- Fight the armor set with her spell repertoire.
>Granted, there were many more little choices to review, but those seemed like the viable options.
>She wouldn't think to simply lie still and see if it's friendly when there's a time limit on her mind and no clue how long will the next series of puzzles take.
>Booboo hopes it won't mind....
>With an increasing sense of dread, Kissy would first store the used chalk back into the box, pick it up as well as the key with her magic and slowly tiptoe her way towards one of the locked doors.
>However, if it became obvious the armor has spotted her, such as menacingly approaching her, she'd instead make a run for the death gauntlet with a hopefully viable plan in mind.
>May her spells be able to keep the blades at bay...
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 2]<Basic Stealth: Oh Celestia, oh haystacks
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 4]<Master Perception: Death trap & door lock inspection on the move
>If it weren't for Kissy's naturally calm and gentle temperament, she would've bolted away from the ominous armor, squealing all the way.
>Of course the armor set would wake up when she had the option to run somewhere.
>Why did she not figure it out before?
>With a steadying breath to try and remain calm, she considered her options:
- Pick up the key and try it out on one of the room's lockpads, risking getting sliced & diced by the animated armor set
- Try to somehow pass through at least half of the deadly obstacle, bait the ominous hunk of metal into it and maybe its magic will be disrupted enough not to pursue her any further
- Fight the armor set with her spell repertoire.
>Granted, there were many more little choices to review, but those seemed like the viable options.
>She wouldn't think to simply lie still and see if it's friendly when there's a time limit on her mind and no clue how long will the next series of puzzles take.
>Booboo hopes it won't mind....
>With an increasing sense of dread, Kissy would first store the used chalk back into the box, pick it up as well as the key with her magic and slowly tiptoe her way towards one of the locked doors.
>However, if it became obvious the armor has spotted her, such as menacingly approaching her, she'd instead make a run for the death gauntlet with a hopefully viable plan in mind.
>May her spells be able to keep the blades at bay...
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 2]<Basic Stealth: Oh Celestia, oh haystacks
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 4]<Master Perception: Death trap & door lock inspection on the move
>>353788
>Key and box of chalk held firmly in your magical grasp you began tip-hoof to one of the locked doors, as you did so you quickly inspected the key and noticed it was made from the same material as both locks. Meaning it could be used on either one of them.
>It became quite obvious to you the armour set had seen you through the Underdark since the helmet was tracking your movement to the door you chose, then a heartbeat later it began sluggishly clinked towards you. There were no limbs to make it propel forward at you nor one to raise its blade in a ready position yet it was able to do so nonetheless. The separate pieces of white metal bobbed and floated in the air simulating movement, there was no weight behind giving it the appearance of leaves swirling in the wind, that didn't mean you were eager to find out how hard it could hit you.
>Seeing the armour sees you and has seized the opportunity to cease your existence made you fumble your attempt to get back into the promised safety of the Underdark, rather you felt the submerged sensation being yanked away from you like a bed duvet.
>Coming to the conclusion there was no other choice for you, you ran into the unlocked gauntlet room. Galloping across the suspended narrow bridge, getting closer to the first obstacle before you; the swinging blades.
>Fully inside the new chamber you could no longer hear the clattering of metal from the chasing armour set, but the fur standing up right along your back told you it was still after your tail.
>Stopping as close as you were comfortable with in front of the blades, which was about 5 metres, you once again saw there was no one way for you to pass by as they were synchronized perfectly to prevent anypony from going forward without getting sliced in two.
>Behind you the Diamond Dog armour continued its pursuit, in mere moments it will be within range to whack you with its still very sharp sword.
(52:59)
>Key and box of chalk held firmly in your magical grasp you began tip-hoof to one of the locked doors, as you did so you quickly inspected the key and noticed it was made from the same material as both locks. Meaning it could be used on either one of them.
>It became quite obvious to you the armour set had seen you through the Underdark since the helmet was tracking your movement to the door you chose, then a heartbeat later it began sluggishly clinked towards you. There were no limbs to make it propel forward at you nor one to raise its blade in a ready position yet it was able to do so nonetheless. The separate pieces of white metal bobbed and floated in the air simulating movement, there was no weight behind giving it the appearance of leaves swirling in the wind, that didn't mean you were eager to find out how hard it could hit you.
>Seeing the armour sees you and has seized the opportunity to cease your existence made you fumble your attempt to get back into the promised safety of the Underdark, rather you felt the submerged sensation being yanked away from you like a bed duvet.
>Coming to the conclusion there was no other choice for you, you ran into the unlocked gauntlet room. Galloping across the suspended narrow bridge, getting closer to the first obstacle before you; the swinging blades.
>Fully inside the new chamber you could no longer hear the clattering of metal from the chasing armour set, but the fur standing up right along your back told you it was still after your tail.
>Stopping as close as you were comfortable with in front of the blades, which was about 5 metres, you once again saw there was no one way for you to pass by as they were synchronized perfectly to prevent anypony from going forward without getting sliced in two.
>Behind you the Diamond Dog armour continued its pursuit, in mere moments it will be within range to whack you with its still very sharp sword.
(52:59)
>>353795
>Whorse manure, this was bad.
>Even with the prospect that she won't really be killed during this exam, it didn't alleviate the fact she was going to be sliced into bits!
>The silver lining in all of this is that it seemed slow on the approach, yet a nasty feeling of doubt still gripped the mare's heart.
>Slipping out of the Underdark soon after didn't help her morale either.
>There's no time like the present...
>With a steadying breath and a sharpened gaze, Kissy was ready to enact her hopefully successful plan against the swinging blades.
>Powering up her horn to a sizable amount, she casted the spell that may actually save her hide from the inanimate threat.
>GO GO HOLD SPELL
>She directed the spell to try and hold the blades for long enough to let her through.
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 1]<Master Casting: Hold Spell (pls work)
>If it worked enough to make it even slightly more plausible to pass through, Booboo wouldn't waste the opportunity to sprint through the tiniest of openings if it meant getting away from this daunting foe.
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 6]<Expert Speed: Nigerundaiyo
>Whorse manure, this was bad.
>Even with the prospect that she won't really be killed during this exam, it didn't alleviate the fact she was going to be sliced into bits!
>The silver lining in all of this is that it seemed slow on the approach, yet a nasty feeling of doubt still gripped the mare's heart.
>Slipping out of the Underdark soon after didn't help her morale either.
>There's no time like the present...
>With a steadying breath and a sharpened gaze, Kissy was ready to enact her hopefully successful plan against the swinging blades.
>Powering up her horn to a sizable amount, she casted the spell that may actually save her hide from the inanimate threat.
>GO GO HOLD SPELL
>She directed the spell to try and hold the blades for long enough to let her through.
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 1]<Master Casting: Hold Spell (pls work)
>If it worked enough to make it even slightly more plausible to pass through, Booboo wouldn't waste the opportunity to sprint through the tiniest of openings if it meant getting away from this daunting foe.
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 6]<Expert Speed: Nigerundaiyo
>>353296
>Realspace surrounding the Auspex twitches sourly as a series of warped musical notes are produced, a nano-chord of annoyance from the ancient Necron artifact poorly translates into Binary as: 'cease strumming THIS unit in THAT location'.
>Triple datalinks of swears, insults, and diagrams of bodily parts that couldn't possibly be jammed inside intended locations flood the local netspace in retaliation, Witch-Two calming first.
>...mostly.
'Mallia. Enter the Hangar, remove the unit from your arm, locate the closest solid metal surface, throw unit at maximum velocity. Should that not work, acquire a hammer and play HOW FAR CAN THIS HEAP OF GROXSHIT TRAVEL.'
>A small amount of data grudgingly skips across the Auspex's datalocked band: a confused tangle of names, species, and ages, approximate a ball of string that would take weeks to unravel from a battleship's central datacore.
'Both and more, Mallia. There have been no further arrivals of Nanite Age humans on Tallus save the original one. I have estimated 40-50 would have arrived during this time. Flash estimated the basic tech level to start at the Age of Technology, ending at the Age of Strife's apex. The Xenotechnologist Machine-Spirit has multiple proven theories that the complete loss of a gestalt will forcefully lock out more from being transferred into this omniverse. It is unknown how many could be in perpetual stasis locked outside their Noosphere. Or worse, destroyed.'
'first, last, and only nanite age operator. we WERE researching solutions with Spiral. since hes left you can guess what weve found'
'Fuck and all. We have zero information on Spiral's whereabouts. That alone reduced production output and research efficiency by >95%. Adding to the total strain, Inquisitor Flash experiences manic depressive episodes at an average of 19 times each week. Her degradation is increasing at a rate of 3%.'
'the 3/4 of us arent enough to keep her stable. horse pun mostly intended.'
'We are not three-fourths.'
'might as well be at this point!'
>Noting an amused refrain from the Xenotechnologist, it follows with a blatantly prayerful message:
'Tempestus Scion Chisan Nas walks by the Holy Plasmatic Light of a Solar Empress. It is the desire of our Inquisitor to see him fit with the best wargear of Her Sisters, the Blessed Poneissiah Princess Miyamori Cadenza first and foremost.'
'can you stop with the praises and help out for once? you can ogle that crazy shit later but weve got fifty thousand files to translate and format while yo'
'Yes, Tox-11. I shall aid your filing efforts.'
'Be careful with those words Mallia, batponies love their puns especially since they DO hang around. They have the ability to walk on most solid materials in three dimensions.'
>Entering the tunnel-covered stairs leading upwards, there was a handrail on either side, Admiral Dranaki spares a quarter-node of her processing to respond.
'Mostly correct, Mallia. New Canterlot is currently an Intermediate Military Meritocratic Monarchy ruled by Princess Celestia as the sole monarch of the Solar faction, she is not a regent. Five decades after the Lunar-Solar War ended her sister Princess Luna, under an alter-ego termed 'the Nightmare', joined as the nocturnal monarch. They shared a Limited Republic-Meritocratic Diarchy with some limited noble and royal privileges allowed. Canterlot is still rather destabilized and humans are highly distrusted.'
'ive searched all the local networks and our datacaches, Underprincess Prima Aurdestin isnt in a single database we have access to. shes not listed in Canterlot either, shed be in the Gold Court records. if shes directly related to Solarflanks then its likely Aurdestin is from an Equestria friendly country. problem is Celestia has had the most foals out of the four alicorns, theyre spread over a large chunk of the world and most countries refuse contact with Razorback'
'Could ask Chisan to send a let'
'NOT HIM! ANY PONY, JUST NOT HIM!'
'I apologize, though circumstances are quite sour right now.'
'last Razorback needs to deal with is HIM flirting with every human female here. including you'
'That would be amusing. And yes Mallia, I am sincerely hoping one will function as a power core at the least.'
'Constructs arent exactly Abominable Intelligence. high dimension beings, maybe a pseudo-hivemind that increases in proximity. little direct information. Flash cant stay in the library long otherwise she freaks out. wed like to study their tech, when we have functional platforms that is'
'Relax a bit. The lathe arrived and it will only take a short amount of time to begin production.'
'IF it works'
>Parsing through the microlinks by the time you reach the top stair, turning left into the Hangar proper was a step directly into an M3 pictcording:
>A wide open service platform, perfectly level of course, dedicated solely for the storage and maintenance of an aerial asset.
>To your right were rows of work tables covered in archaic yet familiar tools: grinders, plasma cutters, multiple welding machines, one small and large metal lathe, an incredibly simple electronic service cart, hundreds of common hand tools covering the walls and most spaces between the rest.
>Straight ahead were ammunition racks, the most prominent one holding ammunition belts, mostly empty, another set for missiles comparable to the sizes Dreadnoughts used, and last rolling racks for weapon pod cylinders.
>Raindrop Raspberry was sitting with her back against a bright red metal tool chest in the center, out of her armor once more and looking a bit scraggly.
>In front of her was a spread out dark brown blanket, a two-tiered covered wooden tray in the center, eight colored bottles on top, and a large sitting cushion left of it.
>Head swiveling left to offer a welcoming smile, the mare tosses a short wing wave in your direction, then motions at the cushion across from her.
"Neatest place here I think, reminds me of the pegasi towers at the old Keep. Come on, take a seat."
>Realspace surrounding the Auspex twitches sourly as a series of warped musical notes are produced, a nano-chord of annoyance from the ancient Necron artifact poorly translates into Binary as: 'cease strumming THIS unit in THAT location'.
>Triple datalinks of swears, insults, and diagrams of bodily parts that couldn't possibly be jammed inside intended locations flood the local netspace in retaliation, Witch-Two calming first.
>...mostly.
'Mallia. Enter the Hangar, remove the unit from your arm, locate the closest solid metal surface, throw unit at maximum velocity. Should that not work, acquire a hammer and play HOW FAR CAN THIS HEAP OF GROXSHIT TRAVEL.'
>A small amount of data grudgingly skips across the Auspex's datalocked band: a confused tangle of names, species, and ages, approximate a ball of string that would take weeks to unravel from a battleship's central datacore.
'Both and more, Mallia. There have been no further arrivals of Nanite Age humans on Tallus save the original one. I have estimated 40-50 would have arrived during this time. Flash estimated the basic tech level to start at the Age of Technology, ending at the Age of Strife's apex. The Xenotechnologist Machine-Spirit has multiple proven theories that the complete loss of a gestalt will forcefully lock out more from being transferred into this omniverse. It is unknown how many could be in perpetual stasis locked outside their Noosphere. Or worse, destroyed.'
'first, last, and only nanite age operator. we WERE researching solutions with Spiral. since hes left you can guess what weve found'
'Fuck and all. We have zero information on Spiral's whereabouts. That alone reduced production output and research efficiency by >95%. Adding to the total strain, Inquisitor Flash experiences manic depressive episodes at an average of 19 times each week. Her degradation is increasing at a rate of 3%.'
'the 3/4 of us arent enough to keep her stable. horse pun mostly intended.'
'We are not three-fourths.'
'might as well be at this point!'
>Noting an amused refrain from the Xenotechnologist, it follows with a blatantly prayerful message:
'Tempestus Scion Chisan Nas walks by the Holy Plasmatic Light of a Solar Empress. It is the desire of our Inquisitor to see him fit with the best wargear of Her Sisters, the Blessed Poneissiah Princess Miyamori Cadenza first and foremost.'
'can you stop with the praises and help out for once? you can ogle that crazy shit later but weve got fifty thousand files to translate and format while yo'
'Yes, Tox-11. I shall aid your filing efforts.'
'Be careful with those words Mallia, batponies love their puns especially since they DO hang around. They have the ability to walk on most solid materials in three dimensions.'
>Entering the tunnel-covered stairs leading upwards, there was a handrail on either side, Admiral Dranaki spares a quarter-node of her processing to respond.
'Mostly correct, Mallia. New Canterlot is currently an Intermediate Military Meritocratic Monarchy ruled by Princess Celestia as the sole monarch of the Solar faction, she is not a regent. Five decades after the Lunar-Solar War ended her sister Princess Luna, under an alter-ego termed 'the Nightmare', joined as the nocturnal monarch. They shared a Limited Republic-Meritocratic Diarchy with some limited noble and royal privileges allowed. Canterlot is still rather destabilized and humans are highly distrusted.'
'ive searched all the local networks and our datacaches, Underprincess Prima Aurdestin isnt in a single database we have access to. shes not listed in Canterlot either, shed be in the Gold Court records. if shes directly related to Solarflanks then its likely Aurdestin is from an Equestria friendly country. problem is Celestia has had the most foals out of the four alicorns, theyre spread over a large chunk of the world and most countries refuse contact with Razorback'
'Could ask Chisan to send a let'
'NOT HIM! ANY PONY, JUST NOT HIM!'
'I apologize, though circumstances are quite sour right now.'
'last Razorback needs to deal with is HIM flirting with every human female here. including you'
'That would be amusing. And yes Mallia, I am sincerely hoping one will function as a power core at the least.'
'Constructs arent exactly Abominable Intelligence. high dimension beings, maybe a pseudo-hivemind that increases in proximity. little direct information. Flash cant stay in the library long otherwise she freaks out. wed like to study their tech, when we have functional platforms that is'
'Relax a bit. The lathe arrived and it will only take a short amount of time to begin production.'
'IF it works'
>Parsing through the microlinks by the time you reach the top stair, turning left into the Hangar proper was a step directly into an M3 pictcording:
>A wide open service platform, perfectly level of course, dedicated solely for the storage and maintenance of an aerial asset.
>To your right were rows of work tables covered in archaic yet familiar tools: grinders, plasma cutters, multiple welding machines, one small and large metal lathe, an incredibly simple electronic service cart, hundreds of common hand tools covering the walls and most spaces between the rest.
>Straight ahead were ammunition racks, the most prominent one holding ammunition belts, mostly empty, another set for missiles comparable to the sizes Dreadnoughts used, and last rolling racks for weapon pod cylinders.
>Raindrop Raspberry was sitting with her back against a bright red metal tool chest in the center, out of her armor once more and looking a bit scraggly.
>In front of her was a spread out dark brown blanket, a two-tiered covered wooden tray in the center, eight colored bottles on top, and a large sitting cushion left of it.
>Head swiveling left to offer a welcoming smile, the mare tosses a short wing wave in your direction, then motions at the cushion across from her.
"Neatest place here I think, reminds me of the pegasi towers at the old Keep. Come on, take a seat."
>>353796
>No time like the present indeed.
>You felt your horn warm up as it gathered the innate magic from the surrounding atmosphere to coalesce around it as an aura of gentle green. You felt the metal band of the Horn Ring slightly vibrate due to this, and unbeknownst to you the ruby in the centre of the ring shined brightly with magic.
>You recalled Steel Mane teaching you all on the Hold spell, and how he went on a tirade about how useful it was and how he had to fight tooth and hoof to get the University to sign off on him teaching you how to cast it.
>Hopefully it will come in hoofy.
>Wincing in concentration, legs locked in place and aiming your horn for the swinging pendulum blade right in front of you, you released the spell with a grunt as the dangerous contraption swung clear out of your way.
>The concentrated magic bolted from your horn towards the polished blade, splashing against it. There, transparent ghostly chains materialized. Wrapping across the whole blade, climbing up the pendulum shaft and disappearing into the ceiling where you heard...not-so-pleasant sounds of heavy things breaking.
>BUT IT WORKED!
>Your legs were galloping before you registered you were moving right towards the untouched swinging blade. You vaguely felt something swipe at your tail as you ran forward.
>Not wasting time to look behind you to see what that was, as you guessed it was the still pursuing Diamond Dog armour, you passed by the second blade. It narrowly missing you.
>Skidding to a halt you turned around, chest heaving.
>You saw the pendulum got some of your tail, as strands of it whisked in the kicked up current of the massive blade passing by.
>There you saw the armour had just passed where you were just standing. Any moment longer and it would of been on top of you.
>Of course it was still giving chase.
>A second later the chains that were holding the pendulum sparkled in magical disintegration, disappearing and letting go of the blade. You heard another heavy *THUNK* reverberate from the ceiling.
>It swung back and forth however you noticed immediately there was less power to it. The damn thing was coming to a halt!
>There was still enough momentum though for it to be a dangerous obstacle for the next few minutes. Enough time for the armour to walk right into it.
>When it eventually gets there.
>Currently, you were now between two sets of swinging blades, so your plan was a success and you have made progress.
>Such that it is, in your current predicament.
(52:50)
>No time like the present indeed.
>You felt your horn warm up as it gathered the innate magic from the surrounding atmosphere to coalesce around it as an aura of gentle green. You felt the metal band of the Horn Ring slightly vibrate due to this, and unbeknownst to you the ruby in the centre of the ring shined brightly with magic.
>You recalled Steel Mane teaching you all on the Hold spell, and how he went on a tirade about how useful it was and how he had to fight tooth and hoof to get the University to sign off on him teaching you how to cast it.
>Hopefully it will come in hoofy.
>Wincing in concentration, legs locked in place and aiming your horn for the swinging pendulum blade right in front of you, you released the spell with a grunt as the dangerous contraption swung clear out of your way.
>The concentrated magic bolted from your horn towards the polished blade, splashing against it. There, transparent ghostly chains materialized. Wrapping across the whole blade, climbing up the pendulum shaft and disappearing into the ceiling where you heard...not-so-pleasant sounds of heavy things breaking.
>BUT IT WORKED!
>Your legs were galloping before you registered you were moving right towards the untouched swinging blade. You vaguely felt something swipe at your tail as you ran forward.
>Not wasting time to look behind you to see what that was, as you guessed it was the still pursuing Diamond Dog armour, you passed by the second blade. It narrowly missing you.
>Skidding to a halt you turned around, chest heaving.
>You saw the pendulum got some of your tail, as strands of it whisked in the kicked up current of the massive blade passing by.
>There you saw the armour had just passed where you were just standing. Any moment longer and it would of been on top of you.
>Of course it was still giving chase.
>A second later the chains that were holding the pendulum sparkled in magical disintegration, disappearing and letting go of the blade. You heard another heavy *THUNK* reverberate from the ceiling.
>It swung back and forth however you noticed immediately there was less power to it. The damn thing was coming to a halt!
>There was still enough momentum though for it to be a dangerous obstacle for the next few minutes. Enough time for the armour to walk right into it.
>When it eventually gets there.
>Currently, you were now between two sets of swinging blades, so your plan was a success and you have made progress.
>Such that it is, in your current predicament.
(52:50)
>>353803
>Now in a state of relative security, Kissy sat down and inspected her oh so grievously wounded tail with a small, mournful pout.
>And she combed it so nicely, too.
>Now it's going to be all uneven!
>Softly inhaling out of her pain, she once again considered her options:.
- She was currently 'stuck' between two sets of deadly swinging blades
- The armor.will either be smashed off the bridge, stop in its tracks at the last moment or sliced in half.
- One of the blades was out of commission but still swinging
- She may have severely deviated from the planned outcome of the test
>...she was probably going to be in some trouble when this is over...
>For now, she needed to ensure that armor set won't bother her anymore and secure a way back into the actual puzzle rooms she's meant to solve.
>While she had the time, Kissy would attempt to inspect these swinging blades closely as they swung from side to side.
>She had to know if their swinging arcs could be manipulated into crossing eachother while they still had the energy to do some damage.
[1d6 = 4]<Master Percetion: Can swings swing elsewhere?
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 6]
>Whatever the result was, she'd wait to see the result from the blades potentially smashing against the armor.
>Otherwise, she may need to gently coax the stubborn pursuer into the blades.
>Now in a state of relative security, Kissy sat down and inspected her oh so grievously wounded tail with a small, mournful pout.
>And she combed it so nicely, too.
>Now it's going to be all uneven!
>Softly inhaling out of her pain, she once again considered her options:.
- She was currently 'stuck' between two sets of deadly swinging blades
- The armor.will either be smashed off the bridge, stop in its tracks at the last moment or sliced in half.
- One of the blades was out of commission but still swinging
- She may have severely deviated from the planned outcome of the test
>...she was probably going to be in some trouble when this is over...
>For now, she needed to ensure that armor set won't bother her anymore and secure a way back into the actual puzzle rooms she's meant to solve.
>While she had the time, Kissy would attempt to inspect these swinging blades closely as they swung from side to side.
>She had to know if their swinging arcs could be manipulated into crossing eachother while they still had the energy to do some damage.
[1d6 = 4]<Master Percetion: Can swings swing elsewhere?
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 6]
>Whatever the result was, she'd wait to see the result from the blades potentially smashing against the armor.
>Otherwise, she may need to gently coax the stubborn pursuer into the blades.
>>353712
>Horn lighting, Krinza displays a 3D model of the exoarmor, focusing on the shoulder clasp and locking system, then compares it to several similar variants of much heavier pony styled versions.
"Naliyna showed us numerous examples of Crystal Conclave designs that we partially modeled this one off of, mostly for ease of access or exit and to maximize protection. It is quite curious they use what are called exoframes, quite similar yet far more advanced than we can reasonably put to use outside of individual examples. Then again they did have four thousand years to perfect such equipmarent for reasonable standards. For reference it takes six months to produce one Heavy Siegemare unit at a cost of roughly three thousand hours, and a rigorous selection process that ends with ninety percent of the original materials being sidelined for less strict projects. Your planet's engineers did well in consideration."
>Floating a stack of mixed soft white, yellow, and clear material bars from under a nearby table, natural rubbers or similar, Helping Hoof turns his ears sideways in minutely derisive motions.
"If that was a common problem the designers should have spent longer preventing such a glaring flaw."
>Releasing the diagram, measured humor takes over Krinza's tone as he shows a reinforced, partially modified M134 frame with a central carrying handle, revised forward grip, and an armored rear grip with a heavier trigger.
"About that, yes. These should be considerable improvements as I am highly concerned that the weapon itself could be damaged. To be fair our use of magic and native materials is not perfect by any degree either, nor is human technology the best one can get. The Crystal Empire's exoframe systems are likewise as limited in scale and production. Changeling bio-armor is equally as tricky to deal with, but at least they can shed and regrow as necessary."
"It could at least have been desi-"
"Helping, compromises must always be made regardless of species. The entire design is not garbage for what it provides: exceptional protection for a single user, at cost of course. Compare it to the system Erakoi has: far more component and electronic complexity that must be intensively micro-managed. It is a constant source of misery for him to keep in functional shape. It is also bio.. controlled. It suffers from the same issues that we all debated, AND just as quickly shelved if you recall. The pursuit of perfection is commendable and commarendable, but to achieve that is a frivolous expense of time, motivation, energy, and materials. Do the best one can with what one has access to, that is the best case scenario. Now then-"
>Lifting the weapon above his anvil, the frame's externals are rapidly disassembled, carefully pulling the armored power crystal cover off until little remained whole, other than the barrels and drive unit.
>Briskly pulling out multiple sheets of hot-formed titanium alloy, Krinza rolls them into a half-hollow additional central carrying handle over the M134's middle.
>Pressure fitting the front end into a solid connection, checking it for length against the forward carrying handle, another set of sheets are made into a large T-bracket with a U-connection at the rear.
>Setting each piece briefly on the original frame to ensure they fit, the first two are solidly melded together and left to cool in a small bubble of vacuum.
>Pressure forming a small chunk into an armored handguard, then another for an external barrel shroud, the two are compared several times to ensure proper fit, then set aside as well to cool.
>Tearing apart the original trigger, a steel-tungsten composite copy is made with little more than a few afterthoughts, checked twice to ensure exacting tolerances to the original.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Elemental Chemistry
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <GM.Enchanter
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <GM.Crafter
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16] <GM.Smith
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Runic Anvil
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <Runic Engraving Blade
[1d6+12 = (2+12) = 14] <Runic Hammer
>Completed Projects:
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Human Alloys
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Human Composites
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Scaling
>Thoroughly unbothered by the air-twisting heat, Krinza chuckles over the furnace's internal crackling.
"Naliyna tested it enough to state it was able to pick up three hundred pounds with little strain, which should be nearly equal to the force of that weapon's recoil. Five hundred with moderate energy expenditure was 'fairly good' according to her, though she chose not to 'uptune' the pseudo-muscle systems until enough data was collected. A work in progress that might take weeks to master, if you will."
>Curtailed by the grandmaster smith's placid rationale, Helping Hoof stares up at the massive coldstone overhead now expelling air downwards, then sets three of the clear soft material bricks next to the furnace.
>Skimming a set of formed braces in the air, five sheets of the more common titanium alloy are set in place, rolling the corners upwards and carefully melding the ensemble together once specific dimensions are met.
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Crafting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Eidetic Fundamentals
>Horn lighting, Krinza displays a 3D model of the exoarmor, focusing on the shoulder clasp and locking system, then compares it to several similar variants of much heavier pony styled versions.
"Naliyna showed us numerous examples of Crystal Conclave designs that we partially modeled this one off of, mostly for ease of access or exit and to maximize protection. It is quite curious they use what are called exoframes, quite similar yet far more advanced than we can reasonably put to use outside of individual examples. Then again they did have four thousand years to perfect such equipmarent for reasonable standards. For reference it takes six months to produce one Heavy Siegemare unit at a cost of roughly three thousand hours, and a rigorous selection process that ends with ninety percent of the original materials being sidelined for less strict projects. Your planet's engineers did well in consideration."
>Floating a stack of mixed soft white, yellow, and clear material bars from under a nearby table, natural rubbers or similar, Helping Hoof turns his ears sideways in minutely derisive motions.
"If that was a common problem the designers should have spent longer preventing such a glaring flaw."
>Releasing the diagram, measured humor takes over Krinza's tone as he shows a reinforced, partially modified M134 frame with a central carrying handle, revised forward grip, and an armored rear grip with a heavier trigger.
"About that, yes. These should be considerable improvements as I am highly concerned that the weapon itself could be damaged. To be fair our use of magic and native materials is not perfect by any degree either, nor is human technology the best one can get. The Crystal Empire's exoframe systems are likewise as limited in scale and production. Changeling bio-armor is equally as tricky to deal with, but at least they can shed and regrow as necessary."
"It could at least have been desi-"
"Helping, compromises must always be made regardless of species. The entire design is not garbage for what it provides: exceptional protection for a single user, at cost of course. Compare it to the system Erakoi has: far more component and electronic complexity that must be intensively micro-managed. It is a constant source of misery for him to keep in functional shape. It is also bio.. controlled. It suffers from the same issues that we all debated, AND just as quickly shelved if you recall. The pursuit of perfection is commendable and commarendable, but to achieve that is a frivolous expense of time, motivation, energy, and materials. Do the best one can with what one has access to, that is the best case scenario. Now then-"
>Lifting the weapon above his anvil, the frame's externals are rapidly disassembled, carefully pulling the armored power crystal cover off until little remained whole, other than the barrels and drive unit.
>Briskly pulling out multiple sheets of hot-formed titanium alloy, Krinza rolls them into a half-hollow additional central carrying handle over the M134's middle.
>Pressure fitting the front end into a solid connection, checking it for length against the forward carrying handle, another set of sheets are made into a large T-bracket with a U-connection at the rear.
>Setting each piece briefly on the original frame to ensure they fit, the first two are solidly melded together and left to cool in a small bubble of vacuum.
>Pressure forming a small chunk into an armored handguard, then another for an external barrel shroud, the two are compared several times to ensure proper fit, then set aside as well to cool.
>Tearing apart the original trigger, a steel-tungsten composite copy is made with little more than a few afterthoughts, checked twice to ensure exacting tolerances to the original.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Elemental Chemistry
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <GM.Enchanter
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <GM.Crafter
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16] <GM.Smith
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Runic Anvil
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <Runic Engraving Blade
[1d6+12 = (2+12) = 14] <Runic Hammer
>Completed Projects:
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Human Alloys
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Human Composites
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Scaling
>Thoroughly unbothered by the air-twisting heat, Krinza chuckles over the furnace's internal crackling.
"Naliyna tested it enough to state it was able to pick up three hundred pounds with little strain, which should be nearly equal to the force of that weapon's recoil. Five hundred with moderate energy expenditure was 'fairly good' according to her, though she chose not to 'uptune' the pseudo-muscle systems until enough data was collected. A work in progress that might take weeks to master, if you will."
>Curtailed by the grandmaster smith's placid rationale, Helping Hoof stares up at the massive coldstone overhead now expelling air downwards, then sets three of the clear soft material bricks next to the furnace.
>Skimming a set of formed braces in the air, five sheets of the more common titanium alloy are set in place, rolling the corners upwards and carefully melding the ensemble together once specific dimensions are met.
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Crafting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Eidetic Fundamentals
>>353841
"Meanwhile we had around... 500 years with plate armor, then tossed it to the side for a while. Plate carriers are kinda 'new' when compared to armor technology back home, and with the Zone we're kinda thrown for a loop in protection."
>Ivan just shook his head and thumped at his armored chest with a hand.
"Something like this would've taken decades to even try to match with our metals."
>The technological rate of these ponies honestly impressed the STALKER.
>"I can only imagine how fucking helpful Krinza would've been in the Swamps with our gear."
>Letting out a hum, Ivan looked down to focus on anything except the train of thought that he knew he would go down, choosing to empty and refill a dragunov magazine until he could suppress those memories.
>Once able to refocus on the two, he put it away in a pouch for another time.
>Watching them at work was almost hypnotic to the STALKER, a relaxing sight even if he wasn't able to help.
>Pulling up a chair, he sat in it gently to watch.
"And understandable, all we have to emulate this would be hydraulic systems. Horribly inefficient compared to artificial musculature, but its something."
>He thought for a moment, before looking at the two.
"Music's not something either of you oppose, aye? Helps me... Forget."
"Meanwhile we had around... 500 years with plate armor, then tossed it to the side for a while. Plate carriers are kinda 'new' when compared to armor technology back home, and with the Zone we're kinda thrown for a loop in protection."
>Ivan just shook his head and thumped at his armored chest with a hand.
"Something like this would've taken decades to even try to match with our metals."
>The technological rate of these ponies honestly impressed the STALKER.
>"I can only imagine how fucking helpful Krinza would've been in the Swamps with our gear."
>Letting out a hum, Ivan looked down to focus on anything except the train of thought that he knew he would go down, choosing to empty and refill a dragunov magazine until he could suppress those memories.
>Once able to refocus on the two, he put it away in a pouch for another time.
>Watching them at work was almost hypnotic to the STALKER, a relaxing sight even if he wasn't able to help.
>Pulling up a chair, he sat in it gently to watch.
"And understandable, all we have to emulate this would be hydraulic systems. Horribly inefficient compared to artificial musculature, but its something."
>He thought for a moment, before looking at the two.
"Music's not something either of you oppose, aye? Helps me... Forget."
>>353728
>Imitating the motion with a flex of his hoof, Hodch tone was matter-of-fact while Katyal reaches over for her PDW to give it a quizzical inspection from the rear.
"This may not be entirely similar but there's a number of workable examples of how that may function in Lunar Guardian records. They're called 'guide' enchantmarents, having a semi-sentience or micro-sentience that allows them to identify weaknesses or correct one's aim. Most often used for weapons, of course. There's an entire series that details Lunar shields used by allied minotaurs that had much the same except to more accurately and quickly defend against weaponry."
"Just to play mare's advocate, could that one take control of his body?"
"No, enchantmarents of that type are either relics that are no longer produced, even by Nightmare. There are some Planar varieties, and some.. best left unsaid."
"Yeah, nah, Eldritch pests are the one thing I ain't set up to deal with."
"Believe me, even the Lunars hate and fear Eldritch nonsense with equal passions. Overall, unless the individual wills such a guide enchantmarent is passive-reactive in that they produce minor bodily shifts. The few I am aware of which will directly protect or strike at will are unique, and on a short list."
*"That's.. good ta hear. What 'bout them razorvine thangs ya got back there lil'miss? Ain't seen 'em ever be used afore."*
>At the question, Dul rolls each triple-strand out in circular patterns with a pleased look.
"Riftdrowners great friends! They do things Dul think. They not think but Riftdrowners make Dul safe if bad hurts. Or if Dul not think any."
*"So they protect ya if yer real hurt or.. not awake?"*
"That right! Dul sorry, not know lots human words yet but Dul learning."
*"Ah s'pose th'lady there can teach ya some on th'way, if ya'd be so kind?"*
"...she's too cute to learn ninety percent what I know, but sure."
[1d6 = 6] <Vortex Adapt: Tallus
>Receiving an affirmative on screen, 'Tipper' emits a minorly disgruntled note, 'Shiibo' making her own encrypted copy of the recording.
"Orders accepted and under processing. Nothing for it then, I'll do what I can from here in the event of worst case scenarios. I've estimated a maximum twenty mile radius from the comm array using standard wavelengths, and the.. what did you call them?"
'Gravitational-geodesic communication links.'
"That system, yes. It's been mostly offline since Spiral left. Most high priority Fortress channels use it but there's enough interference you'll be out of contact past fifty miles. I.. hm. Sir, the previous template was highly irrational and paranoid, multiple severe psychoses being the least of those problems. Requesting permission to initiate psychological stabilizing aid for Miss Velasi Aguina on account of her unusual knowledge. Images and recordings across Razorback's open networks show her as highly isolated. It wouldn't hurt to help her, and she might have vital information on certain factions that Razorback doesn't have access to."
>Forcing the dragon heads apart in small stages, flakes of diseased bark scatter off, caught below on a flat plate of dull green energies above the floor.
>Removing each pendant in sequence, the black one is micro-teleported to land in front of you, the red and gray set in front of Katyal.
>Drifting the tiny pieces back into line with the staff, Hodch takes a deep breath, letting it out in slow, measured exhales.
"This would've been much easier if all the damned Lunar Druids hadn't marched off to Luna knows where. Wish I'd been born half a millennia earlier-"
>Stretching his burn scarred forelegs out wide, the deep purple stallion's eyes close, speaking a gentle series of entreating phrases in archaic unicorn.
>Realspace folds around the staff in calmly swirling green-blue patterns, bending the tips towards the center to make a full circle.
>Intoning a brittle word, the diseased branch snaps apart, leaving behind tiny flecks of dull, blackened mythril.
>A trembling, minute shriek starts-ends, replaced by a short, forest scented breeze drifting through the Overlander's interior.
>After the silence and dissipating traces was an imprint of forgiving.
>Dul bows her head deeply, the Riftdrowner vines coiling across her sides as she settles into an equine submission pose.
"Dul feel you hurts. Dul know. You no hurt now. You free."
>Katyal places her PDW down quietly, curiously making an ankh sign over her chest with the left hand, the right lifting to hold her throat, eyes watering while speaking in shaky Saddle Arabian.
*"...ain't nothin' right ever cagin' somethin'. Forest Gods, let'em wander rightly."*
>Pushing himself up to stand tiredly, Hodch eyes the tainted mythril flakes in sincere revulsion before twitching his head, collecting them into a small sphere and depositing the remains into a small pocket dimension the same color as his coat.
>About facing right and stepping towards Katyal, he drops down right next to her, foreleg lifting before she twists around to give him a deep hug.
'I-'
>'Shiibo' begins to speak, then stops, folding her arms in dismay at the odd sight.
'....communication channels with the OL-3's weaponry are unlocked and accessible. We are ready to leave at any time sir.'
>Imitating the motion with a flex of his hoof, Hodch tone was matter-of-fact while Katyal reaches over for her PDW to give it a quizzical inspection from the rear.
"This may not be entirely similar but there's a number of workable examples of how that may function in Lunar Guardian records. They're called 'guide' enchantmarents, having a semi-sentience or micro-sentience that allows them to identify weaknesses or correct one's aim. Most often used for weapons, of course. There's an entire series that details Lunar shields used by allied minotaurs that had much the same except to more accurately and quickly defend against weaponry."
"Just to play mare's advocate, could that one take control of his body?"
"No, enchantmarents of that type are either relics that are no longer produced, even by Nightmare. There are some Planar varieties, and some.. best left unsaid."
"Yeah, nah, Eldritch pests are the one thing I ain't set up to deal with."
"Believe me, even the Lunars hate and fear Eldritch nonsense with equal passions. Overall, unless the individual wills such a guide enchantmarent is passive-reactive in that they produce minor bodily shifts. The few I am aware of which will directly protect or strike at will are unique, and on a short list."
*"That's.. good ta hear. What 'bout them razorvine thangs ya got back there lil'miss? Ain't seen 'em ever be used afore."*
>At the question, Dul rolls each triple-strand out in circular patterns with a pleased look.
"Riftdrowners great friends! They do things Dul think. They not think but Riftdrowners make Dul safe if bad hurts. Or if Dul not think any."
*"So they protect ya if yer real hurt or.. not awake?"*
"That right! Dul sorry, not know lots human words yet but Dul learning."
*"Ah s'pose th'lady there can teach ya some on th'way, if ya'd be so kind?"*
"...she's too cute to learn ninety percent what I know, but sure."
[1d6 = 6] <Vortex Adapt: Tallus
>Receiving an affirmative on screen, 'Tipper' emits a minorly disgruntled note, 'Shiibo' making her own encrypted copy of the recording.
"Orders accepted and under processing. Nothing for it then, I'll do what I can from here in the event of worst case scenarios. I've estimated a maximum twenty mile radius from the comm array using standard wavelengths, and the.. what did you call them?"
'Gravitational-geodesic communication links.'
"That system, yes. It's been mostly offline since Spiral left. Most high priority Fortress channels use it but there's enough interference you'll be out of contact past fifty miles. I.. hm. Sir, the previous template was highly irrational and paranoid, multiple severe psychoses being the least of those problems. Requesting permission to initiate psychological stabilizing aid for Miss Velasi Aguina on account of her unusual knowledge. Images and recordings across Razorback's open networks show her as highly isolated. It wouldn't hurt to help her, and she might have vital information on certain factions that Razorback doesn't have access to."
>Forcing the dragon heads apart in small stages, flakes of diseased bark scatter off, caught below on a flat plate of dull green energies above the floor.
>Removing each pendant in sequence, the black one is micro-teleported to land in front of you, the red and gray set in front of Katyal.
>Drifting the tiny pieces back into line with the staff, Hodch takes a deep breath, letting it out in slow, measured exhales.
"This would've been much easier if all the damned Lunar Druids hadn't marched off to Luna knows where. Wish I'd been born half a millennia earlier-"
>Stretching his burn scarred forelegs out wide, the deep purple stallion's eyes close, speaking a gentle series of entreating phrases in archaic unicorn.
>Realspace folds around the staff in calmly swirling green-blue patterns, bending the tips towards the center to make a full circle.
>Intoning a brittle word, the diseased branch snaps apart, leaving behind tiny flecks of dull, blackened mythril.
>A trembling, minute shriek starts-ends, replaced by a short, forest scented breeze drifting through the Overlander's interior.
>After the silence and dissipating traces was an imprint of forgiving.
>Dul bows her head deeply, the Riftdrowner vines coiling across her sides as she settles into an equine submission pose.
"Dul feel you hurts. Dul know. You no hurt now. You free."
>Katyal places her PDW down quietly, curiously making an ankh sign over her chest with the left hand, the right lifting to hold her throat, eyes watering while speaking in shaky Saddle Arabian.
*"...ain't nothin' right ever cagin' somethin'. Forest Gods, let'em wander rightly."*
>Pushing himself up to stand tiredly, Hodch eyes the tainted mythril flakes in sincere revulsion before twitching his head, collecting them into a small sphere and depositing the remains into a small pocket dimension the same color as his coat.
>About facing right and stepping towards Katyal, he drops down right next to her, foreleg lifting before she twists around to give him a deep hug.
'I-'
>'Shiibo' begins to speak, then stops, folding her arms in dismay at the odd sight.
'....communication channels with the OL-3's weaponry are unlocked and accessible. We are ready to leave at any time sir.'
>>353786
"Eh, I've got two of them. A PTRS would absolutely be beneficial out here. An anti-tank rifle would punch through something my mosin would not."
>I'd take one out of my pocket, but idly run my thumb over it and glance around the cockpit.
"Would probably be a good idea to wait until I'm out of Wild, though."
>I wouldn't want something to go wrong and have it turned into a fixed gun inside her.
"I'm pretty sure there's a display in here somewhere that just says 'pain'."
>It wouldn't surprise me.
>Staring back at the mini-Wild, almost glaring in response.
"I do say so."
>Looking at the screen in bemusement, I shake my head a little.
"If your repair systems finally decide to behave, that is."
>Sitting back, I take a moment to think, before shaking my head.
"Have a map of any nearby ore deposits, or abandoned metal wrecks? Wild'll be able to use the extra resources."
"Eh, I've got two of them. A PTRS would absolutely be beneficial out here. An anti-tank rifle would punch through something my mosin would not."
>I'd take one out of my pocket, but idly run my thumb over it and glance around the cockpit.
"Would probably be a good idea to wait until I'm out of Wild, though."
>I wouldn't want something to go wrong and have it turned into a fixed gun inside her.
"I'm pretty sure there's a display in here somewhere that just says 'pain'."
>It wouldn't surprise me.
>Staring back at the mini-Wild, almost glaring in response.
"I do say so."
>Looking at the screen in bemusement, I shake my head a little.
"If your repair systems finally decide to behave, that is."
>Sitting back, I take a moment to think, before shaking my head.
"Have a map of any nearby ore deposits, or abandoned metal wrecks? Wild'll be able to use the extra resources."
>>353822
>Your tail was a true thing of beauty, the envy of all the other mares in your class. Silky and combed with small amount of oil your mother got you last month to ensure every strand of hair was straight, not a single frayed hair sticking out.
>Now it was ruined. TRULY THIS WAS A DANGEROUS PLACE.
>Your pretty pony eyes followed the massive girthy shafts of the swinging pendulums all the way up to the ceiling, there they were attached to the stonework by a large semi-circle gear guard. From the noises you heard moments ago when you Held the one blade you knew the mechanics of pendulum went deep into the roof. Maybe even covering the whole length of this chamber. You quickly surmised that although you could temporarily halt the swings of the giant blades you could not alter their path. There was just too much weight and machinery to do so.
>Speaking of which, turning around you witnessed the most annoying thing. The damn armour had stopped in its tracks!
>It was just blankly staring at you as the broken pendulum swung with slower and less powerful swings.
>Eventually it will come to a full stop and will act like a barrier, a wall of mirror finished metal separating you and your pursuer.
(52:44)
>Your tail was a true thing of beauty, the envy of all the other mares in your class. Silky and combed with small amount of oil your mother got you last month to ensure every strand of hair was straight, not a single frayed hair sticking out.
>Now it was ruined. TRULY THIS WAS A DANGEROUS PLACE.
>Your pretty pony eyes followed the massive girthy shafts of the swinging pendulums all the way up to the ceiling, there they were attached to the stonework by a large semi-circle gear guard. From the noises you heard moments ago when you Held the one blade you knew the mechanics of pendulum went deep into the roof. Maybe even covering the whole length of this chamber. You quickly surmised that although you could temporarily halt the swings of the giant blades you could not alter their path. There was just too much weight and machinery to do so.
>Speaking of which, turning around you witnessed the most annoying thing. The damn armour had stopped in its tracks!
>It was just blankly staring at you as the broken pendulum swung with slower and less powerful swings.
>Eventually it will come to a full stop and will act like a barrier, a wall of mirror finished metal separating you and your pursuer.
(52:44)
File (): 5FD42187BED113586FDE569932EFB67D-28613.jpg (27.9 KB, 550x262, bigfish.jpg)
>>353844
>Keeping the mythril staff firmly in his field of vision, he silently mulls over 'Tipper's proposal as the dying branch is finally put to rest.
>Feeling the parting wave of forgiveness waft from the remains, he remains seated as he clenches his gloved hands together between his knees. His voice sounds solely inside his helmet to be capture in the recording.
"May you never need to forgive a human again."
(Filth is out of reach. Accountability not possible. Need to limit human exposure before these types proliferate further. Nothing should need to forgive a human.)
>Muttering to end the recording, he spares a sidelong glance at Hodch and Katyal in an apparent reconciliation before looking forward towards the opposite wall.
"I made the mistake of choosing Spiral as the initial template. Apparently it was too similar to the original, ill advised according to Anonymous. And on Inquisitor Flash, 'Tipper' you're cleared to render any aid that doesn't put undue risk on yourself. Just make it clear you're one of my assets and she shouldn't react with overt hostility. I first encountered her in Krinza's workshop and provided information on a clone that had accessed Harlon's mansion."
>As he states this, he taps the camera projector module on the side of his helmet and verbally brings up photographs of the maps Spiral had requested. Projected onto the OL-3's interior wall, he starts assessing it while pulling up the notes and documents that had been left in Spiral's mailbox with the detector tablet.
>He gives a curt nod to Shiibo before speaking towards the forward compartment.
"Weapon systems have been accessed. Your status?"
>Keeping the mythril staff firmly in his field of vision, he silently mulls over 'Tipper's proposal as the dying branch is finally put to rest.
>Feeling the parting wave of forgiveness waft from the remains, he remains seated as he clenches his gloved hands together between his knees. His voice sounds solely inside his helmet to be capture in the recording.
"May you never need to forgive a human again."
(Filth is out of reach. Accountability not possible. Need to limit human exposure before these types proliferate further. Nothing should need to forgive a human.)
>Muttering to end the recording, he spares a sidelong glance at Hodch and Katyal in an apparent reconciliation before looking forward towards the opposite wall.
"I made the mistake of choosing Spiral as the initial template. Apparently it was too similar to the original, ill advised according to Anonymous. And on Inquisitor Flash, 'Tipper' you're cleared to render any aid that doesn't put undue risk on yourself. Just make it clear you're one of my assets and she shouldn't react with overt hostility. I first encountered her in Krinza's workshop and provided information on a clone that had accessed Harlon's mansion."
>As he states this, he taps the camera projector module on the side of his helmet and verbally brings up photographs of the maps Spiral had requested. Projected onto the OL-3's interior wall, he starts assessing it while pulling up the notes and documents that had been left in Spiral's mailbox with the detector tablet.
>He gives a curt nod to Shiibo before speaking towards the forward compartment.
"Weapon systems have been accessed. Your status?"
>>352695
>Serious faced once more, Sand tilts her ears down in a distinctly respectful motion.
"Oft seen that is, one of marely ancient powers that lie in batpony lines. More they have silent. Little is shown afore those not felt as kin. A grand battlefield Basin Village was afore Sun-and-Moon War. The Tower holds it sacred yet batponies care not for such, to sport and play they be."
>Blinking at the conversation, the history, names, and meaning weren't known to her, letting the two speak uninterrupted.
>Making an 'oh horsefeathers' face of terror, the red mare preemptively sets her head down and firmly covers both ears with hooves.
>Flinching at the first outburst, nodding a fraction at the second, straining to shove her consciousness elsewhere at the third, then grimacing at the final one, Sand Cutter takes her hooves off once the volume descends to a reasonable level.
>Sitting back up with ringing ears, the Lady Knight tips her head to the right with a pained frown.
"War Lord, act not in haste I ask. An open search will alert traitors within Razorback's ranks, or those among their allies and friends. Some Rogues still be held in favor amongst them. To caution actions must be. Should time per.. par.. ..allow, search for it I shall."
>Brightening at the touch, Sand Cutter dips her head in an honored motion.
"To the sky and stone, War Lord."
>Stifling a yawn as Ri`Vahz leaves, the mare's ears flick in contemplation, blinking from Budieca to the fire.
>Testing her stiff hind legs and wincing at the responses, she shakes her head once before lying down on her left side fully to stretch out.
"Stairs would kill I fear, pushed my body to limits inc.. stupidly I have. Sleep here I must, comfortable it is by hearth and home."
>Serious faced once more, Sand tilts her ears down in a distinctly respectful motion.
"Oft seen that is, one of marely ancient powers that lie in batpony lines. More they have silent. Little is shown afore those not felt as kin. A grand battlefield Basin Village was afore Sun-and-Moon War. The Tower holds it sacred yet batponies care not for such, to sport and play they be."
>Blinking at the conversation, the history, names, and meaning weren't known to her, letting the two speak uninterrupted.
>Making an 'oh horsefeathers' face of terror, the red mare preemptively sets her head down and firmly covers both ears with hooves.
>Flinching at the first outburst, nodding a fraction at the second, straining to shove her consciousness elsewhere at the third, then grimacing at the final one, Sand Cutter takes her hooves off once the volume descends to a reasonable level.
>Sitting back up with ringing ears, the Lady Knight tips her head to the right with a pained frown.
"War Lord, act not in haste I ask. An open search will alert traitors within Razorback's ranks, or those among their allies and friends. Some Rogues still be held in favor amongst them. To caution actions must be. Should time per.. par.. ..allow, search for it I shall."
>Brightening at the touch, Sand Cutter dips her head in an honored motion.
"To the sky and stone, War Lord."
>Stifling a yawn as Ri`Vahz leaves, the mare's ears flick in contemplation, blinking from Budieca to the fire.
>Testing her stiff hind legs and wincing at the responses, she shakes her head once before lying down on her left side fully to stretch out.
"Stairs would kill I fear, pushed my body to limits inc.. stupidly I have. Sleep here I must, comfortable it is by hearth and home."
>>353869
>This test was no joke!
>Now without the fear and panic of having an ominous set of walking armor breathing on her neck, she finally had some time to think.
>And now that she thought about it, she may have been a little hasty for running away and into the death gauntlet
>For example: How is she going to even get out of here to complete the puzzles ahead?
>What was the real purpose of this armor? Was it really an incentive to hurry up?
>Will the armor be important for future tests?
>It's a good thing she wasn't interested in fighting, because this was incredibly embarrassing.
>With a lofty sigh, she soon scoured her mind for her magic tools to enact a proper plan to stop being harrassed.
>Her horn soon lit up with her usual gentle green aura to cast an Air Wave against the armor towards the seeming bottomless pit next to the bridge to knock it off her path back to the puzzle rooms.
[1d6 = 4]<Master Casting: Wave (Air)
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 3]
>This test was no joke!
>Now without the fear and panic of having an ominous set of walking armor breathing on her neck, she finally had some time to think.
>And now that she thought about it, she may have been a little hasty for running away and into the death gauntlet
>For example: How is she going to even get out of here to complete the puzzles ahead?
>What was the real purpose of this armor? Was it really an incentive to hurry up?
>Will the armor be important for future tests?
>It's a good thing she wasn't interested in fighting, because this was incredibly embarrassing.
>With a lofty sigh, she soon scoured her mind for her magic tools to enact a proper plan to stop being harrassed.
>Her horn soon lit up with her usual gentle green aura to cast an Air Wave against the armor towards the seeming bottomless pit next to the bridge to knock it off her path back to the puzzle rooms.
[1d6 = 4]<Master Casting: Wave (Air)
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 3]
>>353798
>Mallia reacts a bit poorly to Realspace distorting on her forearm, immediately being brought back to her first and last bad experience with Chaos Psykers for a split-second, causing her to stop mid-rise along the stairs to the hangar, her hand gripping tightly onto the handrail for a second and going statuesque.
>... Then she relaxes as she receives the Necron machine's complaint, followed by an explosion of insults and epithets broadcasted live through the mental frequencies she was in.
>Closing her eyes for a moment and drawing in a breath, she eases her nerves and forces them to relax; then continues up the stairs as if nothing had happened.
>As they weren't quite up there yet, still walking up the last few steps, her Enginseer training and habits, maybe even a bit of naivète, compels her to attempt to enact a low-level interface with the artefact and send it a simple query in her Martian Binary. Attempting to diagnose and hopefully find a more elegant solution.
(Query: What about that area is causing your belligerence? This action should be routine for a machine so impressive. Enlighten me.)
(Discharge your verbal and emotional vitriol upon this servant of the Omnissiah from your system if necessary. Unless the unit prefers percussive methods of troubleshooting, retry the exloading process of high-priority scan results.)
>Then, she mentally braces herself for the vitriol of Necron tech' which was already angry. At the same time, being available to manually seek out the problem and fix it without tossing it, if the Necron Artefact permitted it; just in case it was as easy as performing a reboot.
[1d6 = 4]<E. Negotiation
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]<M. Tech-Use + Machine Link + Auspex Link
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>But there were other things to remark about as well. Witch-Two's response to her other questions draws a concerned binary remark from the Enginseer.
(There seems to be a huge dependency on a single individual from what I've been hearing. Tech', research, planning, future-proofing... Are there any contingencies?)
>She is then subsequently a bit taken aback by the next transmission by the Xenotechnologist. Mainly because it had used 'Poneissiah' and 'Cadenza' in the same sentence.
>She had JUST heard that name from the Rune Knight--whom she was going to send a letter.
(... Wait...)
>She pauses for a couple of nano-cycles.
(... Nevermind. Witch-Two still has to brief me on that...)
>Processing the rest of the transmissions from the quartet, she ends up being a bit of a background presence as she processes all that she had just received. The more she received the more questions she wanted to ask. She ends up simply storing what she receives, for now.
(I guess Chisan must've lied to me to get me riled up to shoot the one that got loose INSIDE Razorback Fortress with my M36 Lasgun.)
>Mallia returns to being active in their Link. Her empathic link transmits no bitterness, but there are traces of mild disappointment and some additional confusion. There might've been more to say, but she puts it on hold as she reached the top of the stairs.
>She slowed her steps, eyes still darting from wild thoughts whirling in her mind. But, upon crossing the threshold into the hangar proper, she manages to snap out of the metaphorical clouds and stops a couple of steps past the door. Her free hand went onto her flank as the other still held onto the box with the flowers.
>Her eyes visibly skim over the tools, the whole environment, the ammo and ordinance racks...
>Mallia's eyes shined with wild awe. Despite everything being somewhat technological inferior to what she knows.
>She also, more low-key, glances for a reasonably reinforced place to throw the Auspex at. Somewhere where it won't leave much of a dent.
>Then, of course, she does a double take as she spots Raindrop Raspberry. Immediately Mallia smiles radiantly with a glad, relieved look in her eyes, promptly taking long, eager steps to get to the Knight.
>She uses her mechadendrite to make a small wave herself before it returns to her back.
>Then, just as she's moving to approach, she looks into the cardboard box and opens the top...
>Mallia glanced over the dimly glowing flowers, looking for one that she felt most appropriate: A glowing red flower, preferably. and slows down as she carefully takes it by the stem and fishes it out into view!
"I know you said you were supposed to be taking of me, buuut~ I had an opportunity and so I plucked it..."
"Like this flower. For you!"
>She beamed with a certain sweetness, stopping near Raindrop and taking a knee down to be at their height. Holding out the flower to the knight.
>And also glancing down briefly as she sets the little box down near the brown blanket.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting."
>She says, with a mildly nervous tinge to her words as her smile becomes briefly lopsided as her eyes returned to Raindrop's. Letting the pegasus take or eat the flower before she'd sit on the cushion.
>Mallia reacts a bit poorly to Realspace distorting on her forearm, immediately being brought back to her first and last bad experience with Chaos Psykers for a split-second, causing her to stop mid-rise along the stairs to the hangar, her hand gripping tightly onto the handrail for a second and going statuesque.
>... Then she relaxes as she receives the Necron machine's complaint, followed by an explosion of insults and epithets broadcasted live through the mental frequencies she was in.
>Closing her eyes for a moment and drawing in a breath, she eases her nerves and forces them to relax; then continues up the stairs as if nothing had happened.
>As they weren't quite up there yet, still walking up the last few steps, her Enginseer training and habits, maybe even a bit of naivète, compels her to attempt to enact a low-level interface with the artefact and send it a simple query in her Martian Binary. Attempting to diagnose and hopefully find a more elegant solution.
(Query: What about that area is causing your belligerence? This action should be routine for a machine so impressive. Enlighten me.)
(Discharge your verbal and emotional vitriol upon this servant of the Omnissiah from your system if necessary. Unless the unit prefers percussive methods of troubleshooting, retry the exloading process of high-priority scan results.)
>Then, she mentally braces herself for the vitriol of Necron tech' which was already angry. At the same time, being available to manually seek out the problem and fix it without tossing it, if the Necron Artefact permitted it; just in case it was as easy as performing a reboot.
[1d6 = 4]<E. Negotiation
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]<M. Tech-Use + Machine Link + Auspex Link
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>But there were other things to remark about as well. Witch-Two's response to her other questions draws a concerned binary remark from the Enginseer.
(There seems to be a huge dependency on a single individual from what I've been hearing. Tech', research, planning, future-proofing... Are there any contingencies?)
>She is then subsequently a bit taken aback by the next transmission by the Xenotechnologist. Mainly because it had used 'Poneissiah' and 'Cadenza' in the same sentence.
>She had JUST heard that name from the Rune Knight--whom she was going to send a letter.
(... Wait...)
>She pauses for a couple of nano-cycles.
(... Nevermind. Witch-Two still has to brief me on that...)
>Processing the rest of the transmissions from the quartet, she ends up being a bit of a background presence as she processes all that she had just received. The more she received the more questions she wanted to ask. She ends up simply storing what she receives, for now.
(I guess Chisan must've lied to me to get me riled up to shoot the one that got loose INSIDE Razorback Fortress with my M36 Lasgun.)
>Mallia returns to being active in their Link. Her empathic link transmits no bitterness, but there are traces of mild disappointment and some additional confusion. There might've been more to say, but she puts it on hold as she reached the top of the stairs.
>She slowed her steps, eyes still darting from wild thoughts whirling in her mind. But, upon crossing the threshold into the hangar proper, she manages to snap out of the metaphorical clouds and stops a couple of steps past the door. Her free hand went onto her flank as the other still held onto the box with the flowers.
>Her eyes visibly skim over the tools, the whole environment, the ammo and ordinance racks...
>Mallia's eyes shined with wild awe. Despite everything being somewhat technological inferior to what she knows.
>She also, more low-key, glances for a reasonably reinforced place to throw the Auspex at. Somewhere where it won't leave much of a dent.
>Then, of course, she does a double take as she spots Raindrop Raspberry. Immediately Mallia smiles radiantly with a glad, relieved look in her eyes, promptly taking long, eager steps to get to the Knight.
>She uses her mechadendrite to make a small wave herself before it returns to her back.
>Then, just as she's moving to approach, she looks into the cardboard box and opens the top...
>Mallia glanced over the dimly glowing flowers, looking for one that she felt most appropriate: A glowing red flower, preferably. and slows down as she carefully takes it by the stem and fishes it out into view!
"I know you said you were supposed to be taking of me, buuut~ I had an opportunity and so I plucked it..."
"Like this flower. For you!"
>She beamed with a certain sweetness, stopping near Raindrop and taking a knee down to be at their height. Holding out the flower to the knight.
>And also glancing down briefly as she sets the little box down near the brown blanket.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting."
>She says, with a mildly nervous tinge to her words as her smile becomes briefly lopsided as her eyes returned to Raindrop's. Letting the pegasus take or eat the flower before she'd sit on the cushion.
>>353889
>Once again your horn lit up with gathered magic, this time however when you released the built up energy an explosion consisting of small multi-coloured sparkles filled the atmosphere all around you.
>You sensed the magic was still in the air when said air began to gently rise in activity, from a breeze too a whistling swell that messed up your mane. Horse Apples!
>The wave of air blasted against the armour and slowing pendulum, while the latter was not at all affected by this due to its mass the plate metal of the Diamond Dog armour fluttered and cluttered. It no longer had the familiar bipedal shape of a Diamond Dog, now it was a floating assorted jumble.
>It did not however fall into the blackness below as hoped, rather it was pushed back further by a dozen hooves.
>You could tell it was trying to reassemble itself back to its proper shape.
(51:56)
>Once again your horn lit up with gathered magic, this time however when you released the built up energy an explosion consisting of small multi-coloured sparkles filled the atmosphere all around you.
>You sensed the magic was still in the air when said air began to gently rise in activity, from a breeze too a whistling swell that messed up your mane. Horse Apples!
>The wave of air blasted against the armour and slowing pendulum, while the latter was not at all affected by this due to its mass the plate metal of the Diamond Dog armour fluttered and cluttered. It no longer had the familiar bipedal shape of a Diamond Dog, now it was a floating assorted jumble.
>It did not however fall into the blackness below as hoped, rather it was pushed back further by a dozen hooves.
>You could tell it was trying to reassemble itself back to its proper shape.
(51:56)
>>353944
>Not only did her mane get messed up thanks to that Wave spell, she didn't even manage to push that stubborn armor off the bridge!
>Regardless, she had to move and fast while it was still recovering!
>With a mighty puff of her chest, she'd cast her hold spell once more against the intact swinging blade to further widen her opening back into the puzzle rooms
[1d6 = 2]<Master Casting: Hold spell
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 3]
>Following that, she'd make a mad dash past the thankfully slower obstacle and see if she could reach the armor before it recovered proper.
>Maybe she can try to disleg it!
>See if it was actually going to play nice or not!
>Brush her mane back to its previous splendor!
[1d6 = 4]<Expert Speed: Sick and tired of your clanking, clanker
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 2]
>Not only did her mane get messed up thanks to that Wave spell, she didn't even manage to push that stubborn armor off the bridge!
>Regardless, she had to move and fast while it was still recovering!
>With a mighty puff of her chest, she'd cast her hold spell once more against the intact swinging blade to further widen her opening back into the puzzle rooms
[1d6 = 2]<Master Casting: Hold spell
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 3]
>Following that, she'd make a mad dash past the thankfully slower obstacle and see if she could reach the armor before it recovered proper.
>Maybe she can try to disleg it!
>See if it was actually going to play nice or not!
>Brush her mane back to its previous splendor!
[1d6 = 4]<Expert Speed: Sick and tired of your clanking, clanker
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 2]
>>353945
>You performed the spell again just like before, yet you noticed it had less power to it, much less. The magical chains that bound the pendulum blade were barely visible, might as well of been made from thin air.
>Your horn was feeling warmer too, you knew what this meant. Professor Steel Mane would tell stories between his lectures of Unicorns who cast too much magic in such a short span of time, he would purposely go into disgusting detail of what happened to hammer home the point of not overdoing it.
>The lucky ponies only got scorch marks or hairline fractures, the unlucky ones... While the results were all devastating, depending on the type of spell they were casting at the time the range of damage was quite broad. Horns exploding leaving an open wound in your head, melting off like like a candle, shooting off into the distance like a firework and worse.
>Which is why you were wearing the issued Horn Ring, though even this only prolonged the use of magic, not preventing a catastrophic fate.
>Speaking of which!
>The blade broke free from its magical binds, they were so weak they did not even cause any mechanical issues further up hidden in the ceiling. They were only held in place for 1 or 2 seconds.
>A Lack of adrenaline, the wind or a horribly placed pebble, whatever it was, you were slow. Much too slow to make it past the now free pendulum swinging right towards you with a vengeance.
>You felt your heart stop when you registered you were directly in its path mid gallop. It was faster than you.
>The world went black and white, you developed tunnel vision. Solely focused on the blade, it was horror made manifest as you witnessed it got closer.
>It was like a nightmare, it was faster while you moved at a snails pace. Unlike a terrible dream, you weren't going to wake up from this...
>...
>..
>.
>The sensation you felt next was not pain, nor the intrusive feeling cold metal cleaving into your warm body.
>Instead you felt the familiar sense of vertigo and weightlessness.
>You breathed in deeply, fresh air rushing into your sore throat and lungs reinvigorating your limbs to move. You must have been screaming bloody murder to be this sore.
>Not as sore as your hooves, legs, chest and chin. Which all throated dully with pain.
>Dizzily looking around, It took a while to get your baring's. but you slowly realized where you were.
>At the beginning again!
>And not dead.
>Getting up off the floor you checked yourself over and saw a cut right on your side where your ribs ended, it was bright red and wept a steady trickle of blood. 89/90HP
>Upon seeing this you remembered what was said to you before. The University would not allow you to die.
>Not preventing you from getting injured thus avoiding consequence was not within their forte, apparently.
>Right in the centre of the chamber before you was the Diamond Dog armour set, this time fully activated and guarding over the large key.
>Along with the chalk boxset!
>It was staring you down with its non-existent eyes, waiting for you to enter the room proper.
(41:56)
>You performed the spell again just like before, yet you noticed it had less power to it, much less. The magical chains that bound the pendulum blade were barely visible, might as well of been made from thin air.
>Your horn was feeling warmer too, you knew what this meant. Professor Steel Mane would tell stories between his lectures of Unicorns who cast too much magic in such a short span of time, he would purposely go into disgusting detail of what happened to hammer home the point of not overdoing it.
>The lucky ponies only got scorch marks or hairline fractures, the unlucky ones... While the results were all devastating, depending on the type of spell they were casting at the time the range of damage was quite broad. Horns exploding leaving an open wound in your head, melting off like like a candle, shooting off into the distance like a firework and worse.
>Which is why you were wearing the issued Horn Ring, though even this only prolonged the use of magic, not preventing a catastrophic fate.
>Speaking of which!
>The blade broke free from its magical binds, they were so weak they did not even cause any mechanical issues further up hidden in the ceiling. They were only held in place for 1 or 2 seconds.
>A Lack of adrenaline, the wind or a horribly placed pebble, whatever it was, you were slow. Much too slow to make it past the now free pendulum swinging right towards you with a vengeance.
>You felt your heart stop when you registered you were directly in its path mid gallop. It was faster than you.
>The world went black and white, you developed tunnel vision. Solely focused on the blade, it was horror made manifest as you witnessed it got closer.
>It was like a nightmare, it was faster while you moved at a snails pace. Unlike a terrible dream, you weren't going to wake up from this...
>...
>..
>.
>The sensation you felt next was not pain, nor the intrusive feeling cold metal cleaving into your warm body.
>Instead you felt the familiar sense of vertigo and weightlessness.
>You breathed in deeply, fresh air rushing into your sore throat and lungs reinvigorating your limbs to move. You must have been screaming bloody murder to be this sore.
>Not as sore as your hooves, legs, chest and chin. Which all throated dully with pain.
>Dizzily looking around, It took a while to get your baring's. but you slowly realized where you were.
>At the beginning again!
>And not dead.
>Getting up off the floor you checked yourself over and saw a cut right on your side where your ribs ended, it was bright red and wept a steady trickle of blood. 89/90HP
>Upon seeing this you remembered what was said to you before. The University would not allow you to die.
>Not preventing you from getting injured thus avoiding consequence was not within their forte, apparently.
>Right in the centre of the chamber before you was the Diamond Dog armour set, this time fully activated and guarding over the large key.
>Along with the chalk boxset!
>It was staring you down with its non-existent eyes, waiting for you to enter the room proper.
(41:56)
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 8 turns.
('Eight minutes thirty seconds until Shattering Skies enters atmosphere.')
('It's astounding a single batpony can pull that damned much weight off the Dark Side of Moon.')
('And you were the one telling me there are advantages to non-military tactics?')
('I've been mane deep in rivers of bodies and blood not even the Lunar-Solar War's worst battles gave, or don't you know the slaughters at Kenfield Pass? When was the last time Tallus witnessed blood magic like this, General?')
('....')
('You don't know how batponies are sacred and holy to the Tower Guard, do you? Before those fucking battleship landers arrive I'll do the honor of showing why!')
>Massive Spectral lances cross the paths of far more numerous minute psionic variants, unable to interact or deflect each other, the Watch General's subuded anger rising as the unstoppable projectiles slam down into 240 Lancer Guards, collapsing dead on stonework at the entrance to Basin Village, the remainder fizzling onto armors and causing no further harm.
>Counter-salvos from the Hail of Glory and Battered Shores crash across realspace, the archaic Otherworld Harpy vessel finally reaching near-optimal combat deployment while the Germaneighan copy's monstrous arcane weapons strike deep through the hosts of charging Assault Divisions, its secondary weapons flaming out after their initial bursts.
>Shattering existence in the central Assault Division charges, an entire, whole cluster of Rime crystals flash-freeze 80 of the Lunar and 54 Solar Tainted Assault Division numbers, solidly encased yet still existing.
>The frontal line coalesces into 61 Lunar Assault Tainted rushing forwards unimpeded, the remaining 21 Solar Tainted now splitting off west around Basin Village.
>Frontal three ranks of Lunar Complete Tainted physically withering under Guillotine's tech-arcane weapons fire, scorched ozone fills the Basin's upper levels at the same time deploying minor tinnitus to every pony in range.
>Focused human weapons fire across the Assault Division ranks adds to the mayhem, a rising cacophony of barely warmed up automatics adding to a crescendo of rifles, shotguns, and even rovolvers, the further additions of launched grenades, rockets and missiles crashing into the unstopping Complete Tainted.
>The Lost Legions: 62,714 Morale of 285,678
('DAMN EVERYTHING! Individual destruction's not possible now! STRIKERS! Target the Support Divisions and disrupt their cursed lances! RAZORBACK! Headhunting's useless, deploy every weapon you have for your own sakes, you can't fucking miss at this range!')
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Second Dynasty Support Strikers: Psionic Ripple Bombardmarent x 400 total
[1d6+17 = (3+17) = 20] <Support Striker Companeighs: Psionic Ripple Bombardmarent x 6,850 total
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Watch Guard Support Striker Battalions: Psionic Ripple Bombardmarent x 2,000 total
>Screaming out a wordless challenge over intensified volleys of human weaponry, Bren, her crew, Krinza, and the unicorns from Luna's Villages deliver their next volley of Void lances without preparing against backlash.
[1d6+17 = (6+17) = 23] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (3+25) = 28] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (6+29) = 35] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6+31 = (6+31) = 37] <Razorback Marefriends, 20 total
[1d6+25 = (6+25) = 31] <Razorback Stalliongriends, 10 Total
Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, 110M south of Basin Village
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @13 Speed, 170M south of Basin Village
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, 20M west of Basin Village
Solar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 13 Speed, 110M east of Basin Village
Solar Guardian Support Divisions, 4 Captains remaining @ 11 Speed, 340M south of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Solar Guardian Support Divisions: Spectral Lances
[1d6+80 = (5+80) = 85] >Solar Guardian Airstrike Division
('Hail of Glory reporting excellent damage from last salvo, under direct assault now. These.. Tainted pegasi are slowed down but they're fragging my hull at a slow pace. Offensive abilities unknown, presumed long range enchantments. My scanning systems are long destroyed, no data on how to restore them. Ignoring until they halfway reach my sarcophagus. Altering target to Support Divisions.. weapons in range on good vectors, firing now-')
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Optimal Range Vectors
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Damaged Repair Systems
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <System 3 Repairs
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <System 5 Repairs
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Main Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Armaments
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Point Defense Systems
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Weapon Stabilizers
('Battered Shores now rotating crew out, three reserves on each station and Medics are stabilizing injured. Secondaries are down for restoration, risking a primary weapon array overload-')
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Accuracy
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+25 = (3+25) = 28] <Main Arcane Armamarents: Overload
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Second Arcane Armamarent Preparations
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Point Arcane Defense Systems Preheat
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0MaxMnKLm8
>>353068
('The Green Herd have rarely been called upon during this century. Perhaps their next attempt will fare better.')
>Impassionately dismissed by the Watch Guard General, a section of fifty Veteran Lunar unicorns in the north end of Basin Village are felt preparing a dual translocation for you and Mercy.
('You joyless presumptuous pain in the ass pegasus, you don't get it! Not a single pony here is panicking, WE'RE INVOLVED IN THE FOURTH GREATEST BATTLE EQUESTRIA HAS FELT IN A THOUSAND YEARS! DON'T YOU WANT YOUR FOALS TO KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE IN PROTECTING THE SECOND MOST SACRED PLACE ON THIS PLANET?!')
('Is that why you are shouting?')
("Yes, you dumbass!')
>Snickering aloud, the unarmored teal Primal Psion turns from her station at Razorback's east end barricade, throwing a crisp salute at you with an amusedly burning squint.
"Shut that transmitter down fast enough and not a single pony here will fail to know your actions!"
('I'll even forgive you for getting Skullcracker's entire mansion drunk with half of us and our entourages there, Miss Feathers!')
>Belatedly realizing The Target that night wasn't THE Target, it was supposed to be The OTHER Target, a snap-twist of reality wrenches you from Razorback's barricade to a focal point in the sky-
>High above an imposingly tall, black Pegasi Arena, the open landing pad atop was swarmed by paired orange spheres, multiple dozens of pegasi and earth pony sized models, though you couldn't tell the distance from here down easily.
[1d6 = 4] <Angle
[1d6 = 1] <Delay
[1d6 = 4] <Height
[1d6 = 2] <Lunar Unicorn Platune: Recovery Time
[1d6 = 6] <Rotation
[1d6 = 6] <Vector
>The Constructs were under assault by thousands/b] of Nightclaw armored Moor cats, ranging from common to half-Acroline sized, and several that would have little trouble shredding an earth pony, the Lunar-aligned felines waging this battle had been for quite some time judging by the numbers of dead heaped over ripped apart Rift spheres.
>On the east side close to the diving deck was a dimly familiar Moor cat standing alone, directing the ceaseless waves of enraged kanpri-coated fangs, claws, and batcat wings with short motions of wings and paws.
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Heroine of the Moors, Rakingbay AKA 'Nibbles': Tactical Decimation
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Minor Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Lesser Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Major Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Greater Moor Cat Divisions
>vs:
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Construct Repair Minoris Models
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Construct Repair Standard Models
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Construct Minoris Scout Models
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <Construct Standard Scout Models
>Near the Pegasi Arena's center and well out of the fray, by far the largest pair of Constructs were directing the Rift's siege forces:
>Between 30 to 40M tall, the entire surface of each was studded in weapon blisters, rocket, missile, and mine launcher pods, cylindrical barrels, and bizarre lightning bolt-like arrays covering each quadrant of their hulls.
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Planetary Invasion Argus Behemoth-Destroyer Pair: ?????
>Partially shielded in the Pegasi Arena's center, a single heavily damaged, bright orange model that towered over its untouched protectors, the unit's blisters of unusual construction equipment desperately nanolathing a massive circular gateway that seemed to be partially completed.
[1d6 = 4] <Gateway Progress
[b]>Large Rift Gate: 23% Complete
[1d6 = 6] <Construct Force Number
[1d6 = 5] <Construct Force Size
>Immarense armor-shredding thuds herald the arrival of massive spike-laden Riftdrowner segments arriving in sets of three, crushing through a quartet of arriving Dominator Construct pairs and wrapping around the gateway to strangle it.
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Grand Riftdrowner Sections
>Wings snapping out and legs tucked into a wide gliding stance, Mercy ignores the frantic combat below to marentally direct you towards the northwest Pegasi Arena corner, a brightly gleaming steel box covered in small red, green, yellow, and white lights partially seen from an overhang.
('Spiral's comm array needs to be shut it down in this order: yellow, red, white, green. I'll shred the gateway-')
>Rolling halfway left and out, the Spirit Walker descends in an afterimage of bloodstained pink blurs, air cracking ahead of her as both cannons loose their roiling orange payloads.
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Dive
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>>353068
('The Green Herd have rarely been called upon during this century. Perhaps their next attempt will fare better.')
>Impassionately dismissed by the Watch Guard General, a section of fifty Veteran Lunar unicorns in the north end of Basin Village are felt preparing a dual translocation for you and Mercy.
('You joyless presumptuous pain in the ass pegasus, you don't get it! Not a single pony here is panicking, WE'RE INVOLVED IN THE FOURTH GREATEST BATTLE EQUESTRIA HAS FELT IN A THOUSAND YEARS! DON'T YOU WANT YOUR FOALS TO KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE IN PROTECTING THE SECOND MOST SACRED PLACE ON THIS PLANET?!')
('Is that why you are shouting?')
("Yes, you dumbass!')
>Snickering aloud, the unarmored teal Primal Psion turns from her station at Razorback's east end barricade, throwing a crisp salute at you with an amusedly burning squint.
"Shut that transmitter down fast enough and not a single pony here will fail to know your actions!"
('I'll even forgive you for getting Skullcracker's entire mansion drunk with half of us and our entourages there, Miss Feathers!')
>Belatedly realizing The Target that night wasn't THE Target, it was supposed to be The OTHER Target, a snap-twist of reality wrenches you from Razorback's barricade to a focal point in the sky-
>High above an imposingly tall, black Pegasi Arena, the open landing pad atop was swarmed by paired orange spheres, multiple dozens of pegasi and earth pony sized models, though you couldn't tell the distance from here down easily.
[1d6 = 4] <Angle
[1d6 = 1] <Delay
[1d6 = 4] <Height
[1d6 = 2] <Lunar Unicorn Platune: Recovery Time
[1d6 = 6] <Rotation
[1d6 = 6] <Vector
>The Constructs were under assault by thousands/b] of Nightclaw armored Moor cats, ranging from common to half-Acroline sized, and several that would have little trouble shredding an earth pony, the Lunar-aligned felines waging this battle had been for quite some time judging by the numbers of dead heaped over ripped apart Rift spheres.
>On the east side close to the diving deck was a dimly familiar Moor cat standing alone, directing the ceaseless waves of enraged kanpri-coated fangs, claws, and batcat wings with short motions of wings and paws.
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Heroine of the Moors, Rakingbay AKA 'Nibbles': Tactical Decimation
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Minor Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Lesser Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Major Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Greater Moor Cat Divisions
>vs:
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Construct Repair Minoris Models
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Construct Repair Standard Models
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <Construct Minoris Scout Models
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <Construct Standard Scout Models
>Near the Pegasi Arena's center and well out of the fray, by far the largest pair of Constructs were directing the Rift's siege forces:
>Between 30 to 40M tall, the entire surface of each was studded in weapon blisters, rocket, missile, and mine launcher pods, cylindrical barrels, and bizarre lightning bolt-like arrays covering each quadrant of their hulls.
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Planetary Invasion Argus Behemoth-Destroyer Pair: ?????
>Partially shielded in the Pegasi Arena's center, a single heavily damaged, bright orange model that towered over its untouched protectors, the unit's blisters of unusual construction equipment desperately nanolathing a massive circular gateway that seemed to be partially completed.
[1d6 = 4] <Gateway Progress
[b]>Large Rift Gate: 23% Complete
[1d6 = 6] <Construct Force Number
[1d6 = 5] <Construct Force Size
>Immarense armor-shredding thuds herald the arrival of massive spike-laden Riftdrowner segments arriving in sets of three, crushing through a quartet of arriving Dominator Construct pairs and wrapping around the gateway to strangle it.
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Grand Riftdrowner Sections
>Wings snapping out and legs tucked into a wide gliding stance, Mercy ignores the frantic combat below to marentally direct you towards the northwest Pegasi Arena corner, a brightly gleaming steel box covered in small red, green, yellow, and white lights partially seen from an overhang.
('Spiral's comm array needs to be shut it down in this order: yellow, red, white, green. I'll shred the gateway-')
>Rolling halfway left and out, the Spirit Walker descends in an afterimage of bloodstained pink blurs, air cracking ahead of her as both cannons loose their roiling orange payloads.
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Dive
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>>353078
"Fuck off!"
"Shut up and keep shooting!"
"Eat an Ethereal's dick if you're that comfortable with them!"
('RAZORBACK! Keep your figurative pants on or I will going to make sure every last human survivor is Moon-Cursed at the end of this!')
>Receiving several middle fingers before Vestal's eerie threat directs their attention back onto the Complete Tainted, it was clear a large chunk of Razorback was as thoroughly disgusted as they were riled up.
>Briefly aware something was wrong, a minuscule trace of psionic imprints, directly copied from you, cover the surface, fracturing apart in a haze of tiny white flakes.
('Borrow a pen next time. They are mightier than the sword at times according to Sharpened Words!')
>In the thermal overlay a number of Complete Tainted forms towards the rear stop, the normally hot Moors temperature around them turning black in far below zero conditions.
>Picking out a slightly larger Assault Division earth pony in the front rank, it looked to be a clone as the rest save for a few slight differences in armor style, the pseudo-kanpri plates shifting-
>And is immediately replaced by a smaller Tainted in standard Lunar Guardian assault armor.
>Feeling the deep impacts of heavy slugs exit the Spiker's barrel into the Tainted bearing down closer, the Watch General's Mind's Eye twitches in pain.
>The Lost Legions: 62,564 of 285,678 Morale.
>>353164
>>353166
"They will for now-"
>Angrily picking the object up and placing it atop the Razorback barricade, Emerald reaches down to pull her old, poorly maintained Tokarev TT-33 out and point it up at the Complete Tainted.
"Do your fucking job unless you'd all prefer dying with me!"
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Coercion
('Keep it above one thousand meters, Tainted will ignore any object that is not directly assaulting them.')
>The Reaper's flight path visibly slows on screen as you set coordinates for maximum splash potential in the Support Division ranks, adjusting for their speed and intended route.
>On screen indications of five releases cause the drone to dip before settling into a hard left, passing well over Basin Village at 150MPH.
>Mistiming their chutes the Paveways strike first, number one landing partially east and south from the charging Support Divisions, number two crashing down wide to the west, shrapnel scattering into their ranks with poor effect.
The Lost Legions: 59,639 of 285,678 Morale.
>Far better aimed, the first JDAM lands dead center in a Solar Support Division Tainted, the second impacting sideways into another while the third finds a mark, triple detonations shearing through the massive forms with little hindrance.
The Lost Legions: 46,049 of 285,678 Morale.
>Lancers separating enough to let you move through their square formations, as you pass by the Councilierge standing post on the east end of Razorback's barricade her head tilts right in thought.
('Hmmm... I accept. At a time of my choosing you will duel Emerald in a complete free-for-all, but not to the death. The objective will be to achieve a clean victory. Should you win, your mate and you will have me for a night. Should you lose, Emerald will keep her agreemarent as per usual.')
('IHATEMYLIFEIHATEMYLIFEIHATEMYLIFE-')
('Emerald my dear, the next time you think about seducing a pony other than me? ...be more careful what you promise, and never let an earth pony down.')
>Turning her attention back onto the utterly single-focused Tainted, Vestal Gardenia raises her right foreleg with a merry marey grin, taking over the long ranged combatants from the Watch General.
"UNICORNS! Show your ancestors the might of modern lineages and renew the oaths of Evalesdraught's sacrifice! Open every sleeping jaw of at the Tainted and LET THEM HAVE THE FANGS!"
>Tearing apart arcane subrealities of the Moors in layers until the deepest sections of Void spectrums are exposed to realspace, thousands of lances, bolts, and coalesced streaks of concepts loose themselves at the 61 Lunar Guardian Assault Division Tainted, clusters of pseudo-creatures arcing up and high towards the Solar Guardian Support formation.
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Day Guard Ranged Support Battalion x 1,200 total
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Germaneighan Mage Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Night Guard Combat Support Division x 400 total
"Fuck off!"
"Shut up and keep shooting!"
"Eat an Ethereal's dick if you're that comfortable with them!"
('RAZORBACK! Keep your figurative pants on or I will going to make sure every last human survivor is Moon-Cursed at the end of this!')
>Receiving several middle fingers before Vestal's eerie threat directs their attention back onto the Complete Tainted, it was clear a large chunk of Razorback was as thoroughly disgusted as they were riled up.
>Briefly aware something was wrong, a minuscule trace of psionic imprints, directly copied from you, cover the surface, fracturing apart in a haze of tiny white flakes.
('Borrow a pen next time. They are mightier than the sword at times according to Sharpened Words!')
>In the thermal overlay a number of Complete Tainted forms towards the rear stop, the normally hot Moors temperature around them turning black in far below zero conditions.
>Picking out a slightly larger Assault Division earth pony in the front rank, it looked to be a clone as the rest save for a few slight differences in armor style, the pseudo-kanpri plates shifting-
>And is immediately replaced by a smaller Tainted in standard Lunar Guardian assault armor.
>Feeling the deep impacts of heavy slugs exit the Spiker's barrel into the Tainted bearing down closer, the Watch General's Mind's Eye twitches in pain.
>The Lost Legions: 62,564 of 285,678 Morale.
>>353164
>>353166
"They will for now-"
>Angrily picking the object up and placing it atop the Razorback barricade, Emerald reaches down to pull her old, poorly maintained Tokarev TT-33 out and point it up at the Complete Tainted.
"Do your fucking job unless you'd all prefer dying with me!"
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Coercion
('Keep it above one thousand meters, Tainted will ignore any object that is not directly assaulting them.')
>The Reaper's flight path visibly slows on screen as you set coordinates for maximum splash potential in the Support Division ranks, adjusting for their speed and intended route.
>On screen indications of five releases cause the drone to dip before settling into a hard left, passing well over Basin Village at 150MPH.
>Mistiming their chutes the Paveways strike first, number one landing partially east and south from the charging Support Divisions, number two crashing down wide to the west, shrapnel scattering into their ranks with poor effect.
The Lost Legions: 59,639 of 285,678 Morale.
>Far better aimed, the first JDAM lands dead center in a Solar Support Division Tainted, the second impacting sideways into another while the third finds a mark, triple detonations shearing through the massive forms with little hindrance.
The Lost Legions: 46,049 of 285,678 Morale.
>Lancers separating enough to let you move through their square formations, as you pass by the Councilierge standing post on the east end of Razorback's barricade her head tilts right in thought.
('Hmmm... I accept. At a time of my choosing you will duel Emerald in a complete free-for-all, but not to the death. The objective will be to achieve a clean victory. Should you win, your mate and you will have me for a night. Should you lose, Emerald will keep her agreemarent as per usual.')
('IHATEMYLIFEIHATEMYLIFEIHATEMYLIFE-')
('Emerald my dear, the next time you think about seducing a pony other than me? ...be more careful what you promise, and never let an earth pony down.')
>Turning her attention back onto the utterly single-focused Tainted, Vestal Gardenia raises her right foreleg with a merry marey grin, taking over the long ranged combatants from the Watch General.
"UNICORNS! Show your ancestors the might of modern lineages and renew the oaths of Evalesdraught's sacrifice! Open every sleeping jaw of at the Tainted and LET THEM HAVE THE FANGS!"
>Tearing apart arcane subrealities of the Moors in layers until the deepest sections of Void spectrums are exposed to realspace, thousands of lances, bolts, and coalesced streaks of concepts loose themselves at the 61 Lunar Guardian Assault Division Tainted, clusters of pseudo-creatures arcing up and high towards the Solar Guardian Support formation.
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Day Guard Ranged Support Battalion x 1,200 total
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Germaneighan Mage Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Night Guard Combat Support Division x 400 total
>>353212
>Weapon streaks blurring out the metallic silver Destroyer's hull in the visor displays, the Otherworld Harpy's voice speaks with a sharply amused 'chirr' sound.
*"Rites of Destruction rage forth within Thee Lonely One grace, busied a time He shall be as Klavists shalt not suffer a beam nor plate tae be left whole!"*
>Snaprolling 180 degrees over to aim her flat top deck's point defense systems down at the moving Lunar Assault Divisions, a second freakish hail of tech-arcane weapons fire illuminates Basin Village for miles.
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,471/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Assault Vector Settings
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Optimal Range Settings
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
>Hearing a saucy kek amid distant explosion clusters east, a batmare that couldn't be more than fifteen snicker-kees.
('Not good! Lunar Guardians are too damned fast and we're not fully catching 'em-)
>Trailing off with an angry snort, a final detonation confirms Destroyer Battalion 1's complete sacrifice.
The Lost Legions: 43,049 of 285,678 Morale
>Older this time, though not by much, a rough toned Deep Moors batpony stallion mutters through the Overherd across entire lines of Destroyers making one last pun.
('Can't tear these ones apart, too solid! I'm the last one alive on this side but there's gonna be a lot of ghosts here quick including me-')
The Lost Legions: 24,049 of 285,678 Morale
>Seemingly ignored for now, the Solar Guardian Support Division's lances were angled much higher than the Kiowa, their distance from Basin Village well within optimal weapon ranges.
>Releasing a second round of Hydra 70 rockets into the Complete Tainted unicorns followed by heavy machinegun chatter, as you angle the helo down at the 134 frozen Lunar and Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, hundreds of tiny ripples underneath them begin shaking apart the flash-frozen swamp water.
>Catching sight of familiar ornate armor markings and comparing them with the internal viewscreen displays, six Lunar and three Solar Guardian Generals were denoted as immobile enemy VIP's, and they were not happy to see you.
The Lost Legions: 22,664 of 285,678 Morale
[1d6 = 1] <?????
>A streak of white-blue-red-yellow-orange-green erupts from Basin Village's central translocation matrice, an earth pony mare composed of energies disturbingly similar to Anti; in response the entire Overherd bends away from the cursed form.
('I am High-General Broken Hoof of the Second Dynasty, corrupted by the Otherworld Bane weapons delivered by Stalliongrad's Impure Sisters to my dam Safflower Trot! All whom hear my words know this: tonight I take my first and my last breaths! No longer will I be locked away from this, my home world! Now make a path that I may die with a few shreds of honor intact!')
[1d6 = 5] <Time Remaining
>Weapon streaks blurring out the metallic silver Destroyer's hull in the visor displays, the Otherworld Harpy's voice speaks with a sharply amused 'chirr' sound.
*"Rites of Destruction rage forth within Thee Lonely One grace, busied a time He shall be as Klavists shalt not suffer a beam nor plate tae be left whole!"*
>Snaprolling 180 degrees over to aim her flat top deck's point defense systems down at the moving Lunar Assault Divisions, a second freakish hail of tech-arcane weapons fire illuminates Basin Village for miles.
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,471/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Assault Vector Settings
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Optimal Range Settings
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
>Hearing a saucy kek amid distant explosion clusters east, a batmare that couldn't be more than fifteen snicker-kees.
('Not good! Lunar Guardians are too damned fast and we're not fully catching 'em-)
>Trailing off with an angry snort, a final detonation confirms Destroyer Battalion 1's complete sacrifice.
The Lost Legions: 43,049 of 285,678 Morale
>Older this time, though not by much, a rough toned Deep Moors batpony stallion mutters through the Overherd across entire lines of Destroyers making one last pun.
('Can't tear these ones apart, too solid! I'm the last one alive on this side but there's gonna be a lot of ghosts here quick including me-')
The Lost Legions: 24,049 of 285,678 Morale
>Seemingly ignored for now, the Solar Guardian Support Division's lances were angled much higher than the Kiowa, their distance from Basin Village well within optimal weapon ranges.
>Releasing a second round of Hydra 70 rockets into the Complete Tainted unicorns followed by heavy machinegun chatter, as you angle the helo down at the 134 frozen Lunar and Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, hundreds of tiny ripples underneath them begin shaking apart the flash-frozen swamp water.
>Catching sight of familiar ornate armor markings and comparing them with the internal viewscreen displays, six Lunar and three Solar Guardian Generals were denoted as immobile enemy VIP's, and they were not happy to see you.
The Lost Legions: 22,664 of 285,678 Morale
[1d6 = 1] <?????
>A streak of white-blue-red-yellow-orange-green erupts from Basin Village's central translocation matrice, an earth pony mare composed of energies disturbingly similar to Anti; in response the entire Overherd bends away from the cursed form.
('I am High-General Broken Hoof of the Second Dynasty, corrupted by the Otherworld Bane weapons delivered by Stalliongrad's Impure Sisters to my dam Safflower Trot! All whom hear my words know this: tonight I take my first and my last breaths! No longer will I be locked away from this, my home world! Now make a path that I may die with a few shreds of honor intact!')
[1d6 = 5] <Time Remaining
>>353962
>>353966
>>353970
>>353972
>Still tired of the entirely too happy Support Striker General, Sunny replied, barely managing to conceal her disgust just as the unicorns translocated her.
('Perhaps focus on winning the battle first before celebrating it as great.')
>She cast a sidelong glance at the primal psion saluting her for... Whatever reason.
('You must have me confused for somepony else. That's a very common name.')
>She didn't, and it wasn't, but she wasn't going to admit that.
>Then, she was flailing in mid-air.
>Oh, come on!
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] < M. Reaction Speed
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>Sunny felt gravity reasserting itself as she began to drop from what she guessed was forty meters in the air, snapping her wings open after turning her head, eyes, ears and nose in every direction she could to reorient herself.
>She couldn't fly, but she could glide, if one would call what she did gliding. First letting herself fall, then quickly angling up her descent, Sunny touched back down on the ground and made a beeline for the relay.
('Copy.')
>Yellow, red, white, green. She eyeballed the relay as she approached, decidedly avoiding any contact with the constructs, allowing the Lunar Felines and now Mercy to draw their ire so she could do what she needed to do.
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] < B. Perception
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>Sunny spared a thought for the fallen felines.
>This was a mess, and if Mercy couldn't take down the gateway soon, it would get worse.
>>353078
>>353087
>>353164
>>353165
>>353166
>>353212
>She directed a thought back to the village defense, they should know what's happening if they didn't already.
('Construct forces already present at the arena and engaged with Lunar feline units. One construction unit, one Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair, and assorted repair and scout models. Gateway construction in progress, approximately twenty percent complete.')
>>353966
>>353970
>>353972
>Still tired of the entirely too happy Support Striker General, Sunny replied, barely managing to conceal her disgust just as the unicorns translocated her.
('Perhaps focus on winning the battle first before celebrating it as great.')
>She cast a sidelong glance at the primal psion saluting her for... Whatever reason.
('You must have me confused for somepony else. That's a very common name.')
>She didn't, and it wasn't, but she wasn't going to admit that.
>Then, she was flailing in mid-air.
>Oh, come on!
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] < M. Reaction Speed
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>Sunny felt gravity reasserting itself as she began to drop from what she guessed was forty meters in the air, snapping her wings open after turning her head, eyes, ears and nose in every direction she could to reorient herself.
>She couldn't fly, but she could glide, if one would call what she did gliding. First letting herself fall, then quickly angling up her descent, Sunny touched back down on the ground and made a beeline for the relay.
('Copy.')
>Yellow, red, white, green. She eyeballed the relay as she approached, decidedly avoiding any contact with the constructs, allowing the Lunar Felines and now Mercy to draw their ire so she could do what she needed to do.
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] < B. Perception
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>Sunny spared a thought for the fallen felines.
>This was a mess, and if Mercy couldn't take down the gateway soon, it would get worse.
>>353078
>>353087
>>353164
>>353165
>>353166
>>353212
>She directed a thought back to the village defense, they should know what's happening if they didn't already.
('Construct forces already present at the arena and engaged with Lunar feline units. One construction unit, one Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair, and assorted repair and scout models. Gateway construction in progress, approximately twenty percent complete.')
File (): 9A6824C911DDF79FE0062672FBFE289D-17914.jpg (17.5 KB, 197x473, when you pun.jpg)
Master Aligned Valor: +8 for 1 turns to combat, +1 to movement
Master M.o.S: +2 for 2 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>353962
>>353966
>Lont acknowledged the Generals' orders to Fire-At-Will by patting down his pouches to check where he put the rest of his Livermorium ammo, he had some more on him for sure. Would it be enough? He did not know. He would resort to using buckshot or even his revolver.
>"At least its chambered in Lightning and Void elements."
>By the time he'd need his side arm the Tainted would be on top of them all, so he would definitely be in range.
>>353970
>He did not respond to the other Operators, he merely released a steady exhale from his nostrils as he glared down the Tainted as the Wish Disc broke apart into flakes of frost.
('Duly noted. Should I assume its the Overherds' doing that you know what Wish Discs are and how they are used?')
>He thought aloud as he watched as the Tainted before him were instantly frozen solid by Rime. Will be a hassle to deal with after this was over but he was content with them being an obstacle for the other giant undead masses.
>Witnessing them all being frozen solid It reminded him of his interaction with Shining Armour and how badly things would of been if the stallion did not give him a friendly warning of his innate condition. He would not be here that is for sure, and missing an arm.
>Spotting the smaller Lunar Tainted emerging, the winged Operator hefted his Spiker back into place and took careful aim.
>Although they were not the type of giants he was used to fighting, and aiming for vital spots like joints was apparently pointless, he could not ignore his training.
"Should of followed the example set by your peers, and cool off!"
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >U.Punmancy +P.L
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] >E.Perception +P.L
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
>>353972
>Lont turned looked back, wings fluttering and spasming at Broken Hoofs entrance. A chill ran up his spine and it was not from the Rime, a familiar tinge of dread sat in the pit of his stomach. He was reminded of the man made monsters that were Psion Mech Suits back on Ferrundus, and how after all these years and on a different world in a wholly separate reality he could still feel their otherworldly touch on his mind.
>Broken Hoof however was different, enough for disbelief to turn into admiration at her conviction. What was one more honourable death this night?
('Good luck, die well.')
>He would of gladly fought against his fears to give her a final snoot boop instead of some grim farewell, yet it was all he could do for now.
>>353974
"WHAT?!"
('WHAT?!')
>He was taken aback. The Constructs were already here? Yes not in full force, but here, now. How the hell did no one notice, and fighting felines? Moor Cats?
>His wings burst out to their full length with pinions spread apart, the subsequent pain pulsing across his back brought him to his senses.
>Lont hoped the Ethereal and Empire units would arrive soon.
"What a night."
Master M.o.S: +2 for 2 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>353962
>>353966
>Lont acknowledged the Generals' orders to Fire-At-Will by patting down his pouches to check where he put the rest of his Livermorium ammo, he had some more on him for sure. Would it be enough? He did not know. He would resort to using buckshot or even his revolver.
>"At least its chambered in Lightning and Void elements."
>By the time he'd need his side arm the Tainted would be on top of them all, so he would definitely be in range.
>>353970
>He did not respond to the other Operators, he merely released a steady exhale from his nostrils as he glared down the Tainted as the Wish Disc broke apart into flakes of frost.
('Duly noted. Should I assume its the Overherds' doing that you know what Wish Discs are and how they are used?')
>He thought aloud as he watched as the Tainted before him were instantly frozen solid by Rime. Will be a hassle to deal with after this was over but he was content with them being an obstacle for the other giant undead masses.
>Witnessing them all being frozen solid It reminded him of his interaction with Shining Armour and how badly things would of been if the stallion did not give him a friendly warning of his innate condition. He would not be here that is for sure, and missing an arm.
>Spotting the smaller Lunar Tainted emerging, the winged Operator hefted his Spiker back into place and took careful aim.
>Although they were not the type of giants he was used to fighting, and aiming for vital spots like joints was apparently pointless, he could not ignore his training.
"Should of followed the example set by your peers, and cool off!"
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >U.Punmancy +P.L
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] >E.Perception +P.L
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
>>353972
>Lont turned looked back, wings fluttering and spasming at Broken Hoofs entrance. A chill ran up his spine and it was not from the Rime, a familiar tinge of dread sat in the pit of his stomach. He was reminded of the man made monsters that were Psion Mech Suits back on Ferrundus, and how after all these years and on a different world in a wholly separate reality he could still feel their otherworldly touch on his mind.
>Broken Hoof however was different, enough for disbelief to turn into admiration at her conviction. What was one more honourable death this night?
('Good luck, die well.')
>He would of gladly fought against his fears to give her a final snoot boop instead of some grim farewell, yet it was all he could do for now.
>>353974
"WHAT?!"
('WHAT?!')
>He was taken aback. The Constructs were already here? Yes not in full force, but here, now. How the hell did no one notice, and fighting felines? Moor Cats?
>His wings burst out to their full length with pinions spread apart, the subsequent pain pulsing across his back brought him to his senses.
>Lont hoped the Ethereal and Empire units would arrive soon.
"What a night."
>>353783
>As Bubba followed behind her, he gripped his rifle righter and walked straighter, taking a moment as the two went to affix bayonet.
"Everything's loaded and off of safe. I'm not planning on hesitating here."
>For the first time in a long while, Bubba was truly calm.
>Briefly patting his holster, he'd be reassured that everything was in place as the two appeared into the Enclave.
>Taking a look around as he let her take the lead, Bubba would take in what he could.
>Nodding, he'd resume following after her.
[1d6 = 3] >M. Perception
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]
>As Bubba followed behind her, he gripped his rifle righter and walked straighter, taking a moment as the two went to affix bayonet.
"Everything's loaded and off of safe. I'm not planning on hesitating here."
>For the first time in a long while, Bubba was truly calm.
>Briefly patting his holster, he'd be reassured that everything was in place as the two appeared into the Enclave.
>Taking a look around as he let her take the lead, Bubba would take in what he could.
>Nodding, he'd resume following after her.
[1d6 = 3] >M. Perception
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]
>>353946
>Kissy's previous fright at the imminence of her death caused her eyes to shrink into pinpricks.
>How could the-
>y let this...
>...oh...
>So there's some sort of respawning anchor of some kind to keep her from actually dying
>No wonder they put that large gauntlet at the end.
>Speaking of: How is a single unicorn trainee supposed to beat this thing in the first place with seven spells?
>Booboo must be missing something!
>Did she enroll in the military branch by accident?!
>Has she failed the test already?!
>She's a healer, for Celestia's sake!
>Before she lost her cool any further, Kissy took a couple of steadying, deep breaths.
>Clearly, the pressure from both metaphorically dying and teetering closer to failing this final exam was getting to her.
>She didn't even get any actual medicine classes, come to think of it.
>Quickly shaking off such random tangents, the unicorn opted to simply step into the room and see if it actually tried to slice at her.
>No more panicking.
>No more danger
>Now it's time to properly understand the rules of the test.
>Kissy's previous fright at the imminence of her death caused her eyes to shrink into pinpricks.
>How could the-
>y let this...
>...oh...
>So there's some sort of respawning anchor of some kind to keep her from actually dying
>No wonder they put that large gauntlet at the end.
>Speaking of: How is a single unicorn trainee supposed to beat this thing in the first place with seven spells?
>Booboo must be missing something!
>Did she enroll in the military branch by accident?!
>Has she failed the test already?!
>She's a healer, for Celestia's sake!
>Before she lost her cool any further, Kissy took a couple of steadying, deep breaths.
>Clearly, the pressure from both metaphorically dying and teetering closer to failing this final exam was getting to her.
>She didn't even get any actual medicine classes, come to think of it.
>Quickly shaking off such random tangents, the unicorn opted to simply step into the room and see if it actually tried to slice at her.
>No more panicking.
>No more danger
>Now it's time to properly understand the rules of the test.
>>354498
>After taking the time to have a needed breather, you were no longer disorientated by your near-immediate death experience with a giant blade.
>Upon taking a single hoof into the chamber proper the set of armour grew more animated, no longer just floating there in the air it now clumsily marched towards you. Its rattling steps filling the entire chamber like before, as it marched towards you it left behind the key unguarded.
>And the chalk too.
>Watching the pile of shiny scrap come closer you remember that the Horn Ring you wore extended your casting potential, without it you would not be able to cast as many spells. The University must be expecting you to use so many spells within the confines of this test, or less.
>You also realize you have not cast any spells against the Diamond Dog armour yet, curiously enough.
(41:48)
>After taking the time to have a needed breather, you were no longer disorientated by your near-immediate death experience with a giant blade.
>Upon taking a single hoof into the chamber proper the set of armour grew more animated, no longer just floating there in the air it now clumsily marched towards you. Its rattling steps filling the entire chamber like before, as it marched towards you it left behind the key unguarded.
>And the chalk too.
>Watching the pile of shiny scrap come closer you remember that the Horn Ring you wore extended your casting potential, without it you would not be able to cast as many spells. The University must be expecting you to use so many spells within the confines of this test, or less.
>You also realize you have not cast any spells against the Diamond Dog armour yet, curiously enough.
(41:48)
>>354554
>Strange.
>Kissy recalled trying to use the Wave spell on it, which didn't really do much to it aside from stunning it a bit.
>Certainly not enough to actually take it down for good
>As far as she knew, she didn't have any sort of magic tools to dispel whatever is animating the guard.
>Come to think of it, she hasn't even seen if it'd try to swing at her in the first place.
>Regardless, she'd try to cast a simple water Bolt spell in the hopes the moisture can rust up the armor pieces
[1d6}<Master Casting: Water Bolt
]1d6]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 3]
>Strange.
>Kissy recalled trying to use the Wave spell on it, which didn't really do much to it aside from stunning it a bit.
>Certainly not enough to actually take it down for good
>As far as she knew, she didn't have any sort of magic tools to dispel whatever is animating the guard.
>Come to think of it, she hasn't even seen if it'd try to swing at her in the first place.
>Regardless, she'd try to cast a simple water Bolt spell in the hopes the moisture can rust up the armor pieces
[1d6}<Master Casting: Water Bolt
]1d6]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 3]
>>353972
>Clemency watches the Guillotine as it rolls to fire its point defense systems, still in awe of the immense firepower it's unleashing
>It reminded Clem of the superweapons back home, only instead of bristling with AA guns, its bristling with energy weapons
>"Ornate armor...there they are."
>Banking and turning the helo around, Clemency began angling the aircraft and aims the Hellfires as best as he could
*"Jeff, I spot nine generals in the rime. 3 Solar, 6 Lunar. Aiming Hellfires for the Solar Generals."*
>Reckoned as best as he can, Clemency fires off two Hellfires at two of of the frozen Solar Generals
>He didn't even bother with the machine guns as he turns away after seeing the missiles splash
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
>He instinctually gasped as he saw the streak of light coming from the matrice
>It reminded him of the M.S.O.L.G's TLS, only in reverse
>And he purposefully gasped when he saw the Overherd bend away form it and the defense lines try to part for the being
>At least he's up here, Clem thought to himself
>>353974
>His thoughts were soon interrupted by Sunny's report
>Constructs where finally in the area
>And they're constructing a gateway
>As much as he wants to head towards them and launch Hellfires at the thing, Clemency decides against it
>Things might hijack his helo, missiles...
>Hell, even his helmet
>Instead, Clemency preps another strafing run onto the frozen generals if they are still there
>Clemency watches the Guillotine as it rolls to fire its point defense systems, still in awe of the immense firepower it's unleashing
>It reminded Clem of the superweapons back home, only instead of bristling with AA guns, its bristling with energy weapons
>"Ornate armor...there they are."
>Banking and turning the helo around, Clemency began angling the aircraft and aims the Hellfires as best as he could
*"Jeff, I spot nine generals in the rime. 3 Solar, 6 Lunar. Aiming Hellfires for the Solar Generals."*
>Reckoned as best as he can, Clemency fires off two Hellfires at two of of the frozen Solar Generals
>He didn't even bother with the machine guns as he turns away after seeing the missiles splash
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
>He instinctually gasped as he saw the streak of light coming from the matrice
>It reminded him of the M.S.O.L.G's TLS, only in reverse
>And he purposefully gasped when he saw the Overherd bend away form it and the defense lines try to part for the being
>At least he's up here, Clem thought to himself
>>353974
>His thoughts were soon interrupted by Sunny's report
>Constructs where finally in the area
>And they're constructing a gateway
>As much as he wants to head towards them and launch Hellfires at the thing, Clemency decides against it
>Things might hijack his helo, missiles...
>Hell, even his helmet
>Instead, Clemency preps another strafing run onto the frozen generals if they are still there
>>354592
>>354594
>Again you felt the same sensation as before with the other spells you've cast, however this time the gathered swirling magic around your horn had a moist disposition to it. Coincidently the air around you became quite dry, so too did your mouth as you aimed for the walking armour.
>When you were up close to the Diamond Dog plate you saw it was of high quality white metal with gold filigree around its edges, it wouldn't rust after a singular bolt of water. striping the gold off maybe, but no rusting, especially unsalted water.
>By the time you were about to fire off the Bolt of water the armour was still marching right towards you, sword raised and ready to strike you.
>though you estimated it would of taken 30 seconds to reach you from its start position at the centre of the chamber.
>With an audible **SPLOOSH** the bolt of watery magic shot off towards the encroaching armour.
>A heartbeat later it hit right on chest plate with a reverberating sound as if somepony hit a musical instrument, the impact sent water showering in all directions even tiny droplets peppering your snout.
>The force of the spell sent it skidding by several hooves backwards, its Diamond Dog form losing cohesion for a moment. 11/??HP
>From this distance you could see there was no dent made to it, not even the filigree was disturbed... With no meat or bone moving the metal suit, therefore no mass behind it, it was quite easy to push it about with the right spells you observed.
>Regaining its composure it once again stomped towards you, this time its armour glistening wet.
(41:46)
>>354594
>Again you felt the same sensation as before with the other spells you've cast, however this time the gathered swirling magic around your horn had a moist disposition to it. Coincidently the air around you became quite dry, so too did your mouth as you aimed for the walking armour.
>When you were up close to the Diamond Dog plate you saw it was of high quality white metal with gold filigree around its edges, it wouldn't rust after a singular bolt of water. striping the gold off maybe, but no rusting, especially unsalted water.
>By the time you were about to fire off the Bolt of water the armour was still marching right towards you, sword raised and ready to strike you.
>though you estimated it would of taken 30 seconds to reach you from its start position at the centre of the chamber.
>With an audible **SPLOOSH** the bolt of watery magic shot off towards the encroaching armour.
>A heartbeat later it hit right on chest plate with a reverberating sound as if somepony hit a musical instrument, the impact sent water showering in all directions even tiny droplets peppering your snout.
>The force of the spell sent it skidding by several hooves backwards, its Diamond Dog form losing cohesion for a moment. 11/??HP
>From this distance you could see there was no dent made to it, not even the filigree was disturbed... With no meat or bone moving the metal suit, therefore no mass behind it, it was quite easy to push it about with the right spells you observed.
>Regaining its composure it once again stomped towards you, this time its armour glistening wet.
(41:46)
>>353568
>Puffing her cheeks out and giving a short 'I'll wait' motion, Lime Ruby's eyes flicker in humor.
"I know the feeling, my ink sticks would be inside cooking pans since they broke easy or they'd get lost among bottles. Could never remember where they were at the best of times. I bet my saddlepack's still stuck on a Ringed Inland Sea shelf somewhere. Unless somepony found it but I doubt that's happened."
"Might want to have some copies made. The Library here is good size but I doubt it has the full Crystal Kingdom Era series on the Rift Plane and Constructs. Or the translations. Getting some Conclave Knights or a Kingdom Warden squadrun would be a great start, one in four is always a Lorekeeper."
>Sitting back to rub her snout, she lifts her shoulders halfway, then stops, giving a partially confused look.
"It's not exactly blood. Does it act like how we think blood works? To a certain point, yes. But also no? Few centuries ago I watched a Starblazer Behemoth that was ripped in half after its pair was separated thawing, figured I'd watch it. The blood was used to rebuild portions of it's hull, internal parts, pieces, and weapons. Smallest piece I could see took a minute, cluster pod was twenty minutes, entire hull was around fifty hours. Then again those ones are about a quarter the size of this house.
Complexity increases time of course, and it was still partially forzen, but what's really bizarre is the fact it's blood could become anything, almost at will. It also stores physical heat so they can function normally in extreme cold. Except for being around Rime deposits of course. As for reproduction-"
>Pursing her lips with a thoughtful tone, Lime frowns down at the bed.
"Possibly? Don't quote me on that yet. During the Conclave Era there were a lot of counter-invasions into the Rift Plane. Problem was and still is Crystal ponies can't understand most of what's in there, same with unicorns and psions. Lots of reports stated infiltrators watched pairs being constructed by pairs of machines so huge they couldn't figure out where the sides, top, or bottom are
There's an Assault-Raid-Crusade force that live in Ice Floe Fort year round, mostly Killknights. They're dangerous to be around since their bodies emit huge amounts of Rime, it's basically like Eldritch ice. Rest are Crystalline Shells, some Crystal Revenants, a few Elemarental Plane of Ice allies, but no Ethereals. Some of them are sure to know more but that's not exactly an easy place to access."
>Shifting to a more reasonable seated position, Lime Ruby presses her front hooves together with a subdued grin.
"Ka is the more correct way of saying 'soul'. In other words, ka is everything that isn't the physical body. What isn't physical gets condensed into a single mostly-non-physical existence. Memory, consciousness, skills, talents, my senses, basically the concept of 'me' as a whole.
I can't use Crystal Runes to interact with Tallus the same way as I could when alive but instead I can deal with Spectrals, or Planar, Eldritch, and Void beings on equal ground. Makes my job a lot easier."
>Unmoving for a bit to process the information, the mare's ears flick up before shaking her head.
"Part of me doubts it'd be truly abandoned. Sounds like that's one of numerous isolated locations. You'd never build an experimarent lab or research center next to another one, they'd be spread out. Or indirectly connected. Did you find any notes on what they were studying there?
As for the URA itself you'd have better luck asking around, haven't been in that region since access was revoked. Still.. that amount of power is infectious. Not even Crystal ponies are immune to the idea of using Rift technology since it doesn't degrade or fall apart with age. Immune to Tallus entropy too. Weapons, armors, parts, pieces, can all be swapped back and forth without much problem."
>Rolling her eyes in the first touch of irritation you'd seen so far, she slumps forwards with a grating sigh.
"Already gave it to him but he said I don't exist, called me a hallucination. Went and talked to his mare instead, she'll hopefully sort it out."
>Puffing her cheeks out and giving a short 'I'll wait' motion, Lime Ruby's eyes flicker in humor.
"I know the feeling, my ink sticks would be inside cooking pans since they broke easy or they'd get lost among bottles. Could never remember where they were at the best of times. I bet my saddlepack's still stuck on a Ringed Inland Sea shelf somewhere. Unless somepony found it but I doubt that's happened."
"Might want to have some copies made. The Library here is good size but I doubt it has the full Crystal Kingdom Era series on the Rift Plane and Constructs. Or the translations. Getting some Conclave Knights or a Kingdom Warden squadrun would be a great start, one in four is always a Lorekeeper."
>Sitting back to rub her snout, she lifts her shoulders halfway, then stops, giving a partially confused look.
"It's not exactly blood. Does it act like how we think blood works? To a certain point, yes. But also no? Few centuries ago I watched a Starblazer Behemoth that was ripped in half after its pair was separated thawing, figured I'd watch it. The blood was used to rebuild portions of it's hull, internal parts, pieces, and weapons. Smallest piece I could see took a minute, cluster pod was twenty minutes, entire hull was around fifty hours. Then again those ones are about a quarter the size of this house.
Complexity increases time of course, and it was still partially forzen, but what's really bizarre is the fact it's blood could become anything, almost at will. It also stores physical heat so they can function normally in extreme cold. Except for being around Rime deposits of course. As for reproduction-"
>Pursing her lips with a thoughtful tone, Lime frowns down at the bed.
"Possibly? Don't quote me on that yet. During the Conclave Era there were a lot of counter-invasions into the Rift Plane. Problem was and still is Crystal ponies can't understand most of what's in there, same with unicorns and psions. Lots of reports stated infiltrators watched pairs being constructed by pairs of machines so huge they couldn't figure out where the sides, top, or bottom are
There's an Assault-Raid-Crusade force that live in Ice Floe Fort year round, mostly Killknights. They're dangerous to be around since their bodies emit huge amounts of Rime, it's basically like Eldritch ice. Rest are Crystalline Shells, some Crystal Revenants, a few Elemarental Plane of Ice allies, but no Ethereals. Some of them are sure to know more but that's not exactly an easy place to access."
>Shifting to a more reasonable seated position, Lime Ruby presses her front hooves together with a subdued grin.
"Ka is the more correct way of saying 'soul'. In other words, ka is everything that isn't the physical body. What isn't physical gets condensed into a single mostly-non-physical existence. Memory, consciousness, skills, talents, my senses, basically the concept of 'me' as a whole.
I can't use Crystal Runes to interact with Tallus the same way as I could when alive but instead I can deal with Spectrals, or Planar, Eldritch, and Void beings on equal ground. Makes my job a lot easier."
>Unmoving for a bit to process the information, the mare's ears flick up before shaking her head.
"Part of me doubts it'd be truly abandoned. Sounds like that's one of numerous isolated locations. You'd never build an experimarent lab or research center next to another one, they'd be spread out. Or indirectly connected. Did you find any notes on what they were studying there?
As for the URA itself you'd have better luck asking around, haven't been in that region since access was revoked. Still.. that amount of power is infectious. Not even Crystal ponies are immune to the idea of using Rift technology since it doesn't degrade or fall apart with age. Immune to Tallus entropy too. Weapons, armors, parts, pieces, can all be swapped back and forth without much problem."
>Rolling her eyes in the first touch of irritation you'd seen so far, she slumps forwards with a grating sigh.
"Already gave it to him but he said I don't exist, called me a hallucination. Went and talked to his mare instead, she'll hopefully sort it out."
File (): 163751219551F4A31E125B7427854AA6-1172939.gif (1.1 MB, 498x216, when_jeff_uses_ladykiller.gif)
>>353970
>Smirking at the General's suggestion, Jeff continues observing the battlefield through the Reaper's camera.
('It's four thousand up and out, I'd like to see them try and hit a target three and a half miles away moving at one-fifty an hour. I can also provide a pegasi-eye view of the battlefield with it, if it would help you coordinate our forces. Hi definition, thermal, infrared; I can count the spirals on a unicorn's horn from two miles out with this.')
>As the bombs land he mentally comments on the Paveway's poor timing on his part, but the JDAMs were on point. That one Tainted had no idea...
"Hoo hoo. Those JDAM's hit pretty jay-dam good!"
>He sighs to himself as he hauls ass through the crowds of ponies and Razorback members.
>The puns just weren't hitting the same like usual, for him.
>Settled into his frther back and fortified position, he keeps tabs on the drone's visuals and flight while Vestal chimes in.
>... wait, he was just only trying to get her back on track of the battle?
>Did he just unintentionally make a pass at her? Being a Mortal Foe, noneless.
>And she ACCEPTED?
>AND he has to now fight Emerald at some point to lay claim on her?
>He's either VERY convincing, or maybe she's a little desperate?
>Jeff takes a hot second to unpack that can of worms he opened on himself.
>Seeing that the Reaper hasn't within strike angle yet, he decides to take the few precious moments to reload the MK32.
>Might as well try and play this off coolly.
('Oh! I had not realized you were already spoken for, Vestal.')
>Pulling the grenade launcher out of the duffle, he swings open the back plate and hold fingers onto the two unfired forty-mikes and kicks out the four empty canisters with the unloading lever.
('Gotta honor a duel, tho! Emerald's got her work cut out for her then, if she has to one-vee-one me!')
>He charges the cylinder spring back four clicks and loads it back up with HE rounds from the bag.
>With a freshly loaded Milkor, Jeff closes the back plate back up safeties it and sets it back into the duffle.
>>354707
>Getting a contact from Clemency, Jeff looks down into the Reaper's camera and pans it into the deposit of Rime with frozen Tainted in it.
>By now it should have come around for a better strike angle.
('The gilded ones right? Copy that. I've spotted them earlier. The Rime's kept them from shifting around. I'll Go for the Lunar Generals, work my way out to in on them.')
>Zooming in tight on the Rime deposit, Jeff begins scanning the frozen lot for Lunar General Tainteds as he begins bringing online four of the Hellfires and switches the drone's camera over to the laser designator.
>He begins scanning the Rime for his intended targets, as he gets a laser lock for his first Hellfire.
>Spreading four missiles over four Generals should give him a good baseline how effective they could be.
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <UHD Aperture Camera
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>Settling for whichever Lunar Generals he can PID, Jeff arms his first Hellfire and launches it.
('All ally fliers in the AO, be advised! Friendly missiles incoming overhead from the North!')
>He only waits long enough for each missile to impact its intended target, before locking onto the next one. Damage assessment can be taken after he finishes firing.
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #1
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #2
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #3
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #4
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
>Jeff's focus is disturbed momentarily by the Anti-like energies of Broken Hoof's arrival.
>So she's going all-out as well.
>He's never seen her do anything other than help oversee the wall guards, for the most part, so actual fighting would be interesting.
>Smirking at the General's suggestion, Jeff continues observing the battlefield through the Reaper's camera.
('It's four thousand up and out, I'd like to see them try and hit a target three and a half miles away moving at one-fifty an hour. I can also provide a pegasi-eye view of the battlefield with it, if it would help you coordinate our forces. Hi definition, thermal, infrared; I can count the spirals on a unicorn's horn from two miles out with this.')
>As the bombs land he mentally comments on the Paveway's poor timing on his part, but the JDAMs were on point. That one Tainted had no idea...
"Hoo hoo. Those JDAM's hit pretty jay-dam good!"
>He sighs to himself as he hauls ass through the crowds of ponies and Razorback members.
>The puns just weren't hitting the same like usual, for him.
>Settled into his frther back and fortified position, he keeps tabs on the drone's visuals and flight while Vestal chimes in.
>... wait, he was just only trying to get her back on track of the battle?
>Did he just unintentionally make a pass at her? Being a Mortal Foe, noneless.
>And she ACCEPTED?
>AND he has to now fight Emerald at some point to lay claim on her?
>He's either VERY convincing, or maybe she's a little desperate?
>Jeff takes a hot second to unpack that can of worms he opened on himself.
>Seeing that the Reaper hasn't within strike angle yet, he decides to take the few precious moments to reload the MK32.
>Might as well try and play this off coolly.
('Oh! I had not realized you were already spoken for, Vestal.')
>Pulling the grenade launcher out of the duffle, he swings open the back plate and hold fingers onto the two unfired forty-mikes and kicks out the four empty canisters with the unloading lever.
('Gotta honor a duel, tho! Emerald's got her work cut out for her then, if she has to one-vee-one me!')
>He charges the cylinder spring back four clicks and loads it back up with HE rounds from the bag.
>With a freshly loaded Milkor, Jeff closes the back plate back up safeties it and sets it back into the duffle.
>>354707
>Getting a contact from Clemency, Jeff looks down into the Reaper's camera and pans it into the deposit of Rime with frozen Tainted in it.
>By now it should have come around for a better strike angle.
('The gilded ones right? Copy that. I've spotted them earlier. The Rime's kept them from shifting around. I'll Go for the Lunar Generals, work my way out to in on them.')
>Zooming in tight on the Rime deposit, Jeff begins scanning the frozen lot for Lunar General Tainteds as he begins bringing online four of the Hellfires and switches the drone's camera over to the laser designator.
>He begins scanning the Rime for his intended targets, as he gets a laser lock for his first Hellfire.
>Spreading four missiles over four Generals should give him a good baseline how effective they could be.
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <UHD Aperture Camera
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>Settling for whichever Lunar Generals he can PID, Jeff arms his first Hellfire and launches it.
('All ally fliers in the AO, be advised! Friendly missiles incoming overhead from the North!')
>He only waits long enough for each missile to impact its intended target, before locking onto the next one. Damage assessment can be taken after he finishes firing.
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #1
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #2
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #3
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
>Lunar Guardian Assault General #4
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
>Jeff's focus is disturbed momentarily by the Anti-like energies of Broken Hoof's arrival.
>So she's going all-out as well.
>He's never seen her do anything other than help oversee the wall guards, for the most part, so actual fighting would be interesting.
>>355009
>This armor was really starting to get on Booboo's nerves.
>While she figured it was meant to use up spells to shoo it off by now, the pressure against her sole being really irked her to no end.
>Although she would be willing to do what it took to save lives, she'd at least hoped there'd be somepony keeping threats like these at bay.
>Ugh, now she started feeling as if she didn't learn anything at all.
>She should've gone to med school...
>With a weary sigh, Kissy soon galloped off one of the doors as she baited the armor to come to her.
>Making sure neither the key nor the crayon set was in the ensuing blast, she'd ready another Air Wave spell to push it to the room's corner and keep it there.
[1d6 = 3]<Master Casting: Air Wave
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 1]
>Following that, she'd get close enough to swoop both items previously being guarded by the armor and rushed to unlock one of the doors opposite of the armor with the key given.
>By this point, she wasn't too keen on really passing this test.
>Dying tends to be a rather poor show of aptitude, after all.
>This armor was really starting to get on Booboo's nerves.
>While she figured it was meant to use up spells to shoo it off by now, the pressure against her sole being really irked her to no end.
>Although she would be willing to do what it took to save lives, she'd at least hoped there'd be somepony keeping threats like these at bay.
>Ugh, now she started feeling as if she didn't learn anything at all.
>She should've gone to med school...
>With a weary sigh, Kissy soon galloped off one of the doors as she baited the armor to come to her.
>Making sure neither the key nor the crayon set was in the ensuing blast, she'd ready another Air Wave spell to push it to the room's corner and keep it there.
[1d6 = 3]<Master Casting: Air Wave
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 1]
>Following that, she'd get close enough to swoop both items previously being guarded by the armor and rushed to unlock one of the doors opposite of the armor with the key given.
>By this point, she wasn't too keen on really passing this test.
>Dying tends to be a rather poor show of aptitude, after all.
>>355509
>The Armour, in its predictable nature changed its trajectory as soon as started galloping away from the spot you where standing in at the mouth of the corridor. Its empty helmet tracking where you went and the rest of its "body" moving at its slow cumbersome pace.
>You felt your horn heat up as you cast the spell, and when unleashing the blast of condensed air towards the Set you felt a pulse of uncomfortable heat come from the tip of your horn down to its base. It thankfully did not hurt but worryingly it was not abate either...
>Hearing the annoyingly familiar sound of metallic clatter filling the chamber, you knew you hit the Armour without looking. Stealing a glace back at it you saw your plan worked! It had been pushed back deep to one corner, the furthest distance yet between you and it so far. Although it appeared all jostled it was sadly not reduced to a pile of scrap. 8/??HP
>Was now dry, so there was that.
>Now that your stalker has been blown away to a safe distance and with both box of chalk and key held firmly in your magical grip you make your way to the closet locked door, and with no hesitation shove the key in. It fit perfectly.
>You sensed a surge of magic come from the lock as it moved by its own accord, unlocking itself and falling to the floor with a loud bang that rang across the chamber. Then, a flash of light came from the door as if an invisible barrier was dispelled.
>It began slowly grind its way open like previous doors.
>And just like before it made your teeth rattle in your skull as it yawned open.
>Once your world was no longer vibrating due to the massive door coming to a stop against the wall, you trotted past the threshold into the corridor that connected the main chamber to this new one you unlocked, chalk trailing behind in your telekinetic grasp.
>With a preliminarily stare from where you were you gathered this new room had the same height as every other chamber you've been in so far, and perhaps was smaller than the chamber you just left.
>Oh also the blazing wall of fire.
>It must of been three ponies and you could not see a darn thing behind it, even from where you were at you could feel its heat, no doubt getting hotter as you got closer.
>Despite this however you did spot there was a scroll sitting on a podium before the burning barrier, unaffected by the flame.
(41:15)
>The Armour, in its predictable nature changed its trajectory as soon as started galloping away from the spot you where standing in at the mouth of the corridor. Its empty helmet tracking where you went and the rest of its "body" moving at its slow cumbersome pace.
>You felt your horn heat up as you cast the spell, and when unleashing the blast of condensed air towards the Set you felt a pulse of uncomfortable heat come from the tip of your horn down to its base. It thankfully did not hurt but worryingly it was not abate either...
>Hearing the annoyingly familiar sound of metallic clatter filling the chamber, you knew you hit the Armour without looking. Stealing a glace back at it you saw your plan worked! It had been pushed back deep to one corner, the furthest distance yet between you and it so far. Although it appeared all jostled it was sadly not reduced to a pile of scrap. 8/??HP
>Was now dry, so there was that.
>Now that your stalker has been blown away to a safe distance and with both box of chalk and key held firmly in your magical grip you make your way to the closet locked door, and with no hesitation shove the key in. It fit perfectly.
>You sensed a surge of magic come from the lock as it moved by its own accord, unlocking itself and falling to the floor with a loud bang that rang across the chamber. Then, a flash of light came from the door as if an invisible barrier was dispelled.
>It began slowly grind its way open like previous doors.
>And just like before it made your teeth rattle in your skull as it yawned open.
>Once your world was no longer vibrating due to the massive door coming to a stop against the wall, you trotted past the threshold into the corridor that connected the main chamber to this new one you unlocked, chalk trailing behind in your telekinetic grasp.
>With a preliminarily stare from where you were you gathered this new room had the same height as every other chamber you've been in so far, and perhaps was smaller than the chamber you just left.
>Oh also the blazing wall of fire.
>It must of been three ponies and you could not see a darn thing behind it, even from where you were at you could feel its heat, no doubt getting hotter as you got closer.
>Despite this however you did spot there was a scroll sitting on a podium before the burning barrier, unaffected by the flame.
(41:15)
>>355754
>Booboo breathed out a little sigh of relief as the doors finally opened after their incessant scraping, only to stare in disbelief at the wall of fire in front of her.
>However, she didn't falter as she quickly picked up the scroll with her telekinesis and read its contents.
>Surely this must mean there's a puzzle to be solved!
>Booboo breathed out a little sigh of relief as the doors finally opened after their incessant scraping, only to stare in disbelief at the wall of fire in front of her.
>However, she didn't falter as she quickly picked up the scroll with her telekinesis and read its contents.
>Surely this must mean there's a puzzle to be solved!
Lost both SSD's yesterday morning, had minor heart attack due to that bullshit, 100+ painful heart arrythmya instances. Getting checked in shortly but ordered replacements. See you horsefuckers shortly.
I hate niggers and shitty days.
I hate niggers and shitty days.
File (): BE58E16EABFE6928B89A1CD13BD64562-189072.jpg (184.6 KB, 562x506, 1231782261511.jpg)
>>356179
>SSDs
lol
lmao
There's your problem right there. Always have shit you can't bear to lose and write to frequently on HDD. SSDs are a stupid fucking meme with a 50 times shorter lifespan for writing data and you cannot recover it at all once lost. The time you save in loading data reading and loading is instantly lost when it takes longer to write to the bloody things, and increased further when it inevitably craps out and you have to replace everything.
>SSDs
lol
lmao
There's your problem right there. Always have shit you can't bear to lose and write to frequently on HDD. SSDs are a stupid fucking meme with a 50 times shorter lifespan for writing data and you cannot recover it at all once lost. The time you save in loading data reading and loading is instantly lost when it takes longer to write to the bloody things, and increased further when it inevitably craps out and you have to replace everything.
File (): DC6A53F1E54B04F6F9F0F161C31552E1-1717767.png (1.6 MB, 3786x2571, 1572655700204.png)
>>356186
I don't think it takes longer to write on SSDs. Unless you got a buffer-less piece of trash
It's true tho. I'd take a larger HDD over a smaller, but faster SSD everyday of the week. Plus there are some large HDDs with large buffers. Those make for great boot-drives as well.
I don't think it takes longer to write on SSDs. Unless you got a buffer-less piece of trash
It's true tho. I'd take a larger HDD over a smaller, but faster SSD everyday of the week. Plus there are some large HDDs with large buffers. Those make for great boot-drives as well.
File (): A778C30ACD4E3E98DCC9AC6C02FD155F-77934.jpg (76.1 KB, 410x498, 1583979756681.jpg)
I thought he was kidding.
>>356186
Only had OS on it, all else is safe.
>>356212
Trying, still under observation. MRI were not good looking, dozen plus micro scars on 1st, 4th heart walls, 5 medium on 3rd, tiny one on 2nd. Arrythmya rare now but hurt when they do occur. Stress kills. Will check back in 3 days, might get laptop sent here.
Only had OS on it, all else is safe.
>>356212
Trying, still under observation. MRI were not good looking, dozen plus micro scars on 1st, 4th heart walls, 5 medium on 3rd, tiny one on 2nd. Arrythmya rare now but hurt when they do occur. Stress kills. Will check back in 3 days, might get laptop sent here.
>>356216
Not big enough. Was walking outside, chest seized, could barely force breathing, nowhere to go except straight down on gravel. Lucky a buddy was there, otherwise who fucking knows.
Not big enough. Was walking outside, chest seized, could barely force breathing, nowhere to go except straight down on gravel. Lucky a buddy was there, otherwise who fucking knows.
File (): 66324D43176BB057F2ECE4CAFB42741D-157524.png (153.8 KB, 860x1252, you-alright-partner.png)
>>356249
fuckin' yeesh. dunno what else to say other than you'll get better soon, and i know you will because i believe so.
fuckin' yeesh. dunno what else to say other than you'll get better soon, and i know you will because i believe so.
>>356250
When anon isn't a big guy 4u
I never got these threads or knew what they were about, but get well soon, Anon.
When anon isn't a big guy 4u
I never got these threads or knew what they were about, but get well soon, Anon.
>>356253
Fuck no, never will be. Epona is watching my ass with intense disgust.
>>356254
Getting a little better each day, but still having random heart flutters/murmurs. They HURT like a sledgehammer to my fucking chest plate. Won't get let out for at least another week but at least a buddy brought my laptop, shitty as it is.
>>356257
An old school d6 text based RPG. We started in middle 2012!
Fuck no, never will be. Epona is watching my ass with intense disgust.
>>356254
Getting a little better each day, but still having random heart flutters/murmurs. They HURT like a sledgehammer to my fucking chest plate. Won't get let out for at least another week but at least a buddy brought my laptop, shitty as it is.
>>356257
An old school d6 text based RPG. We started in middle 2012!
File (): 9C7943E0240436027477C99F96A19343-1991639.jpg (1.9 MB, 5100x3300, The Tainted by Fabcob.jpg)
>>356495
Good to see you're too angry to die Mav.
And just in time for this commission to be done. An...interpretation of current events.
Good to see you're too angry to die Mav.
And just in time for this commission to be done. An...interpretation of current events.
>>356495
Glad to hear you’re resting up and getting better, mang. Expected nothing less from you.
I understand the hurdles you’re probably having to go through before you can get a clean bill and a discharge, so focus on doing what you have to do to heal up.
Glad to hear you’re resting up and getting better, mang. Expected nothing less from you.
I understand the hurdles you’re probably having to go through before you can get a clean bill and a discharge, so focus on doing what you have to do to heal up.
>>356496
More depressed than angry at this stage. I've lost YEARS to personal health shit than I should ever have. And, by Epona that is so fucking close to what I envisioned. When I have the chance to do so, I'll make topo map on fucking paper if I have to. The foreground and background does NOT do enough justice to how much care went into the description of Basin Village.
>>356503
Trying to and rediscovering the limits of a single human's resilience are paired yet problems. I don't know how to explain how much having random heart arrhythmia hurts at odd, unknowable, frankly fucking terrifying times. I wake up and feel exactly as if I'm collapsing again only to see the vitals monitor record a 'slight' change in oxygen records on said monitor.
The only probability I've gotten so far is a somewhat plausible factor that majorly increased nitrate exposure due to how deep the local well was, and the intense amount of small plot 'farmlarnd' had been, MIGHT have been contributing to the number of heart attacks I've had. Asked said buddy that brought me this laptop to check the well water, ground water, and free flowing water nitrate levels, he'll have results back in 4-5 days IF the testing lab doesn't take weekends. If the problems I've had ARE related to excessive nitrate exposure, then a series (3 at minimum?) of high density filters will remove that problem
For right now, much as I fucking hate city water, the daily number of heart arrhythmia incidences have deceased by 10% per day from 50 down to 6. Those still hurt badly. I haven't been this close to meeting the Grim fucking Reaper since 2003. And that scares me more than anything else.
More depressed than angry at this stage. I've lost YEARS to personal health shit than I should ever have. And, by Epona that is so fucking close to what I envisioned. When I have the chance to do so, I'll make topo map on fucking paper if I have to. The foreground and background does NOT do enough justice to how much care went into the description of Basin Village.
>>356503
Trying to and rediscovering the limits of a single human's resilience are paired yet problems. I don't know how to explain how much having random heart arrhythmia hurts at odd, unknowable, frankly fucking terrifying times. I wake up and feel exactly as if I'm collapsing again only to see the vitals monitor record a 'slight' change in oxygen records on said monitor.
The only probability I've gotten so far is a somewhat plausible factor that majorly increased nitrate exposure due to how deep the local well was, and the intense amount of small plot 'farmlarnd' had been, MIGHT have been contributing to the number of heart attacks I've had. Asked said buddy that brought me this laptop to check the well water, ground water, and free flowing water nitrate levels, he'll have results back in 4-5 days IF the testing lab doesn't take weekends. If the problems I've had ARE related to excessive nitrate exposure, then a series (3 at minimum?) of high density filters will remove that problem
For right now, much as I fucking hate city water, the daily number of heart arrhythmia incidences have deceased by 10% per day from 50 down to 6. Those still hurt badly. I haven't been this close to meeting the Grim fucking Reaper since 2003. And that scares me more than anything else.
>>356521
Main doctor came in a bit ago, the bad news: I have semi-persistent atrial fibrillation originally caused by a moderate heart attack and numerous minor ones over the past 6 years. Wasn't caused by a clot (plaque or blood), extreme stress compounded by a minor in alcoholism, a lack of sleep, possible hereditary issues, and a partial imbalance in magnesium levels caused the left atria (upper chamber) and ventricle (lower chamber) to fluctuate without warning. The random 'sledgehammer' heart beat is when the left ventricle fails to contract and expel blood while the atria forces a higher volume in and through. So far there's no evidence of blood pooling or clotting being caused, but the random irregularities don't rule that out.
Good news: no fainting, dizziness, fatigue, memory loss, etc. Slight amount of tightness in chest was due to severe muscle cramping. Lung complications are being checked on MRI, getting another one of those to test for other possible troubles tomorrow.
The fucking monitors are currently being drowned out by ear plugs, and hospital 'food' is... beyond awful.
Main doctor came in a bit ago, the bad news: I have semi-persistent atrial fibrillation originally caused by a moderate heart attack and numerous minor ones over the past 6 years. Wasn't caused by a clot (plaque or blood), extreme stress compounded by a minor in alcoholism, a lack of sleep, possible hereditary issues, and a partial imbalance in magnesium levels caused the left atria (upper chamber) and ventricle (lower chamber) to fluctuate without warning. The random 'sledgehammer' heart beat is when the left ventricle fails to contract and expel blood while the atria forces a higher volume in and through. So far there's no evidence of blood pooling or clotting being caused, but the random irregularities don't rule that out.
Good news: no fainting, dizziness, fatigue, memory loss, etc. Slight amount of tightness in chest was due to severe muscle cramping. Lung complications are being checked on MRI, getting another one of those to test for other possible troubles tomorrow.
The fucking monitors are currently being drowned out by ear plugs, and hospital 'food' is... beyond awful.
>>356606
Jeez, that is a lot of bad news right there. AND terrible food.
You're not dead yet so that is a positive.
Jeez, that is a lot of bad news right there. AND terrible food.
You're not dead yet so that is a positive.
>>356619
Fuck hospitals and their "food". The bad news has gotten MUCH better: the semi-persistent atrial fibrillation has been mostly cancelled out. An extremely selective diet combined with extensive physical therapy, AKA: specific exercises designed to reduce AND lessen the lasting problems of a heart attack, have... actually done quite well. I've been downgraded from semi-persistent to minorly irregular (1-5 unusual heart rhythms per day) atrial fibrillation. Have lost ANOTHER 6 pounds, am not diabetic in the slightest, no bizarre/unusual/strange arrhythmias, but now I have to stay on a strict diet with equally strict exercises each day. Fucking sucks but I would rather not die.
Comp is done, no more SSD shit, also have a second backup and my external is 100% solid. No data was lost, everything #OiE related is safe. I should be back home from the 6th to 8th, depending on how well the therapist ascertains my physical state. All signs so far are good.
Fuck hospitals and their "food". The bad news has gotten MUCH better: the semi-persistent atrial fibrillation has been mostly cancelled out. An extremely selective diet combined with extensive physical therapy, AKA: specific exercises designed to reduce AND lessen the lasting problems of a heart attack, have... actually done quite well. I've been downgraded from semi-persistent to minorly irregular (1-5 unusual heart rhythms per day) atrial fibrillation. Have lost ANOTHER 6 pounds, am not diabetic in the slightest, no bizarre/unusual/strange arrhythmias, but now I have to stay on a strict diet with equally strict exercises each day. Fucking sucks but I would rather not die.
Comp is done, no more SSD shit, also have a second backup and my external is 100% solid. No data was lost, everything #OiE related is safe. I should be back home from the 6th to 8th, depending on how well the therapist ascertains my physical state. All signs so far are good.
>>356999
Don't you dare fuckin die before me you faget.
But good to see that you're doing well on recovery, now fucking take it easy.
Don't you dare fuckin die before me you faget.
But good to see that you're doing well on recovery, now fucking take it easy.
>>357000
Don't make a tempting offer~
>>357002
Medium to high intensity, moderate impact cardio. Basically metered speed exercises.
>>357004
FUCK no. Never have, never will. Got done watching 'Died Suddenly', real sickening. It's on rumble, unfortunately.
>>357067
Can't be a faggot if you like mares more.
>>357115
If I'm not active enough taking it easy might kill me. We've lived this long, I ain't leaving now.
Don't make a tempting offer~
>>357002
Medium to high intensity, moderate impact cardio. Basically metered speed exercises.
>>357004
FUCK no. Never have, never will. Got done watching 'Died Suddenly', real sickening. It's on rumble, unfortunately.
>>357067
Can't be a faggot if you like mares more.
>>357115
If I'm not active enough taking it easy might kill me. We've lived this long, I ain't leaving now.
File (): FD24EEB28A7D9A2E0891E65FC1796F9C-323514.png (315.9 KB, 1198x800, Nurse Redheart - winking.png)
Back home now, exhausted. Underwent the MAZE procedure to hopefilly stop future heart attacks. Take that pun and eat it, you know who you are. Past week only minor palpitations, nothing remotely concerning. Supposed to keep exercising, but my PC is fucking bare, hate starting a system over. Will update in a couple days.
File (): 72692C616BA6AE54FCCD036C1B2BC680-135516.gif (132.3 KB, 750x750, 816.gif.f0851bd6dc714a5363c33f7fef68ac4e.gif)
>>359553
Am in the 'somewhat recovered' phase. Not great, not bad, nothing unusual. Got my PC together but may need wipe it and reinstall, so.. frustrated. Laptop is shit and uncomfortable to use.
Am in the 'somewhat recovered' phase. Not great, not bad, nothing unusual. Got my PC together but may need wipe it and reinstall, so.. frustrated. Laptop is shit and uncomfortable to use.
>>361161
>>361162
Yeah, no. Might have a fucking problem: the standard HD that all my files were on isn't accessible from any laptop or PC here. Linux was supposed to dual boot on the newer, much larger HD, but the original is showing a DIFFERENT and damaged file system that was corrupted by an improper Linux installation. Which it SHOULDN'T have had unless there was something fucky with Windurrrs somehow reading the old HD as the primary, even though it wasn't.
>>361162
Yeah, no. Might have a fucking problem: the standard HD that all my files were on isn't accessible from any laptop or PC here. Linux was supposed to dual boot on the newer, much larger HD, but the original is showing a DIFFERENT and damaged file system that was corrupted by an improper Linux installation. Which it SHOULDN'T have had unless there was something fucky with Windurrrs somehow reading the old HD as the primary, even though it wasn't.
>>361399
Ouch. Sorry to hear. Not sure what cost is but Ibas now Ontrack has good reputation when it comes to rescue data. Getting calling them and getting an initial quota and scan is worth it - it might be easy for them to recover. Ibas was the one that was used to rescue data from the harddrives that were on the Challenger Space Shuttle (but that was damaged almost beyond repair).
https://www.ontrack.com/
Ouch. Sorry to hear. Not sure what cost is but Ibas now Ontrack has good reputation when it comes to rescue data. Getting calling them and getting an initial quota and scan is worth it - it might be easy for them to recover. Ibas was the one that was used to rescue data from the harddrives that were on the Challenger Space Shuttle (but that was damaged almost beyond repair).
https://www.ontrack.com/
File (): 8AE677B7C3437E362FE9FCF9AE20D353-27568.gif (26.9 KB, 225x219, aaaaaaaa.gif)
The good news: physical health checkup shows only minor heart atrial fibrillation. Nothing worrisome or questionable outside of keeping diet and exercise regimaren intsct.
The BAD news: hard drive has been sent off for recovery. Woe to the man that discovers 79.8 gigs of MLP porn on it.
The BAD news: hard drive has been sent off for recovery. Woe to the man that discovers 79.8 gigs of MLP porn on it.
File (): 8881CB2E79696432AA4FAEF264338CE7-457421.png (446.7 KB, 3000x2385, 7df51a812c096d1444f9e3ff811fa4f4.png.232defc2686d42cf7c33f83001ce69ac.png)
>>361648
Backups are confirmed dead. The reformatted drive THAT SHOULDN'T HAVE FUCKING BEEN only has a minor number of files that were able to be recovered. Oh fucking well. Now I know whom to never trust again. Back to retyping everything from memory.
>>361742
Someone might have said something. The official email was hilarious to read.
Backups are confirmed dead. The reformatted drive THAT SHOULDN'T HAVE FUCKING BEEN only has a minor number of files that were able to be recovered. Oh fucking well. Now I know whom to never trust again. Back to retyping everything from memory.
>>361742
Someone might have said something. The official email was hilarious to read.
File (): 2B0F533FBCCB761BBC45EE078B1B956E-135101.jpg (131.9 KB, 1305x773, Untitled.jpeg)
>>362553
>Backups are confirmed dead
Time to plan for the future and actually do something about it.
And avoid Seagate drives like the pest, too many failures are reported.
>Backups are confirmed dead
Time to plan for the future and actually do something about it.
And avoid Seagate drives like the pest, too many failures are reported.
>>362555
Already got backups in place including a pre-shutdown system restore. Also fuck WD, bunch of tranny loving Silicuck Valley commie whores.
Already got backups in place including a pre-shutdown system restore. Also fuck WD, bunch of tranny loving Silicuck Valley commie whores.
File (): 708ACAC2B2176A928C7B3CEE15A2F537-144874.png (141.5 KB, 732x638, bad sectors - Screenshot 2.png)
>>362577
Do not forget to scan the surface for bad blocks before to setup LUKS and begin dumping the files.
Do not forget to scan the surface for bad blocks before to setup LUKS and begin dumping the files.
A WiP of Wildride
File (): 4A58933ACC39E99BA6B7EEF474C1184C-1466685.jpg (1.4 MB, 5100x2200, armor_commission_final.jpg)
>>365774
This is 100% canon due to her tech-evolution via various events and her tutelage from Natilda. Also I don't know how you fucking mindhacked me to somehow know in advance what Wild Ride CURRENTLY looks like. Epona blesses that artist, and do I.
I'm still working on 6 years typing out the fucking backlog from memory. Currently down to <1 month of work left. I think. Doubt is ever the type-killer.
This is 100% canon due to her tech-evolution via various events and her tutelage from Natilda. Also I don't know how you fucking mindhacked me to somehow know in advance what Wild Ride CURRENTLY looks like. Epona blesses that artist, and do I.
I'm still working on 6 years typing out the fucking backlog from memory. Currently down to <1 month of work left. I think. Doubt is ever the type-killer.
File (): 34EFDA6AA4BE2E233AE9B1083260D719-1469123.jpg (1.4 MB, 5100x2200, honto_commission02.jpg)
Big tit version.
>>353842
"I have read all of Spiral's notes hundreds of times each, they confirm the same across most human worlds. It infuriated him knowing how unprotected the majority have been-"
>Shooting a grim stare to the various armor plates hanging across the Workshop's interior, Krinza remains motionless for a handful of seconds before leaning down to eyeball the slowly cooling modifications.
"And often still are. No more of that. From tonight onwards I will not allow a single Operator in field without suitable protection."
>Placing both front hooves on the carrying handle, the smith's eyes shut, carefully intoning a sequence of low, solemn words in archaic unicorn.
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <M.Elemental Chemistry
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <GM.Enchanter
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16]
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <GM.Smith
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
>Lacking any negative tones, Helping Hoof turns a side eye towards you with an apologetic expression.
"I am beginning to understand some of Spiral's writings. It is clear now that the inadequacies of the average human world are due to factors that was bitter towards. He believed that all-"
>Pausing with a far off stare, the left side of his face twitches briefly.
"Most all humans should have equal access to equine knowledge and capabilities. He was particularly hateful of a common human saying, that being 'work with what you have'. The irony is that the pony version ends with: 'and share all we must'. I apologize for my earlier, unsensitive words."
>The large unicorn makes a shortly dismissive motion, then focuses on fusing the box's internal structures together.
"Not at all."
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <E.Eidetic Fundamarentals
"I have read all of Spiral's notes hundreds of times each, they confirm the same across most human worlds. It infuriated him knowing how unprotected the majority have been-"
>Shooting a grim stare to the various armor plates hanging across the Workshop's interior, Krinza remains motionless for a handful of seconds before leaning down to eyeball the slowly cooling modifications.
"And often still are. No more of that. From tonight onwards I will not allow a single Operator in field without suitable protection."
>Placing both front hooves on the carrying handle, the smith's eyes shut, carefully intoning a sequence of low, solemn words in archaic unicorn.
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <M.Elemental Chemistry
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <GM.Enchanter
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16]
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <GM.Smith
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]
>Lacking any negative tones, Helping Hoof turns a side eye towards you with an apologetic expression.
"I am beginning to understand some of Spiral's writings. It is clear now that the inadequacies of the average human world are due to factors that was bitter towards. He believed that all-"
>Pausing with a far off stare, the left side of his face twitches briefly.
"Most all humans should have equal access to equine knowledge and capabilities. He was particularly hateful of a common human saying, that being 'work with what you have'. The irony is that the pony version ends with: 'and share all we must'. I apologize for my earlier, unsensitive words."
>The large unicorn makes a shortly dismissive motion, then focuses on fusing the box's internal structures together.
"Not at all."
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <E.Eidetic Fundamarentals
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370027
>>353845
>Head turning left to eye the Rilvenni's outer skin being slowly carved off, then right at the undersized hand cannon, Anonymous frowns under the mask.
"Given what you've already dealt with? Slapping a giant crate's worth of anti-tank mines across her hull might not be a bad idea. Shit, what wouldn't help is a small list. And, yeah, I've noticed there's a serious inacurracy lately. Half the objects I grab and send off don't land where they're supposed to. Still haven't figured out why."
>Freezing entirely from her work, Wild's left internal screen reboots quickly, the mini caricature peering back at you as her internal speakers emit an utterly flat tone.
"I will neither confirm nor deny that statement."
>There was at least two displays.
>Neatly severing rolls of dull orange skin off the Planar monstrosity, four of the repair tendrils continue their grisly work of matter conversion.
"Point taken. I will attempt to restore each repair system individually before resetting them, that should prevent further damage to critical systems. ..or welding them upside down."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT+8
"Probably not but I'll check. Batponies and Ferron have picked coastal areas clean for centuries, particularly shells, gems, ship wrecks, and every piece of weird stuff they can find. They like that last way too much."
>Glancing down at his smartphone and tapping several times, he turns it around to show a small, newer map than the one Wild was using.
>Little was different save for a sprinkling of small Outposts spread across the Crags and a number of dots marked with an X.
"Nope, sorry. Not even those guys and gals that love exploring the Moors venture out farther than half a night. After seeing that thing-"
>Motioning at the Rilvenni carcass, the Gestalt takes on a miffed tone.
"I can't blame them. Unfortunately I have to leave, this gateway's destabilizing a bit faster than the last one. Until next time."
>Rolling backwards into the portal, the door closes quickly afterwards, both side pillars crumbling apart and dissipating into nothingness.
>Pausing once more, Wild's upper body bends downwards several degrees, one distressed metal sheet above you making an unsettled sound as her screen caricature scribbles on the map.
"What a strange existence that one has.. current location updated, new information logged. Mom, I have enough materials to repair all critical components and six destroyed systems, but my head unit is nearly collapsed. You would be far better protected inside it. Commencing long range scans-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
>Head turning left to eye the Rilvenni's outer skin being slowly carved off, then right at the undersized hand cannon, Anonymous frowns under the mask.
"Given what you've already dealt with? Slapping a giant crate's worth of anti-tank mines across her hull might not be a bad idea. Shit, what wouldn't help is a small list. And, yeah, I've noticed there's a serious inacurracy lately. Half the objects I grab and send off don't land where they're supposed to. Still haven't figured out why."
>Freezing entirely from her work, Wild's left internal screen reboots quickly, the mini caricature peering back at you as her internal speakers emit an utterly flat tone.
"I will neither confirm nor deny that statement."
>There was at least two displays.
>Neatly severing rolls of dull orange skin off the Planar monstrosity, four of the repair tendrils continue their grisly work of matter conversion.
"Point taken. I will attempt to restore each repair system individually before resetting them, that should prevent further damage to critical systems. ..or welding them upside down."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Conversion Ratio
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT+8
"Probably not but I'll check. Batponies and Ferron have picked coastal areas clean for centuries, particularly shells, gems, ship wrecks, and every piece of weird stuff they can find. They like that last way too much."
>Glancing down at his smartphone and tapping several times, he turns it around to show a small, newer map than the one Wild was using.
>Little was different save for a sprinkling of small Outposts spread across the Crags and a number of dots marked with an X.
"Nope, sorry. Not even those guys and gals that love exploring the Moors venture out farther than half a night. After seeing that thing-"
>Motioning at the Rilvenni carcass, the Gestalt takes on a miffed tone.
"I can't blame them. Unfortunately I have to leave, this gateway's destabilizing a bit faster than the last one. Until next time."
>Rolling backwards into the portal, the door closes quickly afterwards, both side pillars crumbling apart and dissipating into nothingness.
>Pausing once more, Wild's upper body bends downwards several degrees, one distressed metal sheet above you making an unsettled sound as her screen caricature scribbles on the map.
"What a strange existence that one has.. current location updated, new information logged. Mom, I have enough materials to repair all critical components and six destroyed systems, but my head unit is nearly collapsed. You would be far better protected inside it. Commencing long range scans-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
>>370026
"It was a matter of price and technological progress. By the time of 'properly' built gunpowder weapons, armor would have been too heavy to carry and too expensive to build."
>He shrugs an arm, motioning down at his suit.
"It was more cost efficient to hand out a uniform and a musket to a recruit and train him than it was to develop armor for the recruit only to have the enemy design a musket that could go through it a decade later."
>He let out a soft hum.
"We've gone through that cycle enough times. Make something a ranged weapon couldn't go through, they develop a better ranged weapon. Better to spend that money in recruiting and arming."
>He thought on that for a brief moment.
"That would be good.. It's a shame even in the Zone we couldn't do that. Most had to pick either anomalous or physical protections. And often got neither."
>So many Rookies died because of poor protection.
"The problem is, not every human would agree with sharing with their community. What can be considered modern humans, anyway. It used to be that way, we just... got more greedy or some such as a result of civilization growing."
>He snorted and leaned back in the chair, aware of his weight to keep from crushing it. Barely.
"Though we should end this line of talk, it might lead down some dark paths."
>For me.
"And I accept your apologies. Humanity isn't perfect and I hope most understand that."
>With a nod, Ivan would pull out his PDA and sort through the files for a moment.
>Were it not for the fact that he had a lot of music stored on the SD card, he wouldn't have much use for it other than a map.
>One that wasn't properly set up for this planet yet. He would have to fix that.
"Hope this helps lighten the mood. If there's one thing I can't hate about the bandits..."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_podzD4cSA
"It was a matter of price and technological progress. By the time of 'properly' built gunpowder weapons, armor would have been too heavy to carry and too expensive to build."
>He shrugs an arm, motioning down at his suit.
"It was more cost efficient to hand out a uniform and a musket to a recruit and train him than it was to develop armor for the recruit only to have the enemy design a musket that could go through it a decade later."
>He let out a soft hum.
"We've gone through that cycle enough times. Make something a ranged weapon couldn't go through, they develop a better ranged weapon. Better to spend that money in recruiting and arming."
>He thought on that for a brief moment.
"That would be good.. It's a shame even in the Zone we couldn't do that. Most had to pick either anomalous or physical protections. And often got neither."
>So many Rookies died because of poor protection.
"The problem is, not every human would agree with sharing with their community. What can be considered modern humans, anyway. It used to be that way, we just... got more greedy or some such as a result of civilization growing."
>He snorted and leaned back in the chair, aware of his weight to keep from crushing it. Barely.
"Though we should end this line of talk, it might lead down some dark paths."
>For me.
"And I accept your apologies. Humanity isn't perfect and I hope most understand that."
>With a nod, Ivan would pull out his PDA and sort through the files for a moment.
>Were it not for the fact that he had a lot of music stored on the SD card, he wouldn't have much use for it other than a map.
>One that wasn't properly set up for this planet yet. He would have to fix that.
"Hope this helps lighten the mood. If there's one thing I can't hate about the bandits..."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_podzD4cSA
>>370027
"I wouldn't know if she would survive the explosions though. If she could..."
>That is an idea. One that I'm not exactly keen on attempting any time soon.
"So wishing for something is probably not the best idea at the moment. Got it."
>Better let him figure out what's going on first, I suppose.
>Yeah sure you won't confirm with those fucking displays flashing my eyes.
"Worth a shot, at least. At least we can update our maps."
>As he starts to leave, I get a last minute thought.
"If you can, let them know we're coming!"
>I don't know if he heard me or not as I only managed to speak out as the portal started to close.
>Worth a shot.
"I would... But I'll control your movements for a bit longer while you keep repairing. Better to let you focus on repairing, and with the updated maps I shouldn't have any problem steering you towards the outpost."
>I sat back and idly chewed on a slice of pizza for a moment.
"And yes, Anon is certainly... strange, to put it in a way. Good man from what I can tell, though."
>Shrugging, I inspected the armor he had left before standing up to redress in it.
>Its just us gals in here so its fine~
"I wouldn't know if she would survive the explosions though. If she could..."
>That is an idea. One that I'm not exactly keen on attempting any time soon.
"So wishing for something is probably not the best idea at the moment. Got it."
>Better let him figure out what's going on first, I suppose.
>Yeah sure you won't confirm with those fucking displays flashing my eyes.
"Worth a shot, at least. At least we can update our maps."
>As he starts to leave, I get a last minute thought.
"If you can, let them know we're coming!"
>I don't know if he heard me or not as I only managed to speak out as the portal started to close.
>Worth a shot.
"I would... But I'll control your movements for a bit longer while you keep repairing. Better to let you focus on repairing, and with the updated maps I shouldn't have any problem steering you towards the outpost."
>I sat back and idly chewed on a slice of pizza for a moment.
"And yes, Anon is certainly... strange, to put it in a way. Good man from what I can tell, though."
>Shrugging, I inspected the armor he had left before standing up to redress in it.
>Its just us gals in here so its fine~
>>353885
>Connecting to the prototype's windows, the Shiibo avatar opens a series of tiny ones.. only to turn The Look from you to 'Tipper'.
>Sharing a split-second, the pair seem to agree on something judging by the twinned nod, though 'Tipper' mimics pulling a blanket around her image with a kind smile.
'I thought that was the problem, there is a fair amount of data too corrupted to recover. Understood, I'll be careful with her.'
>Wrapping her arms tightly around the deep purple stallion's neck, already splayed out and half-sleeping with his head over her shoulder, Katyal leans backwards onto the bench.
>Adjusting Hodch's weight without a word, her head turns at the projections, studying them with a hardening face.
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <E.Scouting
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Cartographer
[1d6 = 3]
>Dul silently turns around, upper body glinting in an unrecognizable fashion.
[1d6 = 2] <Study
>Pointing out five likely travel routes, a short index on northeastern New Everfree megafauna and megaflora is offered, then listing a host of potential dangers based on limited regional exploration, Shiibo pauses at Lonestar tapping on metal.
*"Eh... seems good. Ah'd prefer a real pair'a hands on them controls ta be honest, ain't got much good ta say 'bout gunnery androids an'shit like that. No amounta trainin' can teach 'em intuition. Or tact."*
>Shiibo's left eye twitches at the stinging comment, taking on a stiff posture while continuing to cross-reference and append category data, text scrolling across the helmet's interior.
I can certainly operate these admittedly well balanced plasma and laser weapons better than a standard production android.
*"...did someone say somethin'? Got no displays or vidfeeds internally, kin'a blind 'less y'poke a head up here."*
No?
"No."
>Craning her neck back and forth, the Siren's eyes inspect everything around her for a few moments.
"Dul not hear thing. Dul say no."
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Siren's Gaze
[1d6 = 2] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
*"Awright, then we're leavin'."*
>Tilting forwards briefly, the OL-3's rear hatches begin to close, quiet hydraulics whining in the troop compartment as a series of dull metallic locks snap shut and internal air seals pressurize.
>The hybrid APC begins turning in a slow 180, light track impacts on ground barely felt while it smoothly rumbles forwards onto stone.
*"Might take a sec fer th'Remnant t- nevermind, it's openin'."*
>Making a chest deep salute from the chair, 'Tipper' smiles brightly, the connection unexpectedly during a short, unfamiliar stepping-lurch in realspace.
*"That is one fuckin' weird gateway... Machine Gods, let yer eyes be on us 'fer we have unknown paths ahead, an'no honorable way ta return home."*
[1d6 = 6]
>Connecting to the prototype's windows, the Shiibo avatar opens a series of tiny ones.. only to turn The Look from you to 'Tipper'.
>Sharing a split-second, the pair seem to agree on something judging by the twinned nod, though 'Tipper' mimics pulling a blanket around her image with a kind smile.
'I thought that was the problem, there is a fair amount of data too corrupted to recover. Understood, I'll be careful with her.'
>Wrapping her arms tightly around the deep purple stallion's neck, already splayed out and half-sleeping with his head over her shoulder, Katyal leans backwards onto the bench.
>Adjusting Hodch's weight without a word, her head turns at the projections, studying them with a hardening face.
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <E.Scouting
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Cartographer
[1d6 = 3]
>Dul silently turns around, upper body glinting in an unrecognizable fashion.
[1d6 = 2] <Study
>Pointing out five likely travel routes, a short index on northeastern New Everfree megafauna and megaflora is offered, then listing a host of potential dangers based on limited regional exploration, Shiibo pauses at Lonestar tapping on metal.
*"Eh... seems good. Ah'd prefer a real pair'a hands on them controls ta be honest, ain't got much good ta say 'bout gunnery androids an'shit like that. No amounta trainin' can teach 'em intuition. Or tact."*
>Shiibo's left eye twitches at the stinging comment, taking on a stiff posture while continuing to cross-reference and append category data, text scrolling across the helmet's interior.
I can certainly operate these admittedly well balanced plasma and laser weapons better than a standard production android.
*"...did someone say somethin'? Got no displays or vidfeeds internally, kin'a blind 'less y'poke a head up here."*
No?
"No."
>Craning her neck back and forth, the Siren's eyes inspect everything around her for a few moments.
"Dul not hear thing. Dul say no."
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Siren's Gaze
[1d6 = 2] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
*"Awright, then we're leavin'."*
>Tilting forwards briefly, the OL-3's rear hatches begin to close, quiet hydraulics whining in the troop compartment as a series of dull metallic locks snap shut and internal air seals pressurize.
>The hybrid APC begins turning in a slow 180, light track impacts on ground barely felt while it smoothly rumbles forwards onto stone.
*"Might take a sec fer th'Remnant t- nevermind, it's openin'."*
>Making a chest deep salute from the chair, 'Tipper' smiles brightly, the connection unexpectedly during a short, unfamiliar stepping-lurch in realspace.
*"That is one fuckin' weird gateway... Machine Gods, let yer eyes be on us 'fer we have unknown paths ahead, an'no honorable way ta return home."*
[1d6 = 6]
>>353898
>Parsing the only datachannel available, what you find is the complete schematic of a perplexing instrument: a 29-stringed oval harp, the ends tapered to a shearing point.
>Connected to a labyrinthine network of perfect 0.1 nanometer width necrodermis cable, directly integrated throughout the Auspex's custom built systems, it appeared that the 'pick', created from an exotic native alloy, was bent slightly forwards the wrong way..
>By, precisely, 0.00002 degrees.
>Repeating that datum twice, the Necron device translates directly into High Gothic: "Melodically-attuned temporal causality inspection unit repairs MUST be completed via high velocity, high kinetic-transferred maintenance."
'USE A SLEDGEHAMMER'
'or throw it. that usually made it work before'
'SLEDGE. HAMMER.'
'calm your binary ma'
'FINISH THAT THOUGHT AND I WILL CALM YOU PERMANENTLY!'
>Tracker dataprints themselves out as a pair of near-exact twins in ASCII, the male slightly taller than the wiry female, the precise image.. unsettling.
>And you weren't sure why.
>The male politely seats his sister on what was probably a chair, sitting next to her and turning to 'view' you, frowning equally as they speak in sync.
'None. Marquis du Spiral Disclosure was the sole interested unicorn of adapting human technologies to native methodologies and materials. We theorize his fascination quickly became a source of grief. As a test, compare the least equipped Guardsman's wargear to those of the Russian analogue squad you met in Twin Hill. That, we feel, is part of why he went mad.'
>Turning their bodies towards away from your perception briefly, which was probably them intercepting the Xenotechnologist's channel, the Tracker twins' datatone is expressionless.
'Princess Mi Amore Cadenza's ability to commune with machines, whether crystalline, metallic, organic, Otherworld, Planar, hybrid, mixed, or otherwise, is unquestionable and inviolable. Inquisitor Velasi once remarked the following: distances and compositional differences are merely poor observations when an alicorn is part of an equation. It is the reason she has been deemed Poneissiah.
It is impossible Chisan Nas lied. His knowledge is merely insufficient; he has not learned the basic theories of Constructs we have access to. Which is still next to nothing.'
>Noting the solid steel floor, cabinets, and empty weapon racks, there was a high number of excellent locations to perform... maintenance.
'Excuse us for a time, we are attempting to access Velasi's personal datastacks and will not likely be available.'
>Snout wiggling briefly, Raindrop's ears perk up at spotting the flower, eyes widening as both wings snap onto her sides tightly.
"It's beautiful! Thank you Miss Castella!"
>A wide smile takes over the pegasi's face, reaching forwards with her left wing to carefully grasp the flower between two primary feathers, though not before running a feathertip across your fingers with a third.
>Carefully retracting to take a slow, deep inhale, the Free Knight's expression turns into one of surprise.
"Incredibly sweet, and earthy. Really earthy, like subterranean. I've never seen or smelled a flower like this."
>Head dipping to speak in a quick, staunchly gritty yet flowing language, she takes another light sniff, then lightly bites into the flower, her demarenor seemingly appreciative after several chews.
"Mmm, tastes amazing. I hope it wasn't too hard to get, there's a lot of hard to find plants that even my dam wouldn't have given to herrrr- neeevermind-"
>Taking on a moderately sheepish look, Raindrop taps her left front hoof down on the tray, lifting it up with the same to expose a wide selection of wrapped real food, a few of which you recognized, arrayed around a center bowl filled with various chunks.
"Don't worry, we're probably done for tonight, and I was cooling off. So! Freshly grilled, or baked, squid, crab, shrimp, clams, and ocean fish in young efflo leaves. Like cabbage but better tasting. Red sprinkles in the little container is a spicy mix, the white tiny squares on everything is sea salt, and the blue sprinkles-"
>Halting to blink once, the right wing lifts in thought before patting her side.
"Charred Moors saphor-stalk. It's got a nice, cool berry flavor, like blueberries but a bit softer. It's sometimes used as a medicine for birds. Like me!"
>Cracking a grin while flexing her wings, Raindrop points a single feather at the central bowl.
"Bright yellow pieces are pineapple, whole green ones are kiwi, scraped of course, soft yellow is mango, blue is ocean melon, and the red ones are an underwater berry that Ferron love to hate. They're a bit sour at first but get sweeter the longer you chew. You get first pick, of course!"
>Parsing the only datachannel available, what you find is the complete schematic of a perplexing instrument: a 29-stringed oval harp, the ends tapered to a shearing point.
>Connected to a labyrinthine network of perfect 0.1 nanometer width necrodermis cable, directly integrated throughout the Auspex's custom built systems, it appeared that the 'pick', created from an exotic native alloy, was bent slightly forwards the wrong way..
>By, precisely, 0.00002 degrees.
>Repeating that datum twice, the Necron device translates directly into High Gothic: "Melodically-attuned temporal causality inspection unit repairs MUST be completed via high velocity, high kinetic-transferred maintenance."
'USE A SLEDGEHAMMER'
'or throw it. that usually made it work before'
'SLEDGE. HAMMER.'
'calm your binary ma'
'FINISH THAT THOUGHT AND I WILL CALM YOU PERMANENTLY!'
>Tracker dataprints themselves out as a pair of near-exact twins in ASCII, the male slightly taller than the wiry female, the precise image.. unsettling.
>And you weren't sure why.
>The male politely seats his sister on what was probably a chair, sitting next to her and turning to 'view' you, frowning equally as they speak in sync.
'None. Marquis du Spiral Disclosure was the sole interested unicorn of adapting human technologies to native methodologies and materials. We theorize his fascination quickly became a source of grief. As a test, compare the least equipped Guardsman's wargear to those of the Russian analogue squad you met in Twin Hill. That, we feel, is part of why he went mad.'
>Turning their bodies towards away from your perception briefly, which was probably them intercepting the Xenotechnologist's channel, the Tracker twins' datatone is expressionless.
'Princess Mi Amore Cadenza's ability to commune with machines, whether crystalline, metallic, organic, Otherworld, Planar, hybrid, mixed, or otherwise, is unquestionable and inviolable. Inquisitor Velasi once remarked the following: distances and compositional differences are merely poor observations when an alicorn is part of an equation. It is the reason she has been deemed Poneissiah.
It is impossible Chisan Nas lied. His knowledge is merely insufficient; he has not learned the basic theories of Constructs we have access to. Which is still next to nothing.'
>Noting the solid steel floor, cabinets, and empty weapon racks, there was a high number of excellent locations to perform... maintenance.
'Excuse us for a time, we are attempting to access Velasi's personal datastacks and will not likely be available.'
>Snout wiggling briefly, Raindrop's ears perk up at spotting the flower, eyes widening as both wings snap onto her sides tightly.
"It's beautiful! Thank you Miss Castella!"
>A wide smile takes over the pegasi's face, reaching forwards with her left wing to carefully grasp the flower between two primary feathers, though not before running a feathertip across your fingers with a third.
>Carefully retracting to take a slow, deep inhale, the Free Knight's expression turns into one of surprise.
"Incredibly sweet, and earthy. Really earthy, like subterranean. I've never seen or smelled a flower like this."
>Head dipping to speak in a quick, staunchly gritty yet flowing language, she takes another light sniff, then lightly bites into the flower, her demarenor seemingly appreciative after several chews.
"Mmm, tastes amazing. I hope it wasn't too hard to get, there's a lot of hard to find plants that even my dam wouldn't have given to herrrr- neeevermind-"
>Taking on a moderately sheepish look, Raindrop taps her left front hoof down on the tray, lifting it up with the same to expose a wide selection of wrapped real food, a few of which you recognized, arrayed around a center bowl filled with various chunks.
"Don't worry, we're probably done for tonight, and I was cooling off. So! Freshly grilled, or baked, squid, crab, shrimp, clams, and ocean fish in young efflo leaves. Like cabbage but better tasting. Red sprinkles in the little container is a spicy mix, the white tiny squares on everything is sea salt, and the blue sprinkles-"
>Halting to blink once, the right wing lifts in thought before patting her side.
"Charred Moors saphor-stalk. It's got a nice, cool berry flavor, like blueberries but a bit softer. It's sometimes used as a medicine for birds. Like me!"
>Cracking a grin while flexing her wings, Raindrop points a single feather at the central bowl.
"Bright yellow pieces are pineapple, whole green ones are kiwi, scraped of course, soft yellow is mango, blue is ocean melon, and the red ones are an underwater berry that Ferron love to hate. They're a bit sour at first but get sweeter the longer you chew. You get first pick, of course!"
>>354017
"You and me both-"
>Making an agreeing snort, the outermost layer of Naliyna's armor plates ripple in dark hues while the visor imprints a quick pair of sharp, muted blue glows.
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Stalker's Eye
>Finding nothing amiss or added across the pouches, that first step back into... The Party Bunker, your impression was: business as usual.
>Outside of quiet disagreemarents between the Lunar and Empire Lorekeeprs on the east side, most pointing to opened lockers, boxes, and chests, all of which featured archaic Canterlot styles or symbols long out of place and taste.
>While you could tell the various objects spread about or being inspected were Solar related, the most common was intensely bright orange palladine along with some pallatine, the crystallized and fully metallic difficult to tell without a close examination.
>None were recognizable... or even remotely whole.
>For their part the Dark Horse Cultists had been called in a short time ago, carefully studying the books and tomes in front of them.
>Aside the one Naliyna had spoken to, only now settling down in her chair to sniff pages, their lazy postures and forward slouching indicated high calm.
>Noting a distinct lack of Amerose's unique robe among the standard crystalline-whites, purples, and few rare blue Lunar varieties, Naliyna's head turns several degrees left.
>Clicking into your radio channel amid a small buzz, the exoframe's ringing thumps northward cover the static.
*"Straight south at the dock means Amerose has.. that one red eyed batpony Enchained, can never remember his name, with her in the north buildings. Watch my flanks, I'm going to Wake the Beasts if they're around-"*
>Helmet dipping a hoof's height down, the oldest Remostrine daughter breaks into a heavy, thundering stride right as the lance and battering ram brighten into profuse cascades of fuchsia.
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Ramming Speed
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
"You and me both-"
>Making an agreeing snort, the outermost layer of Naliyna's armor plates ripple in dark hues while the visor imprints a quick pair of sharp, muted blue glows.
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Stalker's Eye
>Finding nothing amiss or added across the pouches, that first step back into... The Party Bunker, your impression was: business as usual.
>Outside of quiet disagreemarents between the Lunar and Empire Lorekeeprs on the east side, most pointing to opened lockers, boxes, and chests, all of which featured archaic Canterlot styles or symbols long out of place and taste.
>While you could tell the various objects spread about or being inspected were Solar related, the most common was intensely bright orange palladine along with some pallatine, the crystallized and fully metallic difficult to tell without a close examination.
>None were recognizable... or even remotely whole.
>For their part the Dark Horse Cultists had been called in a short time ago, carefully studying the books and tomes in front of them.
>Aside the one Naliyna had spoken to, only now settling down in her chair to sniff pages, their lazy postures and forward slouching indicated high calm.
>Noting a distinct lack of Amerose's unique robe among the standard crystalline-whites, purples, and few rare blue Lunar varieties, Naliyna's head turns several degrees left.
>Clicking into your radio channel amid a small buzz, the exoframe's ringing thumps northward cover the static.
*"Straight south at the dock means Amerose has.. that one red eyed batpony Enchained, can never remember his name, with her in the north buildings. Watch my flanks, I'm going to Wake the Beasts if they're around-"*
>Helmet dipping a hoof's height down, the oldest Remostrine daughter breaks into a heavy, thundering stride right as the lance and battering ram brighten into profuse cascades of fuchsia.
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Ramming Speed
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 7 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eitpHYcspF4
>>353974
('I'll stick to celebrating every momarent I'm not chained down by politics, witherstabbing, or being forced t-')
>Half of Vestal Gardenia's bemused, not-quite-a-retort flickers out of comprehension.
>Surveying the archaic black Arena before landing light and neat on solidly packed ground, it was a barely modified, though entirely restored First (and only) Pegasi-Batpony League Era structure, the half-roofed over top once used for do-or-die tests.
>As the internal complex was taken up by hundreds of seats in wide, comfortable rows, numerous external landing platforms, barely seen from below, led into symmetrical staircases, along with a few recently rebuilt slides.
>Running throughout the false exterior walls would be steep and parallel staircases allowing for a quick run to the top.
>Nearly blocking the larger north facing entrance were clusters of Moor cats and orange hulls in viciously packed heaps, not a single movemarent to be seen.
>Passing by the first few bodies and hulls and onto short black stairs, there were, strangely, no scents of feline blood nor from the exotic, acrid energy weapons.
>From high above comes a heavy, dual snap-cracks of particle whips splitting air molecules in their path, followed by a fleeting taste of bitter hatred.
[1d6 = 6] <Mercy: ENRAGED!
[1d6 = 2] <Spectrum Dive
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <B.Ambush Assault
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
('Lunar felines? No, there is no further suppor-')
('Yes there bloody is! The Moors protects itself and those bound by extension to it! Aid Mercy in killing one of that pair and the rest will scatter-')
('Are you truly insane!? I cannot expect a single heavily traumatized, barely trained Spirit Walker and a single marecenary to win against those odds, Gardenia!')
>Flickers of hard intent pass through the psionic link, Vestal's tone dead cold.
('You will be proven wrong. ..she is lost in the ebb and flow of combat, just as she ought to be. Pegasus, find a chance to slip inside the minimum range of that pair, doing so will force them to fire upon each other, use that as a distraction. They have too marely weapons to effectively scan their environmarent and will be blinded. Locate one of ten external heavy missile pods equinedistant across the upper hull, search for-')
>Two series of side-by-side large triangular shapes in a specific pattern flash into your thoughts briefly.
('On an open side, and press these in sequence, that will detonate the internal munitions. You will have to take cover, but remember this: that trick will only work one time against a pair.')
>A number of back and forth triangles appear, being stomped on by a bloody silverine-gilded hoof, composing a short melody of electric chimes followed by a trace image of the 11th Councilierge snarling.
('That is a true Arena where only the most capable, intelligent, strongest, quickest, or most daring prevail. Good hunting, Sunny-')
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 7 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eitpHYcspF4
>>353974
('I'll stick to celebrating every momarent I'm not chained down by politics, witherstabbing, or being forced t-')
>Half of Vestal Gardenia's bemused, not-quite-a-retort flickers out of comprehension.
>Surveying the archaic black Arena before landing light and neat on solidly packed ground, it was a barely modified, though entirely restored First (and only) Pegasi-Batpony League Era structure, the half-roofed over top once used for do-or-die tests.
>As the internal complex was taken up by hundreds of seats in wide, comfortable rows, numerous external landing platforms, barely seen from below, led into symmetrical staircases, along with a few recently rebuilt slides.
>Running throughout the false exterior walls would be steep and parallel staircases allowing for a quick run to the top.
>Nearly blocking the larger north facing entrance were clusters of Moor cats and orange hulls in viciously packed heaps, not a single movemarent to be seen.
>Passing by the first few bodies and hulls and onto short black stairs, there were, strangely, no scents of feline blood nor from the exotic, acrid energy weapons.
>From high above comes a heavy, dual snap-cracks of particle whips splitting air molecules in their path, followed by a fleeting taste of bitter hatred.
[1d6 = 6] <Mercy: ENRAGED!
[1d6 = 2] <Spectrum Dive
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <B.Ambush Assault
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
('Lunar felines? No, there is no further suppor-')
('Yes there bloody is! The Moors protects itself and those bound by extension to it! Aid Mercy in killing one of that pair and the rest will scatter-')
('Are you truly insane!? I cannot expect a single heavily traumatized, barely trained Spirit Walker and a single marecenary to win against those odds, Gardenia!')
>Flickers of hard intent pass through the psionic link, Vestal's tone dead cold.
('You will be proven wrong. ..she is lost in the ebb and flow of combat, just as she ought to be. Pegasus, find a chance to slip inside the minimum range of that pair, doing so will force them to fire upon each other, use that as a distraction. They have too marely weapons to effectively scan their environmarent and will be blinded. Locate one of ten external heavy missile pods equinedistant across the upper hull, search for-')
>Two series of side-by-side large triangular shapes in a specific pattern flash into your thoughts briefly.
('On an open side, and press these in sequence, that will detonate the internal munitions. You will have to take cover, but remember this: that trick will only work one time against a pair.')
>A number of back and forth triangles appear, being stomped on by a bloody silverine-gilded hoof, composing a short melody of electric chimes followed by a trace image of the 11th Councilierge snarling.
('That is a true Arena where only the most capable, intelligent, strongest, quickest, or most daring prevail. Good hunting, Sunny-')
('Eight minutes until the Shattering Skies is dragged into atmosphere. And, Razorback, for the last time: individual destruction is no longer possible. That’s been said twice now. Do not make it a third.')
('I sincerely hope the Otherworld Harpies made every last component to weather fifteen millennia with ease-’)
('We will know soon.')
>>353988
>Sensing Vestal Gardenia's presence turn in your direction, the marental voice was ruthlessly flat.
('I have aided the honored humans of Stalliongrad untold times. It is to their credit I was taught how to bypass Wish Disc laws on their direct behalf.')
>Physically lifting her head and glancing left at the line of Operators firing and reloading, the eye rolls in your direction with a firm, distant tone, then focuses forwards.
('It is a shame we will never be allies.')
>Hearing a few snickers from Operators around you, the Spiker's heavy recoil was reassuring, though the limited visible impacts into the leading earth mare Lunar Tainted slightly less so.
The Lost Legions: 22,607 of 285,678 Morale
>Two hundred fifty of the Watch, Day, Night, and Lunar Guards silently track the immarense, distant Spectral Lances arcing towards them, accepting death with all sharing a single thought:
('Wish we could've been friends before this-')
>As their armored kin slump down onto Basin Village's stonework, the sporadic pattern of low cohesion Spectral Lances weaken and diffuse while additional Lancers pour in from the network of translocation matrices, standing atop the bodies of their kin.
>The ranks of Chargers on either side of the entrance meanwhile prepare to intercept the first Lunar Assault Tainted, now reaching a bare 50M from the Basin's southern walls.
>Snapping her head up, the Watch General finally allows herself a relieved scowl.
('LANCERS! Prepare to counter-charge, distract the Tainted to your four-times-blessed deaths! CHARGERS! Climb the Tainted and shred them when possible! REPLACEMARENTS! Enter by number and replace the fallen!')
>Entirely focused now, the Eleventh Councilierge prepares to blink at the towering royal purple armored earth mare leading the charge.
('Strikers, target the Solar Support Division. Disrupt them at every cost. All unicorns and Razorback, wait until the first mine is triggered.. and aim high.')
>Followed by five Lunar Assault Tainted, the earth mare charger nearly disappears in a wash of shrieking kanpri landmines, ripples of black, purple, and red shredding through metaphysicality.
[1d6+93 = (5+93) = 98] <Outer Entrance Explosives
>Incapable of holding in their keks any longer, sixty willing suicide batponies grip their collected elemarental bombs tightly, then dive straight down and into the next oncoming group of nine-
[1d6+29 = (5+29) = 34] <Rooftop Ambush
>Right as the second and third set of manabomb mines detonate, diamond and iron casings lost in the bodies of Tainted-
>And is intercepted by chromatic turbulence of raw Anti in the shape of an earth mare, leaping straight up at the charging Lunar Assault Tainted.
('Live well.')
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Lunge
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17] <Master Assault
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Resist Damage
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Master Sunken State
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6 = 5] <Anti
[1d6 = 5] <Bane
('I sincerely hope the Otherworld Harpies made every last component to weather fifteen millennia with ease-’)
('We will know soon.')
>>353988
>Sensing Vestal Gardenia's presence turn in your direction, the marental voice was ruthlessly flat.
('I have aided the honored humans of Stalliongrad untold times. It is to their credit I was taught how to bypass Wish Disc laws on their direct behalf.')
>Physically lifting her head and glancing left at the line of Operators firing and reloading, the eye rolls in your direction with a firm, distant tone, then focuses forwards.
('It is a shame we will never be allies.')
>Hearing a few snickers from Operators around you, the Spiker's heavy recoil was reassuring, though the limited visible impacts into the leading earth mare Lunar Tainted slightly less so.
The Lost Legions: 22,607 of 285,678 Morale
>Two hundred fifty of the Watch, Day, Night, and Lunar Guards silently track the immarense, distant Spectral Lances arcing towards them, accepting death with all sharing a single thought:
('Wish we could've been friends before this-')
>As their armored kin slump down onto Basin Village's stonework, the sporadic pattern of low cohesion Spectral Lances weaken and diffuse while additional Lancers pour in from the network of translocation matrices, standing atop the bodies of their kin.
>The ranks of Chargers on either side of the entrance meanwhile prepare to intercept the first Lunar Assault Tainted, now reaching a bare 50M from the Basin's southern walls.
>Snapping her head up, the Watch General finally allows herself a relieved scowl.
('LANCERS! Prepare to counter-charge, distract the Tainted to your four-times-blessed deaths! CHARGERS! Climb the Tainted and shred them when possible! REPLACEMARENTS! Enter by number and replace the fallen!')
>Entirely focused now, the Eleventh Councilierge prepares to blink at the towering royal purple armored earth mare leading the charge.
('Strikers, target the Solar Support Division. Disrupt them at every cost. All unicorns and Razorback, wait until the first mine is triggered.. and aim high.')
>Followed by five Lunar Assault Tainted, the earth mare charger nearly disappears in a wash of shrieking kanpri landmines, ripples of black, purple, and red shredding through metaphysicality.
[1d6+93 = (5+93) = 98] <Outer Entrance Explosives
>Incapable of holding in their keks any longer, sixty willing suicide batponies grip their collected elemarental bombs tightly, then dive straight down and into the next oncoming group of nine-
[1d6+29 = (5+29) = 34] <Rooftop Ambush
>Right as the second and third set of manabomb mines detonate, diamond and iron casings lost in the bodies of Tainted-
>And is intercepted by chromatic turbulence of raw Anti in the shape of an earth mare, leaping straight up at the charging Lunar Assault Tainted.
('Live well.')
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Lunge
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17] <Master Assault
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Resist Damage
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Master Sunken State
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6 = 5] <Anti
[1d6 = 5] <Bane
>>354707
>Well below the last set of Spectral lances being launched from the far Solar Guardians and erratic, seemingly exhausted Striker counter-barrages, the sight wasn't quite equal to the solid wall of incoming missiles and lasers from Stonehenge.. but it was close enough.
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 4 Captains remaining @ 11 Speed, 220M south of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guardian Support Division: Spectral Lances
The Lost Legions: -27,659 Morale of 285,678
('All Strikers retreat from Basin Village immediately by love and duty, you can accomplish nothing more this night. Let the rest take up your posts.')
>Watching Guillotine's weapon effects crash and roll across the rearmost Lunar Assault Tainted, it was apparent they were solidly uncaring, though appeared to be, slightly, losing physical cohesion.
The Lost Legions: -28,959 of 285,678 Morale
>Slightly more effective at range, the fractal patterns of Battered Shores' weaponry strike deep through multiple rows of giant Tainted, streaks of faux-material slowly recoalescing in their wake.
The Lost Legions: -30,231 of 285,678 Morale
>Finding the Kiowa's controls less than perfectly responsive in your hands, both missiles streak into the heavily encrusted Solar Generals; the first impacting across the rearmost's saddle, shrapnel glinting as it freezes while the second dumb-fuzes on the secondary target's lower neck.
The Lost Legions: -30,639 of 285,678 Morale
>Overhearing a harsh retort from Guillotine to the Germaneighan Heavy Cruiser, the ancient Harpy weapons swivel to combine with those nearly opposite to her own: matter, barely matter, antimatter, volatile energetics, eminently refined Elemarents, and stretches of modified spacetime delivering individual mass-particle reactions stream into the rearmost Lunar Assault Tainted cluster.
*"Havest equine minutes of two afore mine reactors be depleted, ye grace!"*
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,490/3,000 armor
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (2+24) = 26] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
('Battered Shores has rotated a quarter the primary crew out, no deaths or probable lasting damage. We're alone off the Crete Straights, closest vessel is four hours out and we have at least sixty weapons in various states of damage. We're going to take the biggest possible risk with our unrecoverable primary arrays.. get those replacemarents hot and COVER YOUR EARS NOW!')
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Accuracy
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+40 = (1+40) = 41] <Main Arcane Armamarent #1: SUICIDE OVERLOAD!
[1d6+36 = (6+36) = 42] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: SUICIDE OVERLOAD!
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Spare Main Arcane Armamarents Preheat
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Arcane Point Defense Systems
('Clemency, ignore the leaders. They are of no concern as they cannot be destroyed individually. And I would highly suggest utilizing all possible weaponry, not merely two missiles at a time.')
>Well below the last set of Spectral lances being launched from the far Solar Guardians and erratic, seemingly exhausted Striker counter-barrages, the sight wasn't quite equal to the solid wall of incoming missiles and lasers from Stonehenge.. but it was close enough.
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 4 Captains remaining @ 11 Speed, 220M south of Basin Village
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guardian Support Division: Spectral Lances
The Lost Legions: -27,659 Morale of 285,678
('All Strikers retreat from Basin Village immediately by love and duty, you can accomplish nothing more this night. Let the rest take up your posts.')
>Watching Guillotine's weapon effects crash and roll across the rearmost Lunar Assault Tainted, it was apparent they were solidly uncaring, though appeared to be, slightly, losing physical cohesion.
The Lost Legions: -28,959 of 285,678 Morale
>Slightly more effective at range, the fractal patterns of Battered Shores' weaponry strike deep through multiple rows of giant Tainted, streaks of faux-material slowly recoalescing in their wake.
The Lost Legions: -30,231 of 285,678 Morale
>Finding the Kiowa's controls less than perfectly responsive in your hands, both missiles streak into the heavily encrusted Solar Generals; the first impacting across the rearmost's saddle, shrapnel glinting as it freezes while the second dumb-fuzes on the secondary target's lower neck.
The Lost Legions: -30,639 of 285,678 Morale
>Overhearing a harsh retort from Guillotine to the Germaneighan Heavy Cruiser, the ancient Harpy weapons swivel to combine with those nearly opposite to her own: matter, barely matter, antimatter, volatile energetics, eminently refined Elemarents, and stretches of modified spacetime delivering individual mass-particle reactions stream into the rearmost Lunar Assault Tainted cluster.
*"Havest equine minutes of two afore mine reactors be depleted, ye grace!"*
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,490/3,000 armor
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (2+24) = 26] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (2+17) = 19] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25] <Tertiary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
('Battered Shores has rotated a quarter the primary crew out, no deaths or probable lasting damage. We're alone off the Crete Straights, closest vessel is four hours out and we have at least sixty weapons in various states of damage. We're going to take the biggest possible risk with our unrecoverable primary arrays.. get those replacemarents hot and COVER YOUR EARS NOW!')
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Accuracy
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+40 = (1+40) = 41] <Main Arcane Armamarent #1: SUICIDE OVERLOAD!
[1d6+36 = (6+36) = 42] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: SUICIDE OVERLOAD!
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Spare Main Arcane Armamarents Preheat
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Arcane Point Defense Systems
('Clemency, ignore the leaders. They are of no concern as they cannot be destroyed individually. And I would highly suggest utilizing all possible weaponry, not merely two missiles at a time.')
Nice to see that this is active again. Good for you guys.
>>355345
>Strained from balancing priorities and commarends, the Watch General's tone was polite, yet dismissive.
('An overherd this size is excruciating enough to marenage without adding the additional layer of technology. No, but thank you for the offer.')
('None save myself. I much prefer the quiet of being alone.')
>Slowly turning her head left, Vestal Gardenia's eye swivels to align on you, then forwards, her marental voice somber and flat.
('I did not intend to punish her with an unwinnable task. Such are the worst teachers, as Kenfield Pass showed us.')
>Noting the Reaper maneuvering back into a suitable pass, the large Rime cluster had a rather tenuous grasp on those Tainted flash-frozen around it; the outermost were straining to break free, ice fracturing and refreezing in the damp swamp air.
>Picking the four most visible Generals, the drone's view jolts upwards upon the quadruple launch as enough weight is freed for maximum air speed.
>Retargeting as each missile's primary booster system kicks in, the first Hellfire's approach is fouled, skewing north to detonate on another Tainted's forelegs and showering the targeted General.
>The second fares slightly better, drifting south and impacting an ice cluster in front of that General's snout, though the third crashes southwest between a quarter of Lunar Assault forms.
>The fourth's guidance lines up its path directly into that targeted General's exposed flank, shrapnel deflecting off into the face and neck of another Assault.
The Lost Legions: -31,216 of 285,678 Morale
>Weapons fire across Razorback's barricade and a final volley of Void lances from the gathered mare and stallionfriends tear through the first two clusters of charging Tainted on screen, but were still not slowing them down.
-43,302 of 285,648 Morale
>Nearly burned out from their efforts, Bren shouts for Razorback's combined unicorns, including Krinza, to retreat and recover.
>Pausing in front of the Basin's sacrificial circle to stare at the hundreds of dead batponies surrounding the lone Dark Horse Cultist, the crew boss scowls as she dives into the Fortress gateway.
('Not one fucking second of this is right-')
>A clattering of hooves from behind heralds the Watch General physically shouting over thousands of Strikers exchanging places:
"Councilierge Assault Vanguard Battalion, Night Guard Combat Division, Night Guard Combat Support Division, and both Lunar Guard Combat Battalions, take their positions! You are all the second-to-last fallback, but a small number from the Crystal Empire will take up your duties if your numbers are depleted!"
>Directly ahead, the clusters of kanpri landmines had detonated while you'd been busy, much weaker secondary and tertiary manabombs throwing volatile Elemarentals upwards-
[1d6+35 = (3+35) = 38] <Secondary Entrance Explosives
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Tertiary Entrance Explosives
>Snarling kee's and keks in the distance rebound as the first Lunar Assault Tainted clears the entrance, though Broken Hoof lunging up and through the head catches it off guard, as does a surreptitiously placed war crime:
[1d6+63 = (4+63) = 67] <Unstable Plasma Cell
The Lost Legions: -47,882 of 285,678
('Hold-')
>As one, the teams of Operators hold until the last second, concentrating on the only target in sight: the lone Assault Tainted earth mare, violently thrashing her head to remove Broken Hoof's stained existence.
('Fire!')
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (2+21) = 23] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (4+25) = 29] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
>Streaks of purple cross above, the Lunar Airstrike Division sweeping into range as thousands of unicorns clustered in and atop the Basin's two-level buildings strike first, roiling the dim sky above in flashes of Void-tinged lances.
('May Evalesdraught aid you in scattering the Airstrike Division above us! East Ocean Moors Militia, keep them busy and off the rooftops as long as you can! All unassigned Solar, Lunar, and Watch Guard, climb the Basin's buildings and assist the Militia!')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <East Ocean Moors Militia x 150 total
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+12 = (6+12) = 18] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>vs:
[1d6+49 = (4+49) = 53] <Lunar Airstrike Division
>To the north, a new wind howls into frenzied existence, the merry voice of a young, long deceased Killknight makes a deep, honor-laden bow towards a Solar Guardian Captain, consolidating itself to match her height.
"Well met, stallion of ages past. May one of us die quickly, and without shame."
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Brutal Lunge
[1d6+22 = (2+22) = 24] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+21 = (5+21) = 26]
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (3+22) = 25]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Resonant Disruption
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Dissonant Rebuke
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Dance
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
>vs:
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42]
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42]
[1d6+39 = (5+39) = 44]
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
('Hail of Glory sustaining next to no internal damage, I don't know w- they're tearing the armor apart like it's wet paper!')
[1d6+67 = (5+67) = 72] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Optimal Range Vectors Locked
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Damaged Repair Systems
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <System 3 Repairs
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <System 6 Repairs
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Weapon Stabilizers
Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, INSIDE BASIN VILLAGE
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @ 13 Speed, 40M south of Basin Village
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, CONTROLLING NORTH BASIN VILLAGE AIRSPACE
Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 240M east of Basin Village
>Strained from balancing priorities and commarends, the Watch General's tone was polite, yet dismissive.
('An overherd this size is excruciating enough to marenage without adding the additional layer of technology. No, but thank you for the offer.')
('None save myself. I much prefer the quiet of being alone.')
>Slowly turning her head left, Vestal Gardenia's eye swivels to align on you, then forwards, her marental voice somber and flat.
('I did not intend to punish her with an unwinnable task. Such are the worst teachers, as Kenfield Pass showed us.')
>Noting the Reaper maneuvering back into a suitable pass, the large Rime cluster had a rather tenuous grasp on those Tainted flash-frozen around it; the outermost were straining to break free, ice fracturing and refreezing in the damp swamp air.
>Picking the four most visible Generals, the drone's view jolts upwards upon the quadruple launch as enough weight is freed for maximum air speed.
>Retargeting as each missile's primary booster system kicks in, the first Hellfire's approach is fouled, skewing north to detonate on another Tainted's forelegs and showering the targeted General.
>The second fares slightly better, drifting south and impacting an ice cluster in front of that General's snout, though the third crashes southwest between a quarter of Lunar Assault forms.
>The fourth's guidance lines up its path directly into that targeted General's exposed flank, shrapnel deflecting off into the face and neck of another Assault.
The Lost Legions: -31,216 of 285,678 Morale
>Weapons fire across Razorback's barricade and a final volley of Void lances from the gathered mare and stallionfriends tear through the first two clusters of charging Tainted on screen, but were still not slowing them down.
-43,302 of 285,648 Morale
>Nearly burned out from their efforts, Bren shouts for Razorback's combined unicorns, including Krinza, to retreat and recover.
>Pausing in front of the Basin's sacrificial circle to stare at the hundreds of dead batponies surrounding the lone Dark Horse Cultist, the crew boss scowls as she dives into the Fortress gateway.
('Not one fucking second of this is right-')
>A clattering of hooves from behind heralds the Watch General physically shouting over thousands of Strikers exchanging places:
"Councilierge Assault Vanguard Battalion, Night Guard Combat Division, Night Guard Combat Support Division, and both Lunar Guard Combat Battalions, take their positions! You are all the second-to-last fallback, but a small number from the Crystal Empire will take up your duties if your numbers are depleted!"
>Directly ahead, the clusters of kanpri landmines had detonated while you'd been busy, much weaker secondary and tertiary manabombs throwing volatile Elemarentals upwards-
[1d6+35 = (3+35) = 38] <Secondary Entrance Explosives
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24] <Tertiary Entrance Explosives
>Snarling kee's and keks in the distance rebound as the first Lunar Assault Tainted clears the entrance, though Broken Hoof lunging up and through the head catches it off guard, as does a surreptitiously placed war crime:
[1d6+63 = (4+63) = 67] <Unstable Plasma Cell
The Lost Legions: -47,882 of 285,678
('Hold-')
>As one, the teams of Operators hold until the last second, concentrating on the only target in sight: the lone Assault Tainted earth mare, violently thrashing her head to remove Broken Hoof's stained existence.
('Fire!')
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (2+21) = 23] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (4+25) = 29] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
>Streaks of purple cross above, the Lunar Airstrike Division sweeping into range as thousands of unicorns clustered in and atop the Basin's two-level buildings strike first, roiling the dim sky above in flashes of Void-tinged lances.
('May Evalesdraught aid you in scattering the Airstrike Division above us! East Ocean Moors Militia, keep them busy and off the rooftops as long as you can! All unassigned Solar, Lunar, and Watch Guard, climb the Basin's buildings and assist the Militia!')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <East Ocean Moors Militia x 150 total
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+12 = (6+12) = 18] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>vs:
[1d6+49 = (4+49) = 53] <Lunar Airstrike Division
>To the north, a new wind howls into frenzied existence, the merry voice of a young, long deceased Killknight makes a deep, honor-laden bow towards a Solar Guardian Captain, consolidating itself to match her height.
"Well met, stallion of ages past. May one of us die quickly, and without shame."
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Brutal Lunge
[1d6+22 = (2+22) = 24] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+21 = (5+21) = 26]
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (3+22) = 25]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Resonant Disruption
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Dissonant Rebuke
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Dance
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
>vs:
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42]
[1d6+39 = (3+39) = 42]
[1d6+39 = (5+39) = 44]
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
('Hail of Glory sustaining next to no internal damage, I don't know w- they're tearing the armor apart like it's wet paper!')
[1d6+67 = (5+67) = 72] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Optimal Range Vectors Locked
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Damaged Repair Systems
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <System 3 Repairs
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <System 6 Repairs
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Stabilizing Thrusters
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Weapon Stabilizers
Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, INSIDE BASIN VILLAGE
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @ 13 Speed, 40M south of Basin Village
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, CONTROLLING NORTH BASIN VILLAGE AIRSPACE
Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 240M east of Basin Village
>>370028
"A decade."
>Repeating the phrase to himself once, then twice, Krinza sits up painfilly straight.
"In under six years I have gone from zero knowledge to being confirmed by no less than thirty Lunar Grandmaster smiths and enchanters as an equal. In the last two months I improved a pre-Dynasty titanium alloy half-mesh formula to be more protective than modern artificial diamond plating. Any competent armorer, with the right knowledge, can easily outpace weaponry, enchantmarents, and the tactics used to deny that protection."
>Mane bristling as if he'd just been slapped open handed, the chunky stallion leans over the M134 to give it a critical examination before rapping the weapon in a bright yellow glow, setting it on the table's edge with an affectionate pat.
"It is done. You will have great difficulty damaging the barrels, frame, and carrying handle. While I do not blame Spiral for losing his sanity over having such a view of disturbing human ideals. What I will fault him for is giving in to remarkably short sighted goals. And lacking patience."
>Looking up to stare at the massive coldstone above his furnace, then turning to eye something on the western wall, Krinza's head tilts several degrees.
"I have an idea.. rather, four ideas, if a certain someone could be less of a bitch from time to time."
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>Reaching up to wipe sweat off his face, then neck, Helping Hoof sits back to eye the half-finished box frame.
"And I thought the early Minotaur Hegemony suffered from distressing growing pains. They were forced from being independent wide spread mining, trading, and crafting towns into a barely united hegemony under a monolithic nine caste system due to the Endless Marches."
>Turning both green eyes up, the green coated stallion's face creases in severe thought.
"Much too late for that, though I will state the darkest paths often reveal the most information. Take the vast differences between Old and New Canterlot for example: a puzzle with nearly all pieces in their proper place, except there are two sides always present. The viewer often and wrongly focuses on what they perceive to be incorrectly colored pieces, forgetting they are two halves of the same whole. Without Old Canterlot there could be no New Canterlot. Without Spiral, there may be no Razorback in the future, and vice versa."
>Giving Krinza's motionless form a quizzical examination, Helping lifts his shoulders in a relieved motion.
"Perfection is not an admirable goal as such a task presents an insurmountable obstacle, and my ideas of 'good enough' are becoming less appealing each second. I am beginning to understand Spiral's later thought process that, while different from what I knew, are equally intriguing. Now if only there were a few good chunks of promethine and some excellent diamondine here-"
>Selecting a spool of titanium alloy wire across the Workshop and directing it into the furnace for a preheat, Helping offers a brief chuckle.
"Catchy song."
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
"A decade."
>Repeating the phrase to himself once, then twice, Krinza sits up painfilly straight.
"In under six years I have gone from zero knowledge to being confirmed by no less than thirty Lunar Grandmaster smiths and enchanters as an equal. In the last two months I improved a pre-Dynasty titanium alloy half-mesh formula to be more protective than modern artificial diamond plating. Any competent armorer, with the right knowledge, can easily outpace weaponry, enchantmarents, and the tactics used to deny that protection."
>Mane bristling as if he'd just been slapped open handed, the chunky stallion leans over the M134 to give it a critical examination before rapping the weapon in a bright yellow glow, setting it on the table's edge with an affectionate pat.
"It is done. You will have great difficulty damaging the barrels, frame, and carrying handle. While I do not blame Spiral for losing his sanity over having such a view of disturbing human ideals. What I will fault him for is giving in to remarkably short sighted goals. And lacking patience."
>Looking up to stare at the massive coldstone above his furnace, then turning to eye something on the western wall, Krinza's head tilts several degrees.
"I have an idea.. rather, four ideas, if a certain someone could be less of a bitch from time to time."
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>Reaching up to wipe sweat off his face, then neck, Helping Hoof sits back to eye the half-finished box frame.
"And I thought the early Minotaur Hegemony suffered from distressing growing pains. They were forced from being independent wide spread mining, trading, and crafting towns into a barely united hegemony under a monolithic nine caste system due to the Endless Marches."
>Turning both green eyes up, the green coated stallion's face creases in severe thought.
"Much too late for that, though I will state the darkest paths often reveal the most information. Take the vast differences between Old and New Canterlot for example: a puzzle with nearly all pieces in their proper place, except there are two sides always present. The viewer often and wrongly focuses on what they perceive to be incorrectly colored pieces, forgetting they are two halves of the same whole. Without Old Canterlot there could be no New Canterlot. Without Spiral, there may be no Razorback in the future, and vice versa."
>Giving Krinza's motionless form a quizzical examination, Helping lifts his shoulders in a relieved motion.
"Perfection is not an admirable goal as such a task presents an insurmountable obstacle, and my ideas of 'good enough' are becoming less appealing each second. I am beginning to understand Spiral's later thought process that, while different from what I knew, are equally intriguing. Now if only there were a few good chunks of promethine and some excellent diamondine here-"
>Selecting a spool of titanium alloy wire across the Workshop and directing it into the furnace for a preheat, Helping offers a brief chuckle.
"Catchy song."
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>>370039
>The relay Sunny was after was right on top of the twentieth level, she cursed internally for not gliding straight for it to begin with, and instead set off at a gallop. Hopefully she could climb back up with little time lost.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>Silently enduring the psionic bickering, Sunny memorised the sequence that was flashed to her. If only she could block out all but the most necessary communications.
('Acknowledged.')
>Objective first, however. The watch general was correct, against a destroyer pair, they were playing a game of long odds, even with Mercy's new capabilities.
>She spared a glance back up at the spiritist as she began her attack. The construct weaponry combined with Mercy's capacity for ambush strikes now made her the greatest tactical threat to the constructs present, but she was still effectively on her own against much more firepower. How long Mercy would be able to keep this up until they adapted or simply decided to raze everything around them, Sunny couldn't begin to guess.
>At the very least, the constructs might simply ignore her for the time being as a non-threat, which would give her the needed time to shut down the relay.
>As she approached the arena wall, Sunny looked for any hoofholds she could use to scale her way up.
>>370040
>>370042
>>370046
>The relay Sunny was after was right on top of the twentieth level, she cursed internally for not gliding straight for it to begin with, and instead set off at a gallop. Hopefully she could climb back up with little time lost.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>Silently enduring the psionic bickering, Sunny memorised the sequence that was flashed to her. If only she could block out all but the most necessary communications.
('Acknowledged.')
>Objective first, however. The watch general was correct, against a destroyer pair, they were playing a game of long odds, even with Mercy's new capabilities.
>She spared a glance back up at the spiritist as she began her attack. The construct weaponry combined with Mercy's capacity for ambush strikes now made her the greatest tactical threat to the constructs present, but she was still effectively on her own against much more firepower. How long Mercy would be able to keep this up until they adapted or simply decided to raze everything around them, Sunny couldn't begin to guess.
>At the very least, the constructs might simply ignore her for the time being as a non-threat, which would give her the needed time to shut down the relay.
>As she approached the arena wall, Sunny looked for any hoofholds she could use to scale her way up.
>>370040
>>370042
>>370046
>>370034
>Bubba would do his best to ignore the bright orange visuals, instead focusing on keeping his eye on both their surroundings and the figure of Naliyna plodding along slightly ahead of him.
>He did take a moment to eye up a few of the Solar eqsue items as the two moved with a purpose, but quickly focused back on the mare.
>Despite the cultists showing an aura of calm with their postures, Bubba was on alert. Anything could happen, after all.
>Bubba would not stoop to that level, instead deciding to watch her back as she charged.
>Keeping his head and ears on the closest thing to a swivel due to not being a >pone.
[1d6 = 6] <M. Perception
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
>Bubba would do his best to ignore the bright orange visuals, instead focusing on keeping his eye on both their surroundings and the figure of Naliyna plodding along slightly ahead of him.
>He did take a moment to eye up a few of the Solar eqsue items as the two moved with a purpose, but quickly focused back on the mare.
>Despite the cultists showing an aura of calm with their postures, Bubba was on alert. Anything could happen, after all.
>Bubba would not stoop to that level, instead deciding to watch her back as she charged.
>Keeping his head and ears on the closest thing to a swivel due to not being a >pone.
[1d6 = 6] <M. Perception
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370062
>>370029
>Finished carving the Rilvenni's more intact skin sections into a large roll, all eight tendrils strain to lift it off the heap of flesh, muscle, unrecognizable organs, and gore underneath, depositing off to the right with an unsettling squelch.
"Restoring my hull should allow that as a self-defense measure. I have no idea what to do with this. Yet."
>Camera view tilting upwards, then down, the caricature peers across the chest compartment as both of the internal medical tendrils exit from their floor hatches to begin taking apart the right screen's remains.
"Correction: doing so outside will be safer.. then again you may not want to be outside right now."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <CC.M.T #1: Deconstruction
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <CC.M.T #2: Deconstruction
>Snapping in your direction, mini-Wild's antennae flick.. suspiciously.
>Leaping back to stand on the map, mini-Wild performs a cursory examination.
"There is a newer Outpost approximately 149 miles west-southwest at fifteen miles of our current position, it may have a small translocation system. The remainder are seasonally occupied."
[1d6 = 4] <U.Cartography
[1d6 = 5] <U.Geography
>Unable to tell whether Anon had heard, a heavy chunk of something drops onto sand to the right accompanied by a shrill electronic noise.
"What was that?"
>Pausing to who knows what, her frame shifts backwards in seeming unease.
"My right hand. Correction: that WAS my right hand. Will have to rebuild it entirely after bringing secondary repair functions fully online. We may be here for a while."
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+8
[1d6 = 1] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair Tertiary System Reboot
>Examining the bright blue armor suit, it was composed of unusually flexible metal strands woven into a tight mesh, further protected by overlapping semi-rigid plates across all the joints.
>Sections that wouldn't be expected to move instead had solid, body conforming plating with some free movement, and was somewhat lighter than it appeared.
>A series of muted chirps echo in the chest cabin while you pull the jumpsuit styled armor on, which thankfully seemed to be capable of expanding at the neck to step into.
"No identifiable targets in range."
>Collapsing itself back down into a snug, though not constricting fit, right as you pull the shoulders over and wiggle them into place, you could feel the metal draining air temperature around it to comfortably cool.
>Noting flickers of bright blue lights outside, Wild's left hand comes into view holding a 3M in diameter pulsing sphere.
>An occasional orange or red spot appears internally, the external surface glossy and umarred.
"Core extraction successful, it seems to be undamaged.. and I have no idea what to do with it."
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Arcanum Sensory Array
>Finished carving the Rilvenni's more intact skin sections into a large roll, all eight tendrils strain to lift it off the heap of flesh, muscle, unrecognizable organs, and gore underneath, depositing off to the right with an unsettling squelch.
"Restoring my hull should allow that as a self-defense measure. I have no idea what to do with this. Yet."
>Camera view tilting upwards, then down, the caricature peers across the chest compartment as both of the internal medical tendrils exit from their floor hatches to begin taking apart the right screen's remains.
"Correction: doing so outside will be safer.. then again you may not want to be outside right now."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <CC.M.T #1: Deconstruction
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <CC.M.T #2: Deconstruction
>Snapping in your direction, mini-Wild's antennae flick.. suspiciously.
>Leaping back to stand on the map, mini-Wild performs a cursory examination.
"There is a newer Outpost approximately 149 miles west-southwest at fifteen miles of our current position, it may have a small translocation system. The remainder are seasonally occupied."
[1d6 = 4] <U.Cartography
[1d6 = 5] <U.Geography
>Unable to tell whether Anon had heard, a heavy chunk of something drops onto sand to the right accompanied by a shrill electronic noise.
"What was that?"
>Pausing to who knows what, her frame shifts backwards in seeming unease.
"My right hand. Correction: that WAS my right hand. Will have to rebuild it entirely after bringing secondary repair functions fully online. We may be here for a while."
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+8
[1d6 = 1] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair Tertiary System Reboot
>Examining the bright blue armor suit, it was composed of unusually flexible metal strands woven into a tight mesh, further protected by overlapping semi-rigid plates across all the joints.
>Sections that wouldn't be expected to move instead had solid, body conforming plating with some free movement, and was somewhat lighter than it appeared.
>A series of muted chirps echo in the chest cabin while you pull the jumpsuit styled armor on, which thankfully seemed to be capable of expanding at the neck to step into.
"No identifiable targets in range."
>Collapsing itself back down into a snug, though not constricting fit, right as you pull the shoulders over and wiggle them into place, you could feel the metal draining air temperature around it to comfortably cool.
>Noting flickers of bright blue lights outside, Wild's left hand comes into view holding a 3M in diameter pulsing sphere.
>An occasional orange or red spot appears internally, the external surface glossy and umarred.
"Core extraction successful, it seems to be undamaged.. and I have no idea what to do with it."
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Arcanum Sensory Array
>>353885
>>370030
>Crossing through tangible reality through the Vortex, like you'd done hundreds of times was normal, for sure.
>But upon the various states of energy, matter, and vibration intertwined across layers that hadn't been experienced before, reconsolidating into a spectrum of solid thought, then translating back into your previous self.
>Save for the awareness there was vastly more than the minutiae of conscious physicality.. that was different.
*"What.. was that? E'eryone safe?"*
>Still cradling Hodch, now fully asleep, Katyal makes a slow, furious blink towards the operator's cabin.
"That's how Warp Gates function. Silverbitch made thousands. Taught the Dynasty how to as well. Natives say the process makes them more in tune with oneself. For ponies, their herd. If you aren't.. who cares, right."
[1d6 = 1] <Mindscape: Control Rage
>Running paralleled diagnostics on the unit, Shiibo places a slowly rising threat level level on the First Responder's facial expression becoming 'simmering rage'.
No interruptions or unusual activity. I am unaffected.
>Glancing around her, Dul stares up, down, peers at the troop compartment's corners, then back at the projections.
"Dul go through lots these gates. Dul feel like how Dul feel like."
[1d6 = 6] <Study
[1d6 = 4] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
>Eyes glinting briefly in your direction, Katyal points up with the left index finger.
"You good? And, how's it look out there?"
*"...big trees."*
"New Everfree has big trees, so what?"
*"Ya don't.. BIG trees."*
>Releasing a small sigh, the woman's eyes close hard.
"How big?"
*"Ever seen naval vessels?"*
"Yeah, been on a light cruiser, hospital ship, once. Why?"
*"...ever seen a battleship?"*
"Once. Again, why?"
*"..ever seen a livin', movin', breathin' mountain walk the fuck over a few hunnerd battleship sized trees s'tall Ah ain't even seein' stars without knockin' 'em flat?"*
>Settling for faint alarm, Katyal motions with her chin at Hodch's collection of items, muttering in a disbelieving tone.
"Absolutely full of shit, nothing that big exists. Pass me that yellow bracelet so I can get him in the room."
>Pausing briefly to squint, she sighs.
"Please."
>>370030
>Crossing through tangible reality through the Vortex, like you'd done hundreds of times was normal, for sure.
>But upon the various states of energy, matter, and vibration intertwined across layers that hadn't been experienced before, reconsolidating into a spectrum of solid thought, then translating back into your previous self.
>Save for the awareness there was vastly more than the minutiae of conscious physicality.. that was different.
*"What.. was that? E'eryone safe?"*
>Still cradling Hodch, now fully asleep, Katyal makes a slow, furious blink towards the operator's cabin.
"That's how Warp Gates function. Silverbitch made thousands. Taught the Dynasty how to as well. Natives say the process makes them more in tune with oneself. For ponies, their herd. If you aren't.. who cares, right."
[1d6 = 1] <Mindscape: Control Rage
>Running paralleled diagnostics on the unit, Shiibo places a slowly rising threat level level on the First Responder's facial expression becoming 'simmering rage'.
No interruptions or unusual activity. I am unaffected.
>Glancing around her, Dul stares up, down, peers at the troop compartment's corners, then back at the projections.
"Dul go through lots these gates. Dul feel like how Dul feel like."
[1d6 = 6] <Study
[1d6 = 4] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
>Eyes glinting briefly in your direction, Katyal points up with the left index finger.
"You good? And, how's it look out there?"
*"...big trees."*
"New Everfree has big trees, so what?"
*"Ya don't.. BIG trees."*
>Releasing a small sigh, the woman's eyes close hard.
"How big?"
*"Ever seen naval vessels?"*
"Yeah, been on a light cruiser, hospital ship, once. Why?"
*"...ever seen a battleship?"*
"Once. Again, why?"
*"..ever seen a livin', movin', breathin' mountain walk the fuck over a few hunnerd battleship sized trees s'tall Ah ain't even seein' stars without knockin' 'em flat?"*
>Settling for faint alarm, Katyal motions with her chin at Hodch's collection of items, muttering in a disbelieving tone.
"Absolutely full of shit, nothing that big exists. Pass me that yellow bracelet so I can get him in the room."
>Pausing briefly to squint, she sighs.
"Please."
>>370046
>Jeff gives the General a wordless mental nod, to leave her to her commarend. Had she offered he'd take something off her hooves, but better he focuses on between piloting the Reaper and providing ground fire.
>Giving himself a shrug at Vestal ultimately lone-wolfing life, he pans over to whatever Emerald is faring with.
('She's in for a world of hurt's worth of training, if she can't make me break a sweat. Failure is the best teacher, in this case.')
>He says it confidently, as if he's already planning a regimen of CQB training for the poor woman.
>Okay, he'll admit... he's not the best AGM guider right now. He either air-balled or ricocheted ever one of them.
'Fuck sake these are harder to aim than I remember.'
>Better he uses the rest of his five-hundred pounders, and leave the six Hellfires for an emergency.
>Luckily he was within a bombing angle now, tight as it was, so he switches the Reaper back into manual and aims it toward the Rime cluster.
>He switches over to the last two Paveways and syncs them to the bombing laser. Through the camera, he notices he's going to buzz rigth over Clem in the Kiowa.
>>354707
('Clem, need you to side step. Dropping two Paveways right on top of the Rime.')
>While his friend wasn't in direct line of his bombing run, he didn't want to him catch any cast-off.
>As he comes into release range, he pans over the Rime cluster to pick out the two most target dense spots and locks the targeting laser for them.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
('Incoming. Two bombs over the Rime.')
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (3+18) = 21]
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
>Watching the two bombs drop and fall onto their intended targets through the aperture, the minefield in front of him begins going off.
>Looks like the Tainted finally made it into the trap range of the Basin.
>As a single lone seventy-ish foot mare breaks the line, Broken Hoof is right in its way to pull a move.
>Right after, a hefty volley of gunfire strikes the Tainted.
>It's only a matter of time before the Bloodhosts start joining in.
>Better time than ever to move back to a better spot.
>Jeff stows the Milkor back into its duffel with the other forty-mikes, and switches the Reaper back to its auto-orbit before packing up the control case.
>Case in left hand and duffel slung over his right shoulder, he start heading North through their forces.
('Repositioning back to the fountain.')
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
>Jeff gives the General a wordless mental nod, to leave her to her commarend. Had she offered he'd take something off her hooves, but better he focuses on between piloting the Reaper and providing ground fire.
>Giving himself a shrug at Vestal ultimately lone-wolfing life, he pans over to whatever Emerald is faring with.
('She's in for a world of hurt's worth of training, if she can't make me break a sweat. Failure is the best teacher, in this case.')
>He says it confidently, as if he's already planning a regimen of CQB training for the poor woman.
>Okay, he'll admit... he's not the best AGM guider right now. He either air-balled or ricocheted ever one of them.
'Fuck sake these are harder to aim than I remember.'
>Better he uses the rest of his five-hundred pounders, and leave the six Hellfires for an emergency.
>Luckily he was within a bombing angle now, tight as it was, so he switches the Reaper back into manual and aims it toward the Rime cluster.
>He switches over to the last two Paveways and syncs them to the bombing laser. Through the camera, he notices he's going to buzz rigth over Clem in the Kiowa.
>>354707
('Clem, need you to side step. Dropping two Paveways right on top of the Rime.')
>While his friend wasn't in direct line of his bombing run, he didn't want to him catch any cast-off.
>As he comes into release range, he pans over the Rime cluster to pick out the two most target dense spots and locks the targeting laser for them.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
('Incoming. Two bombs over the Rime.')
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (3+18) = 21]
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
>Watching the two bombs drop and fall onto their intended targets through the aperture, the minefield in front of him begins going off.
>Looks like the Tainted finally made it into the trap range of the Basin.
>As a single lone seventy-ish foot mare breaks the line, Broken Hoof is right in its way to pull a move.
>Right after, a hefty volley of gunfire strikes the Tainted.
>It's only a matter of time before the Bloodhosts start joining in.
>Better time than ever to move back to a better spot.
>Jeff stows the Milkor back into its duffel with the other forty-mikes, and switches the Reaper back to its auto-orbit before packing up the control case.
>Case in left hand and duffel slung over his right shoulder, he start heading North through their forces.
('Repositioning back to the fountain.')
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
>>352403
>Carlos watches intently as Nova administers the potent doses of Restoration to a now unconscious Lejura.
"Buenas noches, seniorita."
>He will never not be fascinated by the complexities of alchemy. How a bottle of molten red liquid can replace what would otherwise be a lifetime of pain and suffering - even after medication, surgeries, and rehabilitation these wounds would still be felt for the rest of a person's lives.
>Minus arcane poisoning... can't forget the arcane poisoning.
>As the mare considers their resting patient, Carlos pulls out his own notepad and flips past the notes on Snakebite; mentally going over every action they've taken so far and making an update for Lejura for himself.
>Apart from discovering the minor heart attack and administering the over-dosing of restorative potions, Nova had her bases covered already. The Saddle Arabian should be in good hands and hoofs for now.
"Her wounds have been set, and the potions are doing their work. Update and monitor, for the time being. Let's an eye on how well she metabolizes that amount of Restoration in the hour."
>He sighs, already onto the next patient for them. He expected as much, going by the amount of occupied beds.
"Aye, si. Yes, let us move onto her next, rapida. Senior Snakebite's samples should be done soon. Hmm..."
>It seems both of them had a gap in their anatomical knowledge.
>Pred-elk was definitely outside of his area of expertise.
"Aidos mio, that makes me as well, Seniorita Nova. They are druidic in nature, si? Is there anyone in the Fortress that could lend us a hoof? Their creator?"
>Rubbing his chin is mild frustration at the circumstances, he gestures Nova to lead him to the Pred-Elk in question.
"At the very least let us gather as much data on the paciente as posible, before we lose the imaging spell."
>Carlos watches intently as Nova administers the potent doses of Restoration to a now unconscious Lejura.
"Buenas noches, seniorita."
>He will never not be fascinated by the complexities of alchemy. How a bottle of molten red liquid can replace what would otherwise be a lifetime of pain and suffering - even after medication, surgeries, and rehabilitation these wounds would still be felt for the rest of a person's lives.
>Minus arcane poisoning... can't forget the arcane poisoning.
>As the mare considers their resting patient, Carlos pulls out his own notepad and flips past the notes on Snakebite; mentally going over every action they've taken so far and making an update for Lejura for himself.
>Apart from discovering the minor heart attack and administering the over-dosing of restorative potions, Nova had her bases covered already. The Saddle Arabian should be in good hands and hoofs for now.
"Her wounds have been set, and the potions are doing their work. Update and monitor, for the time being. Let's an eye on how well she metabolizes that amount of Restoration in the hour."
>He sighs, already onto the next patient for them. He expected as much, going by the amount of occupied beds.
"Aye, si. Yes, let us move onto her next, rapida. Senior Snakebite's samples should be done soon. Hmm..."
>It seems both of them had a gap in their anatomical knowledge.
>Pred-elk was definitely outside of his area of expertise.
"Aidos mio, that makes me as well, Seniorita Nova. They are druidic in nature, si? Is there anyone in the Fortress that could lend us a hoof? Their creator?"
>Rubbing his chin is mild frustration at the circumstances, he gestures Nova to lead him to the Pred-Elk in question.
"At the very least let us gather as much data on the paciente as posible, before we lose the imaging spell."
>>370062
"I will always be grateful that I cannot smell whatever it is you're doing to that thing."
>Whatever Anon calls it, I'm calling it a sharktopus.
"And yeah, once we're far enough away from both the shore and corpse I'll see about wishing for something heavier than my rifle."
>While I redress in the armor, I look over the map along with the mini-Wild.
>I could use my own mini me.
"We can always ask the ponies at the first outpost we're heading to. They might know if that one would."
>"Luckily its not out of the way."
>...
"At least you can reuse it. Maybe."
>Hopefully.
"As long as you can extract any useful things from that, we'd be sticking around for a few hours anyway. Anon said at minimum fifteen for it to start... disappearing."
>Luckily.
>Flexing a little to adjust to the new body conforming suit, I rolled my shoulders a few times.
"We're holding onto it. Anon mentioned that it was pretty damn rare, and that's always a good bargaining edge."
>Pause.
"Though you'd either need to carry it or fasten it to your body with some sort of 'rope' to keep from dragging it on the ground. Doubt that would be good for it."
"I will always be grateful that I cannot smell whatever it is you're doing to that thing."
>Whatever Anon calls it, I'm calling it a sharktopus.
"And yeah, once we're far enough away from both the shore and corpse I'll see about wishing for something heavier than my rifle."
>While I redress in the armor, I look over the map along with the mini-Wild.
>I could use my own mini me.
"We can always ask the ponies at the first outpost we're heading to. They might know if that one would."
>"Luckily its not out of the way."
>...
"At least you can reuse it. Maybe."
>Hopefully.
"As long as you can extract any useful things from that, we'd be sticking around for a few hours anyway. Anon said at minimum fifteen for it to start... disappearing."
>Luckily.
>Flexing a little to adjust to the new body conforming suit, I rolled my shoulders a few times.
"We're holding onto it. Anon mentioned that it was pretty damn rare, and that's always a good bargaining edge."
>Pause.
"Though you'd either need to carry it or fasten it to your body with some sort of 'rope' to keep from dragging it on the ground. Doubt that would be good for it."
>>370058
>Spying the lower half of several rune covered plates and armor sections under debate, the sorceror's coin reaches out to inspect them.
>Confirmed not only as a uniquely half-crystallized palladine from early New Canterlot, each was a piece covered in ritual scribings dating back to the One Sun cult, founded in the 28,700's.
>What little Spiral knew was able to piece together from a small number of scattered records:
>Before the Lunar-Solar War began, approximately 180,000 ponies belonged to the secretive cult whom marely in Canterlot Underground suspected to have helped cause said war, among others including the Pegasi Leagues fracturing, which lead to the Pegasi Civil War.
>The abominable crimes One Sun committed against the Pegasi Leagues, various Lunar sub-factions, the Crystal Empire, Changeling Hive, but especially other Solars whom they deemed short-sighted, were not recorded in detail, though their punishmarent was.
>There was only one known outcome, that being the execution of individuals in a herd, one by one, committed by Princess Celestia herself, then utter disintegration of the remains.
>As for any belongings owned by One Sun adherents, the early Honor Guard willing performed the task of destroying their symbols, defacing iconography, shredding armor, destroying weapons, ripping apart enchantmarents, but took special enjoymarent in Moon-cursing objects used in rituals and ceremonies.
>The specific Solar Enforcer Armory that had been chosen by a Sunglobe copy was definitely the wrong one, though Spiral had no idea what the other five might contain; presumably one or two housed well maintained reliquaries with actual, usable equipmarent.
>Worse yet, those Cult of the Dark Horse mares would discover each excruciating detail recorded in a number of officially marked volumes on the table they hadn't yet touched... in six to ten business months.
>Which you calculated to be more anywhere from ten to twenty batpony years, even studious individuals such as them.
>Surprising most of the Lorekeepers with her charge, Naliyna's exoframe maintains the bright, attention grabbing exterior while passing into the northmost building alley.
>Most of the ponies quickly settle from the unexpected charge, though you notice the often bickering male Gryphon fearfully backing away, a fully white clad Minotaur bull assigned as his work buddy audibly ribbing him for hoping not to get suplexed by Amerose if he pissed off the trademare.
>Again.
>Far ahead, Naliyna slows to a quick trot, then a walk, lumbering around to check both sides of the interior intersection.
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Stalker's Eye
*"Notice anything out of the ordinary? If not I'll starting knocking."*
>Spying the lower half of several rune covered plates and armor sections under debate, the sorceror's coin reaches out to inspect them.
>Confirmed not only as a uniquely half-crystallized palladine from early New Canterlot, each was a piece covered in ritual scribings dating back to the One Sun cult, founded in the 28,700's.
>What little Spiral knew was able to piece together from a small number of scattered records:
>Before the Lunar-Solar War began, approximately 180,000 ponies belonged to the secretive cult whom marely in Canterlot Underground suspected to have helped cause said war, among others including the Pegasi Leagues fracturing, which lead to the Pegasi Civil War.
>The abominable crimes One Sun committed against the Pegasi Leagues, various Lunar sub-factions, the Crystal Empire, Changeling Hive, but especially other Solars whom they deemed short-sighted, were not recorded in detail, though their punishmarent was.
>There was only one known outcome, that being the execution of individuals in a herd, one by one, committed by Princess Celestia herself, then utter disintegration of the remains.
>As for any belongings owned by One Sun adherents, the early Honor Guard willing performed the task of destroying their symbols, defacing iconography, shredding armor, destroying weapons, ripping apart enchantmarents, but took special enjoymarent in Moon-cursing objects used in rituals and ceremonies.
>The specific Solar Enforcer Armory that had been chosen by a Sunglobe copy was definitely the wrong one, though Spiral had no idea what the other five might contain; presumably one or two housed well maintained reliquaries with actual, usable equipmarent.
>Worse yet, those Cult of the Dark Horse mares would discover each excruciating detail recorded in a number of officially marked volumes on the table they hadn't yet touched... in six to ten business months.
>Which you calculated to be more anywhere from ten to twenty batpony years, even studious individuals such as them.
>Surprising most of the Lorekeepers with her charge, Naliyna's exoframe maintains the bright, attention grabbing exterior while passing into the northmost building alley.
>Most of the ponies quickly settle from the unexpected charge, though you notice the often bickering male Gryphon fearfully backing away, a fully white clad Minotaur bull assigned as his work buddy audibly ribbing him for hoping not to get suplexed by Amerose if he pissed off the trademare.
>Again.
>Far ahead, Naliyna slows to a quick trot, then a walk, lumbering around to check both sides of the interior intersection.
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Stalker's Eye
*"Notice anything out of the ordinary? If not I'll starting knocking."*
>>370072
>While he wasn't privy to the exact runes and importance of the articles being inspected, he knew enough to leave them the fuck alone (for now).
>Poking and prodding rune covered items would be left for another, less important time.
>Right now he had to keep several paces behind Naliyna.
>Dwelling on the inventory before them would come later.
>Sticking close behind her during her charge, he would note, in a bit of amusement, that the Gryphon edged away before he could get run over.
>Undoubtedly, because he'd experienced such once or twice before.
>Reaching Naliyna again, Bubba would slow to a leisure walk, before stopping to glance around.
"One moment, might catch something you don't. And I can try any locked doors if you want to be a bit more subtle."
>As if she was the most subtle of horses in the moment.
[1d6 = 6] <M. Perception
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 3]
>While he wasn't privy to the exact runes and importance of the articles being inspected, he knew enough to leave them the fuck alone (for now).
>Poking and prodding rune covered items would be left for another, less important time.
>Right now he had to keep several paces behind Naliyna.
>Dwelling on the inventory before them would come later.
>Sticking close behind her during her charge, he would note, in a bit of amusement, that the Gryphon edged away before he could get run over.
>Undoubtedly, because he'd experienced such once or twice before.
>Reaching Naliyna again, Bubba would slow to a leisure walk, before stopping to glance around.
"One moment, might catch something you don't. And I can try any locked doors if you want to be a bit more subtle."
>As if she was the most subtle of horses in the moment.
[1d6 = 6] <M. Perception
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 3]
>>370033
>Mallia's outward expression seems to falter slightly--albeit only for a second, in Raindrop's direction. Unbeknowst to them, it isn't because of the knight--but to the information she was processing internally.
>Heeding the High Gothic from the Necron machine, and then the arguing between Witch-Two and Tox-11.
>And then, immediately after that, the transmission from Tracker as they respond to her question.
>What they tell her causes her to briefly consider this Marquis Du Spiral in a more negative light--the first reflex being to think that he had just abandoned them due to a lack of faith. Albeit only for a moment, shaking away such a simplistic assumption, while suppressing the dismay she feels from this information.
>The Machine God had not yet bestowed her with full comprehension.
(Daunting. Horrible. A stimulating challenge.)
>The Noospheric avatar of the Enginseer is static as it dwells on this information analytically. Eventually, she transmit a quick acknowledgement:
(I understand so far. But I will need more time to achieve comprehension...)
(I do hope I will get to meet them one day, they sound fascinating!)
>She pauses for the couple of nanocycles that it takes for the Tracker twins to be re-tasked, prompting her to likewise shift her attention back to reality.
>In the second or two all that communication took, Mallia's expression was softening again towards Raindrop Raspberry. Her smile brightening, and the look in the enginseer's lively green eyes twinkling with mirth as the mare described the flower's smell and taste.
>Their tendril-like utility mechadendrite, in the meantime, moving towards the arm bearing the Inquisitorial Auspex unit and begins to unsecure it from her arm using little manipulator claws with the same dexterity of her own fleshy hand while the Knight takes the flower.
>She notes the brief contact with that feather-tip on her fingers, head tilting slightly as she beams a little more with subtle interest...
>It takes a few seconds for Mallia to remove her gaze from the fascinating Free Knight before her.
>But she does when Raindrop begins expousing about the luxurious feast under her own nose.
>Mallia's eyes go to the food, widening slightly and hovering her gaze over the dishes as Raindrop highlights them.
>All the while the mechadendrite finishes unsecuring the Auspex unit and she holds her bracer as the tendril limb grabs it firmly and lifts it.
>Mallia's expression lingered in one of profound wonder, gaze lingering and eating the food with their eyes.
"Never thought I'd have such luxurious food available to me... Uhm,"
>Her mechadendrite holds the Auspex unit for a moment, pausing.
"I want to try the Charred Moors saphor-stalk! It's unknown to me, but I like the sound of it."
>Mallia's voice peaks a little with excitement, her eyes glinting like those of a child in a candy store.
>But then Mallia starts standing up and visibly winds up her mechadendrite to throw the Auspex Unit,
"--Okay, forgive me for a moment my machine spirit needs aid."
>The Enginseer swivels a bit to look towards the wall away from the Free Knight, and winds her body--taking a second to visually calculate the angle and velocity using her MIU and Micro-cogitator so that it hits the correct surface to successfully perform the task,
(++Initialise category two percussive maintenance protocol++)
(By the will of the Deus Mechanicus, render unto this mechanism the Litany of Percussive Maintenance:)
(Hurl the mechanism with divine vigor!)
>And then full-force throws the Auspex at the wall with the mechadendrite. Transmitting prayer through binaric channels through her MIU.
(Call to the Omnissiah, so that it may grant to us: alignment!)
(Call to the Motive Force, so that it may grant to us: connection!)
(Machine spirit, grant unto us: function!)"
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <M. Tech Use + E. Machine Link + CQ. MIU
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Utility Mechadendrite
>Then, after the THUD of the device slamming the wall, lingers to assess success or failure of the ritual.
"By the way, the flower? Not a hard find this time--some of them just kind of conveniently spawned in one of our forges when we came back, no idea how exactly yet..."
>Mallia talks in the meantime, casually, to avoid the onset of awkwardness
>And even quarter-turns her head a little to flash a small, warm smile back at the Free Knight,
"I should make you a whole bouquet of them!~"
>Mallia's outward expression seems to falter slightly--albeit only for a second, in Raindrop's direction. Unbeknowst to them, it isn't because of the knight--but to the information she was processing internally.
>Heeding the High Gothic from the Necron machine, and then the arguing between Witch-Two and Tox-11.
>And then, immediately after that, the transmission from Tracker as they respond to her question.
>What they tell her causes her to briefly consider this Marquis Du Spiral in a more negative light--the first reflex being to think that he had just abandoned them due to a lack of faith. Albeit only for a moment, shaking away such a simplistic assumption, while suppressing the dismay she feels from this information.
>The Machine God had not yet bestowed her with full comprehension.
(Daunting. Horrible. A stimulating challenge.)
>The Noospheric avatar of the Enginseer is static as it dwells on this information analytically. Eventually, she transmit a quick acknowledgement:
(I understand so far. But I will need more time to achieve comprehension...)
(I do hope I will get to meet them one day, they sound fascinating!)
>She pauses for the couple of nanocycles that it takes for the Tracker twins to be re-tasked, prompting her to likewise shift her attention back to reality.
>In the second or two all that communication took, Mallia's expression was softening again towards Raindrop Raspberry. Her smile brightening, and the look in the enginseer's lively green eyes twinkling with mirth as the mare described the flower's smell and taste.
>Their tendril-like utility mechadendrite, in the meantime, moving towards the arm bearing the Inquisitorial Auspex unit and begins to unsecure it from her arm using little manipulator claws with the same dexterity of her own fleshy hand while the Knight takes the flower.
>She notes the brief contact with that feather-tip on her fingers, head tilting slightly as she beams a little more with subtle interest...
>It takes a few seconds for Mallia to remove her gaze from the fascinating Free Knight before her.
>But she does when Raindrop begins expousing about the luxurious feast under her own nose.
>Mallia's eyes go to the food, widening slightly and hovering her gaze over the dishes as Raindrop highlights them.
>All the while the mechadendrite finishes unsecuring the Auspex unit and she holds her bracer as the tendril limb grabs it firmly and lifts it.
>Mallia's expression lingered in one of profound wonder, gaze lingering and eating the food with their eyes.
"Never thought I'd have such luxurious food available to me... Uhm,"
>Her mechadendrite holds the Auspex unit for a moment, pausing.
"I want to try the Charred Moors saphor-stalk! It's unknown to me, but I like the sound of it."
>Mallia's voice peaks a little with excitement, her eyes glinting like those of a child in a candy store.
>But then Mallia starts standing up and visibly winds up her mechadendrite to throw the Auspex Unit,
"--Okay, forgive me for a moment my machine spirit needs aid."
>The Enginseer swivels a bit to look towards the wall away from the Free Knight, and winds her body--taking a second to visually calculate the angle and velocity using her MIU and Micro-cogitator so that it hits the correct surface to successfully perform the task,
(++Initialise category two percussive maintenance protocol++)
(By the will of the Deus Mechanicus, render unto this mechanism the Litany of Percussive Maintenance:)
(Hurl the mechanism with divine vigor!)
>And then full-force throws the Auspex at the wall with the mechadendrite. Transmitting prayer through binaric channels through her MIU.
(Call to the Omnissiah, so that it may grant to us: alignment!)
(Call to the Motive Force, so that it may grant to us: connection!)
(Machine spirit, grant unto us: function!)"
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <M. Tech Use + E. Machine Link + CQ. MIU
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Utility Mechadendrite
>Then, after the THUD of the device slamming the wall, lingers to assess success or failure of the ritual.
"By the way, the flower? Not a hard find this time--some of them just kind of conveniently spawned in one of our forges when we came back, no idea how exactly yet..."
>Mallia talks in the meantime, casually, to avoid the onset of awkwardness
>And even quarter-turns her head a little to flash a small, warm smile back at the Free Knight,
"I should make you a whole bouquet of them!~"
>>370070
"To be honest I was, and still am, terrified. I have never, at least not that I can remember, willingly overdosed somepony even for valid reasons. Prescribed, yes, performed, no. I shou-"
>Catching herself with a serious effort before passing out again, Nova takes a deep inhale, face scrunched mightily while rebalancing on the float-cloud.
"Barely felt that one happening. Should perform complete physicals on all injured patients in the future."
>Setting herself down to clack on tile, the Ward's ears rotate several times, pulling the diagnostic disc to her with a short hum.
"Agreed. There is a minor risk of.. no, she ate an entire platter earlier. I will check every half hour, if I am not asleep, to be sure she does not vomit. Or drool on the pillows again."
>Spinning about to glance up at the ceiling, Carlos hears a short depressurization sequence, Nova sliding forwards to nudge the heavy door open
"Yes, but to what or which extent I have no experience with idea. The Crystal Empire.. may or may not have banned all Lunar Druids. For reasons that I did not inquire about. Which may have been a mistake in hindsight. As for whom reshaped and guided them that would be Old Horn, rather strange for a Druid, more so for a Minotaur. But if you meant which specific facet of Nature created them-"
>Not all that deep underground, and not so far away, Lin cackles madly in triumph, clacking her beak with a hate-filled stare at the steel box's contents spread out before her.
"Oooohohoho, you can't trick me with these awful decorations! I know exactly how to make her SUFFER! And ALL of THEM too! ..admittedly there's only three, BUT STILL! Gonna cover these in sticky flower seeds, put the thingies back, and they'll do every last bit of my work in spreading nectar around THE ENTIRE WORLD! Magic and manesy are the same thing, you fool! And others!"
>Blinking twice, quickly, Nova lifts a hoof up in a 'maybe' motion, continuing to the trio of Pred-Elk on clinic beds.
"Half of the time that is an excellent idea, the other half it is awful. It will be best to exam them first. Astral is-"
>Leaping up and onto the first bed, Nova double checking their hooves, then faces, pointing at cow without visible injuries.
"This one, and I was wrong. Astral Poinsettia seems to have burned herself out before, during, or after the Construct's arrival. Brume Gale's horn was shattered off at the skull, it was Sparking Fleur that had spinal fractures."
>Motioning towards the next two, Brume's head was covered in bandages, the second lying on her side, a clear immobilizing spell keeping the cow from moving, Nova then peers at the disc in front of her.
"As for this, I have zero clues why it remains intact. Tipper could only create one for ten minutes at most before dissipation. At current it is-"
>Checking her internal clock with a short pause, Nova frowns deeply as she waves it around with her hoof.
"Over one hour and fifty minutes, yet still completely functional. Regardless, I believe all Astral needs is a good night's rest. Fleur will be first as her injuries are severe."
>Floating herself over to the immobilized Copper Pred-Elk, though remaining on the cloud, the carnelian Ward's eyes align the diagnostic spell in place over her central spine, allowing Carlos to see... no noteworthy injuries.
>Severely taken aback, Nova stares across the upper and lower spine, then back to the central vertebrae, pointing out minuscule hairline fractures, along with moderate tendon and muscle tears.
>Glancing up to examine Brume Gale briefly, then orienting the disc in the cow's direction, she places it back over Fleur, expression dumbfounded.
"Sparking Fleur most definitely had eight or nine fractured vertebrae when I checked her in, and Brume Gale's horn was shattered off entirely, but n-"
"She will REGRET the day my creations were called too sweet to devour! And then ALL OF THE REST WILL SUFFER UNKNOWABLE WRATH! .....waaaiiiit. Did I turn their water faucets off before leaving?"
"-ow there are only partial indications of the trauma I am fairly sure were written down. Checking-"
>Lifting a notepad off the bed table and rapidly scanning each line, the hybrid's face twists from confusion to still confused curiosity.
"I did. Brume Gale: head trauma, concussion, shattered antler, slurred speech, vertigo, nausea, possible eye damage, moderate but non-threatening bleeding. Sparking Fleur: numerous vertebral and rib fractures, major tendon damage, severe muscle tears, minor non-threatening internal bleeding. Perhaps.. they are able to self-recover when sleeping, some of the Lunar-aligned Druids were recorded as capable of such. Would you examine Sparking for me? I need to contact my dam-"
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <M.Casting: Auric Search
"To be honest I was, and still am, terrified. I have never, at least not that I can remember, willingly overdosed somepony even for valid reasons. Prescribed, yes, performed, no. I shou-"
>Catching herself with a serious effort before passing out again, Nova takes a deep inhale, face scrunched mightily while rebalancing on the float-cloud.
"Barely felt that one happening. Should perform complete physicals on all injured patients in the future."
>Setting herself down to clack on tile, the Ward's ears rotate several times, pulling the diagnostic disc to her with a short hum.
"Agreed. There is a minor risk of.. no, she ate an entire platter earlier. I will check every half hour, if I am not asleep, to be sure she does not vomit. Or drool on the pillows again."
>Spinning about to glance up at the ceiling, Carlos hears a short depressurization sequence, Nova sliding forwards to nudge the heavy door open
"Yes, but to what or which extent I have no experience with idea. The Crystal Empire.. may or may not have banned all Lunar Druids. For reasons that I did not inquire about. Which may have been a mistake in hindsight. As for whom reshaped and guided them that would be Old Horn, rather strange for a Druid, more so for a Minotaur. But if you meant which specific facet of Nature created them-"
>Not all that deep underground, and not so far away, Lin cackles madly in triumph, clacking her beak with a hate-filled stare at the steel box's contents spread out before her.
"Oooohohoho, you can't trick me with these awful decorations! I know exactly how to make her SUFFER! And ALL of THEM too! ..admittedly there's only three, BUT STILL! Gonna cover these in sticky flower seeds, put the thingies back, and they'll do every last bit of my work in spreading nectar around THE ENTIRE WORLD! Magic and manesy are the same thing, you fool! And others!"
>Blinking twice, quickly, Nova lifts a hoof up in a 'maybe' motion, continuing to the trio of Pred-Elk on clinic beds.
"Half of the time that is an excellent idea, the other half it is awful. It will be best to exam them first. Astral is-"
>Leaping up and onto the first bed, Nova double checking their hooves, then faces, pointing at cow without visible injuries.
"This one, and I was wrong. Astral Poinsettia seems to have burned herself out before, during, or after the Construct's arrival. Brume Gale's horn was shattered off at the skull, it was Sparking Fleur that had spinal fractures."
>Motioning towards the next two, Brume's head was covered in bandages, the second lying on her side, a clear immobilizing spell keeping the cow from moving, Nova then peers at the disc in front of her.
"As for this, I have zero clues why it remains intact. Tipper could only create one for ten minutes at most before dissipation. At current it is-"
>Checking her internal clock with a short pause, Nova frowns deeply as she waves it around with her hoof.
"Over one hour and fifty minutes, yet still completely functional. Regardless, I believe all Astral needs is a good night's rest. Fleur will be first as her injuries are severe."
>Floating herself over to the immobilized Copper Pred-Elk, though remaining on the cloud, the carnelian Ward's eyes align the diagnostic spell in place over her central spine, allowing Carlos to see... no noteworthy injuries.
>Severely taken aback, Nova stares across the upper and lower spine, then back to the central vertebrae, pointing out minuscule hairline fractures, along with moderate tendon and muscle tears.
>Glancing up to examine Brume Gale briefly, then orienting the disc in the cow's direction, she places it back over Fleur, expression dumbfounded.
"Sparking Fleur most definitely had eight or nine fractured vertebrae when I checked her in, and Brume Gale's horn was shattered off entirely, but n-"
"She will REGRET the day my creations were called too sweet to devour! And then ALL OF THE REST WILL SUFFER UNKNOWABLE WRATH! .....waaaiiiit. Did I turn their water faucets off before leaving?"
"-ow there are only partial indications of the trauma I am fairly sure were written down. Checking-"
>Lifting a notepad off the bed table and rapidly scanning each line, the hybrid's face twists from confusion to still confused curiosity.
"I did. Brume Gale: head trauma, concussion, shattered antler, slurred speech, vertigo, nausea, possible eye damage, moderate but non-threatening bleeding. Sparking Fleur: numerous vertebral and rib fractures, major tendon damage, severe muscle tears, minor non-threatening internal bleeding. Perhaps.. they are able to self-recover when sleeping, some of the Lunar-aligned Druids were recorded as capable of such. Would you examine Sparking for me? I need to contact my dam-"
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <M.Casting: Auric Search
>>370042
>Taking a deep breath, Clemency takes a mental note of the Kiowa's performance tries to adjust
>"Come on girl, work with me!"
>Bringing the Kiowa to a hold towards the Rime cluster, he spots the Paveways launched by the Reaper impacting
>Clem also sees how they impacted, mostly splashing around the Generals with one being a good hit
>As he lines up another strafing run, he hears the Guillotine's report
>Two minutes before reactors are depleted
>As much as he wants the warship to stay, it sounded like it has one more volley in it
>Clemency chimes into his headset to the Guillotine
*"Guillotine, release one more volley then save the energy for point defense. I don't know how the reactors work for your weapons, but if you need to leave the combat area, do so."*
>He starts to move the Kiowa over the Rime cluster but Jeff's message reached him before he got to far above
>>370068
('Copy, repositioning.)
>Peeling away from him flight path, he then flies towards the Basin center
>Once he's over Razorback lines, he swings the helicopter around to face the horde
>Still not slowing down, he watches as pickets of explosions goes off in their ranks
>"They reached the minefield..."
>The lines below him light up small arms fire alongside magical artillery
>Seeing the battle close to coming to its head, Clemency stabilizes the helicopter and prepares to fire at the advancing horde
>Once spotting the most clustered Tainted, he let's loose with every weapon system
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>Taking a deep breath, Clemency takes a mental note of the Kiowa's performance tries to adjust
>"Come on girl, work with me!"
>Bringing the Kiowa to a hold towards the Rime cluster, he spots the Paveways launched by the Reaper impacting
>Clem also sees how they impacted, mostly splashing around the Generals with one being a good hit
>As he lines up another strafing run, he hears the Guillotine's report
>Two minutes before reactors are depleted
>As much as he wants the warship to stay, it sounded like it has one more volley in it
>Clemency chimes into his headset to the Guillotine
*"Guillotine, release one more volley then save the energy for point defense. I don't know how the reactors work for your weapons, but if you need to leave the combat area, do so."*
>He starts to move the Kiowa over the Rime cluster but Jeff's message reached him before he got to far above
>>370068
('Copy, repositioning.)
>Peeling away from him flight path, he then flies towards the Basin center
>Once he's over Razorback lines, he swings the helicopter around to face the horde
>Still not slowing down, he watches as pickets of explosions goes off in their ranks
>"They reached the minefield..."
>The lines below him light up small arms fire alongside magical artillery
>Seeing the battle close to coming to its head, Clemency stabilizes the helicopter and prepares to fire at the advancing horde
>Once spotting the most clustered Tainted, he let's loose with every weapon system
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370085
>>370071
"I can't smell anything. What's it like?"
>The wind shifts from flowing south to north, letting you catch a second whiff of the earlier stench with such timing that it had to be planned.
>Probably best not to tempt That Alicorn more than she already has been.
"Understood.. I rather like the idea of mines covering my hull. Preferably fist sized if not larger."
>Taking a heavy step forwards to access what was left of the Rilvenni's rapidly depleting corpse, the ruined screen in front of you is neatly dismantled into pieces which are quickly directed outside.
"Acceptable. Trade goods will be necessary before arrival. I will produce one variant of each type after critical, severe, and major repairs are completed."
>Bending forwards... a resounding ping that most certainly didn't belong occurs somewhere above the chest cabin.
"I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING! THAT NODE EXPLODED OFF THE HOUSING BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO INSPECT IT! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!? Also: full restoration will take approximately twenty minutes, but I WILL get one of those damned repair nodes online, one way or another."
>On the left screen, cartoon Wild curls into a nervously twitching ball while the eight tendrils outside collect the ruined hand, lifting it up for inspection.
"Planar water elemental essences have been collected and stored in three previously empty containers. Crudely. It may require refining to be of use. The remainder will be converted into Tryptaran mass, although you could try the tongue."
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+8
[1d6 = 1] <Backup Grade 1 Auto-Repair System Reboot
>Rolling the sphere several times in her palm, mini-Wild's lone optic peeks out from behind her hands.
"Contents: unknown elemental waveforms and an unknown form of high energy containing liquid. Planar water signature is minimal at this range, I will require significant sensor improvements. Value... cannot be estimated. Potential uses: unknown. Attempting to cross-reference-"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3
"It can be safely stored in what remains of the cockpit. There is enough of the cowprint seat remaining, however I do not think it can be easily damaged."
"I can't smell anything. What's it like?"
>The wind shifts from flowing south to north, letting you catch a second whiff of the earlier stench with such timing that it had to be planned.
>Probably best not to tempt That Alicorn more than she already has been.
"Understood.. I rather like the idea of mines covering my hull. Preferably fist sized if not larger."
>Taking a heavy step forwards to access what was left of the Rilvenni's rapidly depleting corpse, the ruined screen in front of you is neatly dismantled into pieces which are quickly directed outside.
"Acceptable. Trade goods will be necessary before arrival. I will produce one variant of each type after critical, severe, and major repairs are completed."
>Bending forwards... a resounding ping that most certainly didn't belong occurs somewhere above the chest cabin.
"I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING! THAT NODE EXPLODED OFF THE HOUSING BEFORE I HAD A CHANCE TO INSPECT IT! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME!? Also: full restoration will take approximately twenty minutes, but I WILL get one of those damned repair nodes online, one way or another."
>On the left screen, cartoon Wild curls into a nervously twitching ball while the eight tendrils outside collect the ruined hand, lifting it up for inspection.
"Planar water elemental essences have been collected and stored in three previously empty containers. Crudely. It may require refining to be of use. The remainder will be converted into Tryptaran mass, although you could try the tongue."
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Repair Tendril+1
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+3
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT+4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT+7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT+8
[1d6 = 1] <Backup Grade 1 Auto-Repair System Reboot
>Rolling the sphere several times in her palm, mini-Wild's lone optic peeks out from behind her hands.
"Contents: unknown elemental waveforms and an unknown form of high energy containing liquid. Planar water signature is minimal at this range, I will require significant sensor improvements. Value... cannot be estimated. Potential uses: unknown. Attempting to cross-reference-"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3
"It can be safely stored in what remains of the cockpit. There is enough of the cowprint seat remaining, however I do not think it can be easily damaged."
>>370064
>A riotous blend of sensations sift through his being, separating every layer of his perception before snapping him back together.
>A strange blend between the feeling of a sensory isolation pod and a neural graft clamp at the same time.
(... Unusual.)
>Thankfully he was already sitting and bracing his arms against his knees, or else he may have stumbled slightly from the jarring travelling effect.
>He clenches and relaxes his fingers a few times as Lonestar and Katyal speak.
(No need for "tuning with oneself" every time I use a warp gate. I will only ever be me.)
>His eyes flick towards the warning Shiibo applied, blinking in recognition. As Katyal glances at him, he replies:
"I am still myself."
>Staring at Katyal for a few seconds, his brow furrows as he notes the rising threat level matching the clear antipathy manifesting in her expression. He speaks to Shiibo:
"Katyal may have an extreme negative history with Silver. Keeping note."
>Hearing Lonestar's concerned and incredulous tone, he moves to stand and turns off the projector module on his helmet.
>Looking behind him, he picks out the bracelet Katyal requested and passes it off to her as he walks towards the cockpit compartment.
"It's unlikely to be an exaggeration. Mega fauna will need to be avoided."
>Continuing to move across the loading bay of the APC, he asks:
"Will the megafauna hinder our progress to the target location?"
>A riotous blend of sensations sift through his being, separating every layer of his perception before snapping him back together.
>A strange blend between the feeling of a sensory isolation pod and a neural graft clamp at the same time.
(... Unusual.)
>Thankfully he was already sitting and bracing his arms against his knees, or else he may have stumbled slightly from the jarring travelling effect.
>He clenches and relaxes his fingers a few times as Lonestar and Katyal speak.
(No need for "tuning with oneself" every time I use a warp gate. I will only ever be me.)
>His eyes flick towards the warning Shiibo applied, blinking in recognition. As Katyal glances at him, he replies:
"I am still myself."
>Staring at Katyal for a few seconds, his brow furrows as he notes the rising threat level matching the clear antipathy manifesting in her expression. He speaks to Shiibo:
"Katyal may have an extreme negative history with Silver. Keeping note."
>Hearing Lonestar's concerned and incredulous tone, he moves to stand and turns off the projector module on his helmet.
>Looking behind him, he picks out the bracelet Katyal requested and passes it off to her as he walks towards the cockpit compartment.
"It's unlikely to be an exaggeration. Mega fauna will need to be avoided."
>Continuing to move across the loading bay of the APC, he asks:
"Will the megafauna hinder our progress to the target location?"
>349303
>I grunted as I looked up to the green man looking down at him.
>I spat the cigarette to the side, raising my hand up to him.
"Sure, hell, why not. Offer a dead man his last smoke. And I'm glad that I could divert expectations so thoroughly."
>Maybe I could change my name or something?
>Nah, she's got my scent.
>They all do, really.
>And it's not like I -don't- want to still see Pella or something like that but...
>Ugh, I'm so bad with this type of stuff.
"Did I fuck up, man? Like, well and truly, all encompassing, full blown -disaster- level of screwup?"
>I fell silent, looking up to the man with all seriousness in my eyes.
"...also, thanks. It was a gift. Technically, from you. No, wait, that was the gaudy music player."
>I grunted as I looked up to the green man looking down at him.
>I spat the cigarette to the side, raising my hand up to him.
"Sure, hell, why not. Offer a dead man his last smoke. And I'm glad that I could divert expectations so thoroughly."
>Maybe I could change my name or something?
>Nah, she's got my scent.
>They all do, really.
>And it's not like I -don't- want to still see Pella or something like that but...
>Ugh, I'm so bad with this type of stuff.
"Did I fuck up, man? Like, well and truly, all encompassing, full blown -disaster- level of screwup?"
>I fell silent, looking up to the man with all seriousness in my eyes.
"...also, thanks. It was a gift. Technically, from you. No, wait, that was the gaudy music player."
>>370073
>Failing to match Nalinya's pace and forced to jog, you do get a number of friendly hoof and wing waves.. except for one.
>That Village mare definitely had intentions towards humans that should only be detailed in thin graphic novels, possibly a series.
>Or willingly, out of sight, AND not in the Fortress.
*"Oh, that? Naaaaaah, I was taking a test run. Literally, of course! Y'know, gotta crystalwork out all the odd problems like two weave strands that aren't matching my stride perfectly, or a damned PLATE that keeps rubbing my te- er, 'certain things' the wrong way. Could've sworn I told both Techmarecers to remove it sometime before the last damned patches were installed-"*
>Emitting a half-serious snicker, Nalinya's exoframe twists back and forth in vigorous shaking motions until you pass between the central Enclave Armory buildings.
*"Only locks in these rooms are magic made. And a couple blood magic something-or-others but haven't seen them the few times I've visited Amerose."*
>Checking the few Lorekeepers in sight, Naliyna's actions had visibly sent potential infiltrators for a loop, which would have forced them into either being noticed or attempting to ditch their orders by now.
>The sharply compressed dome behind the Enclave's exterior buildings was clear of obstructions and would be virtually impossible to eavesdrop from, whether magical, electronic, or otherwise.
>The soul glyph reaches outwards, sampling individual moods and intentions, none of which were still alarmed, suspicious, or hostile.
>Except for the Gryphon's accusatory squawking, which felt well deserved after hearing his damned poetic way of talking.
>Not only was the Enclave's interior clear, those Lorekeepers here would fight to the death, and a little beyond, to ensure Razorback's safety.
>North of you, however, was an abjectly different, less conciliatory mind:
>Ruling Councilierge Stream Lark, number unknown.
>Fully awake, bitterly aware, and edging closer to a berserk rage with each passing minute, though was forcefully kept in check by an excruciatingly despised Seal of the Empress, preventing him both from dying unnaturally or taking actions that would be construed as causing self harm.
>Returning to brutal seriousness, Naliyna taps the edge of a hoofboot on the floor in a melodic pattern.
>A section of the northern face ripples apart after three seconds, exposing a dark, 4M tall, 6M wide oval tunnel leading further in, the crystalline exoframe dimming as she quietly steps inside.
*"This wall rephases back into realspace two seconds after entering, so do NOT stop until you're at least five steps in."*
>Entering a near-power walking speed, halts after ten seconds, poking her head through another illusionary wall, Amerose's voice briefly speaking in low, harsh tones, Naliyna responding firmly.
"That's not what I'm here for. No, I will bet my life Bubba isn't going to cause harm either. We've got way too many and marely questions to ask a certain black earth stallion."
>Head turning back towards you, the exoframe's helmet lifts while she speaks in a quick, clipped marener.
*"Amerose, Stream Lark, at least thirty Crystal Knights, probably more in the side rooms, can't tell. No Kingdom aligned, all Imperials. Say you will not intentionally cause Lark any harm out loud."*
>Failing to match Nalinya's pace and forced to jog, you do get a number of friendly hoof and wing waves.. except for one.
>That Village mare definitely had intentions towards humans that should only be detailed in thin graphic novels, possibly a series.
>Or willingly, out of sight, AND not in the Fortress.
*"Oh, that? Naaaaaah, I was taking a test run. Literally, of course! Y'know, gotta crystalwork out all the odd problems like two weave strands that aren't matching my stride perfectly, or a damned PLATE that keeps rubbing my te- er, 'certain things' the wrong way. Could've sworn I told both Techmarecers to remove it sometime before the last damned patches were installed-"*
>Emitting a half-serious snicker, Nalinya's exoframe twists back and forth in vigorous shaking motions until you pass between the central Enclave Armory buildings.
*"Only locks in these rooms are magic made. And a couple blood magic something-or-others but haven't seen them the few times I've visited Amerose."*
>Checking the few Lorekeepers in sight, Naliyna's actions had visibly sent potential infiltrators for a loop, which would have forced them into either being noticed or attempting to ditch their orders by now.
>The sharply compressed dome behind the Enclave's exterior buildings was clear of obstructions and would be virtually impossible to eavesdrop from, whether magical, electronic, or otherwise.
>The soul glyph reaches outwards, sampling individual moods and intentions, none of which were still alarmed, suspicious, or hostile.
>Except for the Gryphon's accusatory squawking, which felt well deserved after hearing his damned poetic way of talking.
>Not only was the Enclave's interior clear, those Lorekeepers here would fight to the death, and a little beyond, to ensure Razorback's safety.
>North of you, however, was an abjectly different, less conciliatory mind:
>Ruling Councilierge Stream Lark, number unknown.
>Fully awake, bitterly aware, and edging closer to a berserk rage with each passing minute, though was forcefully kept in check by an excruciatingly despised Seal of the Empress, preventing him both from dying unnaturally or taking actions that would be construed as causing self harm.
>Returning to brutal seriousness, Naliyna taps the edge of a hoofboot on the floor in a melodic pattern.
>A section of the northern face ripples apart after three seconds, exposing a dark, 4M tall, 6M wide oval tunnel leading further in, the crystalline exoframe dimming as she quietly steps inside.
*"This wall rephases back into realspace two seconds after entering, so do NOT stop until you're at least five steps in."*
>Entering a near-power walking speed, halts after ten seconds, poking her head through another illusionary wall, Amerose's voice briefly speaking in low, harsh tones, Naliyna responding firmly.
"That's not what I'm here for. No, I will bet my life Bubba isn't going to cause harm either. We've got way too many and marely questions to ask a certain black earth stallion."
>Head turning back towards you, the exoframe's helmet lifts while she speaks in a quick, clipped marener.
*"Amerose, Stream Lark, at least thirty Crystal Knights, probably more in the side rooms, can't tell. No Kingdom aligned, all Imperials. Say you will not intentionally cause Lark any harm out loud."*
>>370085
"Be glad you can. It probably smelled better underwater."
>Eugh.
"I.. wouldn't think that mines are the best idea. I've... heard about something called 'ERA' that might be better for you, and it should function similarly?"
>Armor technology in my future is weird, apparently.
>I don't want to know what that was, yet at the same time I do.
"Wild... I have half a hunch that you might be cursed. It would explain the repairs are so... delayed, to put it lightly."
>Among other things, really.
"I do not wish to try the tongue, thank you."
>I had enough of an eyeful of that thing through the viewscreens.
"I'd rather not take that chance, to be honest. With your luck today."
>Looking at the mini-Wild, I offered a small smile as she looked up.
"Things can only come up from here. We killed something deadly and saved thousands of lives without knowing it."
"Be glad you can. It probably smelled better underwater."
>Eugh.
"I.. wouldn't think that mines are the best idea. I've... heard about something called 'ERA' that might be better for you, and it should function similarly?"
>Armor technology in my future is weird, apparently.
>I don't want to know what that was, yet at the same time I do.
"Wild... I have half a hunch that you might be cursed. It would explain the repairs are so... delayed, to put it lightly."
>Among other things, really.
"I do not wish to try the tongue, thank you."
>I had enough of an eyeful of that thing through the viewscreens.
"I'd rather not take that chance, to be honest. With your luck today."
>Looking at the mini-Wild, I offered a small smile as she looked up.
"Things can only come up from here. We killed something deadly and saved thousands of lives without knowing it."
File (): 251AA5A6F37C1CC74878FD675B5DB8BC-3131338.gif (3.0 MB, 252x194, 1394553114173.gif)
Master M.o.S: +2 for 1 turns to combat, adds two extra rolls for combat
>>370040
>There are humans in Stalliongrad, since when? He thought to himself.
>Lont did not respond, though his new limbs did twitch at Vestal' focus on him for a moment. He was done. Too much stuff has happened, and still happening. To himself, Razorback and the world at large.
>All within a timespan too short for his liking. He felt mentally numb at this point. The ground beneath him could crack open revealing that Tallus was one giant chocolate easter egg and he would not bat an eye at that point...
>He was about to fire off more rounds when he heard Gardenia's order to wait, so like a worn down automaton he did so.
>Watching the piles of pony bodies pile higher and higher made his newly formed wings sink lower and lower, pinions getting dirty on the ramparts. He turned his focus to the designated Tainted, if they can put her down it would make so many deaths worth it in the end.
>So with a wry smile he thought aloud to Razorback.
('You heard the Mare, ladies and gentlemen. Do what we do best, and give that Tainted one hell of a headache.')
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] >U.Punmancy +P.L
>Lont watched as Broken Hoof assaulted the towering Tainted as he waited. As he looked upon the doomed mare he felt something swell inside him. A swirl of emotions bubbling away under the morass of tiredness that had settled over him like a cloak. There was a growing need to do something, to help her.
>But when?
>>370046
>He snapped back to reality when Vestals' commarending voice rattled through his head. He aimed high as told, targeting the Tainted' head.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >E.Perception +P.L
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
>>370040
>There are humans in Stalliongrad, since when? He thought to himself.
>Lont did not respond, though his new limbs did twitch at Vestal' focus on him for a moment. He was done. Too much stuff has happened, and still happening. To himself, Razorback and the world at large.
>All within a timespan too short for his liking. He felt mentally numb at this point. The ground beneath him could crack open revealing that Tallus was one giant chocolate easter egg and he would not bat an eye at that point...
>He was about to fire off more rounds when he heard Gardenia's order to wait, so like a worn down automaton he did so.
>Watching the piles of pony bodies pile higher and higher made his newly formed wings sink lower and lower, pinions getting dirty on the ramparts. He turned his focus to the designated Tainted, if they can put her down it would make so many deaths worth it in the end.
>So with a wry smile he thought aloud to Razorback.
('You heard the Mare, ladies and gentlemen. Do what we do best, and give that Tainted one hell of a headache.')
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] >U.Punmancy +P.L
>Lont watched as Broken Hoof assaulted the towering Tainted as he waited. As he looked upon the doomed mare he felt something swell inside him. A swirl of emotions bubbling away under the morass of tiredness that had settled over him like a cloak. There was a growing need to do something, to help her.
>But when?
>>370046
>He snapped back to reality when Vestals' commarending voice rattled through his head. He aimed high as told, targeting the Tainted' head.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] >E.Perception +P.L
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] >Thermal
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] >E.Combat Shotgun +P.L
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 6 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9qjVj__dlE
>>370053
>Settling into an immediate four-point run between piles of Constructs and Moor felines, the quickest way you could think of was the steeper high stairwells winding around the Arena's false external wall, the outermost leading directly to the roof.
>Clearing the northern entrance's short flight of stairs in two beats and cutting inwards to the right, you pass through the hulls of numerous tiny and small Constructs, encountering nothing solid.
>Racing up the outermost staircase heading directly east, what appeared to be darkening blood, orange liquid, kanpri shards, and pieces of machinery coating nearly everything was likewise intangible.
>Encountering taller stairs halfway up and powering over them, you encounter a tight switchback, retaining enough momarentum to rebound off in a blind jump, after which you exit onto the Arena's open top half-roof at less than half maximum velocity, now facing west.
>Directly ahead and across the Arena's roof gap, a second trio of rippling orange, spike-covered tendrils smash down into exiting Constructs, this time 10 Scout-Support long range units, nearly flattening them atop the savaged, yet still firing, hulls of the previously exited 8 Dominator models.
[1d6+50 = (5+50) = 55] <Grand Riftdrowner Section #1
[1d6+50 = (4+50) = 54] <Grand Riftdrowner Section #2
>On the western gap, Nibbles gestures for the smallest Moor felines into tearing apart the Standard Scout models, then directing all the remainder around the Arena to overwhelm the savaged, crumbling line of Scout and Repair units before they could be reinforced.
>Leaping up and over the Arena's exterior walls was a new sight: ten nearly horse-sized felines covered in archaic leaf scale armor, claws longer than your legs flashing Void-imbued kanpri as they shred into the nearest models, a few dragging Constructs off the sides.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Heroine of the Moors, Rakingbay AKA 'Nibbles': Tactical Repositioning
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <Minor Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Lesser Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Major Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+20 = (2+20) = 22] <Unknown Moor Cat Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Construct Repair Minoris Models
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Construct Repair Standard Models
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Construct Minoris Scout Models
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Construct Standard Scout Models
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Construct Dominator Standard Models
>Still incapable of joining combat due to sheer numbers of far lesser Constructs that would suffer friendly fire, the impressively massive Argus duo remain stationary, either defending the gateway's sides, or something else entirely.
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Planetary Invasion Argus Behemoth-Destroy Pair: ?????
>Slipping in and out of Void spectrums at a dangerously high rate, Mercy performs a tight spiral around the quarter-finished gateway's southern post, wingblades leaving blazing pink trails behind her and coating the orange pseudo-metal with spreading cloud shaped patterns.
>A second pair of snapping particle whips are launched into the northern section, attempting to draw the gigantic Repair model's attention from her.
>Rotating their positions briefly to better cover the gateway, the Argus Behemoth-Destroy pair were definitely studying the Spirit Walker's actions yet hadn't so much as bothered to initiate scans.
>Mercy: 6 turns of Enrage remaining
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <E.Assault
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <B.Ambush Assault
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 2] <Spectrum Dive: Opposing
>Six sets of spindly, quadruple nanolathing arms from the massive Repair model twitch spastically across the gateway's surface, attempting to remove the stubborn particle whips lodged into orange material.. which were starting to burn in eye searing, pink-white hot patterns.
[1d6-1 = (3-1) = 2] <Gateway Repair
[1d6 = 4] <Gateway Progress
Large Rift Gate: 26% Complete
[1d6 = 2] <Construct Force Number
[1d6 = 2] <Construct Force Size
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 6 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q9qjVj__dlE
>>370053
>Settling into an immediate four-point run between piles of Constructs and Moor felines, the quickest way you could think of was the steeper high stairwells winding around the Arena's false external wall, the outermost leading directly to the roof.
>Clearing the northern entrance's short flight of stairs in two beats and cutting inwards to the right, you pass through the hulls of numerous tiny and small Constructs, encountering nothing solid.
>Racing up the outermost staircase heading directly east, what appeared to be darkening blood, orange liquid, kanpri shards, and pieces of machinery coating nearly everything was likewise intangible.
>Encountering taller stairs halfway up and powering over them, you encounter a tight switchback, retaining enough momarentum to rebound off in a blind jump, after which you exit onto the Arena's open top half-roof at less than half maximum velocity, now facing west.
>Directly ahead and across the Arena's roof gap, a second trio of rippling orange, spike-covered tendrils smash down into exiting Constructs, this time 10 Scout-Support long range units, nearly flattening them atop the savaged, yet still firing, hulls of the previously exited 8 Dominator models.
[1d6+50 = (5+50) = 55] <Grand Riftdrowner Section #1
[1d6+50 = (4+50) = 54] <Grand Riftdrowner Section #2
>On the western gap, Nibbles gestures for the smallest Moor felines into tearing apart the Standard Scout models, then directing all the remainder around the Arena to overwhelm the savaged, crumbling line of Scout and Repair units before they could be reinforced.
>Leaping up and over the Arena's exterior walls was a new sight: ten nearly horse-sized felines covered in archaic leaf scale armor, claws longer than your legs flashing Void-imbued kanpri as they shred into the nearest models, a few dragging Constructs off the sides.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Heroine of the Moors, Rakingbay AKA 'Nibbles': Tactical Repositioning
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <Minor Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Lesser Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Major Moor Cat Divisions
[1d6+20 = (2+20) = 22] <Unknown Moor Cat Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Construct Repair Minoris Models
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Construct Repair Standard Models
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Construct Minoris Scout Models
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Construct Standard Scout Models
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Construct Dominator Standard Models
>Still incapable of joining combat due to sheer numbers of far lesser Constructs that would suffer friendly fire, the impressively massive Argus duo remain stationary, either defending the gateway's sides, or something else entirely.
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Planetary Invasion Argus Behemoth-Destroy Pair: ?????
>Slipping in and out of Void spectrums at a dangerously high rate, Mercy performs a tight spiral around the quarter-finished gateway's southern post, wingblades leaving blazing pink trails behind her and coating the orange pseudo-metal with spreading cloud shaped patterns.
>A second pair of snapping particle whips are launched into the northern section, attempting to draw the gigantic Repair model's attention from her.
>Rotating their positions briefly to better cover the gateway, the Argus Behemoth-Destroy pair were definitely studying the Spirit Walker's actions yet hadn't so much as bothered to initiate scans.
>Mercy: 6 turns of Enrage remaining
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <E.Assault
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <B.Ambush Assault
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 2] <Spectrum Dive: Opposing
>Six sets of spindly, quadruple nanolathing arms from the massive Repair model twitch spastically across the gateway's surface, attempting to remove the stubborn particle whips lodged into orange material.. which were starting to burn in eye searing, pink-white hot patterns.
[1d6-1 = (3-1) = 2] <Gateway Repair
[1d6 = 4] <Gateway Progress
Large Rift Gate: 26% Complete
[1d6 = 2] <Construct Force Number
[1d6 = 2] <Construct Force Size
('Seven minutes thirty seconds until Shattering Skies re-enters atmosphere-’)
>>370068
>Calculating bombing trajectories as the strike drone enters a zero-maneuvering point, you note the central most frozen Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted were tightly packed together, all but one of the gold or kanpri trimmed Generals solidly frozen.
>Picking two optimal locations, a window on screen flashes confirmation, the Reaper and view jolting upwards upon payload release.
>Unable to hear much from the drone's point of view outside reality-cracking weapons, as you reorient back onto the Rime clustered a pair of heavy detonations are witnessed:
>The first Paveway falls northwest and high, smashing into and through a pair of Tainted frozen together, gleams of shrapnel barely visible as they exit into the surrounding group, though the explosion virtually disintegrates the pair.
>The second Paveway lands further east and south than expected.. directly into the Rime cluster's heart.
>Ultra deep blue-cold crystals fan upwards and outwards into the surrounding ranks, small chunks of steel casing embedded into newly flash-frozen Tainted around the center.
The Lost Legions: -50,140 of 285,678 Morale
>Checking the Reaper's status and weight, it would need to either swing out a mile and bank for another pass, or slow into a tight banking run, then dive a short distance.
>Near fully stopping the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's charge, Broken Hoof clings to the physically solid mare's snout, wrenching herself forwards and tearing up towards the eyes, streaks of vapor and violated Elemarentals mixing together in a gruesome visage.
The Lost Legions: -52,227 of 285,678 Morale
('That which was born neither living nor dead is rarely able to kill that which is no longer living nor dead, thus which of us has a single right to exist, ancestral sister?')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <M.Assault
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 2] <Anti
[1d6 = 5] <Bane
>vs:
[1d100 = 35] <Soulburn
('This trap is set, spring it-')
>Slowed to a bare walk, four Lunar Assault forms forcefully squeeze by the lead Tainted attempting to shake Broken Hoof free, which the closest mixed Lancers and Chargers take full advantage of:
>Lances held at a strict 60 degree angle, the two closest ranks of Day, Lunar, Night, and Watch Guard surrounding the Basin's southern buildings wordlessly storm forwards, long gleaming weapons plunging directly into Tainted legs-
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <First Lancer Charge x 200 total
>Two full ranks of Chargers immediately seize the opportunity, rushing forwards to leap onto Lancer saddles, springboarding themselves in an attempt to hook and drag themselves up with hoofclaws and blades-
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <First Charger Wave x 200 total
('Hail of Glory has lost half of all ablative armor and point defenses aren't slowing the targets, risking every weapon on point blank overloads-')
[1d6+66 = (5+66) = 71] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Point Blank Vectors Locked
[1d6+28 = (3+28) = 31] <Main Tech-Archane Aramaments OVERLOAD
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments OVERLOAD
[1d6+25 = (5+25) = 30] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems OVERLOAD
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Realspace Drive Stabilizer
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Weapon Stabilizers, Point Blank
The Lost Legions: -51.559 of 285,678 Morale
>Searing Void lances ripple across Basin Village's airspace, nearly turning the entire town pitch black as over four and a half battleline's of unicorns punishing the Lunar Airstrike Division attempting to wrest control of the sky away from the East Ocean Moors Militia batponies-
('Damn it all! How marely of those fizzled out or did nothing?! All unicorns, one more set of Void Lances then switch to any other Elemarent, we cannot risk an infestation or worse occurring!')
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] East Ocean Moors Militia x 97 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>vs:
[1d6+49 = (4+49) = 53] <Lunar Airstrike Division
>The Lost Legions: -143,524 of 285,678 Morale
>To the north, painfilly loud cracks resonate, accompaneighed by shrieking wind and stone shattering blows-
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Spears
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25]
>vs:
[1d6+39 = (2+39) = 41] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+39 = (6+39) = 45]
[1d6+39 = (4+39) = 43]
[1d6+39 = (2+39) = 41]
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, INSIDE BASIN VILLAGE
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @ 13 Speed, STALLED AROUND BASIN VILLAGE
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, GAINING CONTROL OF BASIN VILLAGE AIRSPACE
Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 410M east of Basin Village
>>370068
>Calculating bombing trajectories as the strike drone enters a zero-maneuvering point, you note the central most frozen Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted were tightly packed together, all but one of the gold or kanpri trimmed Generals solidly frozen.
>Picking two optimal locations, a window on screen flashes confirmation, the Reaper and view jolting upwards upon payload release.
>Unable to hear much from the drone's point of view outside reality-cracking weapons, as you reorient back onto the Rime clustered a pair of heavy detonations are witnessed:
>The first Paveway falls northwest and high, smashing into and through a pair of Tainted frozen together, gleams of shrapnel barely visible as they exit into the surrounding group, though the explosion virtually disintegrates the pair.
>The second Paveway lands further east and south than expected.. directly into the Rime cluster's heart.
>Ultra deep blue-cold crystals fan upwards and outwards into the surrounding ranks, small chunks of steel casing embedded into newly flash-frozen Tainted around the center.
The Lost Legions: -50,140 of 285,678 Morale
>Checking the Reaper's status and weight, it would need to either swing out a mile and bank for another pass, or slow into a tight banking run, then dive a short distance.
>Near fully stopping the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's charge, Broken Hoof clings to the physically solid mare's snout, wrenching herself forwards and tearing up towards the eyes, streaks of vapor and violated Elemarentals mixing together in a gruesome visage.
The Lost Legions: -52,227 of 285,678 Morale
('That which was born neither living nor dead is rarely able to kill that which is no longer living nor dead, thus which of us has a single right to exist, ancestral sister?')
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13] <M.Assault
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 2] <Anti
[1d6 = 5] <Bane
>vs:
[1d100 = 35] <Soulburn
('This trap is set, spring it-')
>Slowed to a bare walk, four Lunar Assault forms forcefully squeeze by the lead Tainted attempting to shake Broken Hoof free, which the closest mixed Lancers and Chargers take full advantage of:
>Lances held at a strict 60 degree angle, the two closest ranks of Day, Lunar, Night, and Watch Guard surrounding the Basin's southern buildings wordlessly storm forwards, long gleaming weapons plunging directly into Tainted legs-
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <First Lancer Charge x 200 total
>Two full ranks of Chargers immediately seize the opportunity, rushing forwards to leap onto Lancer saddles, springboarding themselves in an attempt to hook and drag themselves up with hoofclaws and blades-
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24] <First Charger Wave x 200 total
('Hail of Glory has lost half of all ablative armor and point defenses aren't slowing the targets, risking every weapon on point blank overloads-')
[1d6+66 = (5+66) = 71] <Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division
>vs:
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <C-State Logic Repair Matrix
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Point Blank Vectors Locked
[1d6+28 = (3+28) = 31] <Main Tech-Archane Aramaments OVERLOAD
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments OVERLOAD
[1d6+25 = (5+25) = 30] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems OVERLOAD
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Realspace Drive Stabilizer
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Weapon Stabilizers, Point Blank
The Lost Legions: -51.559 of 285,678 Morale
>Searing Void lances ripple across Basin Village's airspace, nearly turning the entire town pitch black as over four and a half battleline's of unicorns punishing the Lunar Airstrike Division attempting to wrest control of the sky away from the East Ocean Moors Militia batponies-
('Damn it all! How marely of those fizzled out or did nothing?! All unicorns, one more set of Void Lances then switch to any other Elemarent, we cannot risk an infestation or worse occurring!')
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] East Ocean Moors Militia x 97 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>vs:
[1d6+49 = (4+49) = 53] <Lunar Airstrike Division
>The Lost Legions: -143,524 of 285,678 Morale
>To the north, painfilly loud cracks resonate, accompaneighed by shrieking wind and stone shattering blows-
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Spears
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25]
>vs:
[1d6+39 = (2+39) = 41] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+39 = (6+39) = 45]
[1d6+39 = (4+39) = 43]
[1d6+39 = (2+39) = 41]
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
Lunar Guardian Assault Divisions, 8 Generals remaining @ 15 Speed, INSIDE BASIN VILLAGE
Solar Guardian Assault Divisions, 2 Generals remaining @ 13 Speed, STALLED AROUND BASIN VILLAGE
Lunar Guardian Airstrike Division, 1 Captain remaining @ 16 Speed, GAINING CONTROL OF BASIN VILLAGE AIRSPACE
Solar Guardian Air Commarend Division, 410M east of Basin Village
>>353886
>With a curt nod the Warlord of the Vale turned towards the door, which was wordlessly opened by Budieca. At this a blast of frigid air and speckles of snow intruded into the warm haven.
>Beyond the doorframe there was the familiar swirling snow. After a short distance the white landscape disappeared into the icy blackness of night, though, with the squint of her eyes Sand Cutter made out the obscured figures of several Gryphons that stood in a perimeter around the entrance to the tower.
>Both Gryphonesses were well insulated to the harsh weather outside the tower, Sand Cutter sadly wasn't. And as the cold spread further inside the circular room its icy touch forced spasms out of the poor mare.
>Thankfully it was a brief unpleasant affair, and when Budieca closed the heavy door behind Ri'Vahz, a reassuring *THUNK* was heard. Indicating it was now locked and no more of the terrible biting cold will enter this night.
>The snowflakes had all melted away, leaving behind droplets on the floor.
>Fully turning around Sand Cutter saw that Budieca's beaked face was covered in snow. The catbird blinked a couple of times before shaking her head like a Diamond Dog, throwing off snow everywhere. Thankfully none landing nowhere near the pony.
"I see. You truly have experienced much. Please give yourself as much rest as needed as by the time you awake tomorrow I'll have some hot breakfast for you and proper snow ware for a mare like you to wear."
>Budieca said, beaming at Sand Cutter as the mare laid herself down.
>The Gryphoness made for the stairs, deciding to leave the fire to consume the rest of the wood and smoulder out for the rest of the night.
>Halfway up though Budieca paused. She craned her head down to look upon the scarred pony laying on her floor.
"Don't feel like you need to rush when you wake up tomorrow, and if anybird does so I will bite their head off!"
>Budieca promised with a trilling laugh before disappearing completely out of view.
>Sand Cutter heard her Hosts' paw-falls coming from the ceiling above. There was commotion, talking, wood creaking, a surprised squawk followed by purring. A lot of purring.
>This eventually ended.
>So too did the dancing flames of the fire, yet the warmth remained as a deep orange glow emanated from with the pile of ash.
>With a curt nod the Warlord of the Vale turned towards the door, which was wordlessly opened by Budieca. At this a blast of frigid air and speckles of snow intruded into the warm haven.
>Beyond the doorframe there was the familiar swirling snow. After a short distance the white landscape disappeared into the icy blackness of night, though, with the squint of her eyes Sand Cutter made out the obscured figures of several Gryphons that stood in a perimeter around the entrance to the tower.
>Both Gryphonesses were well insulated to the harsh weather outside the tower, Sand Cutter sadly wasn't. And as the cold spread further inside the circular room its icy touch forced spasms out of the poor mare.
>Thankfully it was a brief unpleasant affair, and when Budieca closed the heavy door behind Ri'Vahz, a reassuring *THUNK* was heard. Indicating it was now locked and no more of the terrible biting cold will enter this night.
>The snowflakes had all melted away, leaving behind droplets on the floor.
>Fully turning around Sand Cutter saw that Budieca's beaked face was covered in snow. The catbird blinked a couple of times before shaking her head like a Diamond Dog, throwing off snow everywhere. Thankfully none landing nowhere near the pony.
"I see. You truly have experienced much. Please give yourself as much rest as needed as by the time you awake tomorrow I'll have some hot breakfast for you and proper snow ware for a mare like you to wear."
>Budieca said, beaming at Sand Cutter as the mare laid herself down.
>The Gryphoness made for the stairs, deciding to leave the fire to consume the rest of the wood and smoulder out for the rest of the night.
>Halfway up though Budieca paused. She craned her head down to look upon the scarred pony laying on her floor.
"Don't feel like you need to rush when you wake up tomorrow, and if anybird does so I will bite their head off!"
>Budieca promised with a trilling laugh before disappearing completely out of view.
>Sand Cutter heard her Hosts' paw-falls coming from the ceiling above. There was commotion, talking, wood creaking, a surprised squawk followed by purring. A lot of purring.
>This eventually ended.
>So too did the dancing flames of the fire, yet the warmth remained as a deep orange glow emanated from with the pile of ash.
>>370082
>Struggling against the barely familiar controls and pressure differentials starting to cause airframe lag, it was apparent the Kiowa had not been prepared to operate in 100% humidity.
>Retaining enough control on the flight stick forces you to ease off committing to sharp maneuvers, though you do eventually gain the upper hand during the first wide banking swing.
>Crisply pitching a quarter nose down and slide-rotating into place well above the Lunar Airstrike Division now controlling most of the Basin's airspace, as you settle targeting solutions down onto Assault Tainted, the electronic warfare console in the passenger-operator's seat beeps. Loudly.
>The chaingun's thrilling chatter is interrupted by quick Hydra launches, followed on by Hellfires streaking towards the now stuck mob of Tainted surrounding the Basin's southern entrance.
>Packed together as they were, tremendous amounts of shrapnel tear through multiple ranks, only stopped by solid Basin walls or yet more Tainted attempting to force their way through.
The Lost Legions: -144,804 of 285,678 Morale
>The Moors clouds and fog banks once again become a blistering rave show, fantastic displays of opposing weaponry slamming into Lunar Assault and the few Solar Tainted charging towards Basin Village's southern entrance.
The Lost Legions: -148,062 of 285,678 Morale
>Far ahead, Guillotine performs a breathtaking end-over-end aerial roll allowing each weapon to briefly cool in the damp air, then skews directly south in a hard burn, pinpricks of exotic fractal colors emitting from what might be square vectored engines.
*"Mineself cannae leavest bondsae duty unmet ye grace, but willst escape when mine reactors aflutter dry-"*
>Pitching nose-down in a rapid maneuver, unleashing volleys of weapons fire shearing across the incoming Solar Guardian Assault ranks.
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,503/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (1+24) = 25] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (4+17) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25]
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
>The unmistakable roar-scream of completely destabilized energy containing lattices boom out across the Basin's eastern swamps, followed by insane secondary detonations from scores of focusing prisms turning into uncontrolled mass reactive arcane-fusion bombs.
('FUCK EVERYTHING BELOW THE UNCOUNTED WAVES! Half the Starside front bow, supports, and spare main weapons are gone! ..entire forward crew is in shock, second and third Astral Medics get out there! Guildmares, blow out the cargo holds, that salvage can be retrieved later! I'll dig a hole straight to Tartarus than let this ship sink after all our efforts-')
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Primary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Secondary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Tertiary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Forward Damage Teams
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Central Damage Teams
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Starside Damage Teams
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Moonside Damage Teams
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Primary Germaneighan Guildmare Close-Range Teleports
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Arcane Point Defense Systems
>Struggling against the barely familiar controls and pressure differentials starting to cause airframe lag, it was apparent the Kiowa had not been prepared to operate in 100% humidity.
>Retaining enough control on the flight stick forces you to ease off committing to sharp maneuvers, though you do eventually gain the upper hand during the first wide banking swing.
>Crisply pitching a quarter nose down and slide-rotating into place well above the Lunar Airstrike Division now controlling most of the Basin's airspace, as you settle targeting solutions down onto Assault Tainted, the electronic warfare console in the passenger-operator's seat beeps. Loudly.
>The chaingun's thrilling chatter is interrupted by quick Hydra launches, followed on by Hellfires streaking towards the now stuck mob of Tainted surrounding the Basin's southern entrance.
>Packed together as they were, tremendous amounts of shrapnel tear through multiple ranks, only stopped by solid Basin walls or yet more Tainted attempting to force their way through.
The Lost Legions: -144,804 of 285,678 Morale
>The Moors clouds and fog banks once again become a blistering rave show, fantastic displays of opposing weaponry slamming into Lunar Assault and the few Solar Tainted charging towards Basin Village's southern entrance.
The Lost Legions: -148,062 of 285,678 Morale
>Far ahead, Guillotine performs a breathtaking end-over-end aerial roll allowing each weapon to briefly cool in the damp air, then skews directly south in a hard burn, pinpricks of exotic fractal colors emitting from what might be square vectored engines.
*"Mineself cannae leavest bondsae duty unmet ye grace, but willst escape when mine reactors aflutter dry-"*
>Pitching nose-down in a rapid maneuver, unleashing volleys of weapons fire shearing across the incoming Solar Guardian Assault ranks.
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,503/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (1+24) = 25] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (4+17) = 21]
[1d6+16 = (2+16) = 18]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25]
[1d6+14 = (1+14) = 15]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
>The unmistakable roar-scream of completely destabilized energy containing lattices boom out across the Basin's eastern swamps, followed by insane secondary detonations from scores of focusing prisms turning into uncontrolled mass reactive arcane-fusion bombs.
('FUCK EVERYTHING BELOW THE UNCOUNTED WAVES! Half the Starside front bow, supports, and spare main weapons are gone! ..entire forward crew is in shock, second and third Astral Medics get out there! Guildmares, blow out the cargo holds, that salvage can be retrieved later! I'll dig a hole straight to Tartarus than let this ship sink after all our efforts-')
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Primary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Secondary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Tertiary Astral Medic Treatmarent
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Forward Damage Teams
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Central Damage Teams
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Starside Damage Teams
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Moonside Damage Teams
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19] <Primary Germaneighan Guildmare Close-Range Teleports
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Secondary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarent Repairs
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Arcane Point Defense Systems
>>370105
>Far in the distance you could see another line of expulsed, this time arcing higher than before.
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Solar Guardian Support Division: Spectral Lances
Solar Guardian Support Division, holding @ 200M south of Basin Village
>Directly ahead, tracers mix with the rare few rocket-assisted grenades, rockets, and direct-fire mortars streaking into the three Lunar Assault Tainted clogging Basin Village's southern entrance.
>Most of the weapons fire misses Broken Hoof and the various military Chargers viciously climbing the Tainted; the few ricochets and a scant armor penetrations weren't impacting their performarence.
The Lost Legions: 153,614 of 285,678 Morale
>Adding the Spiker's own brand of pandemonium, you were left scrambling to reload after the first shot, fumbling in an additional pair of shells while someone to the right shoots you a questioning glance.
>Definitely not an Operator you were familiar with judging by the odd highland winter-desert camo .
The Lost Legions: 153,720 of 285,678 Morale
>210 Spectral lances crash down into the mixed ranks of Lancers and Chargers, the remainder diffusing harmlessly even as reinforcemarents streaming in from behind to fill in gaps, though you notice a few ponies glancing down at the armored bodies they were standing atop.
"Don't hit our allies you fucking morons!"
>Taking up the firing line once more after rapid reloads and a few barrel switches, one of the older Operators lifts a hand-
"Aim ABOVE the Chargers, not around! Chest, throat, or head only! Find your targets people, let's do this all at once! Hold.. FIRE!"
>Dropping his hand and raising a beefy .45 Magnum, the thump of shotguns, revolvers, and semiauto pistols is heard first, every combat and battle rifle quickly adds to the chaotic tune.
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (3+21) = 24] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (4+25) = 29] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (6+29) = 35] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
>A trio of Razorback's younger 100 pause amid the nonstop cracking of submachine guns, lights and heavies throwing cases everywhere.
"Knock knock!"
>Appearing in the right Tainted's chest is a tiny dot that pulses red, brightens to white, then bursts outwards in a brief cascade of dawn's glow-
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Six Signs of Daylight
"Grab the hoofles-"
>Streaks in the shape of a minuscule flying drake ram itself into the left Lunar Assault Tainted's snout, detonating in realspace twisting colors-
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Chromatic Drake
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
"And throw 'em wide open!"
>Three human height raptor claws appear before the right Lunar Assault Tainted, slashing in at the legs and leaving streaks of ash in their wake-
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Pyrotic Talons
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
('....yet another round of Silver's arbitrarily idiotic, needlessly costly experimarents survived. You should not have drank those.')
>Punching one of the few open translocation matrices into compliance and ducking in, an imposingly tall, wide, bright white-blue-green-pink figure wreathed in the scent of Empire Permafrost stomps a heavy cladded hoof down.
>Standing to its full height and taking another step forwards, four burning yellow eyes in the center of a bucket headed Ethereal Golem stare forwards.
>Reaching back to swing out a massive single bladed war axe in its left hand, then a much larger triangular shield in the right, all four of the Minor Champion's eyes blink, a rumbling, toneless crystalline 'voice' echoing from it.
"Hostiles identified: Moors Tainted. Classification: ...unknown. Status: fully equipped. Combat usefulness: low, moderate pending. Standard combat protocols: useless. Requesting additional support: failed, no Ethereal Plane gateways available at this time. Attempting emulation of known equine combat algorithms... integration successful. Commencing risk analysis vectors-"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Ethereal Eye
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Fractal Risk Assessment
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Ethereal Data Records: Batpony Combat Forces
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Ethereal Data Records: The Moors, Tainted, Threat Index Maximum Priority
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Ethereal Data Records: Solar Combat Forces
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Ethereal Data Records: Lunar Combat Forces
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Ethereal Data Records: Stalliongrad Combat Forces
[1d6 = 4] <Ethereal Data Records: ...Humans?
[1d6 = 5] <Threat Index & Cross-Reference: ......Razorback Company?
"MAXIMUM PRIORITY TARGETS IDENTIFIED: HOSTILE MOORS TAINTED, THIS UNIT MUST ENGAGE! NATIVE EQUINES, CLEAR A PATH FOR THIS UNIT-"
>Rushing forwards, the axe is tightly gripped and slung backwards over the Golem's shoulder, bringing the shield to below its neck through the ranks of Chargers and Lancers sidestepping to create a path for the brazen Ethereal.
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Protocol: Rush Them Down
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Protocol: Deflect Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
('Councilierge Vanguard, new orders: keep all your eyes on that one. Silverine weapons with impact seals are the most effective at destroying solid Ethereals.')
>A cool, somehow familiar mid-40's stallion chimes in with an acidic chortle.
('Don't have to tell me that, General. Besides, that's not one of those that did us dirty and ran off during Kenfield, but what I wouldn't give to chip one of those deserving robot fucks to slagged pieces..')
>Far in the distance you could see another line of expulsed, this time arcing higher than before.
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Solar Guardian Support Division: Spectral Lances
Solar Guardian Support Division, holding @ 200M south of Basin Village
>Directly ahead, tracers mix with the rare few rocket-assisted grenades, rockets, and direct-fire mortars streaking into the three Lunar Assault Tainted clogging Basin Village's southern entrance.
>Most of the weapons fire misses Broken Hoof and the various military Chargers viciously climbing the Tainted; the few ricochets and a scant armor penetrations weren't impacting their performarence.
The Lost Legions: 153,614 of 285,678 Morale
>Adding the Spiker's own brand of pandemonium, you were left scrambling to reload after the first shot, fumbling in an additional pair of shells while someone to the right shoots you a questioning glance.
>Definitely not an Operator you were familiar with judging by the odd highland winter-desert camo .
The Lost Legions: 153,720 of 285,678 Morale
>210 Spectral lances crash down into the mixed ranks of Lancers and Chargers, the remainder diffusing harmlessly even as reinforcemarents streaming in from behind to fill in gaps, though you notice a few ponies glancing down at the armored bodies they were standing atop.
"Don't hit our allies you fucking morons!"
>Taking up the firing line once more after rapid reloads and a few barrel switches, one of the older Operators lifts a hand-
"Aim ABOVE the Chargers, not around! Chest, throat, or head only! Find your targets people, let's do this all at once! Hold.. FIRE!"
>Dropping his hand and raising a beefy .45 Magnum, the thump of shotguns, revolvers, and semiauto pistols is heard first, every combat and battle rifle quickly adds to the chaotic tune.
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (3+21) = 24] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (4+25) = 29] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (6+29) = 35] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
>A trio of Razorback's younger 100 pause amid the nonstop cracking of submachine guns, lights and heavies throwing cases everywhere.
"Knock knock!"
>Appearing in the right Tainted's chest is a tiny dot that pulses red, brightens to white, then bursts outwards in a brief cascade of dawn's glow-
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Six Signs of Daylight
"Grab the hoofles-"
>Streaks in the shape of a minuscule flying drake ram itself into the left Lunar Assault Tainted's snout, detonating in realspace twisting colors-
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Chromatic Drake
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
"And throw 'em wide open!"
>Three human height raptor claws appear before the right Lunar Assault Tainted, slashing in at the legs and leaving streaks of ash in their wake-
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Pyrotic Talons
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
('....yet another round of Silver's arbitrarily idiotic, needlessly costly experimarents survived. You should not have drank those.')
>Punching one of the few open translocation matrices into compliance and ducking in, an imposingly tall, wide, bright white-blue-green-pink figure wreathed in the scent of Empire Permafrost stomps a heavy cladded hoof down.
>Standing to its full height and taking another step forwards, four burning yellow eyes in the center of a bucket headed Ethereal Golem stare forwards.
>Reaching back to swing out a massive single bladed war axe in its left hand, then a much larger triangular shield in the right, all four of the Minor Champion's eyes blink, a rumbling, toneless crystalline 'voice' echoing from it.
"Hostiles identified: Moors Tainted. Classification: ...unknown. Status: fully equipped. Combat usefulness: low, moderate pending. Standard combat protocols: useless. Requesting additional support: failed, no Ethereal Plane gateways available at this time. Attempting emulation of known equine combat algorithms... integration successful. Commencing risk analysis vectors-"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Ethereal Eye
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Fractal Risk Assessment
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Ethereal Data Records: Batpony Combat Forces
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Ethereal Data Records: The Moors, Tainted, Threat Index Maximum Priority
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Ethereal Data Records: Solar Combat Forces
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Ethereal Data Records: Lunar Combat Forces
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Ethereal Data Records: Stalliongrad Combat Forces
[1d6 = 4] <Ethereal Data Records: ...Humans?
[1d6 = 5] <Threat Index & Cross-Reference: ......Razorback Company?
"MAXIMUM PRIORITY TARGETS IDENTIFIED: HOSTILE MOORS TAINTED, THIS UNIT MUST ENGAGE! NATIVE EQUINES, CLEAR A PATH FOR THIS UNIT-"
>Rushing forwards, the axe is tightly gripped and slung backwards over the Golem's shoulder, bringing the shield to below its neck through the ranks of Chargers and Lancers sidestepping to create a path for the brazen Ethereal.
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14] <Protocol: Rush Them Down
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Protocol: Deflect Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
('Councilierge Vanguard, new orders: keep all your eyes on that one. Silverine weapons with impact seals are the most effective at destroying solid Ethereals.')
>A cool, somehow familiar mid-40's stallion chimes in with an acidic chortle.
('Don't have to tell me that, General. Besides, that's not one of those that did us dirty and ran off during Kenfield, but what I wouldn't give to chip one of those deserving robot fucks to slagged pieces..')
>>370106
>Coming to a halt as she looked around for the relay, Sunny pondered why the constructs and other objects were intangible, or was she the one that was intangible.
>She hadn't shifted down into the underdark, and neither had anything else or she wouldn't be seeing them.
>No time to think about it.
>She cast a glance back down towards the destroyer pair, they were still inactive, and not even scanning. Some other construct model had to be observing everything and relaying the data to them. Best case was one or more scout models stationed out of the way, likely somewhere high with a good view of the whole arena. Unless those in orbit were capable of high resolution scanning at greater ranges than she assumed.
>Turning her head north, she caught sight of the relay and pushed herself back into motion, weaving over, under and around obstacles.
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] < E. Sprint
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
>>370107
>>370111
>>370114
>Coming to a halt as she looked around for the relay, Sunny pondered why the constructs and other objects were intangible, or was she the one that was intangible.
>She hadn't shifted down into the underdark, and neither had anything else or she wouldn't be seeing them.
>No time to think about it.
>She cast a glance back down towards the destroyer pair, they were still inactive, and not even scanning. Some other construct model had to be observing everything and relaying the data to them. Best case was one or more scout models stationed out of the way, likely somewhere high with a good view of the whole arena. Unless those in orbit were capable of high resolution scanning at greater ranges than she assumed.
>Turning her head north, she caught sight of the relay and pushed herself back into motion, weaving over, under and around obstacles.
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] < E. Sprint
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
>>370107
>>370111
>>370114
>>370079
>The image shifts to the pair glancing at each other, then shrugging in unison while trying not to laugh.
'Inquisitor Velasi once argued that the current situation as of three months prior could be much worse. We disagreed.. then she bit a power cell in half and used it to set a chair on fire. That point was instantly conceded to her and all objections permanently withdrawn. We would categorize right now as: strained, tenuous, before a breaking point but most are actively clawing ourselves up from the various ledges they were close to sliding or falling off.'
>Aiding his sister to 'stand', both face you, right hand on their chest making a raptor's sign, left behind their backs, the Tracker twins bow at the waist.
'We shall try ensure an informal meeting with one of the Princesses, when the opportunity arises. Such events are difficult to schedule, thus we ask your patience. Now we must ensure Tox-11 and Witch-Two do not datastrangle each other.'
>An awkward two nanocycles pass as the female giggles, her youthful tone eerie in a manner that was difficult to place, yet nonetheless familiar.
'Much!'
>Raspberry extends her left wing forwards, a set of matte black blades flicked out and around the first five feathers to poke at one of the rolls, grinning as she does so.
"Luxurious? Nah, this is basic for the Sea's Bounty. They love cooking almost as much as they enjoy sleeping the entire day, scavenging for treasure, racing each other, swimming.. or everything else they do, really. If I wanted the fancy platter it would've taken two hours to catch, prepare, and cook. Then another half hour for the fillies to argue over which spices go best on what."
>Lips pursing at the, probably, request, her eyes swivel upwards, then down.
"I'm not sure how it tastes when alone, but it's worth a try."
>Reaching out to pick up the small wooden cylinder between the flat of two blades, she sets it down on the side closest to you.
"No rush. This'll all stay hot for a while anyhow, there's a heatstone layered on the bottom and a coldstone under the bowl."
>Muzzle quirking a bit at the last few words, the neon red pegasus takes on an interested expression.
"Go ahead."
>Hurling the Auspex with near-maximum force, it makes a rather hearty thunk down onto steel plate.
>Catching an impenetrable labyrinth of code that seemed to be more like raw data, the Necron archaeo-sapience emits a resounding chime.
'This unit is not one of the lobotomized Machine-Spirits of the Imperium. Invoke not the Void Dragon so carelessly Enginseer, unless you are individually ready and willing to suffer its attention. Repair cycle analysis concluded: sufficient force utilized to correct defective component.'
'HIT IT AGAIN TO BE SU'
'witch, either you chill your ti'
>Blanketing out their frequencies, Tracker 'sighs' before returning to the somewhat enviable task of data sorting.
>Looking up at the hangar's retracted clamshell, Raindrop makes a 'sort of' motion with her right wing.
"Not surprising, New Everfree is well known for new fauna and flora appearing in odd places-"
"YOU ARE ALL DOOMED! DOOOOOOMED I SAAAAAAyyyy oh berryflowers, I DID leave the faucets on-"
"And there's only five forges here, well, technically six, but that one's broken or something, that I've seen. Got to watch some truly crazy plants and creatures in the uncharted and unexplored Wild Clouds when I was a bit younger. Compared to those underground flowers are interesting, but not all that odd."
>Eyebrows wiggling up and down precisely three times, the Free Knight's face creases with a mildly worrying smile, holding out her left front hoof.
"You do know that giving a full bouquet to a mare means you want to be her close friend, right? If that IS the case.. may I have another?"
>Ears twitching at a loud buzzing in open air to the west, the Free Knight's lips turn into a wavy S.
"Oh no, the Landmine Fairy's back. Jus-"
>A metallic blue and red streak dives down onto the floor, sounds of tiny steel shod hooves rapidly scramble for traction that were failing. Badly.
>Sliding around several times and smacking into the northernmost cabinet, the figure bounces up to stand, turning out to be a 1' tall pegasus covered in wet paint.
>Two slightly glowing sea green eyes blink, first at you, then at Raindrop, a hoof shakily lifting in greeting as the absolute squeakiest middle teenage female voice you've ever heard speaks.
"Sorry about that! I was trying to get away from a bunch of glowbugs, turns out all they wanted was eating my paint! I'll ha-"
>Hearing another buzz, the ultra-dwarf pegasus freezes, then dives upwards, wings flapping once before zipping out into the night sky.
>Doing her best not to snicker, Raindrop sits back to sigh in relief.
"That not-yet-a-mare's name is Floating Nettleberry. She found an old Dynasty emblem that cursed her to be, well, gallon size. She's friendly but always on a sugar high."
>The image shifts to the pair glancing at each other, then shrugging in unison while trying not to laugh.
'Inquisitor Velasi once argued that the current situation as of three months prior could be much worse. We disagreed.. then she bit a power cell in half and used it to set a chair on fire. That point was instantly conceded to her and all objections permanently withdrawn. We would categorize right now as: strained, tenuous, before a breaking point but most are actively clawing ourselves up from the various ledges they were close to sliding or falling off.'
>Aiding his sister to 'stand', both face you, right hand on their chest making a raptor's sign, left behind their backs, the Tracker twins bow at the waist.
'We shall try ensure an informal meeting with one of the Princesses, when the opportunity arises. Such events are difficult to schedule, thus we ask your patience. Now we must ensure Tox-11 and Witch-Two do not datastrangle each other.'
>An awkward two nanocycles pass as the female giggles, her youthful tone eerie in a manner that was difficult to place, yet nonetheless familiar.
'Much!'
>Raspberry extends her left wing forwards, a set of matte black blades flicked out and around the first five feathers to poke at one of the rolls, grinning as she does so.
"Luxurious? Nah, this is basic for the Sea's Bounty. They love cooking almost as much as they enjoy sleeping the entire day, scavenging for treasure, racing each other, swimming.. or everything else they do, really. If I wanted the fancy platter it would've taken two hours to catch, prepare, and cook. Then another half hour for the fillies to argue over which spices go best on what."
>Lips pursing at the, probably, request, her eyes swivel upwards, then down.
"I'm not sure how it tastes when alone, but it's worth a try."
>Reaching out to pick up the small wooden cylinder between the flat of two blades, she sets it down on the side closest to you.
"No rush. This'll all stay hot for a while anyhow, there's a heatstone layered on the bottom and a coldstone under the bowl."
>Muzzle quirking a bit at the last few words, the neon red pegasus takes on an interested expression.
"Go ahead."
>Hurling the Auspex with near-maximum force, it makes a rather hearty thunk down onto steel plate.
>Catching an impenetrable labyrinth of code that seemed to be more like raw data, the Necron archaeo-sapience emits a resounding chime.
'This unit is not one of the lobotomized Machine-Spirits of the Imperium. Invoke not the Void Dragon so carelessly Enginseer, unless you are individually ready and willing to suffer its attention. Repair cycle analysis concluded: sufficient force utilized to correct defective component.'
'HIT IT AGAIN TO BE SU'
'witch, either you chill your ti'
>Blanketing out their frequencies, Tracker 'sighs' before returning to the somewhat enviable task of data sorting.
>Looking up at the hangar's retracted clamshell, Raindrop makes a 'sort of' motion with her right wing.
"Not surprising, New Everfree is well known for new fauna and flora appearing in odd places-"
"YOU ARE ALL DOOMED! DOOOOOOMED I SAAAAAAyyyy oh berryflowers, I DID leave the faucets on-"
"And there's only five forges here, well, technically six, but that one's broken or something, that I've seen. Got to watch some truly crazy plants and creatures in the uncharted and unexplored Wild Clouds when I was a bit younger. Compared to those underground flowers are interesting, but not all that odd."
>Eyebrows wiggling up and down precisely three times, the Free Knight's face creases with a mildly worrying smile, holding out her left front hoof.
"You do know that giving a full bouquet to a mare means you want to be her close friend, right? If that IS the case.. may I have another?"
>Ears twitching at a loud buzzing in open air to the west, the Free Knight's lips turn into a wavy S.
"Oh no, the Landmine Fairy's back. Jus-"
>A metallic blue and red streak dives down onto the floor, sounds of tiny steel shod hooves rapidly scramble for traction that were failing. Badly.
>Sliding around several times and smacking into the northernmost cabinet, the figure bounces up to stand, turning out to be a 1' tall pegasus covered in wet paint.
>Two slightly glowing sea green eyes blink, first at you, then at Raindrop, a hoof shakily lifting in greeting as the absolute squeakiest middle teenage female voice you've ever heard speaks.
"Sorry about that! I was trying to get away from a bunch of glowbugs, turns out all they wanted was eating my paint! I'll ha-"
>Hearing another buzz, the ultra-dwarf pegasus freezes, then dives upwards, wings flapping once before zipping out into the night sky.
>Doing her best not to snicker, Raindrop sits back to sigh in relief.
"That not-yet-a-mare's name is Floating Nettleberry. She found an old Dynasty emblem that cursed her to be, well, gallon size. She's friendly but always on a sugar high."
File (): 9C5295D63E75B74115DB0BB65ACA89EC-63008.jpg (61.5 KB, 747x891, beyond saving.jpg)
>>370114
>Lont followed trajectory of his slugs as they disappeared into the distance, then into the writhing masses of Tainted, along with all the other ordinances from his fellow humans that peppered their giant soul sucking enemies with lead.
>It wasn't keeping his spirits high.
>How could it not? He was fighting a foe he could not attack in melee and at distances that made his arsenal worthless to the cause. So he stopped loading his Spiker and cradled it in the nook of his arm.
>Wings flittered in place for a moment in mental agitation. These newly birthed wings barely carried him before on his first maiden flight, best they could do here is glide him straight to a Portal Matrice. To help him run away from the battlefield. A scenario he would never do willingly, not now.
>He had to accept the reality of the situation at hand.
>He was useless.
>A hand began to absentmindedly rummage across his person, going through all the pockets in search of an item, something of use somewhere hidden.
>While doing so he tracked the Ethereal as it made its way towards the Tainted, the sea of armoured ponies parting for it. He deduced the rest of the Crystal Empire forces were close behind.
>And also with the power of basic mathematics came to the conclusion there needs be more Ethereals to counter the Construct threat, let alone the Tainted.
>More Ethereals, more ponies, more humans and other outlandish things he has not seen before and may never see again. More firepower, more bodies.
>Lont followed trajectory of his slugs as they disappeared into the distance, then into the writhing masses of Tainted, along with all the other ordinances from his fellow humans that peppered their giant soul sucking enemies with lead.
>It wasn't keeping his spirits high.
>How could it not? He was fighting a foe he could not attack in melee and at distances that made his arsenal worthless to the cause. So he stopped loading his Spiker and cradled it in the nook of his arm.
>Wings flittered in place for a moment in mental agitation. These newly birthed wings barely carried him before on his first maiden flight, best they could do here is glide him straight to a Portal Matrice. To help him run away from the battlefield. A scenario he would never do willingly, not now.
>He had to accept the reality of the situation at hand.
>He was useless.
>A hand began to absentmindedly rummage across his person, going through all the pockets in search of an item, something of use somewhere hidden.
>While doing so he tracked the Ethereal as it made its way towards the Tainted, the sea of armoured ponies parting for it. He deduced the rest of the Crystal Empire forces were close behind.
>And also with the power of basic mathematics came to the conclusion there needs be more Ethereals to counter the Construct threat, let alone the Tainted.
>More Ethereals, more ponies, more humans and other outlandish things he has not seen before and may never see again. More firepower, more bodies.
>>370087
>Katyal's face tightens in slight expressions, side-eyeing the front while a single low pitched electronic crackle chimes in through the helmet, a tight beam channel opening briefly.
*"I can't be watching two people and a stallion that needs to be protected equally. Any time you aren't 'good', Lonestar starts acting in ways that you don't recognize, the Siren freaks out, or you sense something even slightly off, speak up so I won't be wasting time."*
>The link cuts off, Shiibo raising an eyebrow at the interruption.
'Four advanced communication implants.. significantly Post-Orbital Era. Type: gravitic. No ingrained behavioral patterns, indoctrination, or persona programming suspected. Her anger is not directed at or towards you specifically. External and vocal traits place her in the professional manhunter category: four phrasing indicators and one large scale macro-expression that she has killed humans before, possibly in large numbers, and does not find the act or process distasteful.'
>Nodding after a half-second and turning to a new set of readouts, Shiibo's avatar resizes to take up less space.
'Cross referencing the prototype's database shows thousands of high-level negative references towards the individual deemed Empress Silver. Over ninety percent border on the absurd. Correlations in progress, but I do not think she should be treated as a threat to you sir. Analysis of stress reaction based on known indicators; extensively positive and possibly reformative pro-equine cohabitation. Read that as she may not be or is incapable of hiding moods, expressions, and intentions. The prototype's advanced rulesets and working theories broadly classify her as a non-threat outside of extenuating or aggravated circumstances. I do not have enough data to rule in favor or against. Yet.'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
>Reaching out for the relic and taking it delicately with an appreciative nod, Katyal visibly fights not to grin, though her mood unexpectedly shifts into black professionalism, rapid left and right eye motions picked up by Shiibo indicating well trained memory recall.
"Thanks. Big plants I can deal with, especially the 'fun' types.. been in some huge forests before. If these are battleship size then fire, plasma, poison, acid, neutron, and exotics aren't an option, those will get noticed. Going around them is the real danger unless this thing's sensors scan out a mile out in every direction, sky, surface, and underground included, mega-forests like this hide perfect ambushes. Megafauna will be extra large, giant, or titan sized, pests included. Give me a sec-"
>Performing a series of slight, probable summoning motions using both hands, a dim, two-dimensional spheroid portal opens, lifting and placing the out cold Hodch inside using brute strength, though wasn't straining to do so.
>The operator compartment door swings open as you approach, exposing a wide, partially condensed combat holographic display on the driver's side, Lonestar glancing back with a set of ultra light, thin and clear earmuffs on.
"Answer's gonna be yes, if there's some and they's hostile. Got nothin' in vicinity fer two miles 'sides them trees, an'below surface scans only got fifty, hunnerd meters down. Nothin' so far. Got lotsa smaller plants in strips where sunlight comes down like we got 'round th'Fortress, none of 'em dangerous s'far as systems can tell. Kin'a like this place. Lil' miss, kin you tell what's aroun' us?"
>Taking a slow, deep sniff, Dul speaks in an audibly hesitant, focused tone.
"Trees here.. wild. Old-old-old trees. Not old-old-old-old wild like Old Everfree, but not young like old-old New Everfree. Trees like around human fortress home, young big ka. Trees here, huge ka like Specter boss, pretty white Gryphene, Twisted Wing. Trees not want hear us speak, not want speak to us. Long thinks. Slow thinks. They not hate Planar.. not like Otherworld. We not hurt trees, trees not hurt us."
>Silent for a few seconds, Lone's eyes shut tightly while trying to digest what the Siren had said.
"Right. No hurtin' trees then."
>Swiveling back around to motion at the display, the local area was mostly flatland similar to the area around Razorback Fortress, two notations shown in bright red at the top:
>The smallest tree in a 4.8 kilometer radius was barely 48M in diameter, 2,600M in height, and had an average branch spanning out 400M interwoven into dozens of layered canopies, while the largest was well over 900M around, but were much taller than the scanning system could measure.
>Tapping a small sequence of keys, the system attempts analysis and cross-referencing, returning multiple errors mixed with verifications.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
"Species unknown. Density's off th'chart: harder'n ironwood, tighter grain than anything Ah've seen before in th'Moors. Then there's-"
>Another tap produces 3D models of thoroughly unknown shrubs, bushes, grasses, and surface mushrooms ranging from 9M to 50M in strips between the gargantuan trees, while a single wide, flat, proto-archaic creeping fern dangled off a single branch 3KM south.
"And-"
>Shifting slightly, the older Operator mutters in a low, suspicious tone, sitting back and nodding at the display's eastern side.
"Kin rarely sense thangs in place or outta place, not like Mercy or Hodch. Somethin' or somethangs is out that way. Makes me feel like we jes' got tossed outta a house we was given to by someone that wasn't invited."
>One of the rear hatches opens, Katyal's boots making a single dull thud on the roof, Lonestar frowning as her figure kneels down on the OL-3's left side, then crouches down, both hands reaching out to rub a ball of static.
"She's a real wild card, huh. That's Nibbles, she been layin' on the roof staring that same way since we got 'ere. Yer thoughts?"
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Junior: Equestrian Arcane Magic
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Junior: Tallus, Megaflora
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Katyal's face tightens in slight expressions, side-eyeing the front while a single low pitched electronic crackle chimes in through the helmet, a tight beam channel opening briefly.
*"I can't be watching two people and a stallion that needs to be protected equally. Any time you aren't 'good', Lonestar starts acting in ways that you don't recognize, the Siren freaks out, or you sense something even slightly off, speak up so I won't be wasting time."*
>The link cuts off, Shiibo raising an eyebrow at the interruption.
'Four advanced communication implants.. significantly Post-Orbital Era. Type: gravitic. No ingrained behavioral patterns, indoctrination, or persona programming suspected. Her anger is not directed at or towards you specifically. External and vocal traits place her in the professional manhunter category: four phrasing indicators and one large scale macro-expression that she has killed humans before, possibly in large numbers, and does not find the act or process distasteful.'
>Nodding after a half-second and turning to a new set of readouts, Shiibo's avatar resizes to take up less space.
'Cross referencing the prototype's database shows thousands of high-level negative references towards the individual deemed Empress Silver. Over ninety percent border on the absurd. Correlations in progress, but I do not think she should be treated as a threat to you sir. Analysis of stress reaction based on known indicators; extensively positive and possibly reformative pro-equine cohabitation. Read that as she may not be or is incapable of hiding moods, expressions, and intentions. The prototype's advanced rulesets and working theories broadly classify her as a non-threat outside of extenuating or aggravated circumstances. I do not have enough data to rule in favor or against. Yet.'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
>Reaching out for the relic and taking it delicately with an appreciative nod, Katyal visibly fights not to grin, though her mood unexpectedly shifts into black professionalism, rapid left and right eye motions picked up by Shiibo indicating well trained memory recall.
"Thanks. Big plants I can deal with, especially the 'fun' types.. been in some huge forests before. If these are battleship size then fire, plasma, poison, acid, neutron, and exotics aren't an option, those will get noticed. Going around them is the real danger unless this thing's sensors scan out a mile out in every direction, sky, surface, and underground included, mega-forests like this hide perfect ambushes. Megafauna will be extra large, giant, or titan sized, pests included. Give me a sec-"
>Performing a series of slight, probable summoning motions using both hands, a dim, two-dimensional spheroid portal opens, lifting and placing the out cold Hodch inside using brute strength, though wasn't straining to do so.
>The operator compartment door swings open as you approach, exposing a wide, partially condensed combat holographic display on the driver's side, Lonestar glancing back with a set of ultra light, thin and clear earmuffs on.
"Answer's gonna be yes, if there's some and they's hostile. Got nothin' in vicinity fer two miles 'sides them trees, an'below surface scans only got fifty, hunnerd meters down. Nothin' so far. Got lotsa smaller plants in strips where sunlight comes down like we got 'round th'Fortress, none of 'em dangerous s'far as systems can tell. Kin'a like this place. Lil' miss, kin you tell what's aroun' us?"
>Taking a slow, deep sniff, Dul speaks in an audibly hesitant, focused tone.
"Trees here.. wild. Old-old-old trees. Not old-old-old-old wild like Old Everfree, but not young like old-old New Everfree. Trees like around human fortress home, young big ka. Trees here, huge ka like Specter boss, pretty white Gryphene, Twisted Wing. Trees not want hear us speak, not want speak to us. Long thinks. Slow thinks. They not hate Planar.. not like Otherworld. We not hurt trees, trees not hurt us."
>Silent for a few seconds, Lone's eyes shut tightly while trying to digest what the Siren had said.
"Right. No hurtin' trees then."
>Swiveling back around to motion at the display, the local area was mostly flatland similar to the area around Razorback Fortress, two notations shown in bright red at the top:
>The smallest tree in a 4.8 kilometer radius was barely 48M in diameter, 2,600M in height, and had an average branch spanning out 400M interwoven into dozens of layered canopies, while the largest was well over 900M around, but were much taller than the scanning system could measure.
>Tapping a small sequence of keys, the system attempts analysis and cross-referencing, returning multiple errors mixed with verifications.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
"Species unknown. Density's off th'chart: harder'n ironwood, tighter grain than anything Ah've seen before in th'Moors. Then there's-"
>Another tap produces 3D models of thoroughly unknown shrubs, bushes, grasses, and surface mushrooms ranging from 9M to 50M in strips between the gargantuan trees, while a single wide, flat, proto-archaic creeping fern dangled off a single branch 3KM south.
"And-"
>Shifting slightly, the older Operator mutters in a low, suspicious tone, sitting back and nodding at the display's eastern side.
"Kin rarely sense thangs in place or outta place, not like Mercy or Hodch. Somethin' or somethangs is out that way. Makes me feel like we jes' got tossed outta a house we was given to by someone that wasn't invited."
>One of the rear hatches opens, Katyal's boots making a single dull thud on the roof, Lonestar frowning as her figure kneels down on the OL-3's left side, then crouches down, both hands reaching out to rub a ball of static.
"She's a real wild card, huh. That's Nibbles, she been layin' on the roof staring that same way since we got 'ere. Yer thoughts?"
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Junior: Equestrian Arcane Magic
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Junior: Tallus, Megaflora
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>>370088
>Barely visible through plasma-tinged retinas, Anonymous reaches back into the gateway to pull out a rather plain metal folding chair, folding it out to sit on.
>Backwards, of course.
"Hah, you don't look like Kraut does right now, which is to say definitely a sack of minced burger, a few hundred new bones, and pieces that might once have been organs. When you start feeling that way, then you can worry."
>Reaching into the left side of his dinner vest to retrieve a thin cigarillo, he holds it out above you while grinning under the mask, obviously trying, and failing, to light it.
"This once, I don't have a single answer or piece of advice to offer."
>Theatrically giving up and reaching back in for a large match, striking it with his thumbnail, an invisible flame is held at at the tip before passing it down to you.
"Seeing the future's not something I can do worth a damn. Been proven wrong hundreds of times on bets that I figured were absolutely solid."
>Slouching forwards on the chair, Anon's head lifts, thinking deeply for ten seconds before speaking.
"Can say this much: Archmare Regoliche, lead Vigilite, called her entire Order together and summoned one of the Tower Guard's Master-Generals into their Mausoleum. Screamed bloody murder a few times and was threatening to execute said Master-General at noon. Master-General snapped back a line that shut 'em all up. They let her go without another word, then closed their doors after she pranced back to the Old Tower Keep. Both have recorded everything but aren't letting so much as a mouse fart in Stalliongrad without everypony knowing it. Two Councilierge broke their code of silence and are scrambling to replace translocation matrices. One went off radar a few hours ago, and four more can't be located."
>Shifting to place both hands on the sides of his head, the Third Gestalt seems to shrug.
"What you did or didn't do is about to be banned information everywhere. Rushya, Pongoalia, Las Pegasus, not even Equestria will know jack shit unless the Councilierge, Tower Guard, or Vigilites all start talking at once. Even that old ass Draconequis says as much. Tonight's being treated as if Stalliongrad didn't exist since dusk. Calm before the storm, eye of the storm, and aftermath are done with. Now? Who fucking knows what's next."
>Eyebrow raising under the mask, Anon snorts ruefully.
"You are the lighter, or so I thought. Welcome, but, just diamonds? For ponies that either shows off real high class or strutting one's wealth. Should've asked for a mix of all the valuable ones. Now, I'd give you a disc but it might melt. Or worse. Got any requests or do I sit here and possibly go blind while you go back to screaming at everything in general?"
>Barely visible through plasma-tinged retinas, Anonymous reaches back into the gateway to pull out a rather plain metal folding chair, folding it out to sit on.
>Backwards, of course.
"Hah, you don't look like Kraut does right now, which is to say definitely a sack of minced burger, a few hundred new bones, and pieces that might once have been organs. When you start feeling that way, then you can worry."
>Reaching into the left side of his dinner vest to retrieve a thin cigarillo, he holds it out above you while grinning under the mask, obviously trying, and failing, to light it.
"This once, I don't have a single answer or piece of advice to offer."
>Theatrically giving up and reaching back in for a large match, striking it with his thumbnail, an invisible flame is held at at the tip before passing it down to you.
"Seeing the future's not something I can do worth a damn. Been proven wrong hundreds of times on bets that I figured were absolutely solid."
>Slouching forwards on the chair, Anon's head lifts, thinking deeply for ten seconds before speaking.
"Can say this much: Archmare Regoliche, lead Vigilite, called her entire Order together and summoned one of the Tower Guard's Master-Generals into their Mausoleum. Screamed bloody murder a few times and was threatening to execute said Master-General at noon. Master-General snapped back a line that shut 'em all up. They let her go without another word, then closed their doors after she pranced back to the Old Tower Keep. Both have recorded everything but aren't letting so much as a mouse fart in Stalliongrad without everypony knowing it. Two Councilierge broke their code of silence and are scrambling to replace translocation matrices. One went off radar a few hours ago, and four more can't be located."
>Shifting to place both hands on the sides of his head, the Third Gestalt seems to shrug.
"What you did or didn't do is about to be banned information everywhere. Rushya, Pongoalia, Las Pegasus, not even Equestria will know jack shit unless the Councilierge, Tower Guard, or Vigilites all start talking at once. Even that old ass Draconequis says as much. Tonight's being treated as if Stalliongrad didn't exist since dusk. Calm before the storm, eye of the storm, and aftermath are done with. Now? Who fucking knows what's next."
>Eyebrow raising under the mask, Anon snorts ruefully.
"You are the lighter, or so I thought. Welcome, but, just diamonds? For ponies that either shows off real high class or strutting one's wealth. Should've asked for a mix of all the valuable ones. Now, I'd give you a disc but it might melt. Or worse. Got any requests or do I sit here and possibly go blind while you go back to screaming at everything in general?"
>>370166
>Pareidolia's brow raises slightly at the unexpected communication band being linked but otherwise remains neutral in body language.
"Understood."
>Making brief eye contact with Shiibo, he blinks in acknowledgement as he moves.
"I concur with the assessment. Operational accomodations for her biases do not seem to affect efficiency at this time."
>Stepping into the forward compartment, he reviews the displays and charts intently as Lonestar queries the others.
>He notes Dul's reply as he checks.
(Middling age forest. Hostile encounters possible. Not as high a threat level as the oldest regions. Knowledge of local flora/fauna limited.)
>At Lonestar's comment of unease towards the East, he scrutinizes the display for anything of note in that direction.
"Katyal may have a strong desire to protect ponies and concerns over potentially problematic squadmates and cohesion. Should be manageable so long as efficiency is maintained."
>Leaning closer to the display, he grips the shoulder of one of the driving seats.
"Assuming animal behavioral principles apply, if there is something there it is currently assessing our potential as a threat and as prey. That it hasn't engaged yet indicates it either uncertain of its success, not capable of engaging us yet at this range, or is uninterested. Preference should be given to avoiding conflict wherever possible. Spiral's retrieval may be time sensitive."
>His other gloved hand runs over the various grenades on his chest rigging.
(White phosphorous may be inadvised given potential damage to pines in the area... anti-flora options limited.)
>Pareidolia's brow raises slightly at the unexpected communication band being linked but otherwise remains neutral in body language.
"Understood."
>Making brief eye contact with Shiibo, he blinks in acknowledgement as he moves.
"I concur with the assessment. Operational accomodations for her biases do not seem to affect efficiency at this time."
>Stepping into the forward compartment, he reviews the displays and charts intently as Lonestar queries the others.
>He notes Dul's reply as he checks.
(Middling age forest. Hostile encounters possible. Not as high a threat level as the oldest regions. Knowledge of local flora/fauna limited.)
>At Lonestar's comment of unease towards the East, he scrutinizes the display for anything of note in that direction.
"Katyal may have a strong desire to protect ponies and concerns over potentially problematic squadmates and cohesion. Should be manageable so long as efficiency is maintained."
>Leaning closer to the display, he grips the shoulder of one of the driving seats.
"Assuming animal behavioral principles apply, if there is something there it is currently assessing our potential as a threat and as prey. That it hasn't engaged yet indicates it either uncertain of its success, not capable of engaging us yet at this range, or is uninterested. Preference should be given to avoiding conflict wherever possible. Spiral's retrieval may be time sensitive."
>His other gloved hand runs over the various grenades on his chest rigging.
(White phosphorous may be inadvised given potential damage to pines in the area... anti-flora options limited.)
File (): 9C2B3DBFE8C5127FA4ADAD88D7BDE549-766325.png (748.4 KB, 989x877, breathing noises.png)
>>370167
>There was a wince and a grinding of my teeth as he recounted what apparently had happened to Kraut.
>It appeared I was severely out of the loop.
>Oh well, not like it -really- concerns me.
>Still, fuck, that's hard to hear.
"Still breathing, yeah, at least for the moment."
>I reached up and snagged the cigarillo, lighting it quickly.
>Nicotine helped with thoughts like these.
>Or, at least, the fulfilling of an addiction.
>And he doesn't have advice, which either means that either he hasn't seen it, or somehow caused a macrocosm of absolute bullshit the levels of which the CIA would blush and stammer in my presence of.
>Or profess their undying love and adoration for.
>Then, the man spoke on intel, the good stuff, right from the top shelf of 'fuck me' mountain.
>And then it was so much worse, but so much better than I ever understood.
>Like, holy shit, the amount of damage control was staggering.
>I fucked up a lot.
>A LOT.
>To the tune of the boogeymen that had been controlling a lot of shit against us basically just shit the bed in fear and alarm, running around to fix the massive gaping hole I just punted through Stalliongrad, and the world was collectively going to choose to actively -ignore- it.
>At least, so I would like to imagine.
>Given what happened, I think I'm going to hold onto that, lest I -actually- lose my mind and go insane.
"And I just set off the entire fucking powder keg. Or, at least, lit the fuse."
>I paused, looking up to the man.
"...can you get me to Razorback safely? After, you know, I stop looking like I chugged about fifty gallons of fluorescent paint."
>There was a wince and a grinding of my teeth as he recounted what apparently had happened to Kraut.
>It appeared I was severely out of the loop.
>Oh well, not like it -really- concerns me.
>Still, fuck, that's hard to hear.
"Still breathing, yeah, at least for the moment."
>I reached up and snagged the cigarillo, lighting it quickly.
>Nicotine helped with thoughts like these.
>Or, at least, the fulfilling of an addiction.
>And he doesn't have advice, which either means that either he hasn't seen it, or somehow caused a macrocosm of absolute bullshit the levels of which the CIA would blush and stammer in my presence of.
>Or profess their undying love and adoration for.
>Then, the man spoke on intel, the good stuff, right from the top shelf of 'fuck me' mountain.
>And then it was so much worse, but so much better than I ever understood.
>Like, holy shit, the amount of damage control was staggering.
>I fucked up a lot.
>A LOT.
>To the tune of the boogeymen that had been controlling a lot of shit against us basically just shit the bed in fear and alarm, running around to fix the massive gaping hole I just punted through Stalliongrad, and the world was collectively going to choose to actively -ignore- it.
>At least, so I would like to imagine.
>Given what happened, I think I'm going to hold onto that, lest I -actually- lose my mind and go insane.
"And I just set off the entire fucking powder keg. Or, at least, lit the fuse."
>I paused, looking up to the man.
"...can you get me to Razorback safely? After, you know, I stop looking like I chugged about fifty gallons of fluorescent paint."
>>370089
>Bubba firmly made a resolution to never be in the same room alone with that mare.
>Those weird comics the japanese made were not something he ever planned on becoming the protagonist of.
"Well that means I won't be able to use my lockpick set here, then."
>Shame, he hasn't had many opportunities to break and enter sneakily yet.
>Bubba's attention would idly keep itself focused on Nalinya as he listened to the Gryphon squawking away behind the two, and briefly on Lark's emotions.
>As she resumed moving, he'd swiftly follow behind her to ensure he wasn't introduced to the inside of a wall, before relaxing.
>Very slightly.
"I do not intend to intentionally cause Lark any harm."
>He would repeat clearly and firmly.
>Bubba firmly made a resolution to never be in the same room alone with that mare.
>Those weird comics the japanese made were not something he ever planned on becoming the protagonist of.
"Well that means I won't be able to use my lockpick set here, then."
>Shame, he hasn't had many opportunities to break and enter sneakily yet.
>Bubba's attention would idly keep itself focused on Nalinya as he listened to the Gryphon squawking away behind the two, and briefly on Lark's emotions.
>As she resumed moving, he'd swiftly follow behind her to ensure he wasn't introduced to the inside of a wall, before relaxing.
>Very slightly.
"I do not intend to intentionally cause Lark any harm."
>He would repeat clearly and firmly.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (in The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370178
>>370103
"My scent detection and analysis systems were destroyed after attempted exfiltration from the Construct Assault Lander. I will have to restore my eye first, it is currently functioning at less than thirty percent efficiency."
>Placing the Rilvenni's core in what remained of her head unit cockpit with the unique noise of wet cowprint seat compressing, Wild emits a short beep.
"That either means the Explosive-Reactive Armor system, the External Reactor Activation sequence, or the Extensive Research on.. that is strange, all further information on the third is listed as redacted. Has to be the first then. My currently functional secondary nodes contain limited data on that topic, Would need to bring my full mainframe in order to conduct research."
>What you did remember was the use of semi-dry mix concrete and cardboard spaced 'armor', which did work quite well on field refit T-28's... against 7MM to 10MM standard calibers.
>And added an extra two tons which often turned the ersatz T-28 "B" types into shitty but possibly useful pillboxes, or were turned into cheap mass coffins depending on the combat theater in question.
>On the left screen, mini-Wild's sole 'eye' compresses, obviously trying to squint, while her antennae twitch angrily, simulating equine ears.
"Your statement is correct. Of the past twenty-nine critical repairs I have attempted, all excluding three have failed catastrophically, or catastrophically failed. There is a 'tactic' That Which Cannot Be Named taught before allowing me to continue my duties as a transport. I was only to utilize it under desperate circumstances. The current situation qualifies given the.."
>Lifting her right arm back in view, several destroyed connections spark briefly.
"Extensive physical damage sustained. Attempting to initialize that process now, but it will take a minute to charge."
>Making a slightly annoyed beep, Wild stands upright, heavy materials above and left of you shifting while her repair tendrils disappear upwards.
"As I cannot preserve the tongue due to lacking refrigeration or freezing systems and I have restored my Tryptaran mass to forty-four-point-eight percent, the tongue will instead be converted in the next ten minutes."
>The tone wasn't accusatory, instead being somewhat disappointed.
>If somewhat felt like 'completely'.
"I have succeeded in isolating six of thirty plus waveforms and energetic responses from the Rilvenni's core. Mechanically speaking it could be utilized as an inefficient power source on a purely solid-state and limited electricity equipped machine. Magically speaking, it can be utilized to vastly empower Elemarental discharges by-"
>The Eldritch-Android's frame twitches, shaking the central cabin briefly.
"A minimal factor of ten and a theoretical maximum factor of thirty five. I was not redesigned to take advantage of nor equipped to utilize water Elemarentals. Further results will have to wait."
>Hearing a series of low hums above and below the chest cabin, the Wild caricature on screen freezes as it processes your thought processes, then nods after some measured thought.
"Agreed. This event has caused an exponentially positive shift: removing such a difficult to kill predator will drastically calm and embolden native equines, vastly improving their capabilities and capacities to harvest, collect, scavenge, and potentially explore previously hostile coastal regions. The moderate physical damage to my repairable body is less than one-millionth of one percent importance. ..I will need several minutes mom, attempting to restore all damaged nodes and system."
>Six sets of loud hums rise to an annoying pitch, then discharge as her external speakers blare accompanied by a sequence of explosive popping noises:
"I AM NOT REPAIRING MYSELF. INSTEAD, I WILL NOW BE REPLACING THE DEFECTIVE, FAULTY, AND PROBABLY STUPID COMPONENTS THAT I WAS REBORN WITH."
[1d6 = 5] <Primary Transport Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 4] <Complete Data Node Access Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <Damaged Electronic Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary Repair System Reboots
[1d6 = 6] <Internal Monitoring Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <How Well Does Gaslighting One's Self Really Work?
"My scent detection and analysis systems were destroyed after attempted exfiltration from the Construct Assault Lander. I will have to restore my eye first, it is currently functioning at less than thirty percent efficiency."
>Placing the Rilvenni's core in what remained of her head unit cockpit with the unique noise of wet cowprint seat compressing, Wild emits a short beep.
"That either means the Explosive-Reactive Armor system, the External Reactor Activation sequence, or the Extensive Research on.. that is strange, all further information on the third is listed as redacted. Has to be the first then. My currently functional secondary nodes contain limited data on that topic, Would need to bring my full mainframe in order to conduct research."
>What you did remember was the use of semi-dry mix concrete and cardboard spaced 'armor', which did work quite well on field refit T-28's... against 7MM to 10MM standard calibers.
>And added an extra two tons which often turned the ersatz T-28 "B" types into shitty but possibly useful pillboxes, or were turned into cheap mass coffins depending on the combat theater in question.
>On the left screen, mini-Wild's sole 'eye' compresses, obviously trying to squint, while her antennae twitch angrily, simulating equine ears.
"Your statement is correct. Of the past twenty-nine critical repairs I have attempted, all excluding three have failed catastrophically, or catastrophically failed. There is a 'tactic' That Which Cannot Be Named taught before allowing me to continue my duties as a transport. I was only to utilize it under desperate circumstances. The current situation qualifies given the.."
>Lifting her right arm back in view, several destroyed connections spark briefly.
"Extensive physical damage sustained. Attempting to initialize that process now, but it will take a minute to charge."
>Making a slightly annoyed beep, Wild stands upright, heavy materials above and left of you shifting while her repair tendrils disappear upwards.
"As I cannot preserve the tongue due to lacking refrigeration or freezing systems and I have restored my Tryptaran mass to forty-four-point-eight percent, the tongue will instead be converted in the next ten minutes."
>The tone wasn't accusatory, instead being somewhat disappointed.
>If somewhat felt like 'completely'.
"I have succeeded in isolating six of thirty plus waveforms and energetic responses from the Rilvenni's core. Mechanically speaking it could be utilized as an inefficient power source on a purely solid-state and limited electricity equipped machine. Magically speaking, it can be utilized to vastly empower Elemarental discharges by-"
>The Eldritch-Android's frame twitches, shaking the central cabin briefly.
"A minimal factor of ten and a theoretical maximum factor of thirty five. I was not redesigned to take advantage of nor equipped to utilize water Elemarentals. Further results will have to wait."
>Hearing a series of low hums above and below the chest cabin, the Wild caricature on screen freezes as it processes your thought processes, then nods after some measured thought.
"Agreed. This event has caused an exponentially positive shift: removing such a difficult to kill predator will drastically calm and embolden native equines, vastly improving their capabilities and capacities to harvest, collect, scavenge, and potentially explore previously hostile coastal regions. The moderate physical damage to my repairable body is less than one-millionth of one percent importance. ..I will need several minutes mom, attempting to restore all damaged nodes and system."
>Six sets of loud hums rise to an annoying pitch, then discharge as her external speakers blare accompanied by a sequence of explosive popping noises:
"I AM NOT REPAIRING MYSELF. INSTEAD, I WILL NOW BE REPLACING THE DEFECTIVE, FAULTY, AND PROBABLY STUPID COMPONENTS THAT I WAS REBORN WITH."
[1d6 = 5] <Primary Transport Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 4] <Complete Data Node Access Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <Damaged Electronic Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <Primary, Secondary, and Tertiary Repair System Reboots
[1d6 = 6] <Internal Monitoring Systems Reboot
[1d6 = 3] <How Well Does Gaslighting One's Self Really Work?
>>370168
>Twitching as reams of code appear in minuscule, the avatar makes an acknowledging nod.
'Katyal's individual volatility index should have precipitated five lethal assaults. At current she has displayed two poorly identified major stressors and five major; the latter function as a floating multiplier increasing in direct relation to equines, the former decreases in all other situations. You should have brought the prototype with us sir, there are unusual macro-expressions and vocal cues that I do not have comparisons of.'
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Scrolling through rapid pink micro-text, the advanced model closes them off, silent for a split-second before speaking abruptly.
'We were both wrong. She retains no selective or preconceived biases, and religious or cultural contamination vectors are zero. She has almost completely assimilated into a large native equine culture subset without.. failure.'
>Visibly surprised at her own words, the avatar waves one hand over a series of indices comparing random Operators to pre-transitional projected estimates:
>Excluding the FNG's and Rookies, all were spread fairly even across the 20% to 80% categories, individual photos listed next to character flaws, preferential cohabitation based on species, faction approval ratings, multi-species herd interactions, and certain other proclivities that more outgoing humans found appealing.
>...the last one to scroll, slowly, lists you in the lower 40%.
>Phrases such as 'lacks genuinely agreeable cultural and social interactions necessary to affirm at will contact', 'questionable cross-species communication methods', 'minimal native deescalation knowledge', 'experiences moderate to significant distress when dealing with common native verbiage, notably puns', and 'individual character is either uniquely disinteresting or arbitrarily harsh when in contact with equines; few inbetweens'.
>Shiibo turns to face you, arms folding with a minute, possibly haughty smile.
'Apologies sir. I did not write all of those.'
>Examining the holographic setup's expanded view, the surrounding region was entirely devoid of movement, each of the trees tagged by distance to the Warp Gate directly underneath the OL-3, currently being mapped to the nearest millimeter.
>Locating neither heat signatures or movement, it switches to an automated prospecting view mode, immediately revealing echoes that were probably mythril flakes embedded throughout bark, then increased numbers of rare and trace elements in local vicinity, ratio increasing towards the east.
>Picking up dozens of minor crystalline nodes in clusters or pockets underneath tree roots, the next displays a much larger number of rares and exotics, most of which were analogous to those from your homeworld.
>The remainder, a mixture of what ponies deemed semi-inert, reactive-inert, and either long-stable or meta-stable elemarental particles, were causing the processing system fits.
>Amusingly it failed in classifying the exotics as radioactive, returning a constant error fault due to atomic bonds showing negligible or zero decay, nearly opposite of the poorly studied entropics that Tallus was notorious for.
*"Think Ah remember somethin', dunno how useful this'll be. Most th'Lunar marefriends been talkin' 'bout th'trees 'round Fortress, growth rings too big an'whatnot. Them se-qoy-yas is unnatural, they kin grow three ta six inches a year. Ain't like redwoods or maples at all. These ones is two ta six times that. Not a known species either."*
>Nodding in a short, jerky motion, Lone speaks towards the gunner-operator seat's direction, losing his accent entirely while taking on a flatly bemused officer's tone.
"Never thought I'd hate someone more than Emerald on the first meeting. Katyal dug into my nerves quite a bit, but now more I get to know her, the less I hate.
And whatever your name is, start short range loose cohesion pickup at outer hull, tighten one factor every hundred meters and deep trench in parallel. Starting vector: one-sixty to one-ninety horizontal, then sweep one-fifty to two-hundred lateral. Ignore non-mobiles, echoes, reflects, rebounds, and rotate surface to sky every five seconds."
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle-Scanner
"Consider me advised then. Jeff normally ain't one to bullshit around important details like a woman being bodyguard for a royal mare halfway around the world, but sometimes he doesn't share half what he knows. Just like those that don't brief others of what they're involved in."
>Whether the slightly irritated last phrase was directed at you or not isn't apparent, Lonestar taking hold of the driver's seat controls, easing them forwards as the OL-3 tilts forwards a half-degree and slowly picking up speed directly north.
"Whatever's out east, if it doesn't bother us we'll leave it in peace. If it does.. pieces will have to do. Going low, slow, and easy.
Now I don't know shit outside the Moors but if Nibbles was worried she'd be digging her claws in someone's face and pointing in the safest direction. Don't understand Moor cats at all. They go nuts when there's danger, otherwise they're lazy or asleep. Or cranky little shit stirrers."
>Visible on the display's center, Katyal sits down cross-legged facing east, one hand making rapid circles around the static, other casually flipping the bird southwards.
*"One of the older records I have at home lists hundreds of ways to increase plant growth and lifespan. A few natural, the rest magical.. with various stages of safety. Early Dynasty had wide spread breeding programs for most species, one resulted in a funky class of unicorns.. I think they were called saucerers. Druids absolutely despised them. Lot of specifics that probably don't matter now. Supposedly they got wiped out halfway through the Late Dynasty. I'll bet my last crate of plasma shells this forest is related."*
>Alone in the troop compartment, Dul blinks down at a small book, then leans forwards.. to lick it.
[1d6 = 1] <Taste?
>Twitching as reams of code appear in minuscule, the avatar makes an acknowledging nod.
'Katyal's individual volatility index should have precipitated five lethal assaults. At current she has displayed two poorly identified major stressors and five major; the latter function as a floating multiplier increasing in direct relation to equines, the former decreases in all other situations. You should have brought the prototype with us sir, there are unusual macro-expressions and vocal cues that I do not have comparisons of.'
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Scrolling through rapid pink micro-text, the advanced model closes them off, silent for a split-second before speaking abruptly.
'We were both wrong. She retains no selective or preconceived biases, and religious or cultural contamination vectors are zero. She has almost completely assimilated into a large native equine culture subset without.. failure.'
>Visibly surprised at her own words, the avatar waves one hand over a series of indices comparing random Operators to pre-transitional projected estimates:
>Excluding the FNG's and Rookies, all were spread fairly even across the 20% to 80% categories, individual photos listed next to character flaws, preferential cohabitation based on species, faction approval ratings, multi-species herd interactions, and certain other proclivities that more outgoing humans found appealing.
>...the last one to scroll, slowly, lists you in the lower 40%.
>Phrases such as 'lacks genuinely agreeable cultural and social interactions necessary to affirm at will contact', 'questionable cross-species communication methods', 'minimal native deescalation knowledge', 'experiences moderate to significant distress when dealing with common native verbiage, notably puns', and 'individual character is either uniquely disinteresting or arbitrarily harsh when in contact with equines; few inbetweens'.
>Shiibo turns to face you, arms folding with a minute, possibly haughty smile.
'Apologies sir. I did not write all of those.'
>Examining the holographic setup's expanded view, the surrounding region was entirely devoid of movement, each of the trees tagged by distance to the Warp Gate directly underneath the OL-3, currently being mapped to the nearest millimeter.
>Locating neither heat signatures or movement, it switches to an automated prospecting view mode, immediately revealing echoes that were probably mythril flakes embedded throughout bark, then increased numbers of rare and trace elements in local vicinity, ratio increasing towards the east.
>Picking up dozens of minor crystalline nodes in clusters or pockets underneath tree roots, the next displays a much larger number of rares and exotics, most of which were analogous to those from your homeworld.
>The remainder, a mixture of what ponies deemed semi-inert, reactive-inert, and either long-stable or meta-stable elemarental particles, were causing the processing system fits.
>Amusingly it failed in classifying the exotics as radioactive, returning a constant error fault due to atomic bonds showing negligible or zero decay, nearly opposite of the poorly studied entropics that Tallus was notorious for.
*"Think Ah remember somethin', dunno how useful this'll be. Most th'Lunar marefriends been talkin' 'bout th'trees 'round Fortress, growth rings too big an'whatnot. Them se-qoy-yas is unnatural, they kin grow three ta six inches a year. Ain't like redwoods or maples at all. These ones is two ta six times that. Not a known species either."*
>Nodding in a short, jerky motion, Lone speaks towards the gunner-operator seat's direction, losing his accent entirely while taking on a flatly bemused officer's tone.
"Never thought I'd hate someone more than Emerald on the first meeting. Katyal dug into my nerves quite a bit, but now more I get to know her, the less I hate.
And whatever your name is, start short range loose cohesion pickup at outer hull, tighten one factor every hundred meters and deep trench in parallel. Starting vector: one-sixty to one-ninety horizontal, then sweep one-fifty to two-hundred lateral. Ignore non-mobiles, echoes, reflects, rebounds, and rotate surface to sky every five seconds."
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle-Scanner
"Consider me advised then. Jeff normally ain't one to bullshit around important details like a woman being bodyguard for a royal mare halfway around the world, but sometimes he doesn't share half what he knows. Just like those that don't brief others of what they're involved in."
>Whether the slightly irritated last phrase was directed at you or not isn't apparent, Lonestar taking hold of the driver's seat controls, easing them forwards as the OL-3 tilts forwards a half-degree and slowly picking up speed directly north.
"Whatever's out east, if it doesn't bother us we'll leave it in peace. If it does.. pieces will have to do. Going low, slow, and easy.
Now I don't know shit outside the Moors but if Nibbles was worried she'd be digging her claws in someone's face and pointing in the safest direction. Don't understand Moor cats at all. They go nuts when there's danger, otherwise they're lazy or asleep. Or cranky little shit stirrers."
>Visible on the display's center, Katyal sits down cross-legged facing east, one hand making rapid circles around the static, other casually flipping the bird southwards.
*"One of the older records I have at home lists hundreds of ways to increase plant growth and lifespan. A few natural, the rest magical.. with various stages of safety. Early Dynasty had wide spread breeding programs for most species, one resulted in a funky class of unicorns.. I think they were called saucerers. Druids absolutely despised them. Lot of specifics that probably don't matter now. Supposedly they got wiped out halfway through the Late Dynasty. I'll bet my last crate of plasma shells this forest is related."*
>Alone in the troop compartment, Dul blinks down at a small book, then leans forwards.. to lick it.
[1d6 = 1] <Taste?
>Taking up what he presumed to be Lonestar's directive towards him, he steps around the gunner's seat and straps himself in.
>He notes Lonestar's and Katyal's words as he familiarizes himself with the control suite of the OL-3.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]<B. Electronic Warfare
>Exhaling heavily through his helmet filters, he ensures that both can hear him before explaining.
>He starts with a nod down towards himself while looking over to Lonestar.
"Pareidolia."
>He then taps the back of his helmet once.
"Sapient assistant, Shiibo."
"I had planned to brief while we were en route. The situation at Razorback developed rapidly and left minimal time for me to act. I apologize for delaying. This mission is moving towards the probable potential destination of Spiral's disappearance from Razorback Fortress. This information was analyzed and uncovered based on letters, contracts, and messages left in his lab. Anonymous provided assistance in procuring the equipment that made this possible. Statistical likelihood of correct information was considered high enough to warrant the risk of this operation. Distinct possibility Spiral was attempting to find the original Dynasty ruin that split him into separate Elemental Cores in order to reform himself. He disappeared without bringing any of the maps, literature, notes, or the hololith he requested. Exact motivations and circumstances for his disappearance are unknown, but this is the most effective lead on his location we have."
>He notes Lonestar's and Katyal's words as he familiarizes himself with the control suite of the OL-3.
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]<B. Electronic Warfare
>Exhaling heavily through his helmet filters, he ensures that both can hear him before explaining.
>He starts with a nod down towards himself while looking over to Lonestar.
"Pareidolia."
>He then taps the back of his helmet once.
"Sapient assistant, Shiibo."
"I had planned to brief while we were en route. The situation at Razorback developed rapidly and left minimal time for me to act. I apologize for delaying. This mission is moving towards the probable potential destination of Spiral's disappearance from Razorback Fortress. This information was analyzed and uncovered based on letters, contracts, and messages left in his lab. Anonymous provided assistance in procuring the equipment that made this possible. Statistical likelihood of correct information was considered high enough to warrant the risk of this operation. Distinct possibility Spiral was attempting to find the original Dynasty ruin that split him into separate Elemental Cores in order to reform himself. He disappeared without bringing any of the maps, literature, notes, or the hololith he requested. Exact motivations and circumstances for his disappearance are unknown, but this is the most effective lead on his location we have."
>>370178
"I do not suggest replacing your... nose, until we are far away from here either way. Vision is most definitely more of a priority."
>Pressing my lips together, I hum idly and think for a moment.
"I'm fairly certain it was the first as well. And as long as its better than a cardboard concrete mix spaced armor..."
>Armored better against something it already had adequate protection against was... amusingly redundant.
"Do I even want to know what that tactic is referred to?"
>Something else being essentially eldritch to my mind today would not help my sanity any.
>I need a long drink and probably a two day long bubble bath as is!
>I was, probably not secretly, glad that Wild did not appear to be able to go into shock.
>Not did I really want to find out if she could, really. I've seen similar actions from gravely wounded soldiers before, but then again they couldn't repair themselves.
"I doubt we'd be able to salt and cure it in a fast enough manner, either."
>"And I doubt it tastes good, but I'm not telling her that."
>I'd give that mini-Wild a headpat if I could actually touch it.
"Definitely valuable, then. We can figure out what to do with it later when we're back at Razorback, if we don't use it as a trade good."
>The beach is at least marginally safer, if things like that lurk in the depths.
"I'll keep an eye and ear out for anything."
>...
>what.
"I do not suggest replacing your... nose, until we are far away from here either way. Vision is most definitely more of a priority."
>Pressing my lips together, I hum idly and think for a moment.
"I'm fairly certain it was the first as well. And as long as its better than a cardboard concrete mix spaced armor..."
>Armored better against something it already had adequate protection against was... amusingly redundant.
"Do I even want to know what that tactic is referred to?"
>Something else being essentially eldritch to my mind today would not help my sanity any.
>I need a long drink and probably a two day long bubble bath as is!
>I was, probably not secretly, glad that Wild did not appear to be able to go into shock.
>Not did I really want to find out if she could, really. I've seen similar actions from gravely wounded soldiers before, but then again they couldn't repair themselves.
"I doubt we'd be able to salt and cure it in a fast enough manner, either."
>"And I doubt it tastes good, but I'm not telling her that."
>I'd give that mini-Wild a headpat if I could actually touch it.
"Definitely valuable, then. We can figure out what to do with it later when we're back at Razorback, if we don't use it as a trade good."
>The beach is at least marginally safer, if things like that lurk in the depths.
"I'll keep an eye and ear out for anything."
>...
>what.
>>370173
"If you do stop breathing, do you turn into a magical plasma nuke?"
>Snickering at possible implications, Anon stares off into the distance before snorting amusedly.
"Fortunately you're wrong on both accounts. That keg was made before the Early Dynasty, filled in the Middle, and fuse was lit right as the Late started. Second and third weren't entirely Silver's fault, let's call it, eh, sixty percent sounds fair. Of course, depending on whom, where the questionees are, and when you ask that number fluctuates. A lot."
>Left hand waving in front of his face, then clasping over his eyes, the glove tightens reflexively.
"Better lay off the whatever the fuck you did chug because I'm starting to go blind. The answer is a definite yes, but only after whatever you took wears off. It's a one way trip in all directions though."
>Tapping the chair with his left hand in thought, the Third Gestalt's voice drops into questioning.
"By the way, my gateways have gone from basically perfect to highly unstable in the past couple hours. Few weeks ago some started fractured and needed repairs every night, others have torn themselves apart with no reason, and a bunch aren't even functioning right now. You wouldn't happen to have noticed any out of the ordinary particles or energetics in Stalliongrad?"
"If you do stop breathing, do you turn into a magical plasma nuke?"
>Snickering at possible implications, Anon stares off into the distance before snorting amusedly.
"Fortunately you're wrong on both accounts. That keg was made before the Early Dynasty, filled in the Middle, and fuse was lit right as the Late started. Second and third weren't entirely Silver's fault, let's call it, eh, sixty percent sounds fair. Of course, depending on whom, where the questionees are, and when you ask that number fluctuates. A lot."
>Left hand waving in front of his face, then clasping over his eyes, the glove tightens reflexively.
"Better lay off the whatever the fuck you did chug because I'm starting to go blind. The answer is a definite yes, but only after whatever you took wears off. It's a one way trip in all directions though."
>Tapping the chair with his left hand in thought, the Third Gestalt's voice drops into questioning.
"By the way, my gateways have gone from basically perfect to highly unstable in the past couple hours. Few weeks ago some started fractured and needed repairs every night, others have torn themselves apart with no reason, and a bunch aren't even functioning right now. You wouldn't happen to have noticed any out of the ordinary particles or energetics in Stalliongrad?"
>>370189
"Dunno. Not gonna try it, either."
>It -would- be a spectacular way to get out of this bullshit, but...it feels like I would be avoiding the problem.
>As much as I fucked up, if there's no one accountable, this shit would get ten times worse.
>Maybe if I vanished it wouldn't be my problem but...
>Fuck, I'm just tired of running.
"Oh, well that makes me feel a lot better. Not really, actually, but I figured you might find it funny if I said that."
>In all the proceedings that happened, I kind of forgot what I drank.
>It was...some heat elixir.
>Or something like that.
>I should have read the instructions.
>Or, you know.
>Listened.
>I lifted a hand to pinch at my brow, my gross incandescence hopefully shadowing (pun intended) my action.
"Yeah no, I figured I'd go right now and blind everyone with my goddamned lighthouse attached to my waist. Actually, probably brighter than a lighthouse. Though uh...you don't look like you actually -have- eyes. Or do you?"
>Had to, if he was complaining about the brightness.
>I blinked, looking at the man as incredulous as I possibly could, not that he could see it.
"I uh...was kind of busy accidentally precipitating a revolution. I may have not lit the fuse, or even made the powder keg, but I certainly dumped lighter fluid on the entire fucking thing. Or gasoline. Or...something even -faster- lighting than those."
>At least, I think I didn't?
>I scratched my chin, trying to remember what happened.
>Nope, just bullshit and pure panic, starting off with lust.
>Oh, man.
"Dunno. Not gonna try it, either."
>It -would- be a spectacular way to get out of this bullshit, but...it feels like I would be avoiding the problem.
>As much as I fucked up, if there's no one accountable, this shit would get ten times worse.
>Maybe if I vanished it wouldn't be my problem but...
>Fuck, I'm just tired of running.
"Oh, well that makes me feel a lot better. Not really, actually, but I figured you might find it funny if I said that."
>In all the proceedings that happened, I kind of forgot what I drank.
>It was...some heat elixir.
>Or something like that.
>I should have read the instructions.
>Or, you know.
>Listened.
>I lifted a hand to pinch at my brow, my gross incandescence hopefully shadowing (pun intended) my action.
"Yeah no, I figured I'd go right now and blind everyone with my goddamned lighthouse attached to my waist. Actually, probably brighter than a lighthouse. Though uh...you don't look like you actually -have- eyes. Or do you?"
>Had to, if he was complaining about the brightness.
>I blinked, looking at the man as incredulous as I possibly could, not that he could see it.
"I uh...was kind of busy accidentally precipitating a revolution. I may have not lit the fuse, or even made the powder keg, but I certainly dumped lighter fluid on the entire fucking thing. Or gasoline. Or...something even -faster- lighting than those."
>At least, I think I didn't?
>I scratched my chin, trying to remember what happened.
>Nope, just bullshit and pure panic, starting off with lust.
>Oh, man.
>>370107
>Although he's initially unsatisfied with the Paveways, the second one re-detonating the Rime core to re-freeze the Tainted within proximity was a bit if a break.
>Before packing the control pad up, he sets the Reaper to fly out a mile to re-establishing it's orbital program around his position.
>As he heads North through barricades and friendly forces, he sets himself down right in front of the fountain's southern base behind whatever cover was closest.
>Setting down the duffel and pulling the Mk32 out for quick access, Jeff opens the Reaper's control module back up to check on its status.
>He was out of bombing runs, and it would be some time before the drone will swing back round enough for the AGM's to be usable.
>Checking the action ahead of him, Broken Hoof managed to slow down the lone Lunar Assault Tainted. Swinging from its muzzle would do that, apparently.
>Up from behind the tussle appear four more similar forms, though getting stuck behind the first in one giant Tainted traffic jam. Lancers already had their spears hurling into the colossal forms as Chargers bound up and onto the invaders.
>Their approach is slow, and Razorback personnel begin laying heavy fire onto them at distance. He can at least pitch in with that, for now.
>Looking at the Reapers control module, awaiting for it to swing back into an attack angle, he hefts up the Mk32 and stabilizes it on a barricade to make a range adjustment. One-fifty meters, stationary, neck-up.
>He aims to the Assault forms left of the one Broken Hoof was currently snoot-rodeoing.
("Chargers climbing up any Tainted left of the lead, brace for explosive impacts above you! Neck height and above.")
>They seemed to fair well enough against small arms, so the non-lethal blast radius from the grenades shouldn't hamper them too much.
>Settling the reticle mid-neck on the best tainted he has a shot on Jeff fires off a four grenade volley, re-stabilizing before every shot.
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <U.Heavy Weapons
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.Ranger
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
>Realizing that's probably not going to be enough, Jeff immediately opens the launcher to ejects the spent shells and digs around for more in the duffel.
>They weren't mobile, jammed up almost tripping over themselves...
>There's an idea.
("Making a general request: do we have any seriously heavy ropes or lines, available? The five Lunar Assault forms, southern entrance, while they're stalled. Tow line, steel cable, anything we can hogtie up their forelegs and drop them on their faces and top of eachother. Could finish them on the ground, effectively cut off that approach into the Village!")
>More firepower?
>Where did the Dagor get towed off to. He doesn't hear the M2 going off anywhere.
("Also where did the vehicle I came riding in here go? There's a fifty cal on it, if it's still intact we should be utilizing it!")
>Pausing to reload the Milkor Jeff gets on the control module and pans the camera over the Village, zooming out enough to get a general overview of the current state of the battlefield. Despite the Overherd he still needs his eyeballs to see exactly what's going on.
>He looks out for any critical defensive points on the verge of falling, high concentrations of Tainted, and targets of opportunity.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <UHD Aperture Camera: FLIR
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>Why does he hear a robot yelling behind him?
>Although he's initially unsatisfied with the Paveways, the second one re-detonating the Rime core to re-freeze the Tainted within proximity was a bit if a break.
>Before packing the control pad up, he sets the Reaper to fly out a mile to re-establishing it's orbital program around his position.
>As he heads North through barricades and friendly forces, he sets himself down right in front of the fountain's southern base behind whatever cover was closest.
>Setting down the duffel and pulling the Mk32 out for quick access, Jeff opens the Reaper's control module back up to check on its status.
>He was out of bombing runs, and it would be some time before the drone will swing back round enough for the AGM's to be usable.
>Checking the action ahead of him, Broken Hoof managed to slow down the lone Lunar Assault Tainted. Swinging from its muzzle would do that, apparently.
>Up from behind the tussle appear four more similar forms, though getting stuck behind the first in one giant Tainted traffic jam. Lancers already had their spears hurling into the colossal forms as Chargers bound up and onto the invaders.
>Their approach is slow, and Razorback personnel begin laying heavy fire onto them at distance. He can at least pitch in with that, for now.
>Looking at the Reapers control module, awaiting for it to swing back into an attack angle, he hefts up the Mk32 and stabilizes it on a barricade to make a range adjustment. One-fifty meters, stationary, neck-up.
>He aims to the Assault forms left of the one Broken Hoof was currently snoot-rodeoing.
("Chargers climbing up any Tainted left of the lead, brace for explosive impacts above you! Neck height and above.")
>They seemed to fair well enough against small arms, so the non-lethal blast radius from the grenades shouldn't hamper them too much.
>Settling the reticle mid-neck on the best tainted he has a shot on Jeff fires off a four grenade volley, re-stabilizing before every shot.
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <U.Heavy Weapons
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.Ranger
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
>Realizing that's probably not going to be enough, Jeff immediately opens the launcher to ejects the spent shells and digs around for more in the duffel.
>They weren't mobile, jammed up almost tripping over themselves...
>There's an idea.
("Making a general request: do we have any seriously heavy ropes or lines, available? The five Lunar Assault forms, southern entrance, while they're stalled. Tow line, steel cable, anything we can hogtie up their forelegs and drop them on their faces and top of eachother. Could finish them on the ground, effectively cut off that approach into the Village!")
>More firepower?
>Where did the Dagor get towed off to. He doesn't hear the M2 going off anywhere.
("Also where did the vehicle I came riding in here go? There's a fifty cal on it, if it's still intact we should be utilizing it!")
>Pausing to reload the Milkor Jeff gets on the control module and pans the camera over the Village, zooming out enough to get a general overview of the current state of the battlefield. Despite the Overherd he still needs his eyeballs to see exactly what's going on.
>He looks out for any critical defensive points on the verge of falling, high concentrations of Tainted, and targets of opportunity.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <UHD Aperture Camera: FLIR
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>Why does he hear a robot yelling behind him?
>>370138
>Mallia has to struggle to not crack an expression of any sort while the twins recount the Inquisitor's counter-argument. Her eyes glimmer with a brief mirth.
>In the data-space, the enginseer could help but cough out a:
(She bit a power cell in half??)
>There is nano-cycle worth of pause as amusement starts to subside to mild concern.
(... Inteereeestiing...)
>She had questions of course, but noting that the twins would soon have their digital hands full she let's her curiosity pass.
>Instead, her noospheric avatar makes a graceful little bow of the head.
>Her attention does linger on the raptor's sign the twins make, unconsciously signalling curiosity by how she focused her attention on the gesture. Her thoughts lingering on the twins for a moment longer.
>She could not restrain her curiosity this time,
(What a fascinating sign...)
>And, by habit. her avatar reciprocates by making the symbol of a cog with the hands in response.
(What does the raptor mean as a sign?)
(...)
(Sorry, you're meant to be busy.)
>She makes sure to move on--
>The enginseer stood by after the impact of the Auspex with the wall.
>Her hands go akimbo as her mechadendrite makes a satisfied, non-standard fist-pump like gesture.
"That worked!"
>And then briskly stepped to retrieve it, leaning down slightly as her utility mechadendrite stretches down to grab it with its manipulator claws, and turning back to Knight Raspberry once she has it.
>For some reason, Mallia is frowning with a profound concern when she turned around again.
>Internally, she was paused at the fact that the horrifically alien transmission from the Auspex had been flagged as “blasphemous” by her code-guardian. Although curious, she responds expediently to avoid confronting potential heresy.
(Cannot compute, but noted. Re-assessment of the rituals of maintenance is required.)
>Mallia avoids attempting to fully comprehend why the Necron had referred to the Machine God as such, for the time being... Especially right now.
>At the same moment, she cautiously navigates to interface with the Necron machine in order to ask it to re-start the scanning process on previously imputted coordinates now that it was functional again.
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Chroniton Wave Reader
>Returning to their little pic-nic area, Mallia's strangely perturbed expression lingers as she affixes the Auspex unit back onto her wrist, using her meat hand this time.
>But, after a moment, he expression softens to a more warm glance as the Enginseer listens to the knight's remarks, nodding once in understanding,
>And starts to smile a bit more, her own eyebrow rising a bit more in response to those eyebrow wiggles she receives, and that strange smile.
“Oh, of course! These are all meant for you, after all... Maybe I will keep one though, just to commemorate this day.”
>And as Mallia speaks, she starts to take a knee next to the cardboard box of flowers and re-opens it to inspecting the dimly glowing flowers within...
>Her eye side-glances towards the knight's rising forehoof.
>And then just as she pulling her hand back from the box, holding by the stem a glimmering yellow flower, she blinks a couple times at Raindrop's words and that buzzing.
>She straightens out on her knee, keeping the flower idly in hand while she gazed at this tiny little pegasus squeaking at them about glowbugs wanting to eat their paint.
>Mallia barely has the time to raise their hand in greeting that they were already gone.
>She let's out a little bemused chuckle, smirking faintly and furrowing her brow a little.
“I seeee... An actual curse that does not render one totally insane? Very fascinating!”
“But... Anyways,”
>Mallia clears her throat a little bit and turns back to Raindrop Raspberry, and holds out the flower to her.
“I would not mind being your friend, if you would allow me to be one to you.”
>The Enginseer looked down again, specifically at the knight's raised hoof.
>Something in her mind clicks, knowing that the last time Raindrop had used her wing to take the flower.
(Must mean something else... A signal perhaps? A que? An opportunity? How is she meant to pick up the flower without fingers?)
>With her other hand, Mallia reaches down to put her fingers under the hoof, and the thumb over the side of it; making the best intuitive effort to 'hold' their hoof, if only briefly.
[1d6 = 2] <B. Hoofholding
[1d6 = 4]
“You've made my first day on Tallus very pleasant, despite the traumatic events precluding my arrival and "fighting" an enemy I have never seen before, and as far as I know everything has gone poorly, all picked up in the same day... I feel like things are possibly going to be okay!"
>Mallia has to struggle to not crack an expression of any sort while the twins recount the Inquisitor's counter-argument. Her eyes glimmer with a brief mirth.
>In the data-space, the enginseer could help but cough out a:
(She bit a power cell in half??)
>There is nano-cycle worth of pause as amusement starts to subside to mild concern.
(... Inteereeestiing...)
>She had questions of course, but noting that the twins would soon have their digital hands full she let's her curiosity pass.
>Instead, her noospheric avatar makes a graceful little bow of the head.
>Her attention does linger on the raptor's sign the twins make, unconsciously signalling curiosity by how she focused her attention on the gesture. Her thoughts lingering on the twins for a moment longer.
>She could not restrain her curiosity this time,
(What a fascinating sign...)
>And, by habit. her avatar reciprocates by making the symbol of a cog with the hands in response.
(What does the raptor mean as a sign?)
(...)
(Sorry, you're meant to be busy.)
>She makes sure to move on--
>The enginseer stood by after the impact of the Auspex with the wall.
>Her hands go akimbo as her mechadendrite makes a satisfied, non-standard fist-pump like gesture.
"That worked!"
>And then briskly stepped to retrieve it, leaning down slightly as her utility mechadendrite stretches down to grab it with its manipulator claws, and turning back to Knight Raspberry once she has it.
>For some reason, Mallia is frowning with a profound concern when she turned around again.
>Internally, she was paused at the fact that the horrifically alien transmission from the Auspex had been flagged as “blasphemous” by her code-guardian. Although curious, she responds expediently to avoid confronting potential heresy.
(Cannot compute, but noted. Re-assessment of the rituals of maintenance is required.)
>Mallia avoids attempting to fully comprehend why the Necron had referred to the Machine God as such, for the time being... Especially right now.
>At the same moment, she cautiously navigates to interface with the Necron machine in order to ask it to re-start the scanning process on previously imputted coordinates now that it was functional again.
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Chroniton Wave Reader
>Returning to their little pic-nic area, Mallia's strangely perturbed expression lingers as she affixes the Auspex unit back onto her wrist, using her meat hand this time.
>But, after a moment, he expression softens to a more warm glance as the Enginseer listens to the knight's remarks, nodding once in understanding,
>And starts to smile a bit more, her own eyebrow rising a bit more in response to those eyebrow wiggles she receives, and that strange smile.
“Oh, of course! These are all meant for you, after all... Maybe I will keep one though, just to commemorate this day.”
>And as Mallia speaks, she starts to take a knee next to the cardboard box of flowers and re-opens it to inspecting the dimly glowing flowers within...
>Her eye side-glances towards the knight's rising forehoof.
>And then just as she pulling her hand back from the box, holding by the stem a glimmering yellow flower, she blinks a couple times at Raindrop's words and that buzzing.
>She straightens out on her knee, keeping the flower idly in hand while she gazed at this tiny little pegasus squeaking at them about glowbugs wanting to eat their paint.
>Mallia barely has the time to raise their hand in greeting that they were already gone.
>She let's out a little bemused chuckle, smirking faintly and furrowing her brow a little.
“I seeee... An actual curse that does not render one totally insane? Very fascinating!”
“But... Anyways,”
>Mallia clears her throat a little bit and turns back to Raindrop Raspberry, and holds out the flower to her.
“I would not mind being your friend, if you would allow me to be one to you.”
>The Enginseer looked down again, specifically at the knight's raised hoof.
>Something in her mind clicks, knowing that the last time Raindrop had used her wing to take the flower.
(Must mean something else... A signal perhaps? A que? An opportunity? How is she meant to pick up the flower without fingers?)
>With her other hand, Mallia reaches down to put her fingers under the hoof, and the thumb over the side of it; making the best intuitive effort to 'hold' their hoof, if only briefly.
[1d6 = 2] <B. Hoofholding
[1d6 = 4]
“You've made my first day on Tallus very pleasant, despite the traumatic events precluding my arrival and "fighting" an enemy I have never seen before, and as far as I know everything has gone poorly, all picked up in the same day... I feel like things are possibly going to be okay!"
>>370174
>Answering before Naliyna could, Amerose's voice was mildly distorted by whichever type or form of barrier was currently active.
"There are four to five thousand safes, crates, boxes, chests, canisters, and others remaining from Skykeep which have not been opened, and most likely will not be for the next year. That does not include the six or so hundred still sealed weapon and armor packages, nor a few dozen unknowns."
>Brisk, sharp tones in Kingdom and Old Stalliongrad accents are heard after you speak, Thrill's mare swiveling her head around to stare past you, a starkly unprofessional grin seen beneath the face plate.
*"Kyanite didn't raise me to be an idiot... and I never said we couldn't cheat either. We're technically telling the truth if that means 'mildly' harming Lark should getting him somewhere much safer be a better option."*
"Bubba, you may enter. Naliyna, I am politely asking you to be... less irritable or enraged."
>Front shoulders visibly tightening inside the exoframe, the fuchsia Crystal mare offers a solid nod at you, grinning in a most unprofessional marener beneath the face place.
"Keep your panties on Miss Storm-Rose, but we ARE in a hurry in case you haven't noticed-"
*"No hostiles or out of place energies in the Enclave, taking another couple sweeps. Go in, I'll stay here and set up a few traps-"*
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Stalker's Eye
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <E.Crystal Runes: Power
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>Answering before Naliyna could, Amerose's voice was mildly distorted by whichever type or form of barrier was currently active.
"There are four to five thousand safes, crates, boxes, chests, canisters, and others remaining from Skykeep which have not been opened, and most likely will not be for the next year. That does not include the six or so hundred still sealed weapon and armor packages, nor a few dozen unknowns."
>Brisk, sharp tones in Kingdom and Old Stalliongrad accents are heard after you speak, Thrill's mare swiveling her head around to stare past you, a starkly unprofessional grin seen beneath the face plate.
*"Kyanite didn't raise me to be an idiot... and I never said we couldn't cheat either. We're technically telling the truth if that means 'mildly' harming Lark should getting him somewhere much safer be a better option."*
"Bubba, you may enter. Naliyna, I am politely asking you to be... less irritable or enraged."
>Front shoulders visibly tightening inside the exoframe, the fuchsia Crystal mare offers a solid nod at you, grinning in a most unprofessional marener beneath the face place.
"Keep your panties on Miss Storm-Rose, but we ARE in a hurry in case you haven't noticed-"
*"No hostiles or out of place energies in the Enclave, taking another couple sweeps. Go in, I'll stay here and set up a few traps-"*
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Resonance Survey
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Stalker's Eye
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <E.Crystal Runes: Power
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>>370111
>Clemency holds off from firing the Kiowa's weapons for a moment to regain targeting solutions and to cool his chainguns
>He watches the spectacle of fire rain into the Tainted lines, now almost halted by Broken Hoof
>Small arms fire contributing to slowing the large generals down and the exotic weapons of the Guillotine raking their lines
>Clem then turns his attention to the beeping ECW console, trying to figure out if there was an alarm
>If so, the only thought that rang through Clemency's mind is Construct interference
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>He then opens a feed from the M-S.O.L.G to assess the greater AO and check on its status
>Considering the ever weakening hold on air superiority, he wishes the TLS had some charge left in it
>Or for the reactors to be in better condition
>Afterwards, Clemency takes advantage of the stalled Tainted on the South Basin entrance
("Chargers, be advised, danger close!")
>He lets another volley out form the chainguns and Hydra, taking care to minimize friendly fire
>The Hellfires he designates for the larger assault forms
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>Clemency holds off from firing the Kiowa's weapons for a moment to regain targeting solutions and to cool his chainguns
>He watches the spectacle of fire rain into the Tainted lines, now almost halted by Broken Hoof
>Small arms fire contributing to slowing the large generals down and the exotic weapons of the Guillotine raking their lines
>Clem then turns his attention to the beeping ECW console, trying to figure out if there was an alarm
>If so, the only thought that rang through Clemency's mind is Construct interference
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>He then opens a feed from the M-S.O.L.G to assess the greater AO and check on its status
>Considering the ever weakening hold on air superiority, he wishes the TLS had some charge left in it
>Or for the reactors to be in better condition
>Afterwards, Clemency takes advantage of the stalled Tainted on the South Basin entrance
("Chargers, be advised, danger close!")
>He lets another volley out form the chainguns and Hydra, taking care to minimize friendly fire
>The Hellfires he designates for the larger assault forms
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>>370184
>The chair, however, was a highly comfortable crash seat, but unfortunately not adjustable like the arm rests were.
>Fumbling the initial controls.. quite a bit, Shiibo walks you through the limited number of operational systems and control mechanisms on the gunner's side, then the pressure sensitive buttons that accessed a specialist grid search and target identification system.
>Curiously, it was not based on IFF as it relied entirely on confirming individual targets, and had zero failsafe measures.
>Giving a rundown of the plasma cannon and laser AMS targeting systems, Shiibo carefully states it was possible to overcharge the first, but was likely a terrible idea as the original, unmodified OL-3 specifications were far more comprehensive.
>Pointing out a similar set of headphones to your right, the avatar makes a short bow, returning to her previous analytics with a vague sense of smugness.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
>Expression slackening quickly, Lonestar glances at you in a mixture of amusement and probable concern until gripping the driver's left controls tightly.
"You're screwing with me right? ...unless this is payback for everyone calling you Pear, as in the fruit, since Twisted is a half-honest jackass at the best of times. Guess we deserve it at this point. We've crossed wakes a bunch of times, first was after something went down in a Lunar Village. You've been kicking around half a year, mostly in the Library avoiding a certain ring-covered godkiller of a not-so-small insane Psion horse. I can appreciate that."
>Looking forwards as the holographs resize outwards, he leans back into the chair, studying the display briefly, then reaches out to tap a set of newly marked objects for inspection.
"I was talking at your assistant. Wasn't giving his or her name so I figured saying 'you' was good enough. That's a Pre-Cascade Empire Junction or maybe Grand Jupiter Imperial Alliance name. If our worlds are remotely similar that is."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
"Don't apologize. We work with what we've got and you brought us the shell, liquid catalysts, and casing intact. All we're missing is either the warhead or fuze. Maybe both."
>Lone quickly side-eyes you at the mention of Cores, Shiibo's automated recognition pointing out his expression as moderately respectful, before slouching back in the driver's chair.
"Fuck's sakes.. whole time we knew Spiral I always had a few itches. He's pulled off the craziest shit, just not alone. Half what you said I never much thought about, least right until he really lost it. That helo Hollow wanted set somethin' off in his head. Can't even start to guess what."
>Stroking several keys on his screen, a feed transmits directly at Katyal, the woman sitting back with a stiff tone.
*"No wonder Hodch burned all his favors to make sure I came along. Here's my fifty-fifty chance of pinning down why your Marquis went alone: either he wasn't gonna risk 'his' humans getting injured, or he knew a suicide mission when he saw it. Neither of you have a mare-"*
>Lonestar's jaw twitches in umbrage, half glaring at his display.
*"Ah didn'ask fer y-"*
*"You don't. Mister cold, collected, always calculating agent doesn't either. Which means neither of you are able to act like stallions in the equine sense. There's a difference between being in a herd, being part of the herd, or being the herd. If you think what I'm saying is disrespectful, better think this over a few hundred times first."*
"Ponies teach Dul how learn herd. Herd is all share same ka, but all ponies have own ka too. It weird and fun. Dul like it."
>In the back, the Siren.. retches rather quietly.
"Gross. Dul not like you. Or you. All you.. wrong, why? ...Dul put book back now."
>The chair, however, was a highly comfortable crash seat, but unfortunately not adjustable like the arm rests were.
>Fumbling the initial controls.. quite a bit, Shiibo walks you through the limited number of operational systems and control mechanisms on the gunner's side, then the pressure sensitive buttons that accessed a specialist grid search and target identification system.
>Curiously, it was not based on IFF as it relied entirely on confirming individual targets, and had zero failsafe measures.
>Giving a rundown of the plasma cannon and laser AMS targeting systems, Shiibo carefully states it was possible to overcharge the first, but was likely a terrible idea as the original, unmodified OL-3 specifications were far more comprehensive.
>Pointing out a similar set of headphones to your right, the avatar makes a short bow, returning to her previous analytics with a vague sense of smugness.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
>Expression slackening quickly, Lonestar glances at you in a mixture of amusement and probable concern until gripping the driver's left controls tightly.
"You're screwing with me right? ...unless this is payback for everyone calling you Pear, as in the fruit, since Twisted is a half-honest jackass at the best of times. Guess we deserve it at this point. We've crossed wakes a bunch of times, first was after something went down in a Lunar Village. You've been kicking around half a year, mostly in the Library avoiding a certain ring-covered godkiller of a not-so-small insane Psion horse. I can appreciate that."
>Looking forwards as the holographs resize outwards, he leans back into the chair, studying the display briefly, then reaches out to tap a set of newly marked objects for inspection.
"I was talking at your assistant. Wasn't giving his or her name so I figured saying 'you' was good enough. That's a Pre-Cascade Empire Junction or maybe Grand Jupiter Imperial Alliance name. If our worlds are remotely similar that is."
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
"Don't apologize. We work with what we've got and you brought us the shell, liquid catalysts, and casing intact. All we're missing is either the warhead or fuze. Maybe both."
>Lone quickly side-eyes you at the mention of Cores, Shiibo's automated recognition pointing out his expression as moderately respectful, before slouching back in the driver's chair.
"Fuck's sakes.. whole time we knew Spiral I always had a few itches. He's pulled off the craziest shit, just not alone. Half what you said I never much thought about, least right until he really lost it. That helo Hollow wanted set somethin' off in his head. Can't even start to guess what."
>Stroking several keys on his screen, a feed transmits directly at Katyal, the woman sitting back with a stiff tone.
*"No wonder Hodch burned all his favors to make sure I came along. Here's my fifty-fifty chance of pinning down why your Marquis went alone: either he wasn't gonna risk 'his' humans getting injured, or he knew a suicide mission when he saw it. Neither of you have a mare-"*
>Lonestar's jaw twitches in umbrage, half glaring at his display.
*"Ah didn'ask fer y-"*
*"You don't. Mister cold, collected, always calculating agent doesn't either. Which means neither of you are able to act like stallions in the equine sense. There's a difference between being in a herd, being part of the herd, or being the herd. If you think what I'm saying is disrespectful, better think this over a few hundred times first."*
"Ponies teach Dul how learn herd. Herd is all share same ka, but all ponies have own ka too. It weird and fun. Dul like it."
>In the back, the Siren.. retches rather quietly.
"Gross. Dul not like you. Or you. All you.. wrong, why? ...Dul put book back now."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370199
>>370187
"Discarding the option until my systems, internals, hull, and armor are fully repaired."
>Arms lowering, Mini-Wild's head cocks on the screen, her sole eye blinking in great confusion.
"Why wou- I do not have access to concrete, nor can I produce it. ...I also do not want to cover myself in layers of cardboard and concrete."
>At least your daughteru had some standards, minimal as they were!
"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-"
>Going silent and staring straight ahead for a tense five seconds, the cartoon version's head shakes twice.
"Definitely not, mom. Fifteen hours.. salt can be extracted from heating sea water and I should be able to cure it in vicinity of my bioreactor. Doing so would be safe as my core does not emit radiation outside the kanpri sphere."
>Map closing, the left screen turns off with a short hum as Wild's entire frame holds still.
"Understood. Performing final shutdowns.. complete-"
>Twitching a degree left, then right, the Eldritch-Android settles into a relaxed pose, external tendrils clanking onto armor out of sight.
>Between Wild's utter silence, a light wind and small waves pushing onto beach outside noticeable.
>The clouds above still hung dark, though tinted a deep red, tiny ash flecks drifting above only to land in water, gray crests streaking into sand.
>Time drifts for a while at the rather serene view and sounds, and while you didn't have a watch there were no sensations of pressure or danger.
>Feeling trace vibrations above the chest cabin, the left screen clicks on, slowly turning from black to dull, metallic red panels.
>The map table returns as mini-Wild hops onto a corner to sit, though her coloration had changed:
>The majority of her armor was now the favored gunmetal gray that most humans enjoyed, while her upper legs, shoulder and outer chest plates, the false-wings, and pinstripes had changed to a deep, burnt red.
"I can... think again?"
>Blinking in suspended disbelief, the caricature looks down at her hands, flexing them on screen as her body outside does the same.
>Minus the right hand, of course.
"I can. Emergency restoration partially successful; access restored to forty-percent of data nodes severed and disconnected due to damage. Most of my electronic and monitoring equipment is functioning, though degraded. Three undamaged repair systems are back on line.."
>Tilting back and forth on the table, mini-Wild becomes a flat image, the overhead speakers quieting to a conversation level.
"Restored one critical and two major motivators in my legs, should be able to slow jog now. Replacing my primary repair system's damaged components now-"
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril 1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-8
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: System Reboot Analysis
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair System Restoration
"Discarding the option until my systems, internals, hull, and armor are fully repaired."
>Arms lowering, Mini-Wild's head cocks on the screen, her sole eye blinking in great confusion.
"Why wou- I do not have access to concrete, nor can I produce it. ...I also do not want to cover myself in layers of cardboard and concrete."
>At least your daughteru had some standards, minimal as they were!
"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn-"
>Going silent and staring straight ahead for a tense five seconds, the cartoon version's head shakes twice.
"Definitely not, mom. Fifteen hours.. salt can be extracted from heating sea water and I should be able to cure it in vicinity of my bioreactor. Doing so would be safe as my core does not emit radiation outside the kanpri sphere."
>Map closing, the left screen turns off with a short hum as Wild's entire frame holds still.
"Understood. Performing final shutdowns.. complete-"
>Twitching a degree left, then right, the Eldritch-Android settles into a relaxed pose, external tendrils clanking onto armor out of sight.
>Between Wild's utter silence, a light wind and small waves pushing onto beach outside noticeable.
>The clouds above still hung dark, though tinted a deep red, tiny ash flecks drifting above only to land in water, gray crests streaking into sand.
>Time drifts for a while at the rather serene view and sounds, and while you didn't have a watch there were no sensations of pressure or danger.
>Feeling trace vibrations above the chest cabin, the left screen clicks on, slowly turning from black to dull, metallic red panels.
>The map table returns as mini-Wild hops onto a corner to sit, though her coloration had changed:
>The majority of her armor was now the favored gunmetal gray that most humans enjoyed, while her upper legs, shoulder and outer chest plates, the false-wings, and pinstripes had changed to a deep, burnt red.
"I can... think again?"
>Blinking in suspended disbelief, the caricature looks down at her hands, flexing them on screen as her body outside does the same.
>Minus the right hand, of course.
"I can. Emergency restoration partially successful; access restored to forty-percent of data nodes severed and disconnected due to damage. Most of my electronic and monitoring equipment is functioning, though degraded. Three undamaged repair systems are back on line.."
>Tilting back and forth on the table, mini-Wild becomes a flat image, the overhead speakers quieting to a conversation level.
"Restored one critical and two major motivators in my legs, should be able to slow jog now. Replacing my primary repair system's damaged components now-"
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril 1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-8
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: System Reboot Analysis
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair System Restoration
>>370190
"Could've been something to put on that insane calendar idea Jeff wanted to do. Oh well. I tried."
>Snickering at that one, Anon's priority shifts to performing a sarcastic theatrical bow, then lifts his right hand palm upwards.
"I said sixty percent as a joke, but that's closer to fact than most would want to believe. Human, pony, Minotaur, Gryphon, you name it. My take? Dear super-ancient Empress failed to realize, ignored, or flat out forgot that every side of the Dynasty would be recorded. Not for posterity mind you, but simply to say they were here, or there, they did this, didn't do that, why they did such and such, how this, that, and the other turned out, and so on. Reading between those lines is an artistic science all sapients have.. just not one that gets mastered often."
>The Gestalt slowly turns to face the exact direction of your face, left index and thumb pulling the mask's fabric outwards an inch.
"Of bloody course I do. And.. please stop saying those words. And everything else related to what I certainly do not want to hear. My dreams are already haunted enough. Damn gel-ponies anyways."
>Placing both hands over his eyes, mostly as a defensive reaction, Anonymous makes a noncommittal noise of pure neutrality.
"Never mind then. It's probably extra-dimensional static I keep picking up during translations and risking time constraints grabbing what's close by."
>Standing up and freezing at his phone beeping, the tall man sighs.
"Portal will stay open until you return to Razorback. It's not one of mine, got it from a side bet from Queen Lovebug. Said she can't deal with the colors, reminds her too much of some pony she won't talk about. Or ponies. Either way, can't stay here any longer, there's a few discs I need to catch up on."
>Tossing a two-fingered salute, Anon heel-twists around in a passable 180, tossing a two fingered salute before striding into a quickly opening white doorway.
>Leaving the folding chair, of course.
"Could've been something to put on that insane calendar idea Jeff wanted to do. Oh well. I tried."
>Snickering at that one, Anon's priority shifts to performing a sarcastic theatrical bow, then lifts his right hand palm upwards.
"I said sixty percent as a joke, but that's closer to fact than most would want to believe. Human, pony, Minotaur, Gryphon, you name it. My take? Dear super-ancient Empress failed to realize, ignored, or flat out forgot that every side of the Dynasty would be recorded. Not for posterity mind you, but simply to say they were here, or there, they did this, didn't do that, why they did such and such, how this, that, and the other turned out, and so on. Reading between those lines is an artistic science all sapients have.. just not one that gets mastered often."
>The Gestalt slowly turns to face the exact direction of your face, left index and thumb pulling the mask's fabric outwards an inch.
"Of bloody course I do. And.. please stop saying those words. And everything else related to what I certainly do not want to hear. My dreams are already haunted enough. Damn gel-ponies anyways."
>Placing both hands over his eyes, mostly as a defensive reaction, Anonymous makes a noncommittal noise of pure neutrality.
"Never mind then. It's probably extra-dimensional static I keep picking up during translations and risking time constraints grabbing what's close by."
>Standing up and freezing at his phone beeping, the tall man sighs.
"Portal will stay open until you return to Razorback. It's not one of mine, got it from a side bet from Queen Lovebug. Said she can't deal with the colors, reminds her too much of some pony she won't talk about. Or ponies. Either way, can't stay here any longer, there's a few discs I need to catch up on."
>Tossing a two-fingered salute, Anon heel-twists around in a passable 180, tossing a two fingered salute before striding into a quickly opening white doorway.
>Leaving the folding chair, of course.
>>370198
>Nodding towards Shiibo in appreciation with a short movement, he confirms his bearings as the conversation continues.
>Pareidolia remains non-plussed as Katyal's scathing remarks rise to the surface.
(Expected. Clear priority to protect ponies harmed by human incompetence. May actually be a useful motivation.)
>He waits for her to finish before replying.
"Your assessment is correct. Hence why I opted to undertake this as soon as possible rather than waste valuable time gathering more personnel and ponies. Razorback owes a great deal to Spiral. One of 'his' close human friends is in critical condition. Everyone misses him, the lowest of them the humans who benefited from his labors while respecting none of himself."
>He glances towards the feed where Katyal was visible, turning his helmet to make his focus obvious.
"Results showcase why wholesale human integration with ponies does not end well. You are a rare an exception to the norm. Spiral and most normative ponies are not ready to handle human attitudes and cultures."
>He wraps his left gloved hand over his right fist in his lap. He inclines his helmet towards Lonestar briefly while speaking of Hollow before straightening.
"I'm not here for any other reason than to return Spiral to a network of his friends and achievements that miss and need him. Or failing that, bringing back what's left for closure. Damage control and a responsibility I have to bear. I was there when Hollow threw the final straw and said nothing despite knowing."
>Taking a breath, he allows a modicum of ice to form towards the end of his statement.
"Your dislike of humans who don't integrate well with ponies aside, if you want to take the lead I won't object. But don't doubt my intentions or motivations. It's humans that have brought Spiral to this state and any human whether myself or someone fully adjusted such as you is not immutable to these mistakes."
>Nodding towards Shiibo in appreciation with a short movement, he confirms his bearings as the conversation continues.
>Pareidolia remains non-plussed as Katyal's scathing remarks rise to the surface.
(Expected. Clear priority to protect ponies harmed by human incompetence. May actually be a useful motivation.)
>He waits for her to finish before replying.
"Your assessment is correct. Hence why I opted to undertake this as soon as possible rather than waste valuable time gathering more personnel and ponies. Razorback owes a great deal to Spiral. One of 'his' close human friends is in critical condition. Everyone misses him, the lowest of them the humans who benefited from his labors while respecting none of himself."
>He glances towards the feed where Katyal was visible, turning his helmet to make his focus obvious.
"Results showcase why wholesale human integration with ponies does not end well. You are a rare an exception to the norm. Spiral and most normative ponies are not ready to handle human attitudes and cultures."
>He wraps his left gloved hand over his right fist in his lap. He inclines his helmet towards Lonestar briefly while speaking of Hollow before straightening.
"I'm not here for any other reason than to return Spiral to a network of his friends and achievements that miss and need him. Or failing that, bringing back what's left for closure. Damage control and a responsibility I have to bear. I was there when Hollow threw the final straw and said nothing despite knowing."
>Taking a breath, he allows a modicum of ice to form towards the end of his statement.
"Your dislike of humans who don't integrate well with ponies aside, if you want to take the lead I won't object. But don't doubt my intentions or motivations. It's humans that have brought Spiral to this state and any human whether myself or someone fully adjusted such as you is not immutable to these mistakes."
>I nodded, staring at the man's mask.
"You know, it's -really- hard to tell. Like you got recesses there but it's like...more shadowed. Almost like a pattern or something."
>At least the portals are working, even if he got in a game of (I'm asssuming) poker or blackjack.
"Well, there's a -lot- of weird shit that is going on, went down, or -will- go down in this world. And...uh....we've done a lot of it."
>At least it wasn't -all- me.
>But goddamn, looking back, it's just been fumble after fumble after fumble.
>Starting off with Celestia going thermonuclear.
>That was so long ago, however.
>But now the man was leaving.
>And, well, let it never be said I was ungrateful for a gift.
"Hey. Thanks. And uh...good luck with whatever you're doing."
>I lifted my hand to wave the man off as he vanished into a doorway.
>I would have been surprised by his magic use if I wasn't already used to it, though oddly, not many of the humans I'd personally worked with had abilities inherent from where they came from.
>Odd.
>But now I miss Hollow.
>Crazy mute bastard.
>I sat down, pondering time passed and people come and gone for some time, thumping my leg up and down.
>...right, I'm still naked.
>Good thing my clothes and gear are nearby, or I'd be coming back after that shit storm in my birthday suit.
>No problem for the ponies, but the humans...
>Yeah...
>And so, I sat down, settled in, and enjoyed the cigarillo as long as it lasted, waiting for the potion to end.
>Eventually, the potion did pass, and I kitted myself up again, checked my hat, rubbed my face, smelled my breath (like death and citrus) and then stepped through the portal back to Razorback's main holding, looking around as I stepped out...whether into a warzone, or just business as usual.
>Which looked like a warzone but organized.
"You know, it's -really- hard to tell. Like you got recesses there but it's like...more shadowed. Almost like a pattern or something."
>At least the portals are working, even if he got in a game of (I'm asssuming) poker or blackjack.
"Well, there's a -lot- of weird shit that is going on, went down, or -will- go down in this world. And...uh....we've done a lot of it."
>At least it wasn't -all- me.
>But goddamn, looking back, it's just been fumble after fumble after fumble.
>Starting off with Celestia going thermonuclear.
>That was so long ago, however.
>But now the man was leaving.
>And, well, let it never be said I was ungrateful for a gift.
"Hey. Thanks. And uh...good luck with whatever you're doing."
>I lifted my hand to wave the man off as he vanished into a doorway.
>I would have been surprised by his magic use if I wasn't already used to it, though oddly, not many of the humans I'd personally worked with had abilities inherent from where they came from.
>Odd.
>But now I miss Hollow.
>Crazy mute bastard.
>I sat down, pondering time passed and people come and gone for some time, thumping my leg up and down.
>...right, I'm still naked.
>Good thing my clothes and gear are nearby, or I'd be coming back after that shit storm in my birthday suit.
>No problem for the ponies, but the humans...
>Yeah...
>And so, I sat down, settled in, and enjoyed the cigarillo as long as it lasted, waiting for the potion to end.
>Eventually, the potion did pass, and I kitted myself up again, checked my hat, rubbed my face, smelled my breath (like death and citrus) and then stepped through the portal back to Razorback's main holding, looking around as I stepped out...whether into a warzone, or just business as usual.
>Which looked like a warzone but organized.
.>>370199
"Just... something that the Motherland did in an attempt to up-armor T-28s. It did not work well."
>Shaking my head, I gave off a shrug for the mini-Wild, as confused about the ordeal as she was.
>I really didn't know what they were thinking.
"What is... radiation?"
>It did not sound fun, and after asking that I could already feel a lecture coming on.
>Settling in for a couple minutes wait, I finally got to relax and let my mind wander.
>...
>Probably not a good idea to let my mind wander, otherwise the reality of our situation was going to crash full force onto me and I did not need a mental breakdown.
>That'll be reserved for when we get back to Razorback and I get that bubble bath.
"Well, that's good!"
>Though I'm pretty sure she could think before.
"That's good to hear, hopefully you can repair a lot better now. Seems whatever you did worked."
>shutting down and restarting works 90% of the time, I've heard.
"Just... something that the Motherland did in an attempt to up-armor T-28s. It did not work well."
>Shaking my head, I gave off a shrug for the mini-Wild, as confused about the ordeal as she was.
>I really didn't know what they were thinking.
"What is... radiation?"
>It did not sound fun, and after asking that I could already feel a lecture coming on.
>Settling in for a couple minutes wait, I finally got to relax and let my mind wander.
>...
>Probably not a good idea to let my mind wander, otherwise the reality of our situation was going to crash full force onto me and I did not need a mental breakdown.
>That'll be reserved for when we get back to Razorback and I get that bubble bath.
"Well, that's good!"
>Though I'm pretty sure she could think before.
"That's good to hear, hopefully you can repair a lot better now. Seems whatever you did worked."
>shutting down and restarting works 90% of the time, I've heard.
>>370192
'That was done on purpose to prove her point.'
>Returning to simple ASCII form, the pair glance at each other in mild confusion, stare back to you, then pseudo-visibly sigh, both sets of hands raising in defeat.
'We do not fully understand what our Inquisitor does. Pre-M2 Terra records state the aquila was a symbol used by a highly militarized culture known by their enemies as the Mongols. An original text describes the Mongolian Comrades as showing that symbol presents and is intended to prove solidarity with one's true family, a concept equal to philia as stated by the Greek culture, not the kin they were born with. A later, partial translation reads as follows: not even an eagle can not function without the entirety of its body in harmonious accord. In short: our family cannot function without all members present and worthwhile. Numerous concepts were added in later eras, yet most cultures were loathe to explain them.'
>The sister cracks a helpful smile, speaking in a youthful tone while the brother's face creases in mild rebuke.
'Busy as we may be, we exist in what is called an octo-solemnical disparate spatial engram, Enginseer.
You know this quite well: a Terran standard day is twenty four hours made of sixty minutes each which is comprised of sixty seconds, all by ancient customs that do not matter here, nor include leap years and the one-quarter day Terra experiences.
In sum, we function at an extensively improved temporal ratio of anywhere from 100:1 to 5:1 that is highly out of synchronicity with the physicality you inhabit.
While I am not troubled by interruptions-'
>Punctuated by data-nudging her brother with a smug look, whom responds with a disgruntled stare upwards.
'It is a deci-second's worth of extraneous activity. We'
'A month's worth of analyzing, filing, and cross-referencing raw data still awaits.'
'Stop being logical for'
>The connection cuts at Tox-11's command to work smarter, not faster, at least until the four (technically five) have fulfilled their duties while a brief apologetic blurb fills the local datasphere.
>Figuratively expressing a lack of relief on returning to normal, the Necron device produces a highly artistic rendering of... something that would probably have been censored in any other place.
>While your MIU translates, connotations of system interactions that were simultaneously Ordo Chronos approved but were attacked by openly malevolent macro-level Mechanicus codes to be heretek in nature compete.
>Which, ironically, weren't heretikal.
>The Ordo Chronos coding wins after a ten nanosecond interval, leaving the unusual image of a Necron Sub-Phaeric Lord making a respectful bow, text above it reading out in Low Gothic:
'Care not for the treacherous paths of intrigue and deception. Expose knowledge for all to share and debate. Learn, adapt, repeat. Do not cease in your efforts. I walk the Path of Machines as you do. One day in this strange, unfamiliar place, I will answer a communion between fellows.'
>Ears flicking in obvious puzzlemarent as you pick up the moderately heavy Auspex and affix it firmly, Raindrop's eyes squint while it produces a merry series of musically-mathematical noises, ones which the MIU struggled to identify.
"Looks a lot like the older Canterlot Underground and Pathfinder object identifiers. Don't know much about them except for funny noises they make, or highly detailed information they provide."
>With the barely consequential damage restored each of the micro-harpsichord's strings are eagerly plucked, delivering a succinct amount of information from an imperfectly described form of temporal analysis.
>...which was going to take a while given the few billion reams of raw data that would have overloaded an Imperial battleship's cogitator core.
>Visibly taken aback by your words for a second, the Free Knight's head tips backwards, face scrunching in confusion at a swarm of exceptionally bright, multi-colored neon glowing insects buzzing in front of the hangar, then chasing after the ultra-mini pegasus with what sounded like angry clicking.
>Left ear twitching first, then the right, Raindrop shuts the problem out of sight, and probably mind too, giving you a highly pleased smile.
"To most Otherworlders, Tallus is crazy. Most curses, outside a few examples from the Late Dynasty's nonsense, don't cause insanity, or negative marental problems. The worst I can think of trade one great positive for a subtle or openly bad one. Decent ones trade two, sometimes three, or four good effects for a single bad. That doesn't include the various rare, strange, unique, Planar, archaic, Psionic, or Crystalline variants.
Overall, being super tiny, blinding fast, and basically impossible to hit like her has benefits most highly charged enchantmarents can't even hope to match. Being physically hyper excited and thinking in double to triple speed at all times is a tiny price to pay for those benefits. I wouldn't ponifally make that trade given the options, but since she didn't have a choice I respect her for not being depressed, bitter, or angry about it."
>The pegasi's muzzle creases deeply, holding her hoof out further to meet your barely trembling mortal hand.
>Which was nice and warm, yet quite firm save for the nearly hot underpad.
>L-lewd~
>Raindrop's expression softens to one of comprehensible acceptance, tinged with a curiously relieved expression, pressing her hoof into your palm encouragingly.
"No Miss Mallia, thank you. You were found worthy enough to be granted the right to stay on this world, and the fact you were involved against a single Construct with nopony permarenently crippled or killed is beyond words. If any event has gone poorly tha-"
>Halting to give a sour glance left, the mare turns a, somehow, irresponsible grin back to you.
"If you'll take me as a marefriend then I'll gladly accept those responsibilities, even if doing so means I have to sleep next to you."
'That was done on purpose to prove her point.'
>Returning to simple ASCII form, the pair glance at each other in mild confusion, stare back to you, then pseudo-visibly sigh, both sets of hands raising in defeat.
'We do not fully understand what our Inquisitor does. Pre-M2 Terra records state the aquila was a symbol used by a highly militarized culture known by their enemies as the Mongols. An original text describes the Mongolian Comrades as showing that symbol presents and is intended to prove solidarity with one's true family, a concept equal to philia as stated by the Greek culture, not the kin they were born with. A later, partial translation reads as follows: not even an eagle can not function without the entirety of its body in harmonious accord. In short: our family cannot function without all members present and worthwhile. Numerous concepts were added in later eras, yet most cultures were loathe to explain them.'
>The sister cracks a helpful smile, speaking in a youthful tone while the brother's face creases in mild rebuke.
'Busy as we may be, we exist in what is called an octo-solemnical disparate spatial engram, Enginseer.
You know this quite well: a Terran standard day is twenty four hours made of sixty minutes each which is comprised of sixty seconds, all by ancient customs that do not matter here, nor include leap years and the one-quarter day Terra experiences.
In sum, we function at an extensively improved temporal ratio of anywhere from 100:1 to 5:1 that is highly out of synchronicity with the physicality you inhabit.
While I am not troubled by interruptions-'
>Punctuated by data-nudging her brother with a smug look, whom responds with a disgruntled stare upwards.
'It is a deci-second's worth of extraneous activity. We'
'A month's worth of analyzing, filing, and cross-referencing raw data still awaits.'
'Stop being logical for'
>The connection cuts at Tox-11's command to work smarter, not faster, at least until the four (technically five) have fulfilled their duties while a brief apologetic blurb fills the local datasphere.
>Figuratively expressing a lack of relief on returning to normal, the Necron device produces a highly artistic rendering of... something that would probably have been censored in any other place.
>While your MIU translates, connotations of system interactions that were simultaneously Ordo Chronos approved but were attacked by openly malevolent macro-level Mechanicus codes to be heretek in nature compete.
>Which, ironically, weren't heretikal.
>The Ordo Chronos coding wins after a ten nanosecond interval, leaving the unusual image of a Necron Sub-Phaeric Lord making a respectful bow, text above it reading out in Low Gothic:
'Care not for the treacherous paths of intrigue and deception. Expose knowledge for all to share and debate. Learn, adapt, repeat. Do not cease in your efforts. I walk the Path of Machines as you do. One day in this strange, unfamiliar place, I will answer a communion between fellows.'
>Ears flicking in obvious puzzlemarent as you pick up the moderately heavy Auspex and affix it firmly, Raindrop's eyes squint while it produces a merry series of musically-mathematical noises, ones which the MIU struggled to identify.
"Looks a lot like the older Canterlot Underground and Pathfinder object identifiers. Don't know much about them except for funny noises they make, or highly detailed information they provide."
>With the barely consequential damage restored each of the micro-harpsichord's strings are eagerly plucked, delivering a succinct amount of information from an imperfectly described form of temporal analysis.
>...which was going to take a while given the few billion reams of raw data that would have overloaded an Imperial battleship's cogitator core.
>Visibly taken aback by your words for a second, the Free Knight's head tips backwards, face scrunching in confusion at a swarm of exceptionally bright, multi-colored neon glowing insects buzzing in front of the hangar, then chasing after the ultra-mini pegasus with what sounded like angry clicking.
>Left ear twitching first, then the right, Raindrop shuts the problem out of sight, and probably mind too, giving you a highly pleased smile.
"To most Otherworlders, Tallus is crazy. Most curses, outside a few examples from the Late Dynasty's nonsense, don't cause insanity, or negative marental problems. The worst I can think of trade one great positive for a subtle or openly bad one. Decent ones trade two, sometimes three, or four good effects for a single bad. That doesn't include the various rare, strange, unique, Planar, archaic, Psionic, or Crystalline variants.
Overall, being super tiny, blinding fast, and basically impossible to hit like her has benefits most highly charged enchantmarents can't even hope to match. Being physically hyper excited and thinking in double to triple speed at all times is a tiny price to pay for those benefits. I wouldn't ponifally make that trade given the options, but since she didn't have a choice I respect her for not being depressed, bitter, or angry about it."
>The pegasi's muzzle creases deeply, holding her hoof out further to meet your barely trembling mortal hand.
>Which was nice and warm, yet quite firm save for the nearly hot underpad.
>L-lewd~
>Raindrop's expression softens to one of comprehensible acceptance, tinged with a curiously relieved expression, pressing her hoof into your palm encouragingly.
"No Miss Mallia, thank you. You were found worthy enough to be granted the right to stay on this world, and the fact you were involved against a single Construct with nopony permarenently crippled or killed is beyond words. If any event has gone poorly tha-"
>Halting to give a sour glance left, the mare turns a, somehow, irresponsible grin back to you.
"If you'll take me as a marefriend then I'll gladly accept those responsibilities, even if doing so means I have to sleep next to you."
>>370201
>Displaying notifications of missing advanced functions and a probable stealth system that wasn't available, Shiibo makes a short wave at the physical controls.
'Forty percent of operational capabilities missing due to weight limitations. The complete model includes a functional non-artificial model created from cross-species nodal heuristics. The operating core exists in the OL-3's current configuration but cannot be removed or implemented as is. This-'
>Displaying the schematic of a partially egg-shaped, heavily armored powered frame dubbed the: Nine Sectors Coalition, Exotic Technologies Designs, Power Frame Class 59-5UC: Extreme Depth Infiltration & Land Capable Offensive System.
>A bizarre, liquid-chemical catalyst rifle in 16MM utilizing mass reactive shells intended to be carried in both hands, a dual-tubed 58MM Semi-Guided Variable Yield Missile Launcher system mounted on either shoulder, the engines being miniaturized cold-plasma reactors, and lastly a high energy MASER that was, for the most part, classified appear.
>The design was solid, albeit simple, though had limited field endurance. And cramped.
'Is the finished Marine ExoArmor he spoke of. The so-called android core however-'
>The AI frowns, showing a direct image listed as coming from the early 15,800's, days, months, and location redacted, this time of an exotic, partially energy state 26-limbed sea creature, appearing to be much like an octopi, lifting itself high on the end of a metallic dock while clutching the hands of ten surrounding humans, their faces, uniform markings, and boots covered by large black bars.
>Similar to a few of the beings you'd seen or read reports from, this particular example had a number of proto-human features on the 'face', including the ability to emulate a nose, move pseudo-eyebrows, and could distinctly show most human expressions as it had, according to Shiibo's rough translations in view, relatively similar thought processes.
'High energy human synthesis capabilities and scientific philosophies combined with partial energy-state aquatic extremomorphs providing meta-material physics.. in an extremely substandard, highly irradiated situation. FTL potential: extreme.'
>Arms folding, Shiibo's avatar turns sideways, leaning on an invisible wall and lifting the left hand upwards with an annoyed look.
''All further data is classified. Genetic lockout codes cannot be bypassed or infiltrated.'
>Suitably called out, Lonestar's eyes close for a few moments, then nods slightly.
"Did ask a lot from him. We helped out the same, but he never asked anything in return. Maybe he didn't want to?"
>Visibly listening in as the Overlander picks up speed, Katyal shakes her head on the display, Shiibo opening a vehicle-skin transmission hijack.
"The fuck's he talking about? Rare exception my ass, I was tired and depressed. Razorback hasn't been allowed outta Equestria after they blew up New Canterlot Palace. Is that man the odd one out or's he brand new?"
>Image clearing to show a winged Moor cat sitting in front of Katyal, shrugging its front shoulders, the transmission ceases for a few seconds while she stares downwards.
"Fine, let's play your favorite game. Little kitty catty with warm wings a-batty, look me in the eyesm. We've known each other for a while now, if I'm about to screw up telling them shit they might not know and can't deal with, claw my face."
>Right paw lifting and motioning in patterns you didn't recognize, Nibbles' head swivels to focus directly at you, the operator-gunner's screen distorts and resolves faster than Shiibo could notice.
*"Right, I'm going to start with this much: Razorback fucked up by nuking New Canterlot Palace. I was a second from signing that contract. Only stipulation was I had to kill every single human that didn't give binding oaths to ponies. Would've had an entire country to co-rule. Could've been a multi-millionaire. Whole harem. Anything I wanted. Nobles and royals included. Big city-fortress built just for me. I realized something then: some humans are born stupid, others are taught to be that way. Some are just as ignorant as I was, but most simply don't catch on. And for the official records, don't ask me to lead.
Try this: stop thinking in terms of 'what's right for me', understand? Ponies consider everything as 'what's right for all of us?' Outside of extremely rare exceptions, it's impossible to think as an individual. I'll say it again: that is Impossible. Make a note. The herd shares everything, openly or not. Overherds are no exception.
Ponies reach a conclusion of how, why, and when. Humans most always think in terms of why or why not. So, if your Spiral's the type of unicorn that's a herd-of-oneself, then you've missed the most direct needs, desires, and wants he had.
Since he didn't say a single word before leaving then he was either terrified for all of you, or furious at something he couldn't reveal. He obviously needed you all whole, alive, and well. That means he trusted all of you enough not to say a word, to anyone, or anypony.
You've learned he's in deep shit, but he expected to be followed, otherwise he would never have left clues. It's an act that intelligent ponies make when they need perfect secrecy. Understand now?"*
>Pausing to give Nibbles, still staring at you, a fond head pat, the woman leans back to scowl at the passing trees.
*"And what I'm about to say is OFF the record. When Hodch gets concerned enough to pull out the 'I need favors done and you're the only one I can use right now' card, whoever screwed up that he doesn't have the time to correct.. I can."*
>Lonestar straightens in the driver's chair with a distinctly serious glance at you, reaching forwards to tap a key on his display.
"...we should both drop the agent act. For now. Full scans north, vector three-twenty to plus thirty horizontal, negative ten to positive ten vertical."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Siren's Touch
>vs:
[1d6 = 3] <Reaction
>Displaying notifications of missing advanced functions and a probable stealth system that wasn't available, Shiibo makes a short wave at the physical controls.
'Forty percent of operational capabilities missing due to weight limitations. The complete model includes a functional non-artificial model created from cross-species nodal heuristics. The operating core exists in the OL-3's current configuration but cannot be removed or implemented as is. This-'
>Displaying the schematic of a partially egg-shaped, heavily armored powered frame dubbed the: Nine Sectors Coalition, Exotic Technologies Designs, Power Frame Class 59-5UC: Extreme Depth Infiltration & Land Capable Offensive System.
>A bizarre, liquid-chemical catalyst rifle in 16MM utilizing mass reactive shells intended to be carried in both hands, a dual-tubed 58MM Semi-Guided Variable Yield Missile Launcher system mounted on either shoulder, the engines being miniaturized cold-plasma reactors, and lastly a high energy MASER that was, for the most part, classified appear.
>The design was solid, albeit simple, though had limited field endurance. And cramped.
'Is the finished Marine ExoArmor he spoke of. The so-called android core however-'
>The AI frowns, showing a direct image listed as coming from the early 15,800's, days, months, and location redacted, this time of an exotic, partially energy state 26-limbed sea creature, appearing to be much like an octopi, lifting itself high on the end of a metallic dock while clutching the hands of ten surrounding humans, their faces, uniform markings, and boots covered by large black bars.
>Similar to a few of the beings you'd seen or read reports from, this particular example had a number of proto-human features on the 'face', including the ability to emulate a nose, move pseudo-eyebrows, and could distinctly show most human expressions as it had, according to Shiibo's rough translations in view, relatively similar thought processes.
'High energy human synthesis capabilities and scientific philosophies combined with partial energy-state aquatic extremomorphs providing meta-material physics.. in an extremely substandard, highly irradiated situation. FTL potential: extreme.'
>Arms folding, Shiibo's avatar turns sideways, leaning on an invisible wall and lifting the left hand upwards with an annoyed look.
''All further data is classified. Genetic lockout codes cannot be bypassed or infiltrated.'
>Suitably called out, Lonestar's eyes close for a few moments, then nods slightly.
"Did ask a lot from him. We helped out the same, but he never asked anything in return. Maybe he didn't want to?"
>Visibly listening in as the Overlander picks up speed, Katyal shakes her head on the display, Shiibo opening a vehicle-skin transmission hijack.
"The fuck's he talking about? Rare exception my ass, I was tired and depressed. Razorback hasn't been allowed outta Equestria after they blew up New Canterlot Palace. Is that man the odd one out or's he brand new?"
>Image clearing to show a winged Moor cat sitting in front of Katyal, shrugging its front shoulders, the transmission ceases for a few seconds while she stares downwards.
"Fine, let's play your favorite game. Little kitty catty with warm wings a-batty, look me in the eyesm. We've known each other for a while now, if I'm about to screw up telling them shit they might not know and can't deal with, claw my face."
>Right paw lifting and motioning in patterns you didn't recognize, Nibbles' head swivels to focus directly at you, the operator-gunner's screen distorts and resolves faster than Shiibo could notice.
*"Right, I'm going to start with this much: Razorback fucked up by nuking New Canterlot Palace. I was a second from signing that contract. Only stipulation was I had to kill every single human that didn't give binding oaths to ponies. Would've had an entire country to co-rule. Could've been a multi-millionaire. Whole harem. Anything I wanted. Nobles and royals included. Big city-fortress built just for me. I realized something then: some humans are born stupid, others are taught to be that way. Some are just as ignorant as I was, but most simply don't catch on. And for the official records, don't ask me to lead.
Try this: stop thinking in terms of 'what's right for me', understand? Ponies consider everything as 'what's right for all of us?' Outside of extremely rare exceptions, it's impossible to think as an individual. I'll say it again: that is Impossible. Make a note. The herd shares everything, openly or not. Overherds are no exception.
Ponies reach a conclusion of how, why, and when. Humans most always think in terms of why or why not. So, if your Spiral's the type of unicorn that's a herd-of-oneself, then you've missed the most direct needs, desires, and wants he had.
Since he didn't say a single word before leaving then he was either terrified for all of you, or furious at something he couldn't reveal. He obviously needed you all whole, alive, and well. That means he trusted all of you enough not to say a word, to anyone, or anypony.
You've learned he's in deep shit, but he expected to be followed, otherwise he would never have left clues. It's an act that intelligent ponies make when they need perfect secrecy. Understand now?"*
>Pausing to give Nibbles, still staring at you, a fond head pat, the woman leans back to scowl at the passing trees.
*"And what I'm about to say is OFF the record. When Hodch gets concerned enough to pull out the 'I need favors done and you're the only one I can use right now' card, whoever screwed up that he doesn't have the time to correct.. I can."*
>Lonestar straightens in the driver's chair with a distinctly serious glance at you, reaching forwards to tap a key on his display.
"...we should both drop the agent act. For now. Full scans north, vector three-twenty to plus thirty horizontal, negative ten to positive ten vertical."
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Siren's Touch
>vs:
[1d6 = 3] <Reaction
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370406
>>370216
"Is it wrong to say I expected better?"
>Staring out from the left display, the revamped mini-Wild's antennae flatten, showing intense equine disgust.
"Probably not. That is beyond 'cheap', and barely effective for heavy calibers. I have well over six thousands designs for better protective methods than that. In fact, a full sixth of them are personal protection schematics, forty-nine would be useful if I have the chance to produce them-"
>Dozens of loud clicks occur in the chest cabin, two air conditioning units above turning on... which were halfway useless given the giant hole in front of you.
>The caricature's 'eye' narrows briefly, spinning around to trace a spike-ended trefoil hazard symbol above the map in bright green.
>You'd seen this one a few times before, though it hadn't been explained much other than 'don't touch, smell, or look at' certain barrels.
"Short version: it is extremely bad for all organic life. Radiation is caused by specific elements that emit invisible particles and wavelengths. The long explanation would take eighty minutes now that I have access to my critical and major data nodes. Since I have existed on Tallus, whether in my original form as a station wagon or my current configuration, there is no radiation except for the original plutonium core that Kraut brought with him. A third of those particles and fields are similar to magic, but are not directly damaging or intrinsically hostile. There are numerous forms of energetic particles constantly passing through you and I without harm. Ponies and other native species call them magic, though they are more mechanical than mysterious. For example, this-"
>Right arm lifting into view, a distinct line of red electricity forms across the destroyed wrist while the left holds her missing hand up, all eight tendrils slinking in and visibly pulling it's damaged components together, though you couldn't see any visible heat emanating from the process.
>Or smell anything.
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril 1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
"This method is less energy intensive than the catchall term 'magic'. I'm not welding, as you would think of it. Instead, I'm joining physical components together using a mixture of pressure, focused energy, Tryptaran wavelengths, my own thoughts, and.. two systems that I cannot accurately describe to you. That Which Cannot Be Named calls it 'melding', but it only works on non-organic material."
>Staring at the map for a few seconds, the Wild Ride miniature turns around to offer a sincere, if rather short, nod.
"For the most part it has, but I cannot attempt a complete system shut down and restart like that until dusk occurs. Primary repair system one is mostly restored, but I will need both hands operational as there is still a high chance of Constructs following us. And now that I DO have access to my data nodes, scanning for any unrecognized signatures behind us-"
>Turning right to face the coastline in three heavy stomps, the Eldritch-Android's frame tips left, then right, audibly testing herself.
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Planar Construct Cross-Reference
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensory Node #3: Internal Motivator Analysis
"Is it wrong to say I expected better?"
>Staring out from the left display, the revamped mini-Wild's antennae flatten, showing intense equine disgust.
"Probably not. That is beyond 'cheap', and barely effective for heavy calibers. I have well over six thousands designs for better protective methods than that. In fact, a full sixth of them are personal protection schematics, forty-nine would be useful if I have the chance to produce them-"
>Dozens of loud clicks occur in the chest cabin, two air conditioning units above turning on... which were halfway useless given the giant hole in front of you.
>The caricature's 'eye' narrows briefly, spinning around to trace a spike-ended trefoil hazard symbol above the map in bright green.
>You'd seen this one a few times before, though it hadn't been explained much other than 'don't touch, smell, or look at' certain barrels.
"Short version: it is extremely bad for all organic life. Radiation is caused by specific elements that emit invisible particles and wavelengths. The long explanation would take eighty minutes now that I have access to my critical and major data nodes. Since I have existed on Tallus, whether in my original form as a station wagon or my current configuration, there is no radiation except for the original plutonium core that Kraut brought with him. A third of those particles and fields are similar to magic, but are not directly damaging or intrinsically hostile. There are numerous forms of energetic particles constantly passing through you and I without harm. Ponies and other native species call them magic, though they are more mechanical than mysterious. For example, this-"
>Right arm lifting into view, a distinct line of red electricity forms across the destroyed wrist while the left holds her missing hand up, all eight tendrils slinking in and visibly pulling it's damaged components together, though you couldn't see any visible heat emanating from the process.
>Or smell anything.
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril 1
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
"This method is less energy intensive than the catchall term 'magic'. I'm not welding, as you would think of it. Instead, I'm joining physical components together using a mixture of pressure, focused energy, Tryptaran wavelengths, my own thoughts, and.. two systems that I cannot accurately describe to you. That Which Cannot Be Named calls it 'melding', but it only works on non-organic material."
>Staring at the map for a few seconds, the Wild Ride miniature turns around to offer a sincere, if rather short, nod.
"For the most part it has, but I cannot attempt a complete system shut down and restart like that until dusk occurs. Primary repair system one is mostly restored, but I will need both hands operational as there is still a high chance of Constructs following us. And now that I DO have access to my data nodes, scanning for any unrecognized signatures behind us-"
>Turning right to face the coastline in three heavy stomps, the Eldritch-Android's frame tips left, then right, audibly testing herself.
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Planar Construct Cross-Reference
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Sensory Node #3: Internal Motivator Analysis
>>370205
>Whether he'd intended it, but probably not, Anon's preferred flavor of blueberry cigars was similar to the Crystal Empire ones that Spiral enjoyed sharing.
>Donning clothes first, then armor, and slinging the comfortably heavy pack on, the only items missing were your weapons, spare ammunition.. and the MP3 player.
>Stepping through the peculiarly solid gateway into Razorback Pagoda, distinct scribbling on paper behind and to the left meant Naliyna wasn't in.
"Hello Dante."
>Instead, the sixth worst concern is confirmed: that voice was definitely Malyne.
"Your weapons were delivered three hours ago by a strange earth mare that smelled like fire. She would not open her eyes. Second north couch."
>Indeed they were, neatly placed atop a set of fluffy pillows, and probably untouched, though you catch sight of Shanis in her black winter suit on the opposite side, a ring of mangoes surrounding her, forelegs possessively holding a.. small, bright white seal?
"I did not lick them."
>The faux-grin of her words says otherwise.
>Whether he'd intended it, but probably not, Anon's preferred flavor of blueberry cigars was similar to the Crystal Empire ones that Spiral enjoyed sharing.
>Donning clothes first, then armor, and slinging the comfortably heavy pack on, the only items missing were your weapons, spare ammunition.. and the MP3 player.
>Stepping through the peculiarly solid gateway into Razorback Pagoda, distinct scribbling on paper behind and to the left meant Naliyna wasn't in.
"Hello Dante."
>Instead, the sixth worst concern is confirmed: that voice was definitely Malyne.
"Your weapons were delivered three hours ago by a strange earth mare that smelled like fire. She would not open her eyes. Second north couch."
>Indeed they were, neatly placed atop a set of fluffy pillows, and probably untouched, though you catch sight of Shanis in her black winter suit on the opposite side, a ring of mangoes surrounding her, forelegs possessively holding a.. small, bright white seal?
"I did not lick them."
>The faux-grin of her words says otherwise.
>>370409
>...where's the music player.
>Damnit, if somebody took it...
>I turned over to look at the small bat, grinning awkwardly.
>It was like I had been caught right in the middle of doing something wrong.
>Which, kind of was the case.
>Strange earth mare...smelled like fire?
>I feel like I should know them, but don't.
>Then again, things are slipping my mind at the moment that usually wouldn't.
>Must be the sheer blown panic damn near totally consuming me.
>Maybe.
>And Shanis is here!
>Holding a...small bright white seal.
>...curious.
>Turning to Malyne, I snorted.
"You know, rules are, if you lick something, you now own it. Have fun shooting it with no fingers."
>I still took it up, checking clear and putting it on safe, before slinging it around my body.
>Now, all that was left was to find Pella.
>Or Twisted.
>...on second thought, I like having my head attached, at least for a little while longer.
"So. Any messages come in for me?"
>I didn't expect any, but it was a way of delaying the inevitable.
>Even then, I found I did not want to.
>A soft sigh fell from me.
"And...uh...where's Pella?"
>...where's the music player.
>Damnit, if somebody took it...
>I turned over to look at the small bat, grinning awkwardly.
>It was like I had been caught right in the middle of doing something wrong.
>Which, kind of was the case.
>Strange earth mare...smelled like fire?
>I feel like I should know them, but don't.
>Then again, things are slipping my mind at the moment that usually wouldn't.
>Must be the sheer blown panic damn near totally consuming me.
>Maybe.
>And Shanis is here!
>Holding a...small bright white seal.
>...curious.
>Turning to Malyne, I snorted.
"You know, rules are, if you lick something, you now own it. Have fun shooting it with no fingers."
>I still took it up, checking clear and putting it on safe, before slinging it around my body.
>Now, all that was left was to find Pella.
>Or Twisted.
>...on second thought, I like having my head attached, at least for a little while longer.
"So. Any messages come in for me?"
>I didn't expect any, but it was a way of delaying the inevitable.
>Even then, I found I did not want to.
>A soft sigh fell from me.
"And...uh...where's Pella?"
>>370420
>Writing a short sentence on a small letter before setting it aside, the fuzzy batfilly sits up to take on a look of theatrical disdain.
"That one is too long, clunky, weighs too much, and is far too loud to carry. It also smells horrible before, during, and after extensive cleaning. It is odd to me how quickly most ponies learn to tolerate the stink of firearms. I would rather have dual imbued Force Elemarent shaped tungsten spheres and cylinders. Much quieter, same effects at all ranges, and can be used to carpet bomb. Then again, bricks do work quite well."
>Snickering twice and setting a thin stack of small letters aside with her left set of wingclaws, Malyne peers across the short table, head tilting while scanning over stacks of colorful letters.
>There was no paperwork in view, which was surprising.
>A dubious snout wiggle is made, reaching under the table to carefully pick up, one by one... at least twenty white string tied bundles of silver trimmed, black envelopes with her left wingclaws, gingerly placing them on the opposite side towards you in a pyramid.
"All of these are addressed to you. They were delivered earlier, but I do not know when."
>Setting another out, the rainbow of colors and rainbow pinstripes were obviously intended for Pella, then turns to peer at the unopened letter stacks in mild amusemarent.
"She has been moving all the MRE's, canned, bagged, glass sealed, and dried food from the Armory to the Mess Hall. Also the drinks. She claims they are supposedly attracting pests, but I have not seen any yet.. and the tiny swarms of Northern Central Moors glowbugs do not count."
>Writing a short sentence on a small letter before setting it aside, the fuzzy batfilly sits up to take on a look of theatrical disdain.
"That one is too long, clunky, weighs too much, and is far too loud to carry. It also smells horrible before, during, and after extensive cleaning. It is odd to me how quickly most ponies learn to tolerate the stink of firearms. I would rather have dual imbued Force Elemarent shaped tungsten spheres and cylinders. Much quieter, same effects at all ranges, and can be used to carpet bomb. Then again, bricks do work quite well."
>Snickering twice and setting a thin stack of small letters aside with her left set of wingclaws, Malyne peers across the short table, head tilting while scanning over stacks of colorful letters.
>There was no paperwork in view, which was surprising.
>A dubious snout wiggle is made, reaching under the table to carefully pick up, one by one... at least twenty white string tied bundles of silver trimmed, black envelopes with her left wingclaws, gingerly placing them on the opposite side towards you in a pyramid.
"All of these are addressed to you. They were delivered earlier, but I do not know when."
>Setting another out, the rainbow of colors and rainbow pinstripes were obviously intended for Pella, then turns to peer at the unopened letter stacks in mild amusemarent.
"She has been moving all the MRE's, canned, bagged, glass sealed, and dried food from the Armory to the Mess Hall. Also the drinks. She claims they are supposedly attracting pests, but I have not seen any yet.. and the tiny swarms of Northern Central Moors glowbugs do not count."
>>370404
>Eyes glancing between the data feed in his helmet and the display screen on the console, he mentally catalogs Shiibo's retrieved information to memory. His brow furrows slightly at the note of FTL travel potential.
(Everything Anonymous pulls strings to provide to us with via these wish discs really is a potential disaster... will need to check this species later.)
>His attention heightens as Shiibo provides a hijacked feed to Katyal. Muttering to himself as she makes it clear she believes the problem was handled in the immediate aftermath.
(...Clearly she does not comprehend what that event highlighted. Given her background, likely understandable.)
"Unaware of the inevitable risk. Not surprising for most humans... "
>He remains quiet as she elaborates on the social and cultural differences between the two species despite already being familiar.
>His eyes note and return Nibbles' gaze without wavering throughout the exchange.
>While he slightly nods his head in deference/acknowledgement, he speaks quietly inside his helmet.
"Nibbles is likely aware of your hack by magical means or that they're being observed. The additional information feed is appreciated, but let's avoid crossing these boundaries unless operationally necessary. Katyal is a minimal risk vector at present."
>Nodding his helmet at the display feed in answer to Katyal's question of understanding, he turns forward once more towards his side's instrument panels.
(Act?)
"I am not acting, but I agree there are more pressing concerns."
>Eyes glancing between the data feed in his helmet and the display screen on the console, he mentally catalogs Shiibo's retrieved information to memory. His brow furrows slightly at the note of FTL travel potential.
(Everything Anonymous pulls strings to provide to us with via these wish discs really is a potential disaster... will need to check this species later.)
>His attention heightens as Shiibo provides a hijacked feed to Katyal. Muttering to himself as she makes it clear she believes the problem was handled in the immediate aftermath.
(...Clearly she does not comprehend what that event highlighted. Given her background, likely understandable.)
"Unaware of the inevitable risk. Not surprising for most humans... "
>He remains quiet as she elaborates on the social and cultural differences between the two species despite already being familiar.
>His eyes note and return Nibbles' gaze without wavering throughout the exchange.
>While he slightly nods his head in deference/acknowledgement, he speaks quietly inside his helmet.
"Nibbles is likely aware of your hack by magical means or that they're being observed. The additional information feed is appreciated, but let's avoid crossing these boundaries unless operationally necessary. Katyal is a minimal risk vector at present."
>Nodding his helmet at the display feed in answer to Katyal's question of understanding, he turns forward once more towards his side's instrument panels.
(Act?)
"I am not acting, but I agree there are more pressing concerns."
>>370441
>I considered what Malyne said about her preferred choice of weaponry.
>It would be effective, no doubt.
"Yes, but that is the intended effect. If you haven't been on the receiving side of something like this, then you don't know just how miserable it would be, downrange of this girl."
>I gave her a pat (the MG3 of course).
"But, you know, different strokes."
>I like when things go bang, what can I say?
>A large amount of letters were then taken out from under the table.
>The silver on them had my gut falling, out of my body and then through the floor, and maybe further beyond.
"Heh. Popular, aren't I?"
>That's uh...
>That's a lot of news.
>Swallowing, I gathered them from off the table and moved to sit down on a couch, taking Pella's mail as well.
>I was going to have to have a discussion with her after this, but this will give me some type of insight into how fucked things are.
>I was there, and even then, I believe they are even WORSE than I expect them to be.
>Well, worse than being crowned emperor of Silver's legacy.
>Or something like that.
>Hey, I'm panicking, leave me alone.
>I began to open the envelopes, taking out my knife and sliding it along the seam to look at all of them in order.
>Of course, Pella's mail was Pella's mail, so I'd leave that to the side for now.
>But what was she doing, moving everything from the Armory to the Mess?
>It seems...rather curious.
>I'll have to see.
>And then most likely be tossed out on my ass, then.
>I considered what Malyne said about her preferred choice of weaponry.
>It would be effective, no doubt.
"Yes, but that is the intended effect. If you haven't been on the receiving side of something like this, then you don't know just how miserable it would be, downrange of this girl."
>I gave her a pat (the MG3 of course).
"But, you know, different strokes."
>I like when things go bang, what can I say?
>A large amount of letters were then taken out from under the table.
>The silver on them had my gut falling, out of my body and then through the floor, and maybe further beyond.
"Heh. Popular, aren't I?"
>That's uh...
>That's a lot of news.
>Swallowing, I gathered them from off the table and moved to sit down on a couch, taking Pella's mail as well.
>I was going to have to have a discussion with her after this, but this will give me some type of insight into how fucked things are.
>I was there, and even then, I believe they are even WORSE than I expect them to be.
>Well, worse than being crowned emperor of Silver's legacy.
>Or something like that.
>Hey, I'm panicking, leave me alone.
>I began to open the envelopes, taking out my knife and sliding it along the seam to look at all of them in order.
>Of course, Pella's mail was Pella's mail, so I'd leave that to the side for now.
>But what was she doing, moving everything from the Armory to the Mess?
>It seems...rather curious.
>I'll have to see.
>And then most likely be tossed out on my ass, then.
>>370442
>Cross-referencing a series of databases, which, judging by the timestamps, were recorded by most of Razorback, the avatar's face sours.
'That is incorrect. For the wrong reasons, sir. Between Katyal's highly contextual statements and willingness to cooperate in an extreme hazard operation related to an unrelated equine she may understand specific dangers that unsupervised humans pose to native beings of this world. Due to her isolation she is likely unaware of specific actions Razorback's individuals or groups have taken in the past two and one-quarter years. Strange.. and illogical.'
>One hand lifts in warning as small readouts display heightened threat indices of Razorback's relations to known Equestrian factions, likewise dated, the other hand lifting to lightly tap her lips.
'The original Razorback 100 arrived in late summer of 29,996, New Canterlot. It is currently early winter of 29.998. The prototype's data stores contain a number of entries from Razorback Fortress's systems that, when compared to individual non-encrypted records, do not definitively match.
There are a minimum of two-thousand five-hundred incidents where time logs are out of sync with individual records. Some present unusual characteristics outside of accepted timespan estimates... temporal anomalies detected sir. At present, they have not been defined, corrected, or analyzed.'
>Watching the Moor cat enter a predatory crouch on the display, both wings tighten against her sides, then leaps forwards and dissipates entirely-
>Only to arrive on a front armor projection, front paws snapping out to grab a small, broad six-legged insect, immediately denoted as an unknown species.
>Right before falling off, Nibbles reappears atop the Overlander 3, landing upside on the roof from several inches and struggling to hold it.
'...adorable. Your statement was both right and wrong, solely from technical and knowledge limitations.'
>Admiring the replay on screen and visibly amused at the feline's actions, Shiibo makes a short, dismissive hand motion.
'No interpretive models to predict Moor cat behaviors available. Anomalously tangential teleportation or matter-phasing, likely genetic or magical in origin. Probability of both: greater than 85%. State may be semi-Euclidean given the ability to matter-phase through native and Otherworld materials. Under-'
>Cut off by the feline making a loudly delighted mrowl, flailing the insect in both forepaws while snicker-hissing at the furiously wriggling catch, she continues unabated.
'Stood sir, adjusting interactions to compensate for potential anti-intrusion protocols. However, the majority of information provided by the OL-3's semi-energy state data storage is unencrypted and does not require translation outside of standard octodecimal.
The two confirmation requests I was able to log in to, as a guest no less, took less than one-fiftieth a second to resolve. The first was an ancient protocol, analogous to directing a computer user into selecting a specific onscreen option. It states: I am not a Nodal or Heuristic Android.
The second is a simple two-stage text dialogue. The first: I am a living being; the second is: The world around me is unreal. A classic determiner requiring non-linear graphing in order to electronically select a single digital button. Most computational systems, unless well trained or distinctly programmed, would automatically fail the second due to machine-bias analyses.
As there are no overt or covert threats, should I continue investigation or delay until you request the same?'
>Katyal sits up on the roof at the radio silence, then kneels before her opened hatch, snorting aloud.
*"Don't know how you all do it, but on my world lacking objections or being silent means consent. If that's the case then we head straight for where Spiral went. No breaks or stops allowed. That means taking care of bodily functions in transit."*
>Face creasing in recall, Lonestar's head tips back into the rest before speaking in a firm, controlled manner, though biting back obvious hot retorts.
*"I didn't have jack shit to do with whoever's nuke went off in the Palace, and still can't figure out who set it off. Most of us intel fucks stayed on the train. We got to chatting with those Honor Guards and those few Lunars stationed at the nearby depot, they were more surprised than we were. No objections from me, other than get in and close that hatch, don't want anyone falling off. Cat excluded."*
>Opens comms shut off with a button press, the Texan puts on a mildly approving expression before shaking his head.
"You're worse off than me, huh? Glad some of us aren't engrammed to fuck all and back. Fine, full speed ahead, but I'm not willing to make this a suicide run into the unknown."
>That was neither statement or accusation, Shiibo denotes as Lonestar eyes his forward display in subdued confusion.
"Miss, uhhh... Shiibo, was it? Got those scan readings yet or do I need to kick that core a few times? Ones on most ships were half-assed hybrids, sure hope these are better."
>Twitching in artificial space, the avatar facepalms, then points out the series of stick control presses that would enact ExoTech's Optronic system, quickly initiating it on her digital end.
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
>In the back, Dul can be heard rummaging through a cloth bag.. which had to be Katyal's given that no one else left theirs out of a locker.
"Dul know this taste! Gifts from big bronze ponies good. ...why so small?"
>Cross-referencing a series of databases, which, judging by the timestamps, were recorded by most of Razorback, the avatar's face sours.
'That is incorrect. For the wrong reasons, sir. Between Katyal's highly contextual statements and willingness to cooperate in an extreme hazard operation related to an unrelated equine she may understand specific dangers that unsupervised humans pose to native beings of this world. Due to her isolation she is likely unaware of specific actions Razorback's individuals or groups have taken in the past two and one-quarter years. Strange.. and illogical.'
>One hand lifts in warning as small readouts display heightened threat indices of Razorback's relations to known Equestrian factions, likewise dated, the other hand lifting to lightly tap her lips.
'The original Razorback 100 arrived in late summer of 29,996, New Canterlot. It is currently early winter of 29.998. The prototype's data stores contain a number of entries from Razorback Fortress's systems that, when compared to individual non-encrypted records, do not definitively match.
There are a minimum of two-thousand five-hundred incidents where time logs are out of sync with individual records. Some present unusual characteristics outside of accepted timespan estimates... temporal anomalies detected sir. At present, they have not been defined, corrected, or analyzed.'
>Watching the Moor cat enter a predatory crouch on the display, both wings tighten against her sides, then leaps forwards and dissipates entirely-
>Only to arrive on a front armor projection, front paws snapping out to grab a small, broad six-legged insect, immediately denoted as an unknown species.
>Right before falling off, Nibbles reappears atop the Overlander 3, landing upside on the roof from several inches and struggling to hold it.
'...adorable. Your statement was both right and wrong, solely from technical and knowledge limitations.'
>Admiring the replay on screen and visibly amused at the feline's actions, Shiibo makes a short, dismissive hand motion.
'No interpretive models to predict Moor cat behaviors available. Anomalously tangential teleportation or matter-phasing, likely genetic or magical in origin. Probability of both: greater than 85%. State may be semi-Euclidean given the ability to matter-phase through native and Otherworld materials. Under-'
>Cut off by the feline making a loudly delighted mrowl, flailing the insect in both forepaws while snicker-hissing at the furiously wriggling catch, she continues unabated.
'Stood sir, adjusting interactions to compensate for potential anti-intrusion protocols. However, the majority of information provided by the OL-3's semi-energy state data storage is unencrypted and does not require translation outside of standard octodecimal.
The two confirmation requests I was able to log in to, as a guest no less, took less than one-fiftieth a second to resolve. The first was an ancient protocol, analogous to directing a computer user into selecting a specific onscreen option. It states: I am not a Nodal or Heuristic Android.
The second is a simple two-stage text dialogue. The first: I am a living being; the second is: The world around me is unreal. A classic determiner requiring non-linear graphing in order to electronically select a single digital button. Most computational systems, unless well trained or distinctly programmed, would automatically fail the second due to machine-bias analyses.
As there are no overt or covert threats, should I continue investigation or delay until you request the same?'
>Katyal sits up on the roof at the radio silence, then kneels before her opened hatch, snorting aloud.
*"Don't know how you all do it, but on my world lacking objections or being silent means consent. If that's the case then we head straight for where Spiral went. No breaks or stops allowed. That means taking care of bodily functions in transit."*
>Face creasing in recall, Lonestar's head tips back into the rest before speaking in a firm, controlled manner, though biting back obvious hot retorts.
*"I didn't have jack shit to do with whoever's nuke went off in the Palace, and still can't figure out who set it off. Most of us intel fucks stayed on the train. We got to chatting with those Honor Guards and those few Lunars stationed at the nearby depot, they were more surprised than we were. No objections from me, other than get in and close that hatch, don't want anyone falling off. Cat excluded."*
>Opens comms shut off with a button press, the Texan puts on a mildly approving expression before shaking his head.
"You're worse off than me, huh? Glad some of us aren't engrammed to fuck all and back. Fine, full speed ahead, but I'm not willing to make this a suicide run into the unknown."
>That was neither statement or accusation, Shiibo denotes as Lonestar eyes his forward display in subdued confusion.
"Miss, uhhh... Shiibo, was it? Got those scan readings yet or do I need to kick that core a few times? Ones on most ships were half-assed hybrids, sure hope these are better."
>Twitching in artificial space, the avatar facepalms, then points out the series of stick control presses that would enact ExoTech's Optronic system, quickly initiating it on her digital end.
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
>In the back, Dul can be heard rummaging through a cloth bag.. which had to be Katyal's given that no one else left theirs out of a locker.
"Dul know this taste! Gifts from big bronze ponies good. ...why so small?"
>>370446
>Replying to Shiibo, he acknowledges the discrepancies.
'Noted. And Katyal's background is likely unclear with information restricted to us due to Saddle Arabian assassin connections. A coherent risk rating can be established later.'
>He pauses before allowing some of the tension in his face to ease as Nibble's reaction was a false alarm.
(Good... one less concern.)
'Katyal is only one of many humans, and one we likely won't interact with in the future. Our access to her is limited and her connections to Lejura likely leave her beyond our means of influence. I'd rather focus on what is more immediately available, but I'll leave to your discretion what you devote your resources to.'
>Realizing in the flood of information that he neglected to reply to Katyal until her declaration, he finally replies after Lonestar.
"No objections."
>He gives Lonestar a look, turning his helmet at the suicide mission remark as Shiibo notes its non-directed nature but is unable to respond before Lonestar requests the scan once more.
>Looking towards the sticks that would activate the Optronic system, he states:
"Her processing capabilities and specifications are far more effective than the units you've described. Access to this craft's systems was achieved in less than one fiftieth of a second with octodecimal being considered one of the simpler standards. I would remind you not to take her sapience for granted if you want her cooperation. I-"
>Interrupted from hearing the sound of shifting items and exclamations about taste of all things from the rear compartment, he moves to open and stand in the doorway as he sees Dul.
"Dul, what are you doing with Katyal's gear?"
>Replying to Shiibo, he acknowledges the discrepancies.
'Noted. And Katyal's background is likely unclear with information restricted to us due to Saddle Arabian assassin connections. A coherent risk rating can be established later.'
>He pauses before allowing some of the tension in his face to ease as Nibble's reaction was a false alarm.
(Good... one less concern.)
'Katyal is only one of many humans, and one we likely won't interact with in the future. Our access to her is limited and her connections to Lejura likely leave her beyond our means of influence. I'd rather focus on what is more immediately available, but I'll leave to your discretion what you devote your resources to.'
>Realizing in the flood of information that he neglected to reply to Katyal until her declaration, he finally replies after Lonestar.
"No objections."
>He gives Lonestar a look, turning his helmet at the suicide mission remark as Shiibo notes its non-directed nature but is unable to respond before Lonestar requests the scan once more.
>Looking towards the sticks that would activate the Optronic system, he states:
"Her processing capabilities and specifications are far more effective than the units you've described. Access to this craft's systems was achieved in less than one fiftieth of a second with octodecimal being considered one of the simpler standards. I would remind you not to take her sapience for granted if you want her cooperation. I-"
>Interrupted from hearing the sound of shifting items and exclamations about taste of all things from the rear compartment, he moves to open and stand in the doorway as he sees Dul.
"Dul, what are you doing with Katyal's gear?"
>>370195
>Bubba would lightly nod, tallying those numbers up in his head for later.
>That would lead to a lot of inspecting, even at something faster than batpony standards.
"As long as we don't break anything important. Or unimportant."
>Sprains on Lark should be fiiiiine.
>"That you can detect, of course. Something may be fucky that nobody can tell."
>The silent mutter was, thankfully, just in his head as Bubba slipped past her, nodding in response.
>Bubba would lightly nod, tallying those numbers up in his head for later.
>That would lead to a lot of inspecting, even at something faster than batpony standards.
"As long as we don't break anything important. Or unimportant."
>Sprains on Lark should be fiiiiine.
>"That you can detect, of course. Something may be fucky that nobody can tell."
>The silent mutter was, thankfully, just in his head as Bubba slipped past her, nodding in response.
>>370047
>Ivan chews on his tongue lightly for a moment, processing in what Krinza said.
"Unlike my earth at least, there is a surplus of resources and what seems to be less bureaucracy enabling this, back home we would have to deal with a plethora of obstacles to work around or through. Corruption being very notable even today."
>Fucking Ukraine government.
"I won't pretend I know what happened with Spiral... And I thank you for reinforcing this. I'm sure I won't be able to accidentally break it by underestimating my strength."
>He gave the stallion a small smile as he ran a gloved hand over one of the barrels.
"My country has only been around for..."
>Ivan paused, looking off to the side, frowning as he struggled to remember.
"... That is distressing. I know Ukraine is free again... but I do not know for how long."
>He sighed and sat back, rubbing his face.
"Почему ты проклял меня, Монолит?"
>He nodded in reply to Helping's comment.
"Indeed it is. Plays on the radio often."
>Ivan chews on his tongue lightly for a moment, processing in what Krinza said.
"Unlike my earth at least, there is a surplus of resources and what seems to be less bureaucracy enabling this, back home we would have to deal with a plethora of obstacles to work around or through. Corruption being very notable even today."
>Fucking Ukraine government.
"I won't pretend I know what happened with Spiral... And I thank you for reinforcing this. I'm sure I won't be able to accidentally break it by underestimating my strength."
>He gave the stallion a small smile as he ran a gloved hand over one of the barrels.
"My country has only been around for..."
>Ivan paused, looking off to the side, frowning as he struggled to remember.
"... That is distressing. I know Ukraine is free again... but I do not know for how long."
>He sighed and sat back, rubbing his face.
"Почему ты проклял меня, Монолит?"
>He nodded in reply to Helping's comment.
"Indeed it is. Plays on the radio often."
>>370443
>Poking a neat hole in her chosen envelope with the middle claw, then.. shreds it open with the other two, Malyne waves a probably stolen pen in her other set like a wand.
"Hum. Between cost, or acquisition, extensive training, high maintenance, ammunition supplies, ability to carry extras.. it would have been better to equip all humans with range-dependent Elemarental weapons. Rotationals especially. The Hegemony and Crete Minotaurs produce a large variety of large, to gigantic, auto-crossbows and auto-ballistae, often enchanted with older Elemarentals. The biggest one launches a ten ton projectile out to a range of ten kilometers."
>Muzzle quirking briefly as she peruses the letter, the batfilly shrugs with both wings.
"I think. The Crystal Kingdom has more advanced designs like a revolving Permafrost ballistae, improved from Roam examples, which is their favorite siege weapon, though I have heard of much stranger designs from Naliyna. When she cares to think of those times, that is."
>Ears twitching spastically for a second, all you receive is a calm, perfectly straight face.. which definitely wasn't hiding the biggest possible internal grin.
"The only ponies available in the Fortress that could act as a lawyer right now would either be Torven or Nova Flicker, but I do not think they would accept that marely cases. I would not."
>The thicker paper Stalliongradians preferred to use was unusual, but as you put one stack of starkly no-nonsense, real silver-trimmed pages together, the second stack was individual letters, sheer weight quite different.
>At a glance, the first one was an official request in blocky Common Equestrian from a Stalliongrad Watch Guard Master-General by the name of Steelcrest Peaks, demarending that Dante of Razorback Company cease and desist committing any and all internal or external disruptions, past, present, and future alike.
>While the language was stiff and partially hostile, there wasn't any legalese or difficult to translate terms. signed by around two hundred earth ponies of the Watch, mostly on the back.
>The second was similar, except from the Stallionguard Day Watch, a third from the Stallionguard Night Watch, except without names.
>Double checking the wording, they were indeed listed as 'Stallionguard', which wasn't familiar to you.
>From the fourth to the hundredth are similar messages from a great variety of former military splinter groups, mercenary holdings, civil militias, and one from the curiously named Free Trade Association in varying states of mildly annoyed, to threatening banishmarent, all the way to outright illegal acts.
>All of which, you note, were stamped by an older seal and signed with: Golden Break.
>The name wasn't one you knew off hand, though had a tinge of familiarity.
>Opposite from the second were direct listings of exactly twenty Second Dynasty sub-factions, military designations, prior experience, average readiness parameters; then came force strengths, combat capabilities, lastly general task and purpose explanations of each.
>Reading through the individual projections, you come across a number of recently made hard copy reports:
>Current and projected necessary supplies, food, beds, blankets, eight different seasons worth for clothing, weapons, armor, kits, spare components, needed replacemarents in timetables, raw ore estimates, barely refined metals, refined metals, packaged metals, a profoundly staggering list of wood species, raw materials, basic materials, special purpose materials, a variety of fluxes, Bits, currency reserves including those not in use by Rushya or Equestria, thirty grades of gems....
>All stated as either belonging to you or shared in communal pools and reserves, but required either orders with a verified signature and stamp, or an in-person arrival.
>The last were crisp charts detailing accepted inspection hours for each organization and unit, poninel rotations between units, previous commitmarents that are either no longer feasible or unlikely to succeed, except for the final one.
>Which turns out to be a quirky note from an obvious Striker named mare demarending the immediate purchase or hire of all the following: an official ambassador for each country or faction intended to be traded with, at least one lawyer and adjudant for each, sixty Civil Judges, ten Military Judges, two Militia Judges, and, finally, a minimum of twenty specifically noted Crystal Empire hololiths.
>Browsing through Razorback's mail with carefree aplomb, Malyne finally looks up after finishing two small stacks.
"Well?"
>Poking a neat hole in her chosen envelope with the middle claw, then.. shreds it open with the other two, Malyne waves a probably stolen pen in her other set like a wand.
"Hum. Between cost, or acquisition, extensive training, high maintenance, ammunition supplies, ability to carry extras.. it would have been better to equip all humans with range-dependent Elemarental weapons. Rotationals especially. The Hegemony and Crete Minotaurs produce a large variety of large, to gigantic, auto-crossbows and auto-ballistae, often enchanted with older Elemarentals. The biggest one launches a ten ton projectile out to a range of ten kilometers."
>Muzzle quirking briefly as she peruses the letter, the batfilly shrugs with both wings.
"I think. The Crystal Kingdom has more advanced designs like a revolving Permafrost ballistae, improved from Roam examples, which is their favorite siege weapon, though I have heard of much stranger designs from Naliyna. When she cares to think of those times, that is."
>Ears twitching spastically for a second, all you receive is a calm, perfectly straight face.. which definitely wasn't hiding the biggest possible internal grin.
"The only ponies available in the Fortress that could act as a lawyer right now would either be Torven or Nova Flicker, but I do not think they would accept that marely cases. I would not."
>The thicker paper Stalliongradians preferred to use was unusual, but as you put one stack of starkly no-nonsense, real silver-trimmed pages together, the second stack was individual letters, sheer weight quite different.
>At a glance, the first one was an official request in blocky Common Equestrian from a Stalliongrad Watch Guard Master-General by the name of Steelcrest Peaks, demarending that Dante of Razorback Company cease and desist committing any and all internal or external disruptions, past, present, and future alike.
>While the language was stiff and partially hostile, there wasn't any legalese or difficult to translate terms. signed by around two hundred earth ponies of the Watch, mostly on the back.
>The second was similar, except from the Stallionguard Day Watch, a third from the Stallionguard Night Watch, except without names.
>Double checking the wording, they were indeed listed as 'Stallionguard', which wasn't familiar to you.
>From the fourth to the hundredth are similar messages from a great variety of former military splinter groups, mercenary holdings, civil militias, and one from the curiously named Free Trade Association in varying states of mildly annoyed, to threatening banishmarent, all the way to outright illegal acts.
>All of which, you note, were stamped by an older seal and signed with: Golden Break.
>The name wasn't one you knew off hand, though had a tinge of familiarity.
>Opposite from the second were direct listings of exactly twenty Second Dynasty sub-factions, military designations, prior experience, average readiness parameters; then came force strengths, combat capabilities, lastly general task and purpose explanations of each.
>Reading through the individual projections, you come across a number of recently made hard copy reports:
>Current and projected necessary supplies, food, beds, blankets, eight different seasons worth for clothing, weapons, armor, kits, spare components, needed replacemarents in timetables, raw ore estimates, barely refined metals, refined metals, packaged metals, a profoundly staggering list of wood species, raw materials, basic materials, special purpose materials, a variety of fluxes, Bits, currency reserves including those not in use by Rushya or Equestria, thirty grades of gems....
>All stated as either belonging to you or shared in communal pools and reserves, but required either orders with a verified signature and stamp, or an in-person arrival.
>The last were crisp charts detailing accepted inspection hours for each organization and unit, poninel rotations between units, previous commitmarents that are either no longer feasible or unlikely to succeed, except for the final one.
>Which turns out to be a quirky note from an obvious Striker named mare demarending the immediate purchase or hire of all the following: an official ambassador for each country or faction intended to be traded with, at least one lawyer and adjudant for each, sixty Civil Judges, ten Military Judges, two Militia Judges, and, finally, a minimum of twenty specifically noted Crystal Empire hololiths.
>Browsing through Razorback's mail with carefree aplomb, Malyne finally looks up after finishing two small stacks.
"Well?"
>>370448
'Minimal records and data on the Saddle Arabian Circle of Assassins suggest the same. She is hyper-aware of the current situations though will present extreme difficulty in question.. ing...'
>Trailing off at a new window, Shiibo's left index points up at a threat index, comically labeled: HOW BADLY DO YOU WANT TO DIE?
>Which was currently past the 'two elite operative squads will be lost during contact' mark and quickly running out of less subtle threats.. and now was entirely set on 'scorched earth tactics imminent; projected losses: total'.
'That one is.. not mine sir. Katyal does not know Lejura's status.. and must not be told without a complete debriefing to Reservist Hodch. Whom will not be injured, unlike yourself. The prototype's hard simulations display extensive knowledge of how well liked equine nobility are viciously defended to the death. Often, beyond death if they were honorable and respected.'
>Blinking slowly in great pain, the avatar bows at the waist in solemn defeat, then takes up a strict at attention pose.
'Switching all simulations to analyze known factions in search of long term benefits, sir.'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
"Equal work, equal rights. And synthesizing particles in irreplaceable, irreparable pressurized vacuum chambers is an art, not a science. Made do with nothing and less than that most times. This slapped together shit-"
>Scanning his updating display in faint disdain, Lonestar makes a frustrated exhale, pointing at the central space where a quadruple set of bulged, heavily articulated titanium armor plates were present.
"Was the best we had outside of every single ship carrying a quarter the ammo reserves in nuclear shells."
>Shiibo relays the schematic of a rounded, 26-limbed android system connected to the OL-3's major interfaces which, according to her translations, this android was an exceptionally poor imitation of original versions, fairly standard bipedal and quadraped designs, though a number of six-legged ones were once considered common.
>The avatar then confirms Lonestar's faction had such minuscule access to metals, silicon, and other base materials, the production-issue variants were forced to operate ten to twenty times slower.
>At optimal capability, they would outpace an advanced model's raw processing speed yet had far less.. personality, instead relying on brute force logic.
"You saw our code. Nine ships arrived in half-assed messes, last one was filled with intact sleeper modules and saboteurs. They woke, broke contact, dropped pods, then sent everything they couldn't load onto a floating dock straight into the ocean. OmNet lost track at six hundred miles deep.
Never could recover it. We would've had half everything and everyone vital to from Tech Level One to Forty-Nine in five years, then to Fifty-Eight in another ten if we hadn't been royally fucked.
Not a comparison by the way. Who has what that's better and why doesn't matter. Most of us that arrive here get sent from the worst shitholes imaginable."
>Sitting down in front of Katyal's bag, Dul proudly holds up a large, bright green soft-spined shelled... something or other with her left forehoof, the right rummaging about to present a superbly deep blue, almost banana looking fruit.
"Dul is testing! Saddle Arabia food is great gifts for ponies. Want make sure not have bad tock-suns, poi-suns, other bad things if gifts."
>Emulation apparently wasn't anywhere near her best asset..
>Dropping down from the driver's side roof hatch in a crouch, Katyal stands up to pull down, close, and lock it, turning as her eyebrows raise at the sight.
>The First Responder gives a quick, bemused sigh, leaning forwards to pat the Siren's head, whom returns a bright smile.
"Good idea. Ain't about to share my MRE's, they're pretty nasty to ponies, and I'd be real screwed if any of that isn't fresh, only have a few dozen Detox on hand. But yeah, I snagged the best ones on my way out just in case we needed to trade with ponies. Haven't found a mare, stallion, or colt yet that doesn't go nuts for most of these. Fillies excluded, I don't trust them. Take one if you like."
"Dul not eat this Vortex food but Dul learn how taste them."
"Interesting. Does that mean you.. can eat?"
"Yes! Dul Vortex have big not-things like clouds. They make hard stuffs and soft stuffs. It food things, not look like food things here. Sirens not make them, lots busy."
"Different rules, right. I was kind of hoping the Vortex had something like arupai fruit or sauni-kef melons."
"No, Dul Vortex not have those. Dul sorry."
"Don't worry, I just don't want to deal with competition."
>Tossing a smug look at the now confused Siren, Katyal kneels down to push her bag slightly away from Hodch's eclectic collection of war crimes, artifacts, and worse.
>Pulling open the zipper fully, she halts to raise the topaz bracelet up to her left ear.
"....Hodch is awake, somewhat aware, and doesn't want out yet. Says he's coming down from a high sensory overload. Will be ready in a quarter hour at most."
>Taking a short breath and holding it, releasing, then blinking hard, Katyal's head tilts in a distinctly equine, quizzical marener.
"Then he's going to, quote, 'chase down a jie-had-ee and Void-bomb his entire universe'. Reeeaaaaally don't want to know what that means."
*"People, and pony, there's no buckles back there so I'm suggesting you brace. Going to punch straight up to full speed and hope nothing ELSE is missing. Gods I fucking wish ExoTech built these fuckers with anti-grav systems-"*
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <E.Driving: Maximum Speed
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
'Minimal records and data on the Saddle Arabian Circle of Assassins suggest the same. She is hyper-aware of the current situations though will present extreme difficulty in question.. ing...'
>Trailing off at a new window, Shiibo's left index points up at a threat index, comically labeled: HOW BADLY DO YOU WANT TO DIE?
>Which was currently past the 'two elite operative squads will be lost during contact' mark and quickly running out of less subtle threats.. and now was entirely set on 'scorched earth tactics imminent; projected losses: total'.
'That one is.. not mine sir. Katyal does not know Lejura's status.. and must not be told without a complete debriefing to Reservist Hodch. Whom will not be injured, unlike yourself. The prototype's hard simulations display extensive knowledge of how well liked equine nobility are viciously defended to the death. Often, beyond death if they were honorable and respected.'
>Blinking slowly in great pain, the avatar bows at the waist in solemn defeat, then takes up a strict at attention pose.
'Switching all simulations to analyze known factions in search of long term benefits, sir.'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
"Equal work, equal rights. And synthesizing particles in irreplaceable, irreparable pressurized vacuum chambers is an art, not a science. Made do with nothing and less than that most times. This slapped together shit-"
>Scanning his updating display in faint disdain, Lonestar makes a frustrated exhale, pointing at the central space where a quadruple set of bulged, heavily articulated titanium armor plates were present.
"Was the best we had outside of every single ship carrying a quarter the ammo reserves in nuclear shells."
>Shiibo relays the schematic of a rounded, 26-limbed android system connected to the OL-3's major interfaces which, according to her translations, this android was an exceptionally poor imitation of original versions, fairly standard bipedal and quadraped designs, though a number of six-legged ones were once considered common.
>The avatar then confirms Lonestar's faction had such minuscule access to metals, silicon, and other base materials, the production-issue variants were forced to operate ten to twenty times slower.
>At optimal capability, they would outpace an advanced model's raw processing speed yet had far less.. personality, instead relying on brute force logic.
"You saw our code. Nine ships arrived in half-assed messes, last one was filled with intact sleeper modules and saboteurs. They woke, broke contact, dropped pods, then sent everything they couldn't load onto a floating dock straight into the ocean. OmNet lost track at six hundred miles deep.
Never could recover it. We would've had half everything and everyone vital to from Tech Level One to Forty-Nine in five years, then to Fifty-Eight in another ten if we hadn't been royally fucked.
Not a comparison by the way. Who has what that's better and why doesn't matter. Most of us that arrive here get sent from the worst shitholes imaginable."
>Sitting down in front of Katyal's bag, Dul proudly holds up a large, bright green soft-spined shelled... something or other with her left forehoof, the right rummaging about to present a superbly deep blue, almost banana looking fruit.
"Dul is testing! Saddle Arabia food is great gifts for ponies. Want make sure not have bad tock-suns, poi-suns, other bad things if gifts."
>Emulation apparently wasn't anywhere near her best asset..
>Dropping down from the driver's side roof hatch in a crouch, Katyal stands up to pull down, close, and lock it, turning as her eyebrows raise at the sight.
>The First Responder gives a quick, bemused sigh, leaning forwards to pat the Siren's head, whom returns a bright smile.
"Good idea. Ain't about to share my MRE's, they're pretty nasty to ponies, and I'd be real screwed if any of that isn't fresh, only have a few dozen Detox on hand. But yeah, I snagged the best ones on my way out just in case we needed to trade with ponies. Haven't found a mare, stallion, or colt yet that doesn't go nuts for most of these. Fillies excluded, I don't trust them. Take one if you like."
"Dul not eat this Vortex food but Dul learn how taste them."
"Interesting. Does that mean you.. can eat?"
"Yes! Dul Vortex have big not-things like clouds. They make hard stuffs and soft stuffs. It food things, not look like food things here. Sirens not make them, lots busy."
"Different rules, right. I was kind of hoping the Vortex had something like arupai fruit or sauni-kef melons."
"No, Dul Vortex not have those. Dul sorry."
"Don't worry, I just don't want to deal with competition."
>Tossing a smug look at the now confused Siren, Katyal kneels down to push her bag slightly away from Hodch's eclectic collection of war crimes, artifacts, and worse.
>Pulling open the zipper fully, she halts to raise the topaz bracelet up to her left ear.
"....Hodch is awake, somewhat aware, and doesn't want out yet. Says he's coming down from a high sensory overload. Will be ready in a quarter hour at most."
>Taking a short breath and holding it, releasing, then blinking hard, Katyal's head tilts in a distinctly equine, quizzical marener.
"Then he's going to, quote, 'chase down a jie-had-ee and Void-bomb his entire universe'. Reeeaaaaally don't want to know what that means."
*"People, and pony, there's no buckles back there so I'm suggesting you brace. Going to punch straight up to full speed and hope nothing ELSE is missing. Gods I fucking wish ExoTech built these fuckers with anti-grav systems-"*
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <E.Driving: Maximum Speed
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
>>370452
>Reaching her left leg up to knock hoofboot into lance, then doing the same with the right to the siege ram, Naliyna's ears twitch inside the helmet.
*"There's always a few ways around that. Heck, I know two Conclaves that trade crystaltech replacemarents like skin, bones, and organs! ....if for some uncertain inexplicable and unexplainable reasons we might need to necessarily acquire them."*
>Truly, Thrill's mare desperately needed more training on how to subtly approach sensitive topics.
>Although, she does trust you instinctively on account of being one of Razorback's Original 100, and never trying to put more paper or crystalwork on her table, the soul-glyph chimes in.
>Stepping through an ice-scented layer of subreality that barely tingled, a rather homely scene greets you:
>A wide open rectangular room featured ten short, low crystalline tables, the same number of highly comfortable, albeit pony height couches behind each, a selection of fresh Crystal mares, the rather difficult to speak with Imperial variety at that, were seated in various stages of high readiness.
>Most were on standard implacable guard duty, a few relaxing while several pairs were humming to each other, though the barely heard pitched musical notes left the impression of maximum hair-trigger alertness.
>And a rather blatant succint we-don't-give-a-fuck-about-your-problems-unless-you-start-shit-here atmosphere.
>A massive, half-clear bright blue wooden dining table covered in large burls and whorled grain was the room's center piece; at a quick look this example was salvaged from the easternmost Equestrian coastal region of Floerida, known mostly for the abnormally temperamarental crystalline pegasi.
>Encased in a solid, though light, artificial diamond composite, the net value was more than enough to ransom several noble ponies, but was currently in use as little more than a gathering point.
>Amerose, in her archaic robe of course, was sitting in the middle on a single rather simple chair, while opposite her was a starting-to-go-matte jet black earth stallion, steel-green eyes slowly rotating to inspect you.
>There wasn't even a marginal hint of friendliness.
>A bit shorter than most and certainly lacking the typical toughness, stockiness, or absurd strength that Stalliongradians were eugenically improved to feature, Stream Lark was physically plain in your estimation.
>Even at his advanced age, he was worth any four of Razorback's Elites, excluding whichever enchantmarents or Psionic enhancemarents were currently operating in passive or subdued functionality.
>What set him apart, however, was an exceptional memory and potentially hyperactive, unicorn-like mindset, the soul-glyph quietly reveals.
>Coldly and precisely analyzing your weapons, bulges from explosives, the custom drakehide armor, then other visible possessions in spare moments, the elder stallion's head tilts up and lift in a razor thin semblance of greeting, his tone shallow, yet not grating.
"I believe your name, or codename, to be Bubba. You are among the surviving Razorback One Hundred, originally summoned to New Canterlot Palace by Princess Celestia."
>Jaw tightening briefly, Stream Lark's eyes narrow in sincerely dangerous motions while Amerose pours several cups of steaming tea from a crystalline pot.
"There are facets of human nature which are nearly impossible for ponies to rationalize at the best of times, and for that you have me at a severe disadvantage. So far as this situation has shown, there are three options I see.
One, you were deluded into being a mortal enemy to my home city-state of Stalliongrad, and myself in return, by that wretched, blackened pegasi whore's threats. Meaning, you are here to remove me as an existential threat to Razorback Company, but I do not need the protection of these-"
>Slowly turning respect filled eyes onto the Imperial Knights around the room, Lark bows his head as Amerose offers him a tea cup, placing it down in from of him with deliberate slowness.
>Then the Councilierge fixes you with a bittersweet expression, left forehoof lifting to press on his chest, a Seal of the Silverine Empress implanted under his hide produces a thin electromagnetic chime.
"Past and once again present allies, especially given their oaths to aid me in burning out the rot infesting Stalliongrad once and for all. I can defend myself quite well, with or without this."
>While the soul-glyph couldn't define more other than it was preventing him from dying unnaturally, it was a definite original from the Late Dynasty.
>And, one of the few produced ponifally made by Empress Silver.
"Two, you were deluded into being an enemy of Stalliongrad and are here to confirm whether or not I will allow Razorback to continue existing. Had I wanted any of you dead, for any logical reason, a single battleline of the Tower Guard's finest Stormriders and Ironkillers would have sufficed.
Three, none of the above. Again, the advantage is yours."
>Dipping his head in a marginal show of patience, Stream Lark motions the right front hoof at the chairs next to Amerose, the left cradled around his cup.
"I am tired of being screwed over each and every single dawn, day, dusk, and night. However, out of respect for you being a Razorback One Hundred, I will ask you to do as Princess Celestia once asked of me. With a slight change: speak as ponies do. Honestly, fairly, without bias, and swiftly. After all, When Needs Must, and Razorback's needs as of late seem to be great indeed."
>Reaching her left leg up to knock hoofboot into lance, then doing the same with the right to the siege ram, Naliyna's ears twitch inside the helmet.
*"There's always a few ways around that. Heck, I know two Conclaves that trade crystaltech replacemarents like skin, bones, and organs! ....if for some uncertain inexplicable and unexplainable reasons we might need to necessarily acquire them."*
>Truly, Thrill's mare desperately needed more training on how to subtly approach sensitive topics.
>Although, she does trust you instinctively on account of being one of Razorback's Original 100, and never trying to put more paper or crystalwork on her table, the soul-glyph chimes in.
>Stepping through an ice-scented layer of subreality that barely tingled, a rather homely scene greets you:
>A wide open rectangular room featured ten short, low crystalline tables, the same number of highly comfortable, albeit pony height couches behind each, a selection of fresh Crystal mares, the rather difficult to speak with Imperial variety at that, were seated in various stages of high readiness.
>Most were on standard implacable guard duty, a few relaxing while several pairs were humming to each other, though the barely heard pitched musical notes left the impression of maximum hair-trigger alertness.
>And a rather blatant succint we-don't-give-a-fuck-about-your-problems-unless-you-start-shit-here atmosphere.
>A massive, half-clear bright blue wooden dining table covered in large burls and whorled grain was the room's center piece; at a quick look this example was salvaged from the easternmost Equestrian coastal region of Floerida, known mostly for the abnormally temperamarental crystalline pegasi.
>Encased in a solid, though light, artificial diamond composite, the net value was more than enough to ransom several noble ponies, but was currently in use as little more than a gathering point.
>Amerose, in her archaic robe of course, was sitting in the middle on a single rather simple chair, while opposite her was a starting-to-go-matte jet black earth stallion, steel-green eyes slowly rotating to inspect you.
>There wasn't even a marginal hint of friendliness.
>A bit shorter than most and certainly lacking the typical toughness, stockiness, or absurd strength that Stalliongradians were eugenically improved to feature, Stream Lark was physically plain in your estimation.
>Even at his advanced age, he was worth any four of Razorback's Elites, excluding whichever enchantmarents or Psionic enhancemarents were currently operating in passive or subdued functionality.
>What set him apart, however, was an exceptional memory and potentially hyperactive, unicorn-like mindset, the soul-glyph quietly reveals.
>Coldly and precisely analyzing your weapons, bulges from explosives, the custom drakehide armor, then other visible possessions in spare moments, the elder stallion's head tilts up and lift in a razor thin semblance of greeting, his tone shallow, yet not grating.
"I believe your name, or codename, to be Bubba. You are among the surviving Razorback One Hundred, originally summoned to New Canterlot Palace by Princess Celestia."
>Jaw tightening briefly, Stream Lark's eyes narrow in sincerely dangerous motions while Amerose pours several cups of steaming tea from a crystalline pot.
"There are facets of human nature which are nearly impossible for ponies to rationalize at the best of times, and for that you have me at a severe disadvantage. So far as this situation has shown, there are three options I see.
One, you were deluded into being a mortal enemy to my home city-state of Stalliongrad, and myself in return, by that wretched, blackened pegasi whore's threats. Meaning, you are here to remove me as an existential threat to Razorback Company, but I do not need the protection of these-"
>Slowly turning respect filled eyes onto the Imperial Knights around the room, Lark bows his head as Amerose offers him a tea cup, placing it down in from of him with deliberate slowness.
>Then the Councilierge fixes you with a bittersweet expression, left forehoof lifting to press on his chest, a Seal of the Silverine Empress implanted under his hide produces a thin electromagnetic chime.
"Past and once again present allies, especially given their oaths to aid me in burning out the rot infesting Stalliongrad once and for all. I can defend myself quite well, with or without this."
>While the soul-glyph couldn't define more other than it was preventing him from dying unnaturally, it was a definite original from the Late Dynasty.
>And, one of the few produced ponifally made by Empress Silver.
"Two, you were deluded into being an enemy of Stalliongrad and are here to confirm whether or not I will allow Razorback to continue existing. Had I wanted any of you dead, for any logical reason, a single battleline of the Tower Guard's finest Stormriders and Ironkillers would have sufficed.
Three, none of the above. Again, the advantage is yours."
>Dipping his head in a marginal show of patience, Stream Lark motions the right front hoof at the chairs next to Amerose, the left cradled around his cup.
"I am tired of being screwed over each and every single dawn, day, dusk, and night. However, out of respect for you being a Razorback One Hundred, I will ask you to do as Princess Celestia once asked of me. With a slight change: speak as ponies do. Honestly, fairly, without bias, and swiftly. After all, When Needs Must, and Razorback's needs as of late seem to be great indeed."
>>370453
>Exhaling upwards at the intense coldstone above his furnace, Krinza's left forehoof raises, pressing into his snout.
"I cannot accept that, Ivan. In the brief time I have known the many humans of Razorback, the majority of sincere complaints about their home worlds have the exact same problem: bureaucracy.
Even at the worst of times there is not a single pony bureaucrat whom would dare suggest making 'cheaper' protective armors, 'lighter' lethal weaponry, or substandard kit. Stating such is considered a widely accepted form of suicide-via-stupidity.
By that I mean that when, not if, a pony or ponies succeeds in killing those whom dare make such suggestions are automatically represented by lawyers which defend their actions by stating they have done so to protect others.
Ponies are never charged with murder when found to be acting in the defensive interest of others, species does not matter. Numerous decrees of law state performing such is an honorable, if sometimes unenviable task. No matter how high ranked the bureaucrat, noble, or other may have been in life, there is no legal recourse of protection against the consequences of their actions."
>Giving a faintly sinister glance towards the Workshop's front door, Krinza turns back to study the M134's modifications once more with a politely dismissive tone.
"By no means am I a master in modifying and adapting human weapons, nor do I have my own comprehensive or foundational knowledge. If I did not have Spiral's initially eager and in-depth research combined with Inquisitor Flash's.. uniquely advanced knowledges, modifying one like this is still difficult. I am merely copying, not improving. Still, I thank you nonetheless.
Hm. Trying to recall a schematic that Miss Flash showed once. I believe it was a form of heavy six, possibly eight-barreled assault cannon..."
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>Helping Hoof's eyebrows quirk in an earth pony expression of contemplation, speaking in an interested tone.
"Mainland Equestria has functionally existed for less than five thousand years although what is now called the Crystal Empire is eight to nine millennia old. Old Canterlot is not the actual name of the first true Solar faction City-State, yet it lasted one-thousand eight-hundred years or so, ending at the Lunar-Solar War. New Canterlot was built atop Canterlot Village which was slightly under, or over depending on whom you ask, a thousand years.
The majority of that time was spent by traveling herds of varying sizes that traded, shared, or competed for territory, resources, and mating rights.
Those are highly simplified explanations which likely could not apply to your world, and they are not necessarily 'good' in nature."
>As the big unicorn peers into Krinza's furnace, you have to wonder how smiths don't go blind here.
"I have a serious question a few have warned me against asking, but do not feel as if you must answer. Would you return to your homeworld with all the knowledge you know?
For myself.. I do not know. Humans are uniquely fragile in manners that I did conceive to be possible. It is painful to know the vast majority are forced to make best use of cheaply made weapons and may rarely if ever have the comforting protection of good armor."
>Glancing out to eye one of the unclaimed radios spread across the central tables, the awkward unicorn's muzzle quirks humorously.
"A large portion of human music is quite impressive, a fact that Luna's Villagers, Crystal, and batponies enjoy. That does exclude the raucously energetic electro-disco a certain green eyed human mare plays nonstop."
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Eidetic Fundamentals
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>Exhaling upwards at the intense coldstone above his furnace, Krinza's left forehoof raises, pressing into his snout.
"I cannot accept that, Ivan. In the brief time I have known the many humans of Razorback, the majority of sincere complaints about their home worlds have the exact same problem: bureaucracy.
Even at the worst of times there is not a single pony bureaucrat whom would dare suggest making 'cheaper' protective armors, 'lighter' lethal weaponry, or substandard kit. Stating such is considered a widely accepted form of suicide-via-stupidity.
By that I mean that when, not if, a pony or ponies succeeds in killing those whom dare make such suggestions are automatically represented by lawyers which defend their actions by stating they have done so to protect others.
Ponies are never charged with murder when found to be acting in the defensive interest of others, species does not matter. Numerous decrees of law state performing such is an honorable, if sometimes unenviable task. No matter how high ranked the bureaucrat, noble, or other may have been in life, there is no legal recourse of protection against the consequences of their actions."
>Giving a faintly sinister glance towards the Workshop's front door, Krinza turns back to study the M134's modifications once more with a politely dismissive tone.
"By no means am I a master in modifying and adapting human weapons, nor do I have my own comprehensive or foundational knowledge. If I did not have Spiral's initially eager and in-depth research combined with Inquisitor Flash's.. uniquely advanced knowledges, modifying one like this is still difficult. I am merely copying, not improving. Still, I thank you nonetheless.
Hm. Trying to recall a schematic that Miss Flash showed once. I believe it was a form of heavy six, possibly eight-barreled assault cannon..."
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <M.Research
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>Helping Hoof's eyebrows quirk in an earth pony expression of contemplation, speaking in an interested tone.
"Mainland Equestria has functionally existed for less than five thousand years although what is now called the Crystal Empire is eight to nine millennia old. Old Canterlot is not the actual name of the first true Solar faction City-State, yet it lasted one-thousand eight-hundred years or so, ending at the Lunar-Solar War. New Canterlot was built atop Canterlot Village which was slightly under, or over depending on whom you ask, a thousand years.
The majority of that time was spent by traveling herds of varying sizes that traded, shared, or competed for territory, resources, and mating rights.
Those are highly simplified explanations which likely could not apply to your world, and they are not necessarily 'good' in nature."
>As the big unicorn peers into Krinza's furnace, you have to wonder how smiths don't go blind here.
"I have a serious question a few have warned me against asking, but do not feel as if you must answer. Would you return to your homeworld with all the knowledge you know?
For myself.. I do not know. Humans are uniquely fragile in manners that I did conceive to be possible. It is painful to know the vast majority are forced to make best use of cheaply made weapons and may rarely if ever have the comforting protection of good armor."
>Glancing out to eye one of the unclaimed radios spread across the central tables, the awkward unicorn's muzzle quirks humorously.
"A large portion of human music is quite impressive, a fact that Luna's Villagers, Crystal, and batponies enjoy. That does exclude the raucously energetic electro-disco a certain green eyed human mare plays nonstop."
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <Eidetic Fundamentals
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <E.Research
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>>370473
"Unfortunately it seems that most human worlds stew in the same sort of money saving cowards who do not have actual experience fighting in the wars they promote. Though if it is cheaper but yields the same protection, lighter but is just as effective, that is not necessarily something to stamp out."
>He pressed his lips together.
"Zone mechanics do not cheapen out on resources to modify and lighten equipment, it is both not only foolish to do so, but also a quick one way trip into a Witches' Jelly. Foot first."
>Though... One never attempted to fuck over a brother before. We had a greater du-
>"Enough of that."
"If only the governments followed a similar morality of your own."
>After going through a few files, Ivan's face relaxed a bit as he grumbled incoherently.
"Ukraine had only been a proper country again for about twenty years, once the USSR dissolved."
>He stared at Helping Hoof intently, silently rolling that question over in his head.
"To my home country? No. I would stay here even if ordered to leave."
>He closed his eyes and hesitated for a moment, before sighing.
"But to the Zone? Yes. She... calls for me, every day. Some more loudly than others."
>He looked a bit.. haunted?
"All STALKERs experience the Siren's call of the Zone, and all eventually return. We cannot exactly forget our experiences... And it is somehow comforting to be back there, despite the dangers around every corner. Even knowing that death may come for you at a moment's notice from any source of danger."
>Ivan let out an amused chuckle.
"Yeah.. Humans are fragile, but at the same time any serious injury that would put one of the animals back home, we can 'walk off' those injuries and heal to something close to full health, even in a survival aspect. We have evidence that our closest ancestors cared for the wounded and the lame even as they would be considered a burden on the tribe."
"Unfortunately it seems that most human worlds stew in the same sort of money saving cowards who do not have actual experience fighting in the wars they promote. Though if it is cheaper but yields the same protection, lighter but is just as effective, that is not necessarily something to stamp out."
>He pressed his lips together.
"Zone mechanics do not cheapen out on resources to modify and lighten equipment, it is both not only foolish to do so, but also a quick one way trip into a Witches' Jelly. Foot first."
>Though... One never attempted to fuck over a brother before. We had a greater du-
>"Enough of that."
"If only the governments followed a similar morality of your own."
>After going through a few files, Ivan's face relaxed a bit as he grumbled incoherently.
"Ukraine had only been a proper country again for about twenty years, once the USSR dissolved."
>He stared at Helping Hoof intently, silently rolling that question over in his head.
"To my home country? No. I would stay here even if ordered to leave."
>He closed his eyes and hesitated for a moment, before sighing.
"But to the Zone? Yes. She... calls for me, every day. Some more loudly than others."
>He looked a bit.. haunted?
"All STALKERs experience the Siren's call of the Zone, and all eventually return. We cannot exactly forget our experiences... And it is somehow comforting to be back there, despite the dangers around every corner. Even knowing that death may come for you at a moment's notice from any source of danger."
>Ivan let out an amused chuckle.
"Yeah.. Humans are fragile, but at the same time any serious injury that would put one of the animals back home, we can 'walk off' those injuries and heal to something close to full health, even in a survival aspect. We have evidence that our closest ancestors cared for the wounded and the lame even as they would be considered a burden on the tribe."
>>370470
>He would just give her a look that said 'really?' as she rambled a little.
"If at all possible, there will be no need for such a thing."
>He'd mention to her about learning how to be tactful later, now is not the time for such a lecture.
>Taking a look around, he'd quirk an eyebrow at the room's appearance.
>For such a rage filled emotion, it certainly was cushy.
>Bubba would return the analyzing stare of Lark, showing that while he was armed well, nothing was currently in his hands, presenting as tensely neutral for the time being.
>He would listen to Lark's statements, eyes flicking to each of the Crystal ponies occupying the room with them.
>Briefly nodding at the start when his name was mentioned.
"I came here to begin undoing the damage that we had allowed that bitch to sow in Razorback, that may start by talking with you."
>He motioned to the table with a hand, quirking an eyebrow.
"If you'd allow us to do so."
>He would just give her a look that said 'really?' as she rambled a little.
"If at all possible, there will be no need for such a thing."
>He'd mention to her about learning how to be tactful later, now is not the time for such a lecture.
>Taking a look around, he'd quirk an eyebrow at the room's appearance.
>For such a rage filled emotion, it certainly was cushy.
>Bubba would return the analyzing stare of Lark, showing that while he was armed well, nothing was currently in his hands, presenting as tensely neutral for the time being.
>He would listen to Lark's statements, eyes flicking to each of the Crystal ponies occupying the room with them.
>Briefly nodding at the start when his name was mentioned.
"I came here to begin undoing the damage that we had allowed that bitch to sow in Razorback, that may start by talking with you."
>He motioned to the table with a hand, quirking an eyebrow.
"If you'd allow us to do so."
>>370478
>Head dipping to rub his snout with a soot-covered hoof, the chunky unicorn allows a brief, compensatory nod.
"I am painfilly aware of how limited assets work. Despite the xenophobia and often hatred I endured, my time in Gryphon Vale taught a great deal of technical subtleties, especially in devising better armor and weaponry with less materials, but they do not compare.
As of the prior two weeks I have, with the proper materials and enough time to compensate for modifications, been able to barely fit five humans up to standard Lunar Guard armor and weapon ratings each night. I no longer have any free time, yet I am still well over two weeks behind schedule.
If I were to have at least four hours a night for studies and composite testing, as Spiral granted me, and an assistant, I could be far more useful."
>Ears flicking in what you took to be derogatory patterns, the Grandmaster smith takes on a strangely sharp expression, one more in common with hunters facing an unexpectedly difficult predator.
"Equine morality is founded on the basis of what is good for all, not what could be acceptable for the few. To be part of communalism means both to give, share, and receive in equal value. It is a concept that most Razorback have a great deal of empathy towards despite minor ideological grumbles, which I often find amusing. Still..."
>Turning his focus back to you, Krinza speaks above his normal tone for Helping Hoof to hear.
"Excuse me for a while. Helping, I will be out for twenty minutes, possible thirty. Several notices were posted tonight, particularly materials that I am now in desperate need of."
>Phasing apart in a streak of yellow, black and red tinges dissipate, showing he was indeed in a great hurry.
"That I understand, although-"
>Briefly nodding at the departing smith, Helping's eyebrows furrow together as he leans forwards.
"Sounds familiar.. hm. It is. Among nearly all other topics he enjoyed, Spiral had been actively researching batponies located across accessible Moors regions. Specifically near Scars, Tears, Pools, and other highly illogical anomalous fields of activity. Not all were Eldritch created or caused, some were Lunar-corrupted, Solar-tainted, or both.
He spoke of several team records during alchemy courses. Numerous individuals claimed it impossible to leave for longer than a night before a 'calling' occurred, one which spoke to their soul. Often it begs, pleads, or, rarely, demarends them to return.
It was claimed some, with varying amounts of proof, could not sleep, dream, or fully live their lives when visiting elsewhere. Several notable cases were those that became catatonic, or worse highly aggressive, after prolonged absence.
Exposure to food, scents, materials, and objects they knew helped to a certain extent, but did not provoke recovery. They could only recover after being physically taken to the Moors."
>Swiveling towards you, the freakishly big unicorn takes on a highly concerned, studious face for a few seconds.
"I suspect you are experiencing similar effects and pronounced difficulties. That is a bit too similar to be a mere difference.
Unfortunately I do not think I can aid you, my studies are focused on alchemy and elemarent transmutation."
>Reaching in to snag the white-hot titanium spool, the abnormally large unicorn begins fashioning two wide, flattened wire sections, melding the ends together in elongated ovals while testing for maximum flexibility, a vaguely bitter subtone edging into his voice.
"The same occurs in nearly all sapients across Tallus archaeological records. Even the native Gryphons did such.. to a small extent. "
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <E.Eidetic Fundamarentals
>Head dipping to rub his snout with a soot-covered hoof, the chunky unicorn allows a brief, compensatory nod.
"I am painfilly aware of how limited assets work. Despite the xenophobia and often hatred I endured, my time in Gryphon Vale taught a great deal of technical subtleties, especially in devising better armor and weaponry with less materials, but they do not compare.
As of the prior two weeks I have, with the proper materials and enough time to compensate for modifications, been able to barely fit five humans up to standard Lunar Guard armor and weapon ratings each night. I no longer have any free time, yet I am still well over two weeks behind schedule.
If I were to have at least four hours a night for studies and composite testing, as Spiral granted me, and an assistant, I could be far more useful."
>Ears flicking in what you took to be derogatory patterns, the Grandmaster smith takes on a strangely sharp expression, one more in common with hunters facing an unexpectedly difficult predator.
"Equine morality is founded on the basis of what is good for all, not what could be acceptable for the few. To be part of communalism means both to give, share, and receive in equal value. It is a concept that most Razorback have a great deal of empathy towards despite minor ideological grumbles, which I often find amusing. Still..."
>Turning his focus back to you, Krinza speaks above his normal tone for Helping Hoof to hear.
"Excuse me for a while. Helping, I will be out for twenty minutes, possible thirty. Several notices were posted tonight, particularly materials that I am now in desperate need of."
>Phasing apart in a streak of yellow, black and red tinges dissipate, showing he was indeed in a great hurry.
"That I understand, although-"
>Briefly nodding at the departing smith, Helping's eyebrows furrow together as he leans forwards.
"Sounds familiar.. hm. It is. Among nearly all other topics he enjoyed, Spiral had been actively researching batponies located across accessible Moors regions. Specifically near Scars, Tears, Pools, and other highly illogical anomalous fields of activity. Not all were Eldritch created or caused, some were Lunar-corrupted, Solar-tainted, or both.
He spoke of several team records during alchemy courses. Numerous individuals claimed it impossible to leave for longer than a night before a 'calling' occurred, one which spoke to their soul. Often it begs, pleads, or, rarely, demarends them to return.
It was claimed some, with varying amounts of proof, could not sleep, dream, or fully live their lives when visiting elsewhere. Several notable cases were those that became catatonic, or worse highly aggressive, after prolonged absence.
Exposure to food, scents, materials, and objects they knew helped to a certain extent, but did not provoke recovery. They could only recover after being physically taken to the Moors."
>Swiveling towards you, the freakishly big unicorn takes on a highly concerned, studious face for a few seconds.
"I suspect you are experiencing similar effects and pronounced difficulties. That is a bit too similar to be a mere difference.
Unfortunately I do not think I can aid you, my studies are focused on alchemy and elemarent transmutation."
>Reaching in to snag the white-hot titanium spool, the abnormally large unicorn begins fashioning two wide, flattened wire sections, melding the ends together in elongated ovals while testing for maximum flexibility, a vaguely bitter subtone edging into his voice.
"The same occurs in nearly all sapients across Tallus archaeological records. Even the native Gryphons did such.. to a small extent. "
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <E.Eidetic Fundamarentals
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 6 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjDGv4FambQ
>>370133
>Thunking hard clad kittyboots down onto firm stone with ease and ducking left into a run, you race towards the unfamiliar relay, anticipating tangible resistance yet encountering none from bodies, hulls, and worse.
>Close to reaching maximum speed, instinct alone compels you to slam all four hooves down into a hard right-leaning skid, quartets of claws snapping out to catch firm, barely resisting stone.
>Sliding sideways into an acceptable ground racing drift, it took less than five seconds to reach the stainless steel box, and, leaning over it to quickly recall Mercy's instructions, delicately poke the hard metal buttons in the sequence she gave.
>Yellow, red, white, then finishing with the green, all the lights across the top cease, as does a background hum from inside the box.
>Having no other task to perform, your attention is drawn to the gigantic pair tilting upwards, towards the gateway, then at Mercy-
>The entire scene is wiped away.
>No Constructs or Moor cats.
>No more debris, blood, weapons, shards, gore, or flashing kanpri.
>All that remained was the colossal pair of Constructs, a single much larger Repair Model, a potentially square gateway, and Mercy raining Tartarus on the last.
>It was more a simulation undergoing an extreme stress-test.
>One that had JUST been disrupted.
>The Spirit Walker's tactics had switched, tearing into and out of Void spectrums in pseudo-predictable patterns: the less often the massive Repair model acted, the harder Mercy tore into nearby locations, striking when occupied.
>After each appearance in realtime, shards of pink-encrusted orange debris spreads across the roof underneath, cackling in midflight with more sincere joy than than was normal.. for any equine you knew.
>In Hegemonic Minotaur, which you recognized but had no understanding of.
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <E.Assault
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <B.Ambush: Assault
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 4] <Spectrum Dive: Polarity Shift
>While Mercy's blades continue shredding chunks off the gateway's upper sections in poorly timed patterns, she was causing enough havoc that the massive Repair model was forced to ignore her efforts.
>Leaving the whip-covered spheres to degenerate, it shifts to producing extensions across the barely quarter-finished gate that hadn't been damaged yet, tightly packed nanolathe systems solidifying orange pseudo-matter in smooth sheets rather than individual components.
[1d6 = 3] <Gateway Progress
Large Rift Gate: 28% Complete?
>Turning at the same time to target the gateway, the pair lift upwards from gravity-nullifying systems, slowly drifting backwards.
>A loud, shrill chime from the paired Constructs ring aloud while a thoroughly unexpected voice cuts in, muted and distant.
('SUNNY, MERCY, FUCK OFF OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW! THAT GATEWAY ISN'T ONE WE'VE D-')
>Vestal Gardenia's warning shriek is immediately scrambled by ALL of the paired Argus-Behemoth Destroyer weapons activating.
>Previously stationary, large turrets of two, three, six, and eight--barreled configurations snap upright, glowing red in preheat, at the same time large hatches across the hull slam open, exposing a staggering variety of missile types, the most common a sickly brown plasma while a stern, ancient male-female double-toned voice speaks aloud:
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
"Preparations of self-other-each-known."
>Multiple pods across the top and sides split open to reveal dozens of spherical, conical, and hexagon canisters, which you did not recognize, then rows of single-barrel turrets lit up by pulsing, shallow green internal power sources, a rather new Construct laser system.
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
"To our destruction-failure-loss-death we expect these factors."
>Worse yet were high pitched whines from six equinedistant pairs of large triangular spikes on the upper hull, orange pseudo-lightning sparking from armored turrets to tips, followed by hexagonal units covered entirely by rippling hot blue cones; older, well understood gravity projectors.
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19]
"In warning-enlightening-provoking-stimulating-sharing sacrifices those not of home-sanctuary-production-falsehood from we-our-us Rift declare."
>Extruding from every single space that did not have a weapon, turret, or emplacement, well over a hundred batteries of tightly packed square barrels clamp onto hull, which you recognize as ancient, well recorded anti-air systems, one with poor effectiveness against aerial targets yet could inflict extensive spalling.
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
"This pair grants-allows-shares-describes the Common Equestrian words-junctions-phrases-epithets to the winged pair within target-location-current on Tallus/"
>Honeycomb lattices of orange ripple across weapons and hull alike, then, on the equator of each, a pair of 5M wide, needle-covered cylinders protrude outwards, stopping at 30M in length, then bend forwards at a 90-degree angle, becoming an anachronistic suite of pile-bunkers, reality distorting around the unusual systems.
[1d6+26 = (1+26) = 27]
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-wanted-as-one desire-need-demarend-seek MUST prevent-destroy-ravage-RUIN all Seekers of our Rift!"
>Fractal anti-matter disruption weapons, except vastly larger than those produced by most ponies, you recognize.
>In recent memory, the one time ponies were granted rights to deploy such abominable, banned weapons was to combat an extreme threat in Kenfield Pass.
>And had never been allowed use against Constructs.
"LEAVE THIS BATTLEFIELD, WHITE PEGASI OF TALLUS, THIS HONOR IS OURS. IMPEDE NOT THE GATE-OF-VENGEANCE IN DESTROYING OUR TARGETED SEEKER-OF-RIFTS!"
[1d6 = 6]
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 6 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjDGv4FambQ
>>370133
>Thunking hard clad kittyboots down onto firm stone with ease and ducking left into a run, you race towards the unfamiliar relay, anticipating tangible resistance yet encountering none from bodies, hulls, and worse.
>Close to reaching maximum speed, instinct alone compels you to slam all four hooves down into a hard right-leaning skid, quartets of claws snapping out to catch firm, barely resisting stone.
>Sliding sideways into an acceptable ground racing drift, it took less than five seconds to reach the stainless steel box, and, leaning over it to quickly recall Mercy's instructions, delicately poke the hard metal buttons in the sequence she gave.
>Yellow, red, white, then finishing with the green, all the lights across the top cease, as does a background hum from inside the box.
>Having no other task to perform, your attention is drawn to the gigantic pair tilting upwards, towards the gateway, then at Mercy-
>The entire scene is wiped away.
>No Constructs or Moor cats.
>No more debris, blood, weapons, shards, gore, or flashing kanpri.
>All that remained was the colossal pair of Constructs, a single much larger Repair Model, a potentially square gateway, and Mercy raining Tartarus on the last.
>It was more a simulation undergoing an extreme stress-test.
>One that had JUST been disrupted.
>The Spirit Walker's tactics had switched, tearing into and out of Void spectrums in pseudo-predictable patterns: the less often the massive Repair model acted, the harder Mercy tore into nearby locations, striking when occupied.
>After each appearance in realtime, shards of pink-encrusted orange debris spreads across the roof underneath, cackling in midflight with more sincere joy than than was normal.. for any equine you knew.
>In Hegemonic Minotaur, which you recognized but had no understanding of.
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <B.Pegasi Heavy Weapons: Construct Particle Whips
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <E.Assault
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <B.Ambush: Assault
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <E.Flight
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 4] <Spectrum Dive: Polarity Shift
>While Mercy's blades continue shredding chunks off the gateway's upper sections in poorly timed patterns, she was causing enough havoc that the massive Repair model was forced to ignore her efforts.
>Leaving the whip-covered spheres to degenerate, it shifts to producing extensions across the barely quarter-finished gate that hadn't been damaged yet, tightly packed nanolathe systems solidifying orange pseudo-matter in smooth sheets rather than individual components.
[1d6 = 3] <Gateway Progress
Large Rift Gate: 28% Complete?
>Turning at the same time to target the gateway, the pair lift upwards from gravity-nullifying systems, slowly drifting backwards.
>A loud, shrill chime from the paired Constructs ring aloud while a thoroughly unexpected voice cuts in, muted and distant.
('SUNNY, MERCY, FUCK OFF OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW! THAT GATEWAY ISN'T ONE WE'VE D-')
>Vestal Gardenia's warning shriek is immediately scrambled by ALL of the paired Argus-Behemoth Destroyer weapons activating.
>Previously stationary, large turrets of two, three, six, and eight--barreled configurations snap upright, glowing red in preheat, at the same time large hatches across the hull slam open, exposing a staggering variety of missile types, the most common a sickly brown plasma while a stern, ancient male-female double-toned voice speaks aloud:
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
"Preparations of self-other-each-known."
>Multiple pods across the top and sides split open to reveal dozens of spherical, conical, and hexagon canisters, which you did not recognize, then rows of single-barrel turrets lit up by pulsing, shallow green internal power sources, a rather new Construct laser system.
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
"To our destruction-failure-loss-death we expect these factors."
>Worse yet were high pitched whines from six equinedistant pairs of large triangular spikes on the upper hull, orange pseudo-lightning sparking from armored turrets to tips, followed by hexagonal units covered entirely by rippling hot blue cones; older, well understood gravity projectors.
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19]
"In warning-enlightening-provoking-stimulating-sharing sacrifices those not of home-sanctuary-production-falsehood from we-our-us Rift declare."
>Extruding from every single space that did not have a weapon, turret, or emplacement, well over a hundred batteries of tightly packed square barrels clamp onto hull, which you recognize as ancient, well recorded anti-air systems, one with poor effectiveness against aerial targets yet could inflict extensive spalling.
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26]
"This pair grants-allows-shares-describes the Common Equestrian words-junctions-phrases-epithets to the winged pair within target-location-current on Tallus/"
>Honeycomb lattices of orange ripple across weapons and hull alike, then, on the equator of each, a pair of 5M wide, needle-covered cylinders protrude outwards, stopping at 30M in length, then bend forwards at a 90-degree angle, becoming an anachronistic suite of pile-bunkers, reality distorting around the unusual systems.
[1d6+26 = (1+26) = 27]
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-wanted-as-one desire-need-demarend-seek MUST prevent-destroy-ravage-RUIN all Seekers of our Rift!"
>Fractal anti-matter disruption weapons, except vastly larger than those produced by most ponies, you recognize.
>In recent memory, the one time ponies were granted rights to deploy such abominable, banned weapons was to combat an extreme threat in Kenfield Pass.
>And had never been allowed use against Constructs.
"LEAVE THIS BATTLEFIELD, WHITE PEGASI OF TALLUS, THIS HONOR IS OURS. IMPEDE NOT THE GATE-OF-VENGEANCE IN DESTROYING OUR TARGETED SEEKER-OF-RIFTS!"
[1d6 = 6]
>>370143
>The previously silent Councilierge turns, a pair of hostile pseudo-hands slamming atop your shoulders and dragging your eyes down to meet hers, shrieking in sincere umbrage.
"PULL YOUR BRAIN TOGETHER HUMAN! SINCE WHERE YOU WERE A FUCKING ROOKIE SHITTING YOUR PANTS IN FEAR AT THE UNKNOWN?!"
>Throwing you back up to a loose standing position, Vestal Gardenia spins around to face south, left forehoof raising to point at the pair of Tainted struggling to pass their leader, Broken Hoof marenaging to hang onto it's snout, but only barely.
"LOOK AT THEM! I CAN'T EVEN TAKE ON ONE! THAT'S RIGHT, NOT EVEN ME, THE PRIMAL PSION FIVE TIMES MORE DESTRUCTIVE THAN THE MURDER-SUITS YOU WERE AFRAID OF ON YOUR OWN WORLD! NOW IF YOU DON'T POUR EVERY IOTA INTO TAKING OUT A FEW TAINTED THEN YOU OUGHTA PUT THAT SPIKER'S BARREL AGAINST YOUR HEAD AND PULL THE TRIGGER BECAUSE NEITHER OF US HAS TIME TO WASTE!"
>Shaking herself out of the fugue and cutting the overherd's connection, Vestal springs forwards into a dead-set run, howling at all the ponies before her.
"LANCERS, HOLD THOSE THREE TAINTED WHERE THEY ARE, DON'T LET THEM GAIN EVEN A HOOF'S WORTH OF GROUND! CHARGERS, TAKE THE STAIRS AND JUMP ONTO EVERY TAINTED CLOSE TO THE ROOFTOPS, DRAG THEM DOWN SCREAMING!"
>Shouting to her left at the Watch Guard Master-General dumbly watching, hostile flares of Spectral blue roll forwards from the Primal Psion, emitting a booming thundercrack of realspace being opened to raw electromagnetic enery.
"FOR THE SAKE OF EVERY FOAL, FILLY, AND COLT THAT HAS YET TO EXPERIENCE A LIFE WE NEVER COULD, WE DIE IN GLORY THIS BLOOD-DRENCHED NIGHT!"
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+32 = (4+32) = 36]
[1d6+32 = (5+32) = 37]
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Lunge
[1d6+22 = (3+22) = 25] <GM.Charge
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27]
[1d6+22 = (1+22) = 23]
>Stilled for a half-second, the unnamed mare's silverine helmet snaps upright, hot green-blue blazing from diamondine eyeslits, then jerks forwards into a four-point run as she screams in fury, the ranks of Chargers and Lancers hastily tightening to create a path for her.
"MAKE A FUCKING PATH FOR ONE DAUGHTER OF HER GRAND MAJESTY, EMPRESS SILVER SWIRL FROM AN OTHERWORLD! ETHEREAL, DIE IN SHAME OR JUST DIE!"
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31] <GM.Primal Psoin: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+29 = (3+29) = 32]
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31]
[1d6+29 = (4+29) = 33]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27] <Lunge
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <GM.Charge
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25]
[1d6+21 = (1+21) = 22]
[1d6+21 = (2+21) = 23]
>Storming ahead of the Lancer and Charger ranks filling in gaps, the Minor Golem bounds left in a high stance, then right, axe swinging in medium to large overhead circles, cleave apart those Spectral Lances it was able to reach in time, then near-hurling the shield overhead to protect those ponies it could, crystalline material shrieking in protest at the pseudo-weapons attempting to tear through it.
"THEN DELIVER THIS UNIT FORWARDS TO DELAY OR IMPEDE LONG RANGED COMBATANTS! THIS UNIT'S CAPABILITIES ARE BEST AT ATTACKING, NOT DEFENDING!"
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] >Protocol: Destroy Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Protocol: Deflect Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15]
>Somehow hanging onto the Lunar Assault Tainted's snout, Broken Hoof's jaw clamps onto the undefinable half-matter, rapidly shaking her head like a Warguard hound ripping apart an unarmored target while the leader exhales a raging swirl of hostile tainted energy.
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16] <M.Assault
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 5] <Anti
[1d6 = 1] <Bane
>vs:
[1d20+40 = (2+40) = 42] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 133,775 of 285,678 Morale
>Contained, yet nowhere near controlled, the pair of Tainted pinned against the Basin Village's southern buildings stomp outwards, left one with her right forehoof, right one with her left forehoof, against the disorganized Lancers halfway pinning them in place and towards the unexpected Chargers drowning them in sheer numbers, a bitter resemblance of anger creasing their massive faces.
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
>vs:
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <First Lancer Charge x 140 total
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Second Lancer Charge x 100 total
>Scaling atop, around, across, and partially through the three Lunar Assault Tainted, Chargers from the Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard rend deeply into their targets, silent fury guiding their actions.
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <First Charger Wave x 200 total
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <Second Charger Wave x 100 total
>Perfectly aware of their size and height, the stuck outer pair snap their heads forwards, rows upon rows of lance-like teeth shearing into the second line of Chargers leaping atop shoulders, saddles, and rears of Lancers being forced back.
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Soulburn
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 168.969 of 285,678 Morale
>Taking control of the overherd, a mid-50's Watch Guard Striker Captain speaks in a calm, albeit highly worried voice over the trio rushing forwards to exact their own retributions.
('Razorback, the Hail of Glory was nearly destroyed by the Solar Air Commarend Division's assaults and can no longer assist us. Losses are about to rise exponentially, likewise there will be no more fliers to keep the Airstrike Division distracted soon. Find some manner to keep both of them from crashing down atop everypony here, but most importantly yourselves-')
>The mare's eyes shut tightly, intoning a prayer to the Four True Goddesses while directing the Basin's equine forces into taking up more cohesive offensives.
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Watch Guard Tactics: Anti-Tainted Counter Measures
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Inexplicably aware battle flowing around, between hundreds of casings and shells smacking into everything, something valuable was lost among the familiar Razorback voices.
>And: it was you.
"Swap barrels if they're hot-"
"Toss all the mags out, fuck cares if we step on 'em!"
"Threes to fives, don't expend any more than in bursts!"
"AIM STEADY!"
"Hold left and right, let Broken take that mare!"
"Bring the rain, send the pain!"
"And they came to snuff the rooster-"
[1d6+17 = (1+17) = 18] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (5+25) = 30] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (4+29) = 33] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6 = 1] <Sharonel's Will
>The previously silent Councilierge turns, a pair of hostile pseudo-hands slamming atop your shoulders and dragging your eyes down to meet hers, shrieking in sincere umbrage.
"PULL YOUR BRAIN TOGETHER HUMAN! SINCE WHERE YOU WERE A FUCKING ROOKIE SHITTING YOUR PANTS IN FEAR AT THE UNKNOWN?!"
>Throwing you back up to a loose standing position, Vestal Gardenia spins around to face south, left forehoof raising to point at the pair of Tainted struggling to pass their leader, Broken Hoof marenaging to hang onto it's snout, but only barely.
"LOOK AT THEM! I CAN'T EVEN TAKE ON ONE! THAT'S RIGHT, NOT EVEN ME, THE PRIMAL PSION FIVE TIMES MORE DESTRUCTIVE THAN THE MURDER-SUITS YOU WERE AFRAID OF ON YOUR OWN WORLD! NOW IF YOU DON'T POUR EVERY IOTA INTO TAKING OUT A FEW TAINTED THEN YOU OUGHTA PUT THAT SPIKER'S BARREL AGAINST YOUR HEAD AND PULL THE TRIGGER BECAUSE NEITHER OF US HAS TIME TO WASTE!"
>Shaking herself out of the fugue and cutting the overherd's connection, Vestal springs forwards into a dead-set run, howling at all the ponies before her.
"LANCERS, HOLD THOSE THREE TAINTED WHERE THEY ARE, DON'T LET THEM GAIN EVEN A HOOF'S WORTH OF GROUND! CHARGERS, TAKE THE STAIRS AND JUMP ONTO EVERY TAINTED CLOSE TO THE ROOFTOPS, DRAG THEM DOWN SCREAMING!"
>Shouting to her left at the Watch Guard Master-General dumbly watching, hostile flares of Spectral blue roll forwards from the Primal Psion, emitting a booming thundercrack of realspace being opened to raw electromagnetic enery.
"FOR THE SAKE OF EVERY FOAL, FILLY, AND COLT THAT HAS YET TO EXPERIENCE A LIFE WE NEVER COULD, WE DIE IN GLORY THIS BLOOD-DRENCHED NIGHT!"
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+32 = (4+32) = 36]
[1d6+32 = (5+32) = 37]
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28] <Lunge
[1d6+22 = (3+22) = 25] <GM.Charge
[1d6+22 = (6+22) = 28]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27]
[1d6+22 = (1+22) = 23]
>Stilled for a half-second, the unnamed mare's silverine helmet snaps upright, hot green-blue blazing from diamondine eyeslits, then jerks forwards into a four-point run as she screams in fury, the ranks of Chargers and Lancers hastily tightening to create a path for her.
"MAKE A FUCKING PATH FOR ONE DAUGHTER OF HER GRAND MAJESTY, EMPRESS SILVER SWIRL FROM AN OTHERWORLD! ETHEREAL, DIE IN SHAME OR JUST DIE!"
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31] <GM.Primal Psoin: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+29 = (3+29) = 32]
[1d6+29 = (2+29) = 31]
[1d6+29 = (4+29) = 33]
[1d6+22 = (5+22) = 27] <Lunge
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <GM.Charge
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25]
[1d6+21 = (1+21) = 22]
[1d6+21 = (2+21) = 23]
>Storming ahead of the Lancer and Charger ranks filling in gaps, the Minor Golem bounds left in a high stance, then right, axe swinging in medium to large overhead circles, cleave apart those Spectral Lances it was able to reach in time, then near-hurling the shield overhead to protect those ponies it could, crystalline material shrieking in protest at the pseudo-weapons attempting to tear through it.
"THEN DELIVER THIS UNIT FORWARDS TO DELAY OR IMPEDE LONG RANGED COMBATANTS! THIS UNIT'S CAPABILITIES ARE BEST AT ATTACKING, NOT DEFENDING!"
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] >Protocol: Destroy Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Protocol: Deflect Airborne Weaponry
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13]
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11]
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15]
>Somehow hanging onto the Lunar Assault Tainted's snout, Broken Hoof's jaw clamps onto the undefinable half-matter, rapidly shaking her head like a Warguard hound ripping apart an unarmored target while the leader exhales a raging swirl of hostile tainted energy.
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16] <M.Assault
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15]
[1d6+11 = (6+11) = 17]
[1d6+11 = (2+11) = 13]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6 = 5] <Anti
[1d6 = 1] <Bane
>vs:
[1d20+40 = (2+40) = 42] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 133,775 of 285,678 Morale
>Contained, yet nowhere near controlled, the pair of Tainted pinned against the Basin Village's southern buildings stomp outwards, left one with her right forehoof, right one with her left forehoof, against the disorganized Lancers halfway pinning them in place and towards the unexpected Chargers drowning them in sheer numbers, a bitter resemblance of anger creasing their massive faces.
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
>vs:
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <First Lancer Charge x 140 total
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Second Lancer Charge x 100 total
>Scaling atop, around, across, and partially through the three Lunar Assault Tainted, Chargers from the Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard rend deeply into their targets, silent fury guiding their actions.
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <First Charger Wave x 200 total
[1d6+18 = (5+18) = 23] <Second Charger Wave x 100 total
>Perfectly aware of their size and height, the stuck outer pair snap their heads forwards, rows upon rows of lance-like teeth shearing into the second line of Chargers leaping atop shoulders, saddles, and rears of Lancers being forced back.
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Soulburn
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 168.969 of 285,678 Morale
>Taking control of the overherd, a mid-50's Watch Guard Striker Captain speaks in a calm, albeit highly worried voice over the trio rushing forwards to exact their own retributions.
('Razorback, the Hail of Glory was nearly destroyed by the Solar Air Commarend Division's assaults and can no longer assist us. Losses are about to rise exponentially, likewise there will be no more fliers to keep the Airstrike Division distracted soon. Find some manner to keep both of them from crashing down atop everypony here, but most importantly yourselves-')
>The mare's eyes shut tightly, intoning a prayer to the Four True Goddesses while directing the Basin's equine forces into taking up more cohesive offensives.
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Watch Guard Tactics: Anti-Tainted Counter Measures
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Inexplicably aware battle flowing around, between hundreds of casings and shells smacking into everything, something valuable was lost among the familiar Razorback voices.
>And: it was you.
"Swap barrels if they're hot-"
"Toss all the mags out, fuck cares if we step on 'em!"
"Threes to fives, don't expend any more than in bursts!"
"AIM STEADY!"
"Hold left and right, let Broken take that mare!"
"Bring the rain, send the pain!"
"And they came to snuff the rooster-"
[1d6+17 = (1+17) = 18] <Razorback Rookie Squads, 7 total
[1d6+21 = (4+21) = 25] <Razorback Veteran Squads, 10 total
[1d6+25 = (5+25) = 30] <Razorback Mercenary Squads, 11 total
[1d6+29 = (4+29) = 33] <Razorback Elite Squads, 8 total
[1d6 = 1] <Sharonel's Will
>>370469
>Pareidolia looks and listens to Lonestar's complaints, glancing through the archival images for additional reference.
(Subpar equipment. Subpar intel. Likely riddled through by the worms of profit.)
>Nodding and offering a grim sigh hissed through his helmet, he speaks as he stands.
"I appreciate the context. God save the ground pounders."
>Coming to the doorway, he is greeted by the sight of Dul proffering various strange fruits whose colors are reminiscent of tropical flora.
(Dul can taste that? How... )
>As he pauses to process this development, Katyal amiably offers to share one, and Dul elaborates.
>Apparently the Vortex has some equivalent energy based sustenance suitable for beings of that plane.
>Speaking to himself he speculates.
"'Taste' likely the closest analog she has for determining the properties of an object... interesting."
>He shakes his helmet slightly in amusement at Dul's innocence and moves to take his opened backpack off the central bench line into a locker.
>A look is sent towards Katyal as she reports Hodch's awakening.
"An operator responsible for, among other things the corrupted state of that Mythril Staff. Hodch has every right to."
>While securing his pack in a locker, Lonestar's announcement of cruising speed is broadcasted.
>He quickly kneels down on one leg while pressing his left arm against the locker wall, willing his Sticky enchantment to secure his boots, knee, and arm to their respective surfaces for grip.
>Pareidolia looks and listens to Lonestar's complaints, glancing through the archival images for additional reference.
(Subpar equipment. Subpar intel. Likely riddled through by the worms of profit.)
>Nodding and offering a grim sigh hissed through his helmet, he speaks as he stands.
"I appreciate the context. God save the ground pounders."
>Coming to the doorway, he is greeted by the sight of Dul proffering various strange fruits whose colors are reminiscent of tropical flora.
(Dul can taste that? How... )
>As he pauses to process this development, Katyal amiably offers to share one, and Dul elaborates.
>Apparently the Vortex has some equivalent energy based sustenance suitable for beings of that plane.
>Speaking to himself he speculates.
"'Taste' likely the closest analog she has for determining the properties of an object... interesting."
>He shakes his helmet slightly in amusement at Dul's innocence and moves to take his opened backpack off the central bench line into a locker.
>A look is sent towards Katyal as she reports Hodch's awakening.
"An operator responsible for, among other things the corrupted state of that Mythril Staff. Hodch has every right to."
>While securing his pack in a locker, Lonestar's announcement of cruising speed is broadcasted.
>He quickly kneels down on one leg while pressing his left arm against the locker wall, willing his Sticky enchantment to secure his boots, knee, and arm to their respective surfaces for grip.
>>370191
>A cool, rather distinctly fidgety middle-aged mare speaks across the overherd while you reposition.
('Seven minutes remain until Shattering Skies re-enters atmosphere. I have lost both Vestal Gardenia and the Master-General, they can not respond when engaged in a kill-frenzy like this.')
>Crossing through the utterly packed and stacked ranks of military ponies more like hardened bunkers than individuals in armor, there was barely enough room to reach the fountain as even more Lancers and Chargers pour out from open translocation matrices to take up positions of, quickly, rising deceased.
>Squeezing in enough room to set down the drone's laptop, a quick glance at the sacrificial basin north of the fountain showed no change in the Cult of the Dark Horse cultist: slumped atop the altar, still unmoving, pinksteel and greensteel blades clung tightly in her outstretched wingclaws.
>Although the Berserker, Skullguard, Siegemare, and Mareauder Bloodhosts hadn't moved, nor the Night Guard lookalike trio, you could taste the herd-thoughts emanating from each: they were to protect the honored mare that freshly granted them mercy, which contrasted with a need to cause violence upon Tainted, but were not close enough to join in.
>Belatedly realizing down the M32's sights that the closest barricade was the one all of Razorback had taken up, the best you could do was kneel down and take a rock steady firing position-
>Which worked fairly well: the first airburst grenade thoomps in a scant arc into the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's faux-armored chest, a muffled detonation occurring in the barrel, second and third entering, then exiting at skewed angles and showering the pinned left Tainted with fragments, while the fourth effectively disappears.
The Lost Legions: -169.036 of 285,678 Morale
>Overhead, another 53 East Ocean Moors Militia crumple in flight, sent hundreds of meters from resounding blows delivered by the relatively intact Lunar Airstrike Division, quickly running out of targets.
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <East Ocean Moors Militia x 46 total
>vs:
[1d6+83 = (1+83) = 84] <Soulburn
('While they can hold out against unwinnable odds, make the Eastern Moors Militia proud to serve their kin! Unicorns of Two Goddesses, grant Evalesdraught's sacrifice ever greater meaning!')
>Switching to every other Elemarent excluding Plasma, Void, or Rime, the massed unicorns in Basin Village deliver their preferred arcane energies up and into less occupied Lunar Airstrike Tainted:
>Material boulders half-coalesced with magma, frozen shards containing highly compressed, barely contained oxy-hydrogen airbursts, and pseudo-coherent metallic lances charged with enough electrical through-put to EMP ruin an entire continent-
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Germaneigh Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>Responding after a brief delay, one of the original Razorback 100, a man that had zero chill factor in a firefight, grins ahead of you while avoiding a hose-down on first ranks of Chargers making a mess of the three stuck Tainted.
('Fuck yeah! We've got every kind of tie down on us! New leader mare!')
('Yes?')
('Get that smallest unit to take all our lines and string up 'em like Jeff said, starting with the entrance!')
>Dividing a fraction of her concentration onto the various wires, lines, cables, and ropes, the leadmare directs all of the halfway exhausted Lunar Guard Combat Support unit into reaching for them.
>Swiftly collected and tied together in finely set double-hitch knots, twenty sets of 100M long binding streak forwards to latch into stone, creating heavy barriers while double that number snake out into the still unmoving Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted ranks behind the three, intending to physically tie them at the legs.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
('Jeff, she's in the Fortress pagoda, tilted sideways and.. on fire. Big gate's still open left and front of you but we're all busy on this line-')
>A faintly silverine-tasting earth stallion's voice speaks in your direction, the heatedly amused tone familiar, albeit not one you could distinctly recall.
('Because that, Nightblade, is a Minor Crystalline Golem by the name of Vokreed, the only known subordinate of High Grand Champion Belregarde and one of those five Ethereals allowed to enter Princess Cadenza's holy presence without invitation. If that had been any other Ethereal, this Vanguard would have shredded it to make mirrors barely worth pissing on.')
>In a corner of the overherd's virtually perfect view of Basin Village, the Rime-encased figure of that long dead, yet still functional Crystal Conclave Killknight sideslips at full speed against a single, entirely self-actualized Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain.
>Unable to block or parry the other's shockingly destructive blows, the smiling mare's intent focuses on preventing the Captain from striking into the Councilierge Assault Vanguard Battalion's rear lines, instead trading for time against the increasingly threatening stallion's efforts.
"And dance we will with endless grace,
Upon this land of hard-fought space,
Slaughter-driven blows we in tune must make,
To purify these blood-bound lands in our wake-"
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Sunder
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
>vs;
[1d6+40 = (6+40) = 46] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+40 = (4+40) = 44]
[1d6+40 = (1+40) = 41]
[1d6+40 = (3+40) = 43]
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20]
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24]
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
>A cool, rather distinctly fidgety middle-aged mare speaks across the overherd while you reposition.
('Seven minutes remain until Shattering Skies re-enters atmosphere. I have lost both Vestal Gardenia and the Master-General, they can not respond when engaged in a kill-frenzy like this.')
>Crossing through the utterly packed and stacked ranks of military ponies more like hardened bunkers than individuals in armor, there was barely enough room to reach the fountain as even more Lancers and Chargers pour out from open translocation matrices to take up positions of, quickly, rising deceased.
>Squeezing in enough room to set down the drone's laptop, a quick glance at the sacrificial basin north of the fountain showed no change in the Cult of the Dark Horse cultist: slumped atop the altar, still unmoving, pinksteel and greensteel blades clung tightly in her outstretched wingclaws.
>Although the Berserker, Skullguard, Siegemare, and Mareauder Bloodhosts hadn't moved, nor the Night Guard lookalike trio, you could taste the herd-thoughts emanating from each: they were to protect the honored mare that freshly granted them mercy, which contrasted with a need to cause violence upon Tainted, but were not close enough to join in.
>Belatedly realizing down the M32's sights that the closest barricade was the one all of Razorback had taken up, the best you could do was kneel down and take a rock steady firing position-
>Which worked fairly well: the first airburst grenade thoomps in a scant arc into the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's faux-armored chest, a muffled detonation occurring in the barrel, second and third entering, then exiting at skewed angles and showering the pinned left Tainted with fragments, while the fourth effectively disappears.
The Lost Legions: -169.036 of 285,678 Morale
>Overhead, another 53 East Ocean Moors Militia crumple in flight, sent hundreds of meters from resounding blows delivered by the relatively intact Lunar Airstrike Division, quickly running out of targets.
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <East Ocean Moors Militia x 46 total
>vs:
[1d6+83 = (1+83) = 84] <Soulburn
('While they can hold out against unwinnable odds, make the Eastern Moors Militia proud to serve their kin! Unicorns of Two Goddesses, grant Evalesdraught's sacrifice ever greater meaning!')
>Switching to every other Elemarent excluding Plasma, Void, or Rime, the massed unicorns in Basin Village deliver their preferred arcane energies up and into less occupied Lunar Airstrike Tainted:
>Material boulders half-coalesced with magma, frozen shards containing highly compressed, barely contained oxy-hydrogen airbursts, and pseudo-coherent metallic lances charged with enough electrical through-put to EMP ruin an entire continent-
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+12 = (1+12) = 13] <Germaneigh Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+11 = (1+11) = 12] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <Night Guard Combat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>Responding after a brief delay, one of the original Razorback 100, a man that had zero chill factor in a firefight, grins ahead of you while avoiding a hose-down on first ranks of Chargers making a mess of the three stuck Tainted.
('Fuck yeah! We've got every kind of tie down on us! New leader mare!')
('Yes?')
('Get that smallest unit to take all our lines and string up 'em like Jeff said, starting with the entrance!')
>Dividing a fraction of her concentration onto the various wires, lines, cables, and ropes, the leadmare directs all of the halfway exhausted Lunar Guard Combat Support unit into reaching for them.
>Swiftly collected and tied together in finely set double-hitch knots, twenty sets of 100M long binding streak forwards to latch into stone, creating heavy barriers while double that number snake out into the still unmoving Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted ranks behind the three, intending to physically tie them at the legs.
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
('Jeff, she's in the Fortress pagoda, tilted sideways and.. on fire. Big gate's still open left and front of you but we're all busy on this line-')
>A faintly silverine-tasting earth stallion's voice speaks in your direction, the heatedly amused tone familiar, albeit not one you could distinctly recall.
('Because that, Nightblade, is a Minor Crystalline Golem by the name of Vokreed, the only known subordinate of High Grand Champion Belregarde and one of those five Ethereals allowed to enter Princess Cadenza's holy presence without invitation. If that had been any other Ethereal, this Vanguard would have shredded it to make mirrors barely worth pissing on.')
>In a corner of the overherd's virtually perfect view of Basin Village, the Rime-encased figure of that long dead, yet still functional Crystal Conclave Killknight sideslips at full speed against a single, entirely self-actualized Solar Guardian Air Commarend Captain.
>Unable to block or parry the other's shockingly destructive blows, the smiling mare's intent focuses on preventing the Captain from striking into the Councilierge Assault Vanguard Battalion's rear lines, instead trading for time against the increasingly threatening stallion's efforts.
"And dance we will with endless grace,
Upon this land of hard-fought space,
Slaughter-driven blows we in tune must make,
To purify these blood-bound lands in our wake-"
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+23 = (2+23) = 25] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Sunder
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (1+23) = 24]
[1d6+23 = (5+23) = 28]
>vs;
[1d6+40 = (6+40) = 46] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+40 = (4+40) = 44]
[1d6+40 = (1+40) = 41]
[1d6+40 = (3+40) = 43]
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <Harsh Parry
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20]
[1d6+18 = (6+18) = 24]
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
>>370196
>Tilting the control stick back and forth to bleed off excess rotation while stabilizing the Kiowa, as you glance at the electronics console, the helmet's machine-assisted learning interdicts the variety of signals, processing them into condensed versions:
>Exceptionally powerful sequences of electromagnetic bursts had just cut off, or destroyed, one of Spiral's relays, specifically one that had been placed atop the ancient, recently restored Pegasi-Batpony League Era Arena.
>The system wasn't able to analyze more, but you immediately recognize the variety of flashing triangular symbols as Construct in both origin and function.
>Dozens of new contacts, roughly 410 miles south, southwest, and southeast, were emitting low power signals on high bands, analogous to old long range wavelength radios.
>Rapidly scanning the bizarrely unencrypted tranmissions and reading through simplified, patterns read out as a large number of... trading vessels, the naming conventions featuring distinctly Neighsian names and meanings.
>The third warning was from the Kiowa's own systems, listing it's combat effectiveness at 88% due to extreme atmospheric moisture levels and slowly increasing malfunction chances due to the same.
>Fourth was an even greater variety of triangular Construct symbols, subtle definitions, more esoteric and less definable than the previous, orienting towards the Basin Arena.
>Before you can look away, a number of them converge, composing a single line in starkly contrasted Common Equestrian:
Refuse-deny-implore-PREVENT the Walker-Of-Spirits from unexistence-death-destruction-disruption-FAILURE, she accepts-grants-allows-desires-TRUSTS a Two-That-Have-Become-One.
>Paired screens fill the helmet's interior, a detailed report showing that launching two of the M-S.OL.G.'s largest rods at the same time caused extensive damage, which you couldn't help but wince at.
>While the thorium reactor had tripped and shut down before catastrophic damage could occur, it needed a clear order from you to reset, while the battery systems were badly degraded, only able to launch the smallest rods without issue.
>At least, after a recharge cycle.
>The TLS was undamaged according to diagnostics, but needed either direct solar feed to fire, at roughly half damage potential, or for the reactor and batteries to be completely restored.
>It was still 'complaining' about extensive outer orbit water conditions, however.
>Sighting in through the helmet's targeting systems, pressing on the control stick's firing selectors and holding the chaingun's trigger down rewards you with a fantastic though brief lightshow, complemented by the crashing roils of dissonant energy weapons focused southwards.
>Sweeping across the stuck Assault Tainted, individual tracers leave large, unmending punctures that weren't being stopped by faux-armor-
>Which was greatly overshadowed by Hydra and Hellfire detonations deep in the compacted ranks, casing shrapnel causing moderate to high shearing as the Tainted were clustered so tightly together.
('Don't bother avoiding us if you can't, whether one or twenty dies doesn't matter! Take the rooftops like she said, and avoid those cables!')
The Lost Legions: -180,674 of 285,678 Morale
*"Our weapons reapest tolls aplenty ye grace, but a lone minute mineself havest tae give-"*
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,517/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (5+24) = 29] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+14 = (5+14) = 19] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
('Battered Shores holding together for now! SET EVERYTHING INTO OVERCHARGE MODES, TEAR THAT CENTRAL UNIT APART!')
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Degraded Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Degraded Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+33 = (6+33) = 39] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: OVERLOAD
[1d6+31 = (5+31) = 36] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents: OVERLOAD
[1d6+21 = (3+21) = 24] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents: OVERLOAD
[1d6+27 = (4+27) = 31] <Arcane Point Defense Systems: OVERLOAD
>Peering into the rift displaying a two-story stone village, a pair of scantily clad mares study the scene being shown to them.
>The older speaks with a twinge of fear while the younger hurriedly fiddles with an archaic directional compass.
<"Where is this? And are those.. giant horses?">
<"No idea ma'am, these readings are beyond my evaluation abilities. ..they are not. Possible corrupted ponies, except much larger than any known variant. Not entirely physical either. Bad, in sum. Orders?">
<"We cannot ignore ponies in distress, and who knows which benefactor is showing us this. Deploy both suites of stabilized Plasma mines directly atop that group of frozen equines.">
<"We can't do that without formally signed orders or a direct visit from either Princess!">
<"QUIET! I'm sure they WON'T mine'd if all sixty of the Sun's favors wind up missing yet mysteriously arrive to aid a large number of ponies in need! ...are you refusing my order, or complying?">
<"By the Sun and Moon I hate puns! Releasing two suites at tandem charge onto the targeted frozen horses, ma'am-">
<"Go find out where that place is, and if you do learn why we're seeing it, don't hesitate if it was preventable, understood? Leave!">
<"Yes, ma'am.">
>Waiting until the barely matured mare leaves, the older sits down heavily, then clasps her front hooves together, whispering as she trembles in sincere terror at the racks of large diamondine-encased weapons rolling forwards.
<"Fall and destroy in the glory of Two Sisters ye Sun-sacred abominations made real. Suffer our enemies no marks of pain, hate, nor fear. Grant us the right to know our actions are honorable. Deliver those ponies the comforts they need at the beginnings and ends of their lives..">
[1d6+90 = (6+90) = 96] <Self-Setting Plasma Mines, Suite #1
[1d6+90 = (3+90) = 93] <Self-Setting Plasma Mines, Suite #2
>Tilting the control stick back and forth to bleed off excess rotation while stabilizing the Kiowa, as you glance at the electronics console, the helmet's machine-assisted learning interdicts the variety of signals, processing them into condensed versions:
>Exceptionally powerful sequences of electromagnetic bursts had just cut off, or destroyed, one of Spiral's relays, specifically one that had been placed atop the ancient, recently restored Pegasi-Batpony League Era Arena.
>The system wasn't able to analyze more, but you immediately recognize the variety of flashing triangular symbols as Construct in both origin and function.
>Dozens of new contacts, roughly 410 miles south, southwest, and southeast, were emitting low power signals on high bands, analogous to old long range wavelength radios.
>Rapidly scanning the bizarrely unencrypted tranmissions and reading through simplified, patterns read out as a large number of... trading vessels, the naming conventions featuring distinctly Neighsian names and meanings.
>The third warning was from the Kiowa's own systems, listing it's combat effectiveness at 88% due to extreme atmospheric moisture levels and slowly increasing malfunction chances due to the same.
>Fourth was an even greater variety of triangular Construct symbols, subtle definitions, more esoteric and less definable than the previous, orienting towards the Basin Arena.
>Before you can look away, a number of them converge, composing a single line in starkly contrasted Common Equestrian:
Refuse-deny-implore-PREVENT the Walker-Of-Spirits from unexistence-death-destruction-disruption-FAILURE, she accepts-grants-allows-desires-TRUSTS a Two-That-Have-Become-One.
>Paired screens fill the helmet's interior, a detailed report showing that launching two of the M-S.OL.G.'s largest rods at the same time caused extensive damage, which you couldn't help but wince at.
>While the thorium reactor had tripped and shut down before catastrophic damage could occur, it needed a clear order from you to reset, while the battery systems were badly degraded, only able to launch the smallest rods without issue.
>At least, after a recharge cycle.
>The TLS was undamaged according to diagnostics, but needed either direct solar feed to fire, at roughly half damage potential, or for the reactor and batteries to be completely restored.
>It was still 'complaining' about extensive outer orbit water conditions, however.
>Sighting in through the helmet's targeting systems, pressing on the control stick's firing selectors and holding the chaingun's trigger down rewards you with a fantastic though brief lightshow, complemented by the crashing roils of dissonant energy weapons focused southwards.
>Sweeping across the stuck Assault Tainted, individual tracers leave large, unmending punctures that weren't being stopped by faux-armor-
>Which was greatly overshadowed by Hydra and Hellfire detonations deep in the compacted ranks, casing shrapnel causing moderate to high shearing as the Tainted were clustered so tightly together.
('Don't bother avoiding us if you can't, whether one or twenty dies doesn't matter! Take the rooftops like she said, and avoid those cables!')
The Lost Legions: -180,674 of 285,678 Morale
*"Our weapons reapest tolls aplenty ye grace, but a lone minute mineself havest tae give-"*
>'Guillotine', Pristine War Destroyer/Assault Breacher: 2,517/3,000 Armor
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27] <Primary Pulsar Array
[1d6+24 = (5+24) = 29] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances
[1d6+17 = (5+17) = 22] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+14 = (5+14) = 19] <Assault Vector Lock
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <Optimal Range Lock
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Ground Tactics
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Stabilizing Realspace Thrusters
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Pristine Tech-Arcane Repair Systems
('Battered Shores holding together for now! SET EVERYTHING INTO OVERCHARGE MODES, TEAR THAT CENTRAL UNIT APART!')
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Degraded Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Degraded Optimal Range Calculations
[1d6+33 = (6+33) = 39] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: OVERLOAD
[1d6+31 = (5+31) = 36] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents: OVERLOAD
[1d6+21 = (3+21) = 24] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents: OVERLOAD
[1d6+27 = (4+27) = 31] <Arcane Point Defense Systems: OVERLOAD
>Peering into the rift displaying a two-story stone village, a pair of scantily clad mares study the scene being shown to them.
>The older speaks with a twinge of fear while the younger hurriedly fiddles with an archaic directional compass.
<"Where is this? And are those.. giant horses?">
<"No idea ma'am, these readings are beyond my evaluation abilities. ..they are not. Possible corrupted ponies, except much larger than any known variant. Not entirely physical either. Bad, in sum. Orders?">
<"We cannot ignore ponies in distress, and who knows which benefactor is showing us this. Deploy both suites of stabilized Plasma mines directly atop that group of frozen equines.">
<"We can't do that without formally signed orders or a direct visit from either Princess!">
<"QUIET! I'm sure they WON'T mine'd if all sixty of the Sun's favors wind up missing yet mysteriously arrive to aid a large number of ponies in need! ...are you refusing my order, or complying?">
<"By the Sun and Moon I hate puns! Releasing two suites at tandem charge onto the targeted frozen horses, ma'am-">
<"Go find out where that place is, and if you do learn why we're seeing it, don't hesitate if it was preventable, understood? Leave!">
<"Yes, ma'am.">
>Waiting until the barely matured mare leaves, the older sits down heavily, then clasps her front hooves together, whispering as she trembles in sincere terror at the racks of large diamondine-encased weapons rolling forwards.
<"Fall and destroy in the glory of Two Sisters ye Sun-sacred abominations made real. Suffer our enemies no marks of pain, hate, nor fear. Grant us the right to know our actions are honorable. Deliver those ponies the comforts they need at the beginnings and ends of their lives..">
[1d6+90 = (6+90) = 96] <Self-Setting Plasma Mines, Suite #1
[1d6+90 = (3+90) = 93] <Self-Setting Plasma Mines, Suite #2
>>370543
>>370545
>>370547
>In clear range of the Overherd's multitude of eyes, and close to a hundred Mind's Eyes, another sequential launch of Spectral Lances streak high upwards, then twist downwards into the mixed second to sixth ranks of Lancers and Chargers.
>Openly seething at two hundred and sixty falling forwards, dead onto stone without a world, those Chargers racing up the Basin Village's stairwells collectively snarl towards the Solar Tainted too far south for them to reach.
>The new leadmare's head shakes fitfully, barely holding back the urge to order one last volley of Void lances in their direction as they deploy another salvo.
('Not one single weapon or tactic has disrupted them, why?')
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guard Support Division: Spectral Lances
Solar Guardian Support Division, holding @200M south of Basin Village
>>370545
>>370547
>In clear range of the Overherd's multitude of eyes, and close to a hundred Mind's Eyes, another sequential launch of Spectral Lances streak high upwards, then twist downwards into the mixed second to sixth ranks of Lancers and Chargers.
>Openly seething at two hundred and sixty falling forwards, dead onto stone without a world, those Chargers racing up the Basin Village's stairwells collectively snarl towards the Solar Tainted too far south for them to reach.
>The new leadmare's head shakes fitfully, barely holding back the urge to order one last volley of Void lances in their direction as they deploy another salvo.
('Not one single weapon or tactic has disrupted them, why?')
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Solar Guard Support Division: Spectral Lances
Solar Guardian Support Division, holding @200M south of Basin Village
>>370542
>Turning to consider her next move, Sunny was shocked to find that what she thought had been a battle taking place in another spectrum had never occurred at all.
>A simulation, one imposed on reality, if imperfectly.
>She applied slight mental pressure against the overherd connection and beamed a single thought out to the Watch General, Vestal Gardenia and Razorback.
('Update. Objective accomplished, relay shutdown. Disregard prior report, Lunar feline unit part of Construct near future simulation. Redirect unit from arena if possible, Destroyers active.')
>She'd already disrupted their simulation by shutting off the relay, it couldn't hurt to further throw it off.
>It was impossible to say whether the simulated Constructs had entered through the gateway or come from elsewhere, so it was a coinflip's chance whether or not destroying the gateway would alter the probable near future so that the simulated battle would never happen, or if herself and Mercy were simulated to have failed before they'd even arrived.
>No simulation could be perfect, as accurate measurement of elementary particles on a cosmic scale was impossible via any other means than through an omni-dimensional, and universe sized field carried by massless particles to solve for the observer effect. Simply, like deducing the location, velocity and weight of a stone falling into a pond by reverse processing the resulting ripples and water displacement. She knew of no such field and, possibly, neither did the Constructs, or their simulations would be better and they would have blasted both herself and Mercy the moment they had teleported to the Arena.
>There was a chance then, but any action she, Mercy, or anybody could take would be immediately accounted for in further simulations. Whatever she ended up doing, she would only be able to do it once.
>Change the probable near future, now that she had seen it.
>Sunny put a hoof to her head and shook it when Gardenia's incredibly loud mental shriek came through, and was suddenly silenced.
>By the Constructs.
>Her blood went cold at the thought, they were getting too close. How long until they could intercept, decipher and even send psionic transmissions of their own?
>Sunny rushed to reach a higher vantage point, the highest she could get, she'd only be able to use the sigil sequence once, she had to be able to get onto one of them to do it.
>Then the Destroyers started revealing their armaments.
>Wow that was a lot of firepower.
>Mercy did not have more than a minute against that much firepower and with two destroyers flanking, if that.
>Much of it she only barely recognised, but the anti-matter weaponry caught her attention. A munitions failure could cause containment failure, and they didn't know she could cause one...
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>>370543
>>370545
>>370547
>>370548
>Turning to consider her next move, Sunny was shocked to find that what she thought had been a battle taking place in another spectrum had never occurred at all.
>A simulation, one imposed on reality, if imperfectly.
>She applied slight mental pressure against the overherd connection and beamed a single thought out to the Watch General, Vestal Gardenia and Razorback.
('Update. Objective accomplished, relay shutdown. Disregard prior report, Lunar feline unit part of Construct near future simulation. Redirect unit from arena if possible, Destroyers active.')
>She'd already disrupted their simulation by shutting off the relay, it couldn't hurt to further throw it off.
>It was impossible to say whether the simulated Constructs had entered through the gateway or come from elsewhere, so it was a coinflip's chance whether or not destroying the gateway would alter the probable near future so that the simulated battle would never happen, or if herself and Mercy were simulated to have failed before they'd even arrived.
>No simulation could be perfect, as accurate measurement of elementary particles on a cosmic scale was impossible via any other means than through an omni-dimensional, and universe sized field carried by massless particles to solve for the observer effect. Simply, like deducing the location, velocity and weight of a stone falling into a pond by reverse processing the resulting ripples and water displacement. She knew of no such field and, possibly, neither did the Constructs, or their simulations would be better and they would have blasted both herself and Mercy the moment they had teleported to the Arena.
>There was a chance then, but any action she, Mercy, or anybody could take would be immediately accounted for in further simulations. Whatever she ended up doing, she would only be able to do it once.
>Change the probable near future, now that she had seen it.
>Sunny put a hoof to her head and shook it when Gardenia's incredibly loud mental shriek came through, and was suddenly silenced.
>By the Constructs.
>Her blood went cold at the thought, they were getting too close. How long until they could intercept, decipher and even send psionic transmissions of their own?
>Sunny rushed to reach a higher vantage point, the highest she could get, she'd only be able to use the sigil sequence once, she had to be able to get onto one of them to do it.
>Then the Destroyers started revealing their armaments.
>Wow that was a lot of firepower.
>Mercy did not have more than a minute against that much firepower and with two destroyers flanking, if that.
>Much of it she only barely recognised, but the anti-matter weaponry caught her attention. A munitions failure could cause containment failure, and they didn't know she could cause one...
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>>370543
>>370545
>>370547
>>370548
>>370547
>Clemency scans through the electronics console, analyzing the Construct positions and information
>The Constructs were still contained at the arena
>The new contacts were surprising, making Clemency wonder why there were trading vessels coming here and what the new Construct contacts are heading towards the arena
>Before he turns his attention, he sees the console merge all the esoteric Construct signatures into one with text above
>This reads more like a message than a designation
>One that startles Clemency
>Looking at the status of the M-S.O.L.G's condition, he couldn't help but cringe at the damage
>The entire thing is barely holding together, with the reactor shut off and the batteries thoroughly fucked
>The only consolation is the TLS being undamaged
>Clemency then realizes how close he is to the Construct signatures
>Close enough for them to hook into his systems and send him messages
>He realizes he needs to get the Kiowa out, fast
>"One more fight with the controls...one more volley...."
>He steadies again before letting one more volley out from the Kiowa
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
>He then sends a general message out to the overherd about him landing and returning
('This is Clemency. Landing the Kiowa back at the translocation stone and returning to the AO. Construct interference is messing with my electronics and I don't want this thing to be hijacked with me in it.)
>Clemency then swings the Kiowa around and prepares to land at the translocation stone
>Hearing the Guillotine's last report, he sends another message to the overherd
('The Guillotine, that Destroyer raking their lines, has only a minute left before it has to retreat to recharge reactors. Plan accordingly.')
>Once the stone was clear, Clemency lands and turns off the helicopter
>Once fully shut down, he hops out and send the helicopter back to Razorback Fortress
>Clemency looks back to the lines and watches the scene unfold
>Knowing that everything counts tonight, he unholsters his new weapon, feeling the connection between him and it
>He sets it for the finned darts before sprinting towards the Razorback lines
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Master Sprint
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Expert Airstream
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>Clemency scans through the electronics console, analyzing the Construct positions and information
>The Constructs were still contained at the arena
>The new contacts were surprising, making Clemency wonder why there were trading vessels coming here and what the new Construct contacts are heading towards the arena
>Before he turns his attention, he sees the console merge all the esoteric Construct signatures into one with text above
>This reads more like a message than a designation
>One that startles Clemency
>Looking at the status of the M-S.O.L.G's condition, he couldn't help but cringe at the damage
>The entire thing is barely holding together, with the reactor shut off and the batteries thoroughly fucked
>The only consolation is the TLS being undamaged
>Clemency then realizes how close he is to the Construct signatures
>Close enough for them to hook into his systems and send him messages
>He realizes he needs to get the Kiowa out, fast
>"One more fight with the controls...one more volley...."
>He steadies again before letting one more volley out from the Kiowa
[1d6+7 = (6+7) = 13] <XM 296 HMG
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Hydra Rocket Pods
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
>He then sends a general message out to the overherd about him landing and returning
('This is Clemency. Landing the Kiowa back at the translocation stone and returning to the AO. Construct interference is messing with my electronics and I don't want this thing to be hijacked with me in it.)
>Clemency then swings the Kiowa around and prepares to land at the translocation stone
>Hearing the Guillotine's last report, he sends another message to the overherd
('The Guillotine, that Destroyer raking their lines, has only a minute left before it has to retreat to recharge reactors. Plan accordingly.')
>Once the stone was clear, Clemency lands and turns off the helicopter
>Once fully shut down, he hops out and send the helicopter back to Razorback Fortress
>Clemency looks back to the lines and watches the scene unfold
>Knowing that everything counts tonight, he unholsters his new weapon, feeling the connection between him and it
>He sets it for the finned darts before sprinting towards the Razorback lines
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Master Sprint
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Expert Airstream
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>>350118 →
>>350128 →
>>370393
>It was, almost, pitch black.
>A deep, warm blanket that crinkled with every small movement was even better.
>Comfortable green lights in the corner left of you notwithstanding, scents of freshly shaved, wonderful smelling wood reminded you of earlier years.
>Eyes opening to adjust from one of the best naps you'd ever experienced, it took another few slow blinks to realize you'd slept deeply and long enough that your internal biological alarms were way off.
>Sitting up and lifting both hands to rub your face, the distinct sensation of being extremely thirsty was new.
>And confusing.
>More so was a dimly pulsating, gold-trimmed page on the right side of your bed.
>One that you were rather sure hadn't been there earlier.
>>350128 →
>>370393
>It was, almost, pitch black.
>A deep, warm blanket that crinkled with every small movement was even better.
>Comfortable green lights in the corner left of you notwithstanding, scents of freshly shaved, wonderful smelling wood reminded you of earlier years.
>Eyes opening to adjust from one of the best naps you'd ever experienced, it took another few slow blinks to realize you'd slept deeply and long enough that your internal biological alarms were way off.
>Sitting up and lifting both hands to rub your face, the distinct sensation of being extremely thirsty was new.
>And confusing.
>More so was a dimly pulsating, gold-trimmed page on the right side of your bed.
>One that you were rather sure hadn't been there earlier.
>>370479
*"Give me a breeaaaaak already, trying to prepare for the worst that never could've hoped to cross my mind. Least I can do is make an awful joke or two. But I am serious, the Tylisvine Conclave trades nearly everything used like those bio.. metal things some humans talk about replacing their hands with."*
>Reassurance wasn't her best trait, or joking. But she tried.
>Easing away from the older earth stallion, Amerose glances from the pot to you, then back to Stream Lark, eyebrows raising briefly.
>Muzzle quirking, the jet black stallion's head lowers fractionally in a short, respectful motion, to which the Lorekeeper swivels around in a smooth motion, sliding off the chair and onto hooves with ringing clops.
>Whistling in a low, down-up peal at the Imperial Knights, they respond by performing the same, with varying levels of ability, all converging towards the northern wall, also a crystal-space illusion, though Amerose turns a hesitant face towards you.
"I am not sure how to state this, but the prisoner's name is not 'Pear Blossom'. Equestrian records are equally thorough to the Crystal Empire's, however those Equestrian lineages descended from the original mare's name of Pear are majority earth pony.
There are three known descendant families, the first one an earth mare named Rainspeckle Pear, stallion Brightleaf Pear, and their colt, Rainleaf Pear. Three more Pear-named herds are in Western or Southern Equestria and Neighvada.
Less than five unicorn lineages did exist with a forename, first-word, first-meaning, or other similar context, only two of which succeeds to this day. Shalefrost Pear and her filly Heartwind Pear life somewhere in the Lowland Empire regions close to Northern Equestria.
There is another family in Caneighdia but they are Dynasty Remnant descended. We have no information on them."
>Biting her lower lip in brief thought, Amerose's head shakes as she didn't have more to add, then gives, a short, respectful nod.. and switches to an instant loping canter straight south.
*"Ooooh, good, she's mad. I knew this was GOUF-"*
>Cut off by Amerose swiftly bending into a crouched position, then lunging out of sight and crashing into Naliyna's heavy armor, shrieking in a profound unmarely tone.
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING MY DIPSHIT COUSIN'S HERD NAME YOU GIANT TEATED MONSTER OF A MARE IN NAME ONLY-"
>Squinting at the highly unexpected violence, Stream Lark's ears flick in mildly serious amusemarent.
"Different herd-names? ..Amethyst must be r-"
>Ending the statemarent with a rude snort, the Councilierge faces you, a rare expression of firmly setting tension apparent as he makes an accepting nod.
"I will state this much in the open. My position allowed hundreds of sworn Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Imperials, with far more Lunars, Solars, and independents into the ranks of Watch and Tower Guard. I went against the warnings of five Primal Psions, a descendant of the Lunar and Solar Princess, and each Vigilite capable of speaking. Tonight was the last disaster that will be allowed to occur."
>Lark's upper body seizes for a split-second before his composure utterly stills, snout and muzzle contracting in barely held rage while jabbing his right front hoof at your chest.
"But, first, I am going to get THIS out of the way: two months before all human Operators were to arrive, Stalliongrad delivered over five thousand ponies, weapons and armor to match what New Canterlot could make, Late Dynasty relics they never could, and every oath to serve imaginable.
One hundred were for Equestria, thirty to Stalliongrad, ten to Prance, ten to Germaneigh, ten to Neighsia, ten to Saddle Arabia, ten to the Free Flock Rams, ten to the Minotaur Hegemony, and ten for Argenta.
One, two, or more of you bastards nuked New Canterlot Palace, killing over a hundred thousand. Ponies, Minotaurs, Gryphons, Eyes, Rams, one from the Elder Dragon Council, and several that would otherwise be enemies. Six weeks of searching and not a single life or scrap was found. Due to that, Stalliongrad changed.. as I am sure you are aware of."
>Leaving coalesced threats of much worse than execution unspoken, Stream Lark's eyes drift above you, then back down.
"If my daughter hadn't been stuck in Neighvada on an Honor Guard's orders, she'd be dead like them. Worse, Razorback has been hunting her down, as if she were one of those branded criminal whores of Lucky's family. Linara spent weeks on the Citadel begging and pleading for more time, support, and chances. And yet some of you Otherworld bastards kept hunting her, even when she was making constant amarends to Luna herself.
My daughter was granted rights and gifts by the entire Lunar Council that none of you may ever have the right to know of, nor be considered for now, or have you not noticed how coldly some Lunars treat Razorback?"
>Setting his front legs out wide in a gesture of complete openness, the older stallion's eyes narrow into a mix of desperation and hope, though with a searing iota of maliciousness.
"Most of the ponies in Razorback I can trust instinctively, yet you will show me reasons enough to trust you. Should those be sufficient I will do my upmost in keeping the rest of the Councilierge, Watch Guard, the Stallionguards, marecenaries, and all the rest from destroying Razorback, but out of respect alone know this:
I will never be able to sway so much as a single Primal Psion, Vigilite, or Tower Guardian now. That damage is forever done, and they do not forgive."
*"Give me a breeaaaaak already, trying to prepare for the worst that never could've hoped to cross my mind. Least I can do is make an awful joke or two. But I am serious, the Tylisvine Conclave trades nearly everything used like those bio.. metal things some humans talk about replacing their hands with."*
>Reassurance wasn't her best trait, or joking. But she tried.
>Easing away from the older earth stallion, Amerose glances from the pot to you, then back to Stream Lark, eyebrows raising briefly.
>Muzzle quirking, the jet black stallion's head lowers fractionally in a short, respectful motion, to which the Lorekeeper swivels around in a smooth motion, sliding off the chair and onto hooves with ringing clops.
>Whistling in a low, down-up peal at the Imperial Knights, they respond by performing the same, with varying levels of ability, all converging towards the northern wall, also a crystal-space illusion, though Amerose turns a hesitant face towards you.
"I am not sure how to state this, but the prisoner's name is not 'Pear Blossom'. Equestrian records are equally thorough to the Crystal Empire's, however those Equestrian lineages descended from the original mare's name of Pear are majority earth pony.
There are three known descendant families, the first one an earth mare named Rainspeckle Pear, stallion Brightleaf Pear, and their colt, Rainleaf Pear. Three more Pear-named herds are in Western or Southern Equestria and Neighvada.
Less than five unicorn lineages did exist with a forename, first-word, first-meaning, or other similar context, only two of which succeeds to this day. Shalefrost Pear and her filly Heartwind Pear life somewhere in the Lowland Empire regions close to Northern Equestria.
There is another family in Caneighdia but they are Dynasty Remnant descended. We have no information on them."
>Biting her lower lip in brief thought, Amerose's head shakes as she didn't have more to add, then gives, a short, respectful nod.. and switches to an instant loping canter straight south.
*"Ooooh, good, she's mad. I knew this was GOUF-"*
>Cut off by Amerose swiftly bending into a crouched position, then lunging out of sight and crashing into Naliyna's heavy armor, shrieking in a profound unmarely tone.
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT USING MY DIPSHIT COUSIN'S HERD NAME YOU GIANT TEATED MONSTER OF A MARE IN NAME ONLY-"
>Squinting at the highly unexpected violence, Stream Lark's ears flick in mildly serious amusemarent.
"Different herd-names? ..Amethyst must be r-"
>Ending the statemarent with a rude snort, the Councilierge faces you, a rare expression of firmly setting tension apparent as he makes an accepting nod.
"I will state this much in the open. My position allowed hundreds of sworn Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Imperials, with far more Lunars, Solars, and independents into the ranks of Watch and Tower Guard. I went against the warnings of five Primal Psions, a descendant of the Lunar and Solar Princess, and each Vigilite capable of speaking. Tonight was the last disaster that will be allowed to occur."
>Lark's upper body seizes for a split-second before his composure utterly stills, snout and muzzle contracting in barely held rage while jabbing his right front hoof at your chest.
"But, first, I am going to get THIS out of the way: two months before all human Operators were to arrive, Stalliongrad delivered over five thousand ponies, weapons and armor to match what New Canterlot could make, Late Dynasty relics they never could, and every oath to serve imaginable.
One hundred were for Equestria, thirty to Stalliongrad, ten to Prance, ten to Germaneigh, ten to Neighsia, ten to Saddle Arabia, ten to the Free Flock Rams, ten to the Minotaur Hegemony, and ten for Argenta.
One, two, or more of you bastards nuked New Canterlot Palace, killing over a hundred thousand. Ponies, Minotaurs, Gryphons, Eyes, Rams, one from the Elder Dragon Council, and several that would otherwise be enemies. Six weeks of searching and not a single life or scrap was found. Due to that, Stalliongrad changed.. as I am sure you are aware of."
>Leaving coalesced threats of much worse than execution unspoken, Stream Lark's eyes drift above you, then back down.
"If my daughter hadn't been stuck in Neighvada on an Honor Guard's orders, she'd be dead like them. Worse, Razorback has been hunting her down, as if she were one of those branded criminal whores of Lucky's family. Linara spent weeks on the Citadel begging and pleading for more time, support, and chances. And yet some of you Otherworld bastards kept hunting her, even when she was making constant amarends to Luna herself.
My daughter was granted rights and gifts by the entire Lunar Council that none of you may ever have the right to know of, nor be considered for now, or have you not noticed how coldly some Lunars treat Razorback?"
>Setting his front legs out wide in a gesture of complete openness, the older stallion's eyes narrow into a mix of desperation and hope, though with a searing iota of maliciousness.
"Most of the ponies in Razorback I can trust instinctively, yet you will show me reasons enough to trust you. Should those be sufficient I will do my upmost in keeping the rest of the Councilierge, Watch Guard, the Stallionguards, marecenaries, and all the rest from destroying Razorback, but out of respect alone know this:
I will never be able to sway so much as a single Primal Psion, Vigilite, or Tower Guardian now. That damage is forever done, and they do not forgive."
>>370544
>Digging into clearly old files, Shiibo presents images of bare minimum production lines aboard obvious cramped non-atmospheric vessels, all faces of water camo uniformed humans blacked out.
>Several show highly stripped down, questionably safe particle synthesizers designed to rotate common elements through electron and proton exchanges, then atmospheric density, heat, or both are applied, and finally slowed by precisely controlled particle fields.
>Much older, simpler weapons copied from Pre-Interskip First Earth take up minimal space in depressingly spartan shipboard armories; ammunition allotments for each operative listed at precisely three full magazines for primary weapons, but only a single for secondaries.
>Shiibo pauses to to note a strange spatial rift technology, functioning as either a short-lived physical 'skip' off gravity fields of physically solid solar objects, a dangerous process on its own, or as a long, slow cruise through known energy states, protected from mass-energy decay using a form of energy bleedthrough.
>Safe to a certain extent, more fascinating was the system was barely weaponized save an esoteric system deemed a 'skipjack'.
>An undated incident involving an orbital research facility in a stable asteroid belt had been attempting to produce an artificial gravitic shield, which the project leads poorly accounted for the station's own mass, and the ramping up of power load required to compensate were miscalculated.
>The results: half the station's solid-fuel plasma generators either slagged or ruptured into tiny suns, numerous asteroids flung across the solar system, the remains of an unfortunate button presser forever preserved as a carbon statue, and decades of public, far more careful, study to understand the absurd physics responsible.
>Considerably higher tech medium to heavy weapons were shown under tight guard, a squad of eight ExoTroopers and two Androids protecting much smaller armories and needing a Captain's direct orders for access.
>Virtually pristine, modular multirole MASER systems requiring servo-assisted combat frames, or mounted on vehicles, vessels, and ExoTroopers, an utterly insane subatomic bond-shearing weapon with a failure rate higher than should have ever been allowed, and a scattering of other familiar weapons were likewise present.
>One factor the avatar points out from each view was that all unnecessary and noncritical components had long since been stripped from everything; likewise there was no use of currency or credit systems, with such sparse raw materials only the most trusted and elite operatives were allowed access, and only when there was a distinct threat to eliminate.
>Opening top level records briefly, Shiibo displays a clear chain of purely human technological progression, fairly slower than projected norms due to never experiencing nuclear or global wars.
"All the Gods worth talking to tried, but luck ain't always on our side; let they in the depths take well earned rest, for our enemies fucked with the very best."
>Tossing a short handed salute at you, Lonestar reaches upwards to pull a full body shock frame down, locking it in place and eyeing his readout with a half-reverie smile.
"Got nothing except footprints bigger than Jeff's house still. Will call you when somethin' interesting pops up."
>Taking the food from Dul, not before patting her head again, and packing them into her oversized kit bag, Katyal makes a rapid check of her pouches, Shiibo pointing out multiple micro-expressions of killing joy and near-equine approval.
"That mean I should help him out or is it one of the 'a stallion's got to do what a stallion needs to' actions?"
>Collecting her submachine and rifle, stashing them in the rear passenger seat's under-locker, then eyes Hodch's collection with a blatant grimace.
>Tearing the topaz bracelet off her wrist, both arms flex, pulling it open to hoola-hoop size and slapping the relic down atop the objects, then sliding it over her bag.
"Heads up Hodch!"
>The bracelet pulses faintly as it contracts, and is replaced while she glances at the locker you'd chosen, then in surprise at Dul sinking her pseudo-body several inches into the compartment's floor.
"Uh, you CAN hold on like that, right?"
"Dul say yes? Sirens ride big boxes on boats, dra-gons like this lots times. Dul ask why?"
>Cracking a knowing grin, the First Responder leaps onto the rear passenger's seat chest first, legs bent at the knees, grabbing for a large attachment ring on the front and another on the side.
"Sounds way more fun than what we're about to put up with. Hang on tight until either the bumps stop or you do!"
"Dul confuse? What bu-"
>That familiar jolt of solid yet still annoyingly effective tracks digging into firmly packed dirt runs through the Overlander, partially offset by a decently shock-resistant compartment hard bolted to semi-rigid suspension frame.
>Slightly smoother than most older military vehicles, the jarring forwards, back, then forwards again ends with the resounding whines of powerplant transfer.
>Holding yourself solid to titanium alloy, and far less less effected than Katyal's iron-gripped smack into seat, the APC settles into a steady pace, griping aloud in a mocking, humorous tone.
"Could've warned us before pulling that stunt!"
*"Ah did!!"*
"You owe me a new set of pants!"
*"Don't make me come back there-"*
"Okay DAD!"
*"..the fuck did I do to deserve this?"
>Sliding herself up into a sitting position, Katyal theatrically wipes her knees off, snorts at the Siren sporting a frazzled stare, then rotates an unusually rigid expression onto you.
>Visibly sizing you up and down, precisely as an earth mare would, she makes a short chin lift, beginning to strip her armor off.
"A few deficiencies.. not much. You're going to learn everything I can teach, then Hodch when he's done rolling around swearing. Same for you as well Miss Dul. And that armor? Out. Time's wasting-"
[1d6 = 3] <Enhanced Synergy Cross-Training: Results
[1d6 = 1] <Travel Time
>Digging into clearly old files, Shiibo presents images of bare minimum production lines aboard obvious cramped non-atmospheric vessels, all faces of water camo uniformed humans blacked out.
>Several show highly stripped down, questionably safe particle synthesizers designed to rotate common elements through electron and proton exchanges, then atmospheric density, heat, or both are applied, and finally slowed by precisely controlled particle fields.
>Much older, simpler weapons copied from Pre-Interskip First Earth take up minimal space in depressingly spartan shipboard armories; ammunition allotments for each operative listed at precisely three full magazines for primary weapons, but only a single for secondaries.
>Shiibo pauses to to note a strange spatial rift technology, functioning as either a short-lived physical 'skip' off gravity fields of physically solid solar objects, a dangerous process on its own, or as a long, slow cruise through known energy states, protected from mass-energy decay using a form of energy bleedthrough.
>Safe to a certain extent, more fascinating was the system was barely weaponized save an esoteric system deemed a 'skipjack'.
>An undated incident involving an orbital research facility in a stable asteroid belt had been attempting to produce an artificial gravitic shield, which the project leads poorly accounted for the station's own mass, and the ramping up of power load required to compensate were miscalculated.
>The results: half the station's solid-fuel plasma generators either slagged or ruptured into tiny suns, numerous asteroids flung across the solar system, the remains of an unfortunate button presser forever preserved as a carbon statue, and decades of public, far more careful, study to understand the absurd physics responsible.
>Considerably higher tech medium to heavy weapons were shown under tight guard, a squad of eight ExoTroopers and two Androids protecting much smaller armories and needing a Captain's direct orders for access.
>Virtually pristine, modular multirole MASER systems requiring servo-assisted combat frames, or mounted on vehicles, vessels, and ExoTroopers, an utterly insane subatomic bond-shearing weapon with a failure rate higher than should have ever been allowed, and a scattering of other familiar weapons were likewise present.
>One factor the avatar points out from each view was that all unnecessary and noncritical components had long since been stripped from everything; likewise there was no use of currency or credit systems, with such sparse raw materials only the most trusted and elite operatives were allowed access, and only when there was a distinct threat to eliminate.
>Opening top level records briefly, Shiibo displays a clear chain of purely human technological progression, fairly slower than projected norms due to never experiencing nuclear or global wars.
"All the Gods worth talking to tried, but luck ain't always on our side; let they in the depths take well earned rest, for our enemies fucked with the very best."
>Tossing a short handed salute at you, Lonestar reaches upwards to pull a full body shock frame down, locking it in place and eyeing his readout with a half-reverie smile.
"Got nothing except footprints bigger than Jeff's house still. Will call you when somethin' interesting pops up."
>Taking the food from Dul, not before patting her head again, and packing them into her oversized kit bag, Katyal makes a rapid check of her pouches, Shiibo pointing out multiple micro-expressions of killing joy and near-equine approval.
"That mean I should help him out or is it one of the 'a stallion's got to do what a stallion needs to' actions?"
>Collecting her submachine and rifle, stashing them in the rear passenger seat's under-locker, then eyes Hodch's collection with a blatant grimace.
>Tearing the topaz bracelet off her wrist, both arms flex, pulling it open to hoola-hoop size and slapping the relic down atop the objects, then sliding it over her bag.
"Heads up Hodch!"
>The bracelet pulses faintly as it contracts, and is replaced while she glances at the locker you'd chosen, then in surprise at Dul sinking her pseudo-body several inches into the compartment's floor.
"Uh, you CAN hold on like that, right?"
"Dul say yes? Sirens ride big boxes on boats, dra-gons like this lots times. Dul ask why?"
>Cracking a knowing grin, the First Responder leaps onto the rear passenger's seat chest first, legs bent at the knees, grabbing for a large attachment ring on the front and another on the side.
"Sounds way more fun than what we're about to put up with. Hang on tight until either the bumps stop or you do!"
"Dul confuse? What bu-"
>That familiar jolt of solid yet still annoyingly effective tracks digging into firmly packed dirt runs through the Overlander, partially offset by a decently shock-resistant compartment hard bolted to semi-rigid suspension frame.
>Slightly smoother than most older military vehicles, the jarring forwards, back, then forwards again ends with the resounding whines of powerplant transfer.
>Holding yourself solid to titanium alloy, and far less less effected than Katyal's iron-gripped smack into seat, the APC settles into a steady pace, griping aloud in a mocking, humorous tone.
"Could've warned us before pulling that stunt!"
*"Ah did!!"*
"You owe me a new set of pants!"
*"Don't make me come back there-"*
"Okay DAD!"
*"..the fuck did I do to deserve this?"
>Sliding herself up into a sitting position, Katyal theatrically wipes her knees off, snorts at the Siren sporting a frazzled stare, then rotates an unusually rigid expression onto you.
>Visibly sizing you up and down, precisely as an earth mare would, she makes a short chin lift, beginning to strip her armor off.
"A few deficiencies.. not much. You're going to learn everything I can teach, then Hodch when he's done rolling around swearing. Same for you as well Miss Dul. And that armor? Out. Time's wasting-"
[1d6 = 3] <Enhanced Synergy Cross-Training: Results
[1d6 = 1] <Travel Time
>>370591
>Letting out a rather unflattering, sharp snore, Gallo found himself slightly startled at how efficient his nap was.
>It was almost too good to be true compared to his crummy 30-year-old bed or the various bunks of shoddy quality.
>If it wasn't for the fact he had a sizable portion of the ruling Solar class breathing down his neck for his title alone, he might even think he was dreaming.
>After the subconscious rub of his face, José's eyebrow rose in curious surprise as his naked hand picked it up to inspect its contents.
>Meanwhile, his other hand would tap around for his neat pile of stuff in order to get a drink out of his water jug.
>So his assessment about another being in here was not so farfetched after all.
(Whatever it is, it knows how to leave a man drier than a desert. Boludo...)
>Letting out a rather unflattering, sharp snore, Gallo found himself slightly startled at how efficient his nap was.
>It was almost too good to be true compared to his crummy 30-year-old bed or the various bunks of shoddy quality.
>If it wasn't for the fact he had a sizable portion of the ruling Solar class breathing down his neck for his title alone, he might even think he was dreaming.
>After the subconscious rub of his face, José's eyebrow rose in curious surprise as his naked hand picked it up to inspect its contents.
>Meanwhile, his other hand would tap around for his neat pile of stuff in order to get a drink out of his water jug.
>So his assessment about another being in here was not so farfetched after all.
(Whatever it is, it knows how to leave a man drier than a desert. Boludo...)
>>370545
>As he starts to load four more High Explosive shells into the Milkor, he takes in a deep breathe and observes the battlefield around him.
>Vestal and the General were so far deep, they weren't available anymore.
>A hoard was still frozen in the Rime south of the Village.
>Right behind the group stuck at the Southern building were two divisions and six generals. Behind them at speed were two more divisions, not including the support in the rear.
>The Killnight North of the Village was holding off a Captain, and their air superiority was dwindling.
>That's not even putting the Constructs at the Arena into play.
>With the Milkor fully loaded and the spring fully wound, Jeff checks on the Reaper's afixing orbit...
>He can at least use the rest of his Hellfires now.
>Putting the launcher on safety, he looks over the battlefield for any quick targets he can possibly hit quick before they get even more fucked.
>He pans the targeting camera two-hundred meters south. He can put one missile on each Support Captains. Though at this point he doesn't know what it'll really do.
("Targeting the four Support Captains two-hundred mikes back, then I'm out of munitions for the Reaper. Will keep it in orbit, if a situation comes up.")
>Arming the last four AGM's, he picks his first target and sends one missile after another in succession.
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #1
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #2
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #3
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #4
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>The last missile landing, Jeff takes a look South to the traffic jam at the entrance buildings. Already ponies were mobilizing to tie the Tainted Forms up Hoth-style.
("If we have any more resources to spare, let's try setting up more cable teams at other bottle-neck entrances into the Village.")
>The Dagor was a no-go. They'll have to do without the fifty.
>And the addition of Crystalline Golem was destroying Spectral Lances. Well okay then... right on.
>>370578
>As he's about to fire off another salvo, he gets the call from Clem that he has to land the Kiowa due to Construct interference.
>Shit, he'll need to keep a eye on the Reaper now.
>Setting the Milkor aside he monitors the drone's systems for anything outside interference, and prepares countermeasures.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Electronic Warfare Platform
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>It might be better for him to land the drone instead at this point. The Overherd is providing overwatch enough for them right now anyway.
>While checking for interference, he pans the camera out wide for any suitable landing locations for the Reaper: specifically, an area opposite from the Arena to keep it as far away from Contruct interference as possible.
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <UHD Aperture Camera: FLIR
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Speaking of landing, he doesn't even know what would be suitable ground for it to land. Does it even have an automatic landing routine? He didn't initially mention it during the wish.
>Checking the Overherd he notices Clem returning back to the line to support everyone.
("Clem. Can you get to me at the fountain? I need help landing the drone.")
>That's going to leave them with almost no air support for a time, between the drone being empty and the Kiowa grounded.
>As he waits for Clem to regroup on him, he starts to perverbally empty his pockets of any more cards he can think of.
("If any Operators have ANY wish discs their holding out on, now's the time to use them! We're short on anti-air measures, I'll try comping anyone who does later. Anything you can come up with will help at this point!")
>He reaches into a hardcase pouch and pulls out one of Anon's steel balls, harshly whispering to it outside of the Overherd's connection and over the chaos around him.
"-If you can hear me through this, freeze frame when you come through and don't try to lose your shit.-"
>Jeff drops the steel ball, awaiting the gestalt's door to appear.
>As he starts to load four more High Explosive shells into the Milkor, he takes in a deep breathe and observes the battlefield around him.
>Vestal and the General were so far deep, they weren't available anymore.
>A hoard was still frozen in the Rime south of the Village.
>Right behind the group stuck at the Southern building were two divisions and six generals. Behind them at speed were two more divisions, not including the support in the rear.
>The Killnight North of the Village was holding off a Captain, and their air superiority was dwindling.
>That's not even putting the Constructs at the Arena into play.
>With the Milkor fully loaded and the spring fully wound, Jeff checks on the Reaper's afixing orbit...
>He can at least use the rest of his Hellfires now.
>Putting the launcher on safety, he looks over the battlefield for any quick targets he can possibly hit quick before they get even more fucked.
>He pans the targeting camera two-hundred meters south. He can put one missile on each Support Captains. Though at this point he doesn't know what it'll really do.
("Targeting the four Support Captains two-hundred mikes back, then I'm out of munitions for the Reaper. Will keep it in orbit, if a situation comes up.")
>Arming the last four AGM's, he picks his first target and sends one missile after another in succession.
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #1
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #2
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #3
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>Solar Guardian Support Captain #4
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <AGM-114 Hellfire Missile
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
>The last missile landing, Jeff takes a look South to the traffic jam at the entrance buildings. Already ponies were mobilizing to tie the Tainted Forms up Hoth-style.
("If we have any more resources to spare, let's try setting up more cable teams at other bottle-neck entrances into the Village.")
>The Dagor was a no-go. They'll have to do without the fifty.
>And the addition of Crystalline Golem was destroying Spectral Lances. Well okay then... right on.
>>370578
>As he's about to fire off another salvo, he gets the call from Clem that he has to land the Kiowa due to Construct interference.
>Shit, he'll need to keep a eye on the Reaper now.
>Setting the Milkor aside he monitors the drone's systems for anything outside interference, and prepares countermeasures.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Electronic Warfare Platform
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>It might be better for him to land the drone instead at this point. The Overherd is providing overwatch enough for them right now anyway.
>While checking for interference, he pans the camera out wide for any suitable landing locations for the Reaper: specifically, an area opposite from the Arena to keep it as far away from Contruct interference as possible.
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <UHD Aperture Camera: FLIR
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <M.Scouting
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Speaking of landing, he doesn't even know what would be suitable ground for it to land. Does it even have an automatic landing routine? He didn't initially mention it during the wish.
>Checking the Overherd he notices Clem returning back to the line to support everyone.
("Clem. Can you get to me at the fountain? I need help landing the drone.")
>That's going to leave them with almost no air support for a time, between the drone being empty and the Kiowa grounded.
>As he waits for Clem to regroup on him, he starts to perverbally empty his pockets of any more cards he can think of.
("If any Operators have ANY wish discs their holding out on, now's the time to use them! We're short on anti-air measures, I'll try comping anyone who does later. Anything you can come up with will help at this point!")
>He reaches into a hardcase pouch and pulls out one of Anon's steel balls, harshly whispering to it outside of the Overherd's connection and over the chaos around him.
"-If you can hear me through this, freeze frame when you come through and don't try to lose your shit.-"
>Jeff drops the steel ball, awaiting the gestalt's door to appear.
>>370543
>It wasn't the Psion manhandling him like a doll that broke Lont out of his rapidly spiralling mental state, it was the mares screams. Her shrill and real shouts thundered into his eardrums like the loudest revving engines back home.
>In an instant the heavy weight of fatigue was stripped away like meat off the bone. He stood up straight, wings instinctively moving by themselves to help balance him.
>She was right. He did not have the spare time to waste on despairing at his predicament. And before he could even respond, she was off. Gone on a suicide charge leading hundreds of ponies to valiantly die before the Tainted could take another step.
>Lont turned to face the Tainted again, specifically the trio Broken Hoof was rabidly attacking. The ones the Ethereal was attempting to meet in melee.
('I believe I can help with your issue. Just trust me.')
>He communicated. Concentrating inwards, he gradually felt an unnatural feeling well up inside him. It was certainly one of the more weirder experiences he has had and one he could not do justice in describing.
>Gazing at the small Tainted on the left of the Lunar Assault Tainted, an excitement of energy tingled across Lonts body as he willed the Ethereal to be at the legs of that one he stared at.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] >Warp Translocate +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>The deed was done and it left the Operator gasping for air, his wings flittering. Did he hold his breath or did the act steal the air from his lungs? Was that why his chest burnt?
('Go break a leg out there.')
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] >U.Punmancy +P.L
>Using the Spiker as a crutch to hold himself up he breathed in much needed air. The tang of gunpowder gave it a reassuring aftertaste.
"You are all doing great-"
>Lont said, addressing the Operators around him.
"-Showing that we can do good, are doing good. Will do good. And no need to die trying either because we will survive this day."
>Standing up he placed a hand on his chest, he realized it wasn't pain that was causing the sensation of burning. And it made him smile behind his helm.
"I am proud of you all."
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] >M.Aligned Valor +Primal Leadership
>It wasn't the Psion manhandling him like a doll that broke Lont out of his rapidly spiralling mental state, it was the mares screams. Her shrill and real shouts thundered into his eardrums like the loudest revving engines back home.
>In an instant the heavy weight of fatigue was stripped away like meat off the bone. He stood up straight, wings instinctively moving by themselves to help balance him.
>She was right. He did not have the spare time to waste on despairing at his predicament. And before he could even respond, she was off. Gone on a suicide charge leading hundreds of ponies to valiantly die before the Tainted could take another step.
>Lont turned to face the Tainted again, specifically the trio Broken Hoof was rabidly attacking. The ones the Ethereal was attempting to meet in melee.
('I believe I can help with your issue. Just trust me.')
>He communicated. Concentrating inwards, he gradually felt an unnatural feeling well up inside him. It was certainly one of the more weirder experiences he has had and one he could not do justice in describing.
>Gazing at the small Tainted on the left of the Lunar Assault Tainted, an excitement of energy tingled across Lonts body as he willed the Ethereal to be at the legs of that one he stared at.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] >Warp Translocate +Primal Leadership
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>The deed was done and it left the Operator gasping for air, his wings flittering. Did he hold his breath or did the act steal the air from his lungs? Was that why his chest burnt?
('Go break a leg out there.')
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] >U.Punmancy +P.L
>Using the Spiker as a crutch to hold himself up he breathed in much needed air. The tang of gunpowder gave it a reassuring aftertaste.
"You are all doing great-"
>Lont said, addressing the Operators around him.
"-Showing that we can do good, are doing good. Will do good. And no need to die trying either because we will survive this day."
>Standing up he placed a hand on his chest, he realized it wasn't pain that was causing the sensation of burning. And it made him smile behind his helm.
"I am proud of you all."
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] >M.Aligned Valor +Primal Leadership
>>370461
>I looked up to her with a look so dry that it could probably dry up every single mango that she had stashed, would stash, or would eat.
"-Thank you-, Malyne. I think we're good with what we have, else we would have done what you said. We don't have much shit that still makes us human, and we go 'native' in plenty of other ways."
>She really didn't deserve it, but she -was- being sort of a know it all.
>Even still, not really cool.
>In my defense, however; The present situation.
>And oh boy, no lawyers to help me.
>I guess guns and money will have to serve me for now.
>Still, that was a rather...large pile of letters.
>And no time like the present to read it.
>I sighed, flicking out my knife to begin reading the first one.
>Wow.
>I...
>Wow.
>That's...not as bad as I thought it was going to be.
>Not as good, either, but I don't think that it was possible for me to actually have a favorable outcome.
>A lot of interesting names in that first pile, though.
>I'll have to reference it with some knowledgeable person that won't rip my spine out of me and feed it to me after for what I've done.
>And then, the second one.
>Potentially -worse- than the previous, given that I essentially was handed an entire laundry list of supplies, supplies needed, bits stockpiles, training, troops, weapons, armor...
>It truly was way, way too much.
>I think that my hands were trembling as I set the last one down.
>Dully looking to Malyne, I swallowed heavily. "Well. I think I prefer the letters that were telling me to stop interfering under pain of banishment or sexual acts with dubious consensuality than -these-."
>Referring to the two different types of letters, of course.
>I then swallowed, looking up to Malyne, and saying with pure, one hundred percent unfiltered dread, a single statement.
"...I think I'm a prince, now."
>I looked up to her with a look so dry that it could probably dry up every single mango that she had stashed, would stash, or would eat.
"-Thank you-, Malyne. I think we're good with what we have, else we would have done what you said. We don't have much shit that still makes us human, and we go 'native' in plenty of other ways."
>She really didn't deserve it, but she -was- being sort of a know it all.
>Even still, not really cool.
>In my defense, however; The present situation.
>And oh boy, no lawyers to help me.
>I guess guns and money will have to serve me for now.
>Still, that was a rather...large pile of letters.
>And no time like the present to read it.
>I sighed, flicking out my knife to begin reading the first one.
>Wow.
>I...
>Wow.
>That's...not as bad as I thought it was going to be.
>Not as good, either, but I don't think that it was possible for me to actually have a favorable outcome.
>A lot of interesting names in that first pile, though.
>I'll have to reference it with some knowledgeable person that won't rip my spine out of me and feed it to me after for what I've done.
>And then, the second one.
>Potentially -worse- than the previous, given that I essentially was handed an entire laundry list of supplies, supplies needed, bits stockpiles, training, troops, weapons, armor...
>It truly was way, way too much.
>I think that my hands were trembling as I set the last one down.
>Dully looking to Malyne, I swallowed heavily. "Well. I think I prefer the letters that were telling me to stop interfering under pain of banishment or sexual acts with dubious consensuality than -these-."
>Referring to the two different types of letters, of course.
>I then swallowed, looking up to Malyne, and saying with pure, one hundred percent unfiltered dread, a single statement.
"...I think I'm a prince, now."
>>370599
>Pareidolia ponders the question for a moment as he notes Shiibo's psychological pointers.
(Uncertain of Hodch's motivations on the subject... teaching background, Lunar, business relationship...)
"He may appreciate the offer, but you've clearly worked with him more. Filth is low on the list of priorities for him of issues to rectify currently. Likely will be for some time."
>He looks on in mild surprise as the bracelet expands seemingly with minimal resistance, whisking away the assemblage of items in a blink.
(Apparent folded pocket space for storage. Unclear how retrieval of goods is accomplished. Curious. A "Bag of Holding"?)
>Seeing Dul then simply sink into the floor, he shrugs and turns back to securing his gear.
(Nominal at this point. Like some kind of running gag anim.)
>Noting the sound of impact against metal, he looks up to check on Dul's first experience in a moving vehicle certain that Katyal was in fact fine despite her protestations.
>Un-stickying himself once the OL-3 was properly underway, he stands while recalling the familiar sensation of being in a moving transport vehicle before noticing Katyal's appraising stare.
(Lighter turbulence than orbital re-entry. How long has it been since pre-op transport deploy-)
"...Fine. An effective use of time."
(Need to consider an additional mask for wear beneath helmet.)
...
>Pareidolia ponders the question for a moment as he notes Shiibo's psychological pointers.
(Uncertain of Hodch's motivations on the subject... teaching background, Lunar, business relationship...)
"He may appreciate the offer, but you've clearly worked with him more. Filth is low on the list of priorities for him of issues to rectify currently. Likely will be for some time."
>He looks on in mild surprise as the bracelet expands seemingly with minimal resistance, whisking away the assemblage of items in a blink.
(Apparent folded pocket space for storage. Unclear how retrieval of goods is accomplished. Curious. A "Bag of Holding"?)
>Seeing Dul then simply sink into the floor, he shrugs and turns back to securing his gear.
(Nominal at this point. Like some kind of running gag anim.)
>Noting the sound of impact against metal, he looks up to check on Dul's first experience in a moving vehicle certain that Katyal was in fact fine despite her protestations.
>Un-stickying himself once the OL-3 was properly underway, he stands while recalling the familiar sensation of being in a moving transport vehicle before noticing Katyal's appraising stare.
(Lighter turbulence than orbital re-entry. How long has it been since pre-op transport deploy-)
"...Fine. An effective use of time."
(Need to consider an additional mask for wear beneath helmet.)
...
>>370602
>Upon picking up the heavy paper, your attention was called to the impressive fortress-castle diorama brightening in various shades of green and subtle hues.
>Experiencing moderate suspicion at numerous figures beginning to patrol around it, they turn out to be fairly simple two-dimarensional cutouts.... in varying stages of incompetent, barely competent, possibly competent, and flat out silly movemarent designs.
>Focusing back onto the page, it was an official documarent that granted you unrestricted legal access to a number of city-states, regions, countries, and destinations that ranged from the unfamiliar, to punnily amusing, then wrapped around a Mobius strip to the thoroughly unknown.
>You, with at most two Mareguards, six sapients, whether human, pony, or other, and a maximum of 20 tons of 'equipmarent', loosely listed as baggage or essentials, are granted unrestricted access to the following:
>Dew Crest Hills, a fairly spread out settlemarent in Southeastern Equestria under technical rule of Princess Celestia, home to large numbers of retired Royal and Honor Guards.
>Other than a short note stating it was an excellent place to hire older, highly experienced former Solar military ponies, it was known for being a relaxing location, although one could undertake highly specialized training with the right connections.
>The Domarenican Republic, a vast island south-southwest of the Batpony Moors, itself south of Equestria, and east of Cuteba, an almost entirely unexplored region, dotted by hundreds villages on the safest coastal locations.
>Inhabited solely by various Main Ferron Clan ponies, they were listed as being highly valuable, if rather formal yet erratic pegasi, providing vast amounts of raw oceanic resources straight to the Lunar military.
>Of particular distinction were bizarre forms of wood only found there, and armor plates from numerous sea creatures, some of which Cuteba shared.
>Gozka in the Minotaur Hegemony, denoted as the fourth biggest trading hub for raw, refined, or special metals, as well as mystical, and composite materials, pseudo-metals, and others you couldn't quite translate.
>By law it was independent, but by ancestral tradition most inhabitants are former elites from the Minotaur Hegemony, whether miners, smiths, warriors, rangers, foragers, mystics, though often an individual was two of the former.
>Sometimes three to four, judging by further notations.
>Marequipa, a vast, sprawling metropolis of mixed Burros, pegasi, Inland Flanatee, and a large number of oceanic sapients with sea-based names.
>Ruled by Princess Argenta, the addition of heavily armored whales, sharks, and one species of highly intelligent crab, or some other invertebrate species, enjoyed service so much in her naval fleets in great numbers meant that they were taxed at precisely 0.1%.
>Rounded down, not up, you note.
>Neighmara, a functional if small city-state completely dependent on trade, technically ruled by the Bronze Duke of Saddle Arabia.
>It had no tariffs or taxes to speak of, and was allied to the Crystal Empire, Gozka, and Neighsia for their crafts.
>They were also permarently addicted to various forms of coffee, or so read the report states.
>Pangshi, a vast, spread out mountain-port city in the western coastal Canton of Chineighsia, was considered to be one of the most vital trading ports for Neighsian foods and alchemical agents on Tallus, which you realize was the name of this planet.
>It also featured some of the finest chefs, crafters, and armorers, but for the most part were known for their nearly unbreakable pots, pans, and cooking appliances.... which eventually developed into numerous competing 'schools' of armor production.
>Sadly the lobster helm was definitely not one of those, although an amusing turtle-like carapace was quite common.
>The Southwatch, a partially underground proto-city in the Southwestern Crystal Empire, once ruled in twain by Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, though you note she was called 'Miyamori', a Neighsian honorific, and Queen Chrysalis of the Changeling Hive.
>Now listed as marginally independent, it was now best known for having some of the most elite Crystal pony explorers, specialists in, carefully or otherwise, breaching both fortifications and large creatures in equal measure.
>Their armory status was listed as 'moderate, recovering', but could be expected to produce significantly customized, super-heavy, ultra-heavy, and custom ExoFrames given the time and materials to do so.
>Last was Yurikay, a large multi-level descended from Neighsian traders lost on the Airstreams that claimed an unoccupied region in Argenta's Lands, then honorably joined her burgeoning empire with unusually great enthusiasm.
>Directly ruled by Princess Argenta and considered exceptional allies, making up a small, highly valuable number of her forces, it was well renowned for training veteran and elite assassins specialized only in killing creatures, monsters, megaflora, and megafauna.... and for having equally exceptional prostitutes.
>Most commonly, said 'assassins' were skilled in both. At the same time.
>The other locations were noted as smaller, yet highly important trade destinations: Bright Stone Castle in South Eastern Equestria, Skull-Glaive Fortress of the Minotaur Hegemony, Fallow Moon's Glade somewhere in Malurian lands, Reefblood Cloud-City currently held by the Second Independent Pegasi League, Tidelock Bog of the Batpony Moors, Zaturnay's Oasis of Purrsia, Yakurata's Twin Doors in Neighpon, the Black Wood Marenor in Arkadian Divides territory, and a few others that weren't readily translating.
>Like the diplomatic contract, it was freshly stamped, signed, and sealed, by Princess Celestia; not only could you smell the ink, a faint touch on the gold trim revealed it was still lukewarm.
>Feeling refreshed after drinking down half of the cool water, upon screwing the cap on it became clear a certain pony had been working overtime to acquire these concessions.
>Upon picking up the heavy paper, your attention was called to the impressive fortress-castle diorama brightening in various shades of green and subtle hues.
>Experiencing moderate suspicion at numerous figures beginning to patrol around it, they turn out to be fairly simple two-dimarensional cutouts.... in varying stages of incompetent, barely competent, possibly competent, and flat out silly movemarent designs.
>Focusing back onto the page, it was an official documarent that granted you unrestricted legal access to a number of city-states, regions, countries, and destinations that ranged from the unfamiliar, to punnily amusing, then wrapped around a Mobius strip to the thoroughly unknown.
>You, with at most two Mareguards, six sapients, whether human, pony, or other, and a maximum of 20 tons of 'equipmarent', loosely listed as baggage or essentials, are granted unrestricted access to the following:
>Dew Crest Hills, a fairly spread out settlemarent in Southeastern Equestria under technical rule of Princess Celestia, home to large numbers of retired Royal and Honor Guards.
>Other than a short note stating it was an excellent place to hire older, highly experienced former Solar military ponies, it was known for being a relaxing location, although one could undertake highly specialized training with the right connections.
>The Domarenican Republic, a vast island south-southwest of the Batpony Moors, itself south of Equestria, and east of Cuteba, an almost entirely unexplored region, dotted by hundreds villages on the safest coastal locations.
>Inhabited solely by various Main Ferron Clan ponies, they were listed as being highly valuable, if rather formal yet erratic pegasi, providing vast amounts of raw oceanic resources straight to the Lunar military.
>Of particular distinction were bizarre forms of wood only found there, and armor plates from numerous sea creatures, some of which Cuteba shared.
>Gozka in the Minotaur Hegemony, denoted as the fourth biggest trading hub for raw, refined, or special metals, as well as mystical, and composite materials, pseudo-metals, and others you couldn't quite translate.
>By law it was independent, but by ancestral tradition most inhabitants are former elites from the Minotaur Hegemony, whether miners, smiths, warriors, rangers, foragers, mystics, though often an individual was two of the former.
>Sometimes three to four, judging by further notations.
>Marequipa, a vast, sprawling metropolis of mixed Burros, pegasi, Inland Flanatee, and a large number of oceanic sapients with sea-based names.
>Ruled by Princess Argenta, the addition of heavily armored whales, sharks, and one species of highly intelligent crab, or some other invertebrate species, enjoyed service so much in her naval fleets in great numbers meant that they were taxed at precisely 0.1%.
>Rounded down, not up, you note.
>Neighmara, a functional if small city-state completely dependent on trade, technically ruled by the Bronze Duke of Saddle Arabia.
>It had no tariffs or taxes to speak of, and was allied to the Crystal Empire, Gozka, and Neighsia for their crafts.
>They were also permarently addicted to various forms of coffee, or so read the report states.
>Pangshi, a vast, spread out mountain-port city in the western coastal Canton of Chineighsia, was considered to be one of the most vital trading ports for Neighsian foods and alchemical agents on Tallus, which you realize was the name of this planet.
>It also featured some of the finest chefs, crafters, and armorers, but for the most part were known for their nearly unbreakable pots, pans, and cooking appliances.... which eventually developed into numerous competing 'schools' of armor production.
>Sadly the lobster helm was definitely not one of those, although an amusing turtle-like carapace was quite common.
>The Southwatch, a partially underground proto-city in the Southwestern Crystal Empire, once ruled in twain by Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, though you note she was called 'Miyamori', a Neighsian honorific, and Queen Chrysalis of the Changeling Hive.
>Now listed as marginally independent, it was now best known for having some of the most elite Crystal pony explorers, specialists in, carefully or otherwise, breaching both fortifications and large creatures in equal measure.
>Their armory status was listed as 'moderate, recovering', but could be expected to produce significantly customized, super-heavy, ultra-heavy, and custom ExoFrames given the time and materials to do so.
>Last was Yurikay, a large multi-level descended from Neighsian traders lost on the Airstreams that claimed an unoccupied region in Argenta's Lands, then honorably joined her burgeoning empire with unusually great enthusiasm.
>Directly ruled by Princess Argenta and considered exceptional allies, making up a small, highly valuable number of her forces, it was well renowned for training veteran and elite assassins specialized only in killing creatures, monsters, megaflora, and megafauna.... and for having equally exceptional prostitutes.
>Most commonly, said 'assassins' were skilled in both. At the same time.
>The other locations were noted as smaller, yet highly important trade destinations: Bright Stone Castle in South Eastern Equestria, Skull-Glaive Fortress of the Minotaur Hegemony, Fallow Moon's Glade somewhere in Malurian lands, Reefblood Cloud-City currently held by the Second Independent Pegasi League, Tidelock Bog of the Batpony Moors, Zaturnay's Oasis of Purrsia, Yakurata's Twin Doors in Neighpon, the Black Wood Marenor in Arkadian Divides territory, and a few others that weren't readily translating.
>Like the diplomatic contract, it was freshly stamped, signed, and sealed, by Princess Celestia; not only could you smell the ink, a faint touch on the gold trim revealed it was still lukewarm.
>Feeling refreshed after drinking down half of the cool water, upon screwing the cap on it became clear a certain pony had been working overtime to acquire these concessions.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda, Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370631
>>370623
>Flashing stubby fangs in an openly forgiving smile, the batfilly's tufted ears swish up and down several times as she keks aloud.
"Most humans I have met are positively batty in ways they did not think were shared with us natives!"
>And there it was: you managed to fall for yet another of Malyne's seemingly endless chains of pun traps.
>Diamond-slitted eyes narrowing while raucous silent laughter hitches in her chest, she turns back to potentially sabotaging more letters, barely holding back snorts and snickers.
>This was either going to be an excruciatingly short night, or a long, slow, gruesome pun-induced death knowing her.
>Looking up after a few seconds of scribbling that you hoped weren't writing jokes on important notices or marcenary requests, Malyne's expression was, for the first time, flat.
>And had trace elemarents of real, serious concern.
"That.. does.. nnnnnot... sound... good. Especially those last few words. Those are not normal unless somepony or someponies have had specific crimes committed against them."
>Head tilting left, then her eyes twitch, widen, squint, widen, squint again, widen one last time, and finally her pupils expand to the maximum articulate fear possible.
"What. WHAT. No, what. NO, what. No, WHAT. NO! WHAT?! I.. do not understand, what did you do? What WAS done? How is that possible? Why? When? Where? With wh-"
>Before you could argue with Malyne over correct verbiage, one of the Vortex Remnant's semi-infinite eyes raise up from the translocation matrice, this one a pale red giant, nearly reaching the Pagoda's roof in height.
>A pair of brutally solid, shockingly white earth pony stallions step forward from the rarely seen VIP treatmarent in tandem, almost twins except for subtle build differences.
>Their eyes, rolling black, green, and blue tones, rotate slowly from the Pagoda's northern entrance.. directly on to you.
>The pair turn sharply to face each other, snouts nearly touching, then crisply take four steps backwards to perform an actual, strict regal-addressing bow.
>Where the pair arrived from is a scroll large wide and thick enough to beat a small bear to death with, firmly tied with paladine wire, and covered in a variety of heat-immune stamps, seals, a few sigils on the surface sparkling in gold.
>Speaking in soft, deathly flat tones that couldn't be determined from ANY lineage, you instinctively knew them to be undead Vigilite Arch-Guardians, part of the archaic, highly religious order dating back to the Early Dynasty..
>And known among Necromarecers far or wide as eminently hostile to all non-natives.
"Dante of Razorback Company, you are seen and hereby confirmed as safe, alive, and whole. We offer to you, this contract being proof, as the Grand Solar Prince of the Second Dynasty, in absentia from the Silver and Gold Courts of New Canterlot. Your title was retrieved, inspected, granted, accepted by nobility and royalty alike, now recorded in the Endless Records. Affix this state of royalty when such pleases you, Your Principality."
>Taking a deep inhale, Malyne lets go of her stolen pens, right eyebrow raising, left eyebrow lowering as all of her collective sanity struggles to comprehend.
"Did I eat one of Peach Drop's special mangoes? Did I eat too much from Dancing's secret stash of candy? Did Mercy spike a drink for herself and I failed to recognize her favorite alchemical combat drugs?"
>Poking her snout experimarently with both forehooves, then each wingclaw in turn, the burnt orange batfilly twitches, mildly, continuing to ask herself philosophical questions.
"What is the meaning of horse? What IS a horse? Am I a horse in the shape of a pony, or a pony in the shape of a horse? Am I Marshmallow, or Noodle? A Noodle Marshmallow? A Marshmallow Noodle? A Noodlemallow? A Marshnoodle? What is a noodle, but a marshmallow in dreams? A marshmallow, wishing it were long and spindly like a noodle should be? Am I therefore a soft, sugar-covered noodle with sapience?"
>Flashing stubby fangs in an openly forgiving smile, the batfilly's tufted ears swish up and down several times as she keks aloud.
"Most humans I have met are positively batty in ways they did not think were shared with us natives!"
>And there it was: you managed to fall for yet another of Malyne's seemingly endless chains of pun traps.
>Diamond-slitted eyes narrowing while raucous silent laughter hitches in her chest, she turns back to potentially sabotaging more letters, barely holding back snorts and snickers.
>This was either going to be an excruciatingly short night, or a long, slow, gruesome pun-induced death knowing her.
>Looking up after a few seconds of scribbling that you hoped weren't writing jokes on important notices or marcenary requests, Malyne's expression was, for the first time, flat.
>And had trace elemarents of real, serious concern.
"That.. does.. nnnnnot... sound... good. Especially those last few words. Those are not normal unless somepony or someponies have had specific crimes committed against them."
>Head tilting left, then her eyes twitch, widen, squint, widen, squint again, widen one last time, and finally her pupils expand to the maximum articulate fear possible.
"What. WHAT. No, what. NO, what. No, WHAT. NO! WHAT?! I.. do not understand, what did you do? What WAS done? How is that possible? Why? When? Where? With wh-"
>Before you could argue with Malyne over correct verbiage, one of the Vortex Remnant's semi-infinite eyes raise up from the translocation matrice, this one a pale red giant, nearly reaching the Pagoda's roof in height.
>A pair of brutally solid, shockingly white earth pony stallions step forward from the rarely seen VIP treatmarent in tandem, almost twins except for subtle build differences.
>Their eyes, rolling black, green, and blue tones, rotate slowly from the Pagoda's northern entrance.. directly on to you.
>The pair turn sharply to face each other, snouts nearly touching, then crisply take four steps backwards to perform an actual, strict regal-addressing bow.
>Where the pair arrived from is a scroll large wide and thick enough to beat a small bear to death with, firmly tied with paladine wire, and covered in a variety of heat-immune stamps, seals, a few sigils on the surface sparkling in gold.
>Speaking in soft, deathly flat tones that couldn't be determined from ANY lineage, you instinctively knew them to be undead Vigilite Arch-Guardians, part of the archaic, highly religious order dating back to the Early Dynasty..
>And known among Necromarecers far or wide as eminently hostile to all non-natives.
"Dante of Razorback Company, you are seen and hereby confirmed as safe, alive, and whole. We offer to you, this contract being proof, as the Grand Solar Prince of the Second Dynasty, in absentia from the Silver and Gold Courts of New Canterlot. Your title was retrieved, inspected, granted, accepted by nobility and royalty alike, now recorded in the Endless Records. Affix this state of royalty when such pleases you, Your Principality."
>Taking a deep inhale, Malyne lets go of her stolen pens, right eyebrow raising, left eyebrow lowering as all of her collective sanity struggles to comprehend.
"Did I eat one of Peach Drop's special mangoes? Did I eat too much from Dancing's secret stash of candy? Did Mercy spike a drink for herself and I failed to recognize her favorite alchemical combat drugs?"
>Poking her snout experimarently with both forehooves, then each wingclaw in turn, the burnt orange batfilly twitches, mildly, continuing to ask herself philosophical questions.
"What is the meaning of horse? What IS a horse? Am I a horse in the shape of a pony, or a pony in the shape of a horse? Am I Marshmallow, or Noodle? A Noodle Marshmallow? A Marshmallow Noodle? A Noodlemallow? A Marshnoodle? What is a noodle, but a marshmallow in dreams? A marshmallow, wishing it were long and spindly like a noodle should be? Am I therefore a soft, sugar-covered noodle with sapience?"
>>370624
>Displaying indices on the two similar Druid proto-religions, located in Fortress archives, extensive punishmarents to those that commit atrocities against holy or sacred artifacts, relics, and concepts are described.
>Sapients were more protected in comparison while flora and fauna had variable importance depending on their natural balance, spiritual vagaries, or representation in rites and rituals.
>Less objectively moral and far more willing to strike without warning, records of Lunar Druids show a high propensity for delivering quick, painful, or gruesome executions in protecting nature from threats.
>A descending scale follows: Eldritch, Planar, Otherworld, Infected Species related to the previous three, Abominations, Spectrals, Undead, Corrupted, Tainted, then a number of lesser known threats.
>Shiibo deliberates for one-tenth a second before taking on a grim face, displaying numerous images of the jihadi, mostly in the process of committing highly unsavory actions, spiking food or drinks, a few more of blatant criminality, the rest... redacted for your sake given the avatar's combative tone.
'Ones such as that must be isolated from contact with all native species and humans, destroyed, and the remains returned to prevent ANY contamination. At best, they must never be allowed on this world.'
>Pausing to study a further set of images and archives, the avatar nods firmly.
'A prime opportunity sir. Katyal will offer to join Hodch in the future; he will accept. Insist that you must aid their efforts, doing so will prove you have no-'
>Giving you a brief, sharp expression.
'Or little animosity towards equines. That will prove a desire to prevent conflict and that you value honorable conduct. It would also directly appeal to his, and her, views of peaceful coexistence when possible, and solidify that you have a shared interest in maintaining herd-laws, the unspoken rules of Razorback, and creating productive cross-species interactions.'
>Removing her chest harness and armored jacket to show a rather thick, low cut and short bottomed heavy black silk shirt, carefully storing them in the underseat locker, Katyal stills with a vacant listening expression.
"Don't know how much he caused but I've never heard Hodch say Plasma-glassing half a planet is barely equivalent to paying back-"
>Biting her lower lip in focus, both hands slowly reach up to defensively rub the sides of her neck.
"Not repeating that word. Or that sentence. Nah. Nope. Definitely not them. Aaand he's officially off whatever the last rails were."
>Returning to the present with a solid blink, Katyal side eyes you in equine-like contentmarent.
"Hodch and me both hate agents except those that share necessary and vital information. Even then it's easy to earn hate if they aren't honest. ..I'm starting to like you the same way he does, and for similar reasons."
>Looking up at Dul returning to her previously seated state, wearing a faintly surprised and minorly confused expression, she elaborates with faux-nonchalance.
"Platonically, that is."
"Dul not know plate-on-thing. Is armor?"
"No, it's a way of stating I'm not interested in the OTHER kind of horsing around."
>Shiibo convulses.
"Dul know this think! You work good as war-rie-errz!"
"Yep! We're different forms but we shouldn't normally threaten each other. And, you're getting better at speaking. Say it smoother and faster like this: war-ri-ors."
[1d6 = 1] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
>Leaving the Siren to repeat the word, among others, Katyal sits down to remove her boots, belt, and armored pants, leaving only comfortable, albeit thick black silk shorts and socks.
>Standing up to stretch out in preparation, wired eyes survey the front hatch.
"You need any training?"
*"In either that attitude or ice cold punch-everything-to-death-attitude with you wearing the exact same slinky clothes a mare with nothing to hide shows in public to ensure she's the biggest boss around?"*
>Her eyes roll with a quiet derogatory snort, but Lonestar's grimace is keenly felt.
*"Sincerely joking there. Got put through all of Twisted Wing's various classes, and those her kin will teach."*
"That too big to hoofle and handle mare? Yeah, no, she's a legitimate monster in or out of combat. Ever seen her bladework?"
*"More times than I ever want to think about."*
"Nevermind then. You relax for a while."
>Waiting for you to store everything unnecessary, Katyal invites Dul into the troop compartment's center, carefully studying her bizarre Planar capabilities and combat aptitudes.
>Turning to you once satisfied, the woman begins walking you through a series of familiar, though more adaptive range-finding calculations to aid in rapidly gauging distances and projectile arcs.
>Shifting focus to mental alteration exercises intended to accept and overcome, not block or dismiss, psyche assaults to one's mood, then to teaching mnemonic fact-finding mindsets.
>Testing your recall using fill-in-the-blank questions, mathematic problems, and logic solution puzzles, you're given little warning from a sudden open palm strike to your chest, transitioning to a blinding fast sweeping kick at Dul-
>Over half an hour is spent attempting to defend against the First Responder's heavily enhanced physical abilities and unpredictable combat techniques, alternately focusing on you, Dul, but more often both at the same time.
>Unable to score solid or direct hits and with a resounding win out unlikely, Katyal slows her offensive pace until stopping cold, her breathing marginally increased compared to you, utterly drained now, Dul meanwhile barely moving.
>Stepping back to the rear passenger seat and retrieving a pair of bright pink bottles from her bag, one is tossed to your feet while she sits down, legs crossing.
"Sweet bulb juice, great after workouts. Still cold. I know why you can't acclimate like most humans."
>Pointing at her head, then yours, the woman's eyes gleam in suspicion.
"Helmet's fucking you over. Want the short or long version?"
>Displaying indices on the two similar Druid proto-religions, located in Fortress archives, extensive punishmarents to those that commit atrocities against holy or sacred artifacts, relics, and concepts are described.
>Sapients were more protected in comparison while flora and fauna had variable importance depending on their natural balance, spiritual vagaries, or representation in rites and rituals.
>Less objectively moral and far more willing to strike without warning, records of Lunar Druids show a high propensity for delivering quick, painful, or gruesome executions in protecting nature from threats.
>A descending scale follows: Eldritch, Planar, Otherworld, Infected Species related to the previous three, Abominations, Spectrals, Undead, Corrupted, Tainted, then a number of lesser known threats.
>Shiibo deliberates for one-tenth a second before taking on a grim face, displaying numerous images of the jihadi, mostly in the process of committing highly unsavory actions, spiking food or drinks, a few more of blatant criminality, the rest... redacted for your sake given the avatar's combative tone.
'Ones such as that must be isolated from contact with all native species and humans, destroyed, and the remains returned to prevent ANY contamination. At best, they must never be allowed on this world.'
>Pausing to study a further set of images and archives, the avatar nods firmly.
'A prime opportunity sir. Katyal will offer to join Hodch in the future; he will accept. Insist that you must aid their efforts, doing so will prove you have no-'
>Giving you a brief, sharp expression.
'Or little animosity towards equines. That will prove a desire to prevent conflict and that you value honorable conduct. It would also directly appeal to his, and her, views of peaceful coexistence when possible, and solidify that you have a shared interest in maintaining herd-laws, the unspoken rules of Razorback, and creating productive cross-species interactions.'
>Removing her chest harness and armored jacket to show a rather thick, low cut and short bottomed heavy black silk shirt, carefully storing them in the underseat locker, Katyal stills with a vacant listening expression.
"Don't know how much he caused but I've never heard Hodch say Plasma-glassing half a planet is barely equivalent to paying back-"
>Biting her lower lip in focus, both hands slowly reach up to defensively rub the sides of her neck.
"Not repeating that word. Or that sentence. Nah. Nope. Definitely not them. Aaand he's officially off whatever the last rails were."
>Returning to the present with a solid blink, Katyal side eyes you in equine-like contentmarent.
"Hodch and me both hate agents except those that share necessary and vital information. Even then it's easy to earn hate if they aren't honest. ..I'm starting to like you the same way he does, and for similar reasons."
>Looking up at Dul returning to her previously seated state, wearing a faintly surprised and minorly confused expression, she elaborates with faux-nonchalance.
"Platonically, that is."
"Dul not know plate-on-thing. Is armor?"
"No, it's a way of stating I'm not interested in the OTHER kind of horsing around."
>Shiibo convulses.
"Dul know this think! You work good as war-rie-errz!"
"Yep! We're different forms but we shouldn't normally threaten each other. And, you're getting better at speaking. Say it smoother and faster like this: war-ri-ors."
[1d6 = 1] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
>Leaving the Siren to repeat the word, among others, Katyal sits down to remove her boots, belt, and armored pants, leaving only comfortable, albeit thick black silk shorts and socks.
>Standing up to stretch out in preparation, wired eyes survey the front hatch.
"You need any training?"
*"In either that attitude or ice cold punch-everything-to-death-attitude with you wearing the exact same slinky clothes a mare with nothing to hide shows in public to ensure she's the biggest boss around?"*
>Her eyes roll with a quiet derogatory snort, but Lonestar's grimace is keenly felt.
*"Sincerely joking there. Got put through all of Twisted Wing's various classes, and those her kin will teach."*
"That too big to hoofle and handle mare? Yeah, no, she's a legitimate monster in or out of combat. Ever seen her bladework?"
*"More times than I ever want to think about."*
"Nevermind then. You relax for a while."
>Waiting for you to store everything unnecessary, Katyal invites Dul into the troop compartment's center, carefully studying her bizarre Planar capabilities and combat aptitudes.
>Turning to you once satisfied, the woman begins walking you through a series of familiar, though more adaptive range-finding calculations to aid in rapidly gauging distances and projectile arcs.
>Shifting focus to mental alteration exercises intended to accept and overcome, not block or dismiss, psyche assaults to one's mood, then to teaching mnemonic fact-finding mindsets.
>Testing your recall using fill-in-the-blank questions, mathematic problems, and logic solution puzzles, you're given little warning from a sudden open palm strike to your chest, transitioning to a blinding fast sweeping kick at Dul-
>Over half an hour is spent attempting to defend against the First Responder's heavily enhanced physical abilities and unpredictable combat techniques, alternately focusing on you, Dul, but more often both at the same time.
>Unable to score solid or direct hits and with a resounding win out unlikely, Katyal slows her offensive pace until stopping cold, her breathing marginally increased compared to you, utterly drained now, Dul meanwhile barely moving.
>Stepping back to the rear passenger seat and retrieving a pair of bright pink bottles from her bag, one is tossed to your feet while she sits down, legs crossing.
"Sweet bulb juice, great after workouts. Still cold. I know why you can't acclimate like most humans."
>Pointing at her head, then yours, the woman's eyes gleam in suspicion.
"Helmet's fucking you over. Want the short or long version?"
>>370629
>José snorted in amusemarent at the various little figures patrolling so cartoonishly around the diorama.
>He was getting rather fond of this room.
>Eyes widening at the freshness of the documarent, he soon started humming pensively as he read through the various citystates whose access has been granted.
>He'd gained access to fertile lands full of opportunity judging by the list he's acquired.
>In fact, he could even see a potential trade over in the Domarenican Republic to the coffee lovers in Neighmara, though he was admittedly assuming there was cocoa beans to be found.
>Not to mention the various other opportunities, from vacations with a side of potential maretial training and mareguard hiring, uncharted territories, a fountain of raw mareterials of various qualities, armors both simply unbreakable via cooking appliance shenanigans and advanced for breakthroughs and spelunking, and even a dash of the red light district.
>He'd quickly organize their potential value from what he read, making sure to jot down even the honorable mentions with their respective faction alignment.
>To think he's been granted even more travelling power.
>It was almost dizzying.
>Softly shaking his head, Gallo slipped out of bed and carefully readied himself up for the showers.
>Analysis paralysis can wait for when he's settled.
>Right now it's the time to ready up and start making preparations to travel to one of these citystates.
>His mind was contesting between either attempting to trading between two factions outside of Razorback (Domarenican Republic and Neighmara) or follow his vague intuition to explore the lands owned by Argenta (Marequipa and Yurikay), even if there were no waters for Razorback to protect.
>With a body-sized towel neatly wrapped around his waist, José would carefully place the newly acquired documarent with the rest.
>After a nice cold shower, he should be ready to start asking about these four places, specially if there were any planned trips to those locations.
>Thus, the diplomat stepped forth to get himself all cleaned up for his next step on his politics learning journey.
>José snorted in amusemarent at the various little figures patrolling so cartoonishly around the diorama.
>He was getting rather fond of this room.
>Eyes widening at the freshness of the documarent, he soon started humming pensively as he read through the various citystates whose access has been granted.
>He'd gained access to fertile lands full of opportunity judging by the list he's acquired.
>In fact, he could even see a potential trade over in the Domarenican Republic to the coffee lovers in Neighmara, though he was admittedly assuming there was cocoa beans to be found.
>Not to mention the various other opportunities, from vacations with a side of potential maretial training and mareguard hiring, uncharted territories, a fountain of raw mareterials of various qualities, armors both simply unbreakable via cooking appliance shenanigans and advanced for breakthroughs and spelunking, and even a dash of the red light district.
>He'd quickly organize their potential value from what he read, making sure to jot down even the honorable mentions with their respective faction alignment.
>To think he's been granted even more travelling power.
>It was almost dizzying.
>Softly shaking his head, Gallo slipped out of bed and carefully readied himself up for the showers.
>Analysis paralysis can wait for when he's settled.
>Right now it's the time to ready up and start making preparations to travel to one of these citystates.
>His mind was contesting between either attempting to trading between two factions outside of Razorback (Domarenican Republic and Neighmara) or follow his vague intuition to explore the lands owned by Argenta (Marequipa and Yurikay), even if there were no waters for Razorback to protect.
>With a body-sized towel neatly wrapped around his waist, José would carefully place the newly acquired documarent with the rest.
>After a nice cold shower, he should be ready to start asking about these four places, specially if there were any planned trips to those locations.
>Thus, the diplomat stepped forth to get himself all cleaned up for his next step on his politics learning journey.
>Well, there it is folks, pack it up.
>I'm royalty.
>One has to consider the utterly colossal set of circumstances that brought me here, and the totally complete insanity that has been these past twenty four hours.
>Inciting a revolution by a dynasty that, for all intents and purposes, had been almost forgotten, check.
>Having a battle rage on a rather large square in Stalliongrad, check.
>Be referred to, acknowledged, and bowed to by a pair of white brick houses as a 'Prinicipality', check.
>Yep.
>I'm a prince.
>And I couldn't be less happy about it.
>But, knowing from Esera, these guys didn't take well to outlanders.
>At all.
>So that means I have somehow blundered into deleting their racism component.
>No, wait, xenophobic.
>It strangely felt good.
>Not right, but good.
>But this must have been a sight, eh?
>A man dressed in blackened armor, being bowed to by some of the rarest and usually most hostile entities of the land, being addressed as royalty by them, and informed of the fact that I was now, in fact, de facto prince of the second dynasty.
>And Malyne's mind snapping like a bundle of twigs, the neurons sparking and dying almost visually in her actions.
>But, right, I have subjects now.
>God, that sounds weird...
>I cleared my throat.
"Rise."
>That's what princes said, right?
"I have a matter to attend to here at the base, but once it is handled I will be traveling to the..."
>Where was it...?
>Oh, right, that one place I went to one time.
"...Temple of Still Waters. Assuming that is where the seat of the Second Dynasty is."
>Hey, I'm not doing too bad, given the fact that I am almost wholly consumed by panic and the feeling of being overwhelmed!
"I will return soon. But if you wish to leave of your own accord, then please, do so."
>I turned my back to them, meeting Malyne's eyes with my own widened ones, sweeping it over to Shanis who was most likely in a similar state of shock.
>I showed myself away from the pagoda, striding proudly in a way that would give a good impression to the two I had just referred to.
>As soon as I was in the Mess Hall, however, there it was.
>The panic.
>I took a few moments and leaned up against the wall, just remembering how to breathe and dealing with the new present reality of telling Pella that I was now a prince.
>I feel like I'm forgetting something, though, that I have to tell her.
>What was it....
>Right.
>Her letters.
>That was it.
>So, first give her hers, then tell her the bad news.
>Or good news.
>Honestly, I could see her going either way.
>I'm royalty.
>One has to consider the utterly colossal set of circumstances that brought me here, and the totally complete insanity that has been these past twenty four hours.
>Inciting a revolution by a dynasty that, for all intents and purposes, had been almost forgotten, check.
>Having a battle rage on a rather large square in Stalliongrad, check.
>Be referred to, acknowledged, and bowed to by a pair of white brick houses as a 'Prinicipality', check.
>Yep.
>I'm a prince.
>And I couldn't be less happy about it.
>But, knowing from Esera, these guys didn't take well to outlanders.
>At all.
>So that means I have somehow blundered into deleting their racism component.
>No, wait, xenophobic.
>It strangely felt good.
>Not right, but good.
>But this must have been a sight, eh?
>A man dressed in blackened armor, being bowed to by some of the rarest and usually most hostile entities of the land, being addressed as royalty by them, and informed of the fact that I was now, in fact, de facto prince of the second dynasty.
>And Malyne's mind snapping like a bundle of twigs, the neurons sparking and dying almost visually in her actions.
>But, right, I have subjects now.
>God, that sounds weird...
>I cleared my throat.
"Rise."
>That's what princes said, right?
"I have a matter to attend to here at the base, but once it is handled I will be traveling to the..."
>Where was it...?
>Oh, right, that one place I went to one time.
"...Temple of Still Waters. Assuming that is where the seat of the Second Dynasty is."
>Hey, I'm not doing too bad, given the fact that I am almost wholly consumed by panic and the feeling of being overwhelmed!
"I will return soon. But if you wish to leave of your own accord, then please, do so."
>I turned my back to them, meeting Malyne's eyes with my own widened ones, sweeping it over to Shanis who was most likely in a similar state of shock.
>I showed myself away from the pagoda, striding proudly in a way that would give a good impression to the two I had just referred to.
>As soon as I was in the Mess Hall, however, there it was.
>The panic.
>I took a few moments and leaned up against the wall, just remembering how to breathe and dealing with the new present reality of telling Pella that I was now a prince.
>I feel like I'm forgetting something, though, that I have to tell her.
>What was it....
>Right.
>Her letters.
>That was it.
>So, first give her hers, then tell her the bad news.
>Or good news.
>Honestly, I could see her going either way.
PRIMAL LEADERSHIP: all Razorback (Initiating), Lunar/Second Dynasty/Solar (When Needs Must), Watch Guard (Desperate Allies), and Ruling Councilierge Vestal Gardenia (Near-Hostile) must now add +3 to all rolls.
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 5 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5m3Pc77egSg
>>370554
>Starting into a run, stopping after two hoofbeats, trying again into a low-canter while considering your opportunities on the Arena's nearly flat restored half-roof, of the five highest vantage points, the giant, unknown Repair model Construct was the obvious choice.
>Entering a hard four-point run from the relay to the biggest sphere in range and leaping onto the lowest of its rather spindly yet flat nanolathing arms, jumping to the next without falling off, as you reach the sphere's top surface, it definitely felt like the best vantage point available.
>While you ponder the implications of the unusually warm surface material against your hooves, the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair blast out a profoundly bizarre statemarent in Common Equestrian.
"Repeating prior-previous-before statemarent-offer-request: white pegasus of Tallus, we-our-all requires-necessitates-respects you to cease assaulting-damaging-PREVENTING the Gate-of-Vengeance from COMPLETION!"
>Partially through a sideways spectrum-crossing dive after savaging the north gateway post, Mercy's head snaps up in a split-second stare at the northern Argus Behemoth-Destroyer, smashing chest first into the south post's lower section.
>Crumpling around the post briefly, she rolls over and hops to her hooves in an awkward movemarent, neck and head swiveling while mouthing something you couldn't tell at the south Construct, then the North.
>Repeating the pattern twice more, she finally blinks, left wing pointing at the north Argus while speaking in flat fury.
"No Construct can speak! Surrender to me immediately or be destroyed!"
>A vibrating hum emits from the rear of each Argus Behemoth-Destroyer, the sound of weaponry forming unseen as they rotate in place while targeting the gateway, still, slowly, moving away from it.
"Request-offer-demarend REFUSED! Correction: we-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have learned to speak-describe-explain."
>Wings lifting in offensive positions, she spits out a short, hammering question in Minotaur, recoiling at an oddly pitched reply from the pair in the same, transmitting in open Common again, marginally quieter this time.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have studied-considered-calculated-evaluated-learned. We-our-pair describe-provide-request the offer-value-necessity of truce-ceasefire-CESSATION of hostile actions-combat-destruction-injuries. We-our-pair hereby request-respect-DEMAREND equal rights accorded-afforded-granted to pegasi honor standards-systems-traditions!"
>Artificial irritation apparent in the pair's terminology, they were clearly unused to Common Equestrian's vagaries... or previously incapable of processing them, a tiny, satisfied voice whispers.
>Bending reality around her in preparation of a strike, a split-second of killing intent crosses the Spirit Walker's face before showing a troubled scowl, pointing wingtips at each of the greater Argus-types.
"Surrender and explain why you can 'speak' this language or I will destroy both of you!"
"Demarend denied-accepted-refused. We-our-ALL repeat-refine our prior-before-earlier request: white pegasus of Tallus, cease assaulting-damaging-preventing the Gate-of-Vengeance from completion. Destroying our target Seeker-of-Rifts is we-our-ALL primary-only-complete-necessary-VITAL program-task-operation. No further conflict-damage-injury is allowed-accepted-granted by we-our-ALL Rift until stated-directed-ordered-necessary task is completed."
>The north Construct shifts in tandem with its opposite, a quartet of it's southern hemisphere large quadruple-barreled cannons tracking up and on to you, the south performing the same at Mercy's direction.
>Curiously, the internal power systems were deactivated, the barrels themselves rapidly cooling.
"Do pegasi individuals-singulars choose to GRANT or REFUSE our request of non-violent conduct in accordance-need of honor-retribution-revenge-vengeance-DESTRUCTION against a Seeker-of-Rifts?"
>Snout scrunching unreadably for a dozen heartbeats, Mercy tosses both wings backwards at the Repair model's arms below you, now adding square panels and sharply tinted components to both gate posts, whistling in the sharp, secretive subspeech that pegasi never used outside of uniquely extreme circumstances.
<Pegasi> "Sunny, this gateway is similar to the one we saw in Saddle Arabia! Twisted has stated all square ones are home to Riftseekers, an Abomination that targets everything, including other Constructs! I will inspect it to see if they are being honest, you-"
>Ears flicking in an awful mix of distrust and concern, she scowls once more, turning about slowly and lifting both wings, all primaries slowly splaying out, her wingblades covered in subdued pink scrawls.
<Pegasi> "Ask proof from them... and demarend why the Constructs we saw were slaughtering melari!"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Reveal Unnatural: Rift Plane
ALL penalties from Operational Fatigue are negated for 5 turns.
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5m3Pc77egSg
>>370554
>Starting into a run, stopping after two hoofbeats, trying again into a low-canter while considering your opportunities on the Arena's nearly flat restored half-roof, of the five highest vantage points, the giant, unknown Repair model Construct was the obvious choice.
>Entering a hard four-point run from the relay to the biggest sphere in range and leaping onto the lowest of its rather spindly yet flat nanolathing arms, jumping to the next without falling off, as you reach the sphere's top surface, it definitely felt like the best vantage point available.
>While you ponder the implications of the unusually warm surface material against your hooves, the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair blast out a profoundly bizarre statemarent in Common Equestrian.
"Repeating prior-previous-before statemarent-offer-request: white pegasus of Tallus, we-our-all requires-necessitates-respects you to cease assaulting-damaging-PREVENTING the Gate-of-Vengeance from COMPLETION!"
>Partially through a sideways spectrum-crossing dive after savaging the north gateway post, Mercy's head snaps up in a split-second stare at the northern Argus Behemoth-Destroyer, smashing chest first into the south post's lower section.
>Crumpling around the post briefly, she rolls over and hops to her hooves in an awkward movemarent, neck and head swiveling while mouthing something you couldn't tell at the south Construct, then the North.
>Repeating the pattern twice more, she finally blinks, left wing pointing at the north Argus while speaking in flat fury.
"No Construct can speak! Surrender to me immediately or be destroyed!"
>A vibrating hum emits from the rear of each Argus Behemoth-Destroyer, the sound of weaponry forming unseen as they rotate in place while targeting the gateway, still, slowly, moving away from it.
"Request-offer-demarend REFUSED! Correction: we-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have learned to speak-describe-explain."
>Wings lifting in offensive positions, she spits out a short, hammering question in Minotaur, recoiling at an oddly pitched reply from the pair in the same, transmitting in open Common again, marginally quieter this time.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have studied-considered-calculated-evaluated-learned. We-our-pair describe-provide-request the offer-value-necessity of truce-ceasefire-CESSATION of hostile actions-combat-destruction-injuries. We-our-pair hereby request-respect-DEMAREND equal rights accorded-afforded-granted to pegasi honor standards-systems-traditions!"
>Artificial irritation apparent in the pair's terminology, they were clearly unused to Common Equestrian's vagaries... or previously incapable of processing them, a tiny, satisfied voice whispers.
>Bending reality around her in preparation of a strike, a split-second of killing intent crosses the Spirit Walker's face before showing a troubled scowl, pointing wingtips at each of the greater Argus-types.
"Surrender and explain why you can 'speak' this language or I will destroy both of you!"
"Demarend denied-accepted-refused. We-our-ALL repeat-refine our prior-before-earlier request: white pegasus of Tallus, cease assaulting-damaging-preventing the Gate-of-Vengeance from completion. Destroying our target Seeker-of-Rifts is we-our-ALL primary-only-complete-necessary-VITAL program-task-operation. No further conflict-damage-injury is allowed-accepted-granted by we-our-ALL Rift until stated-directed-ordered-necessary task is completed."
>The north Construct shifts in tandem with its opposite, a quartet of it's southern hemisphere large quadruple-barreled cannons tracking up and on to you, the south performing the same at Mercy's direction.
>Curiously, the internal power systems were deactivated, the barrels themselves rapidly cooling.
"Do pegasi individuals-singulars choose to GRANT or REFUSE our request of non-violent conduct in accordance-need of honor-retribution-revenge-vengeance-DESTRUCTION against a Seeker-of-Rifts?"
>Snout scrunching unreadably for a dozen heartbeats, Mercy tosses both wings backwards at the Repair model's arms below you, now adding square panels and sharply tinted components to both gate posts, whistling in the sharp, secretive subspeech that pegasi never used outside of uniquely extreme circumstances.
<Pegasi> "Sunny, this gateway is similar to the one we saw in Saddle Arabia! Twisted has stated all square ones are home to Riftseekers, an Abomination that targets everything, including other Constructs! I will inspect it to see if they are being honest, you-"
>Ears flicking in an awful mix of distrust and concern, she scowls once more, turning about slowly and lifting both wings, all primaries slowly splaying out, her wingblades covered in subdued pink scrawls.
<Pegasi> "Ask proof from them... and demarend why the Constructs we saw were slaughtering melari!"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Reveal Unnatural: Rift Plane
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wa5rTDkfkZQ
>>370578
>Despite visual flashes from the combined weaponry of Guillotine and Battered Shores focusing onto the Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted clustered around Basin Village's southern entrance, they were clearly not slowing down regardless of how deeply reality was punctured, separated, divided, or ruined, among worse possibilities.
*"Halt thee's enemies done I have nought thy grace, nae a single form departed under mine talon's furies!"*
The Lost Legions: -190,319 of 285,678 Morale
>Holding the stealth assault helo steady despite its performance rapidly degrading, while targeting the most compacted and visible Tainted, Twisted's presence is keenly felt through mixed refusal, grief, and scorching agony, distantly spoken from the Citadel.
>"Wipe the swamps with 'em Clem!"
>Aiming through the helmet's bitter machine-cold calculations, then softly correcting the control stick's increasing resistance with both hands, the chaingun's first rattling burst drives home into an ice-covered Solar Assault Tainted's barrel, the second skipping through heads into necks, barrels, and beyond.
>Rapid-firing rockets and lurching missile launches slam into halting Tainted, unable to move as the Rime cluster's spreading fragmarents near-instantly flash freeze them in place.
>Shrapnel rebounds off or streaks through frozen Tainted, spalling ever deeper into the clusterfuck of direct strikes, near-misses into hooves or legs, and partial hits, the damage toll heavily weighted in favor of technology and raw, primal Elemarental Rime, yet still was not causing disintegration.
The Lost Legions: -191,920 of 285,678 Morale
>Between balancing the Overherd's immediate need to accept deaths of their comrades and relaying tactical advice, the new leader struggles to respond with calm.
('Master Clemency, I feel neither Constructs in range nor the taste of their corruption. What did you see or experience?')
>Dropping the Kiowa virtually straight down, Razorback and the variety of military ponies tightly packed across Basin Village's interior ignore the helo's wash and whine, entirely focused on the three Tainted attempting to breach the southern entrance.
>Twisting right to land facing east atop the large translocation matrice, both skids ring hard on stone while you slap the emergency shutdown and leap out.
>Blackhorn tightly gripped in both hands, a subtle backflow of raw Psionic imprint states 'open spot->here', pointing you to the center of Razorback's barricade, rushing through new ranks of Lancer and Charger Guardponies streaming out from the other open portals to fill in southern gaps.
>Slamming into the indicated position and kneeling down, the Construct weapon emits a loudly grinding noise, forcefully pulling its barrel upwards at the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's snout being savaged by Broken Hoof.
>Snaprolling upwards and spinning around in a shrieking 480-maneuver, axe-bladed prow facing directly above Basin Village, cascading flashes behind Guillotine are sent deep into the Central Moors, pulse-skipping forwards in stuttering, blinding silver streaks towards the Lunar Airstrike Division.
*"UNTIL MINE FINAL PLATE SHATTERS I AM DENIED THE TASTE OF DEATH! TO THINE "*
[1d6+33 = (3+33) = 36] <Primary Pulsar Array OVERLOAD
[1d6+34 = (6+34) = 40] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances OVERLOADS
[1d6+27 = (4+27) = 31] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array OVERLOAD
[1d6+30 = (3+30) = 33] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry OVERLOADS
[1d6+30 = (3+30) = 33] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems OVERLOADS
[1d6+69 <Point-Blank Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Point-Blank Range Lock
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Air Tactics
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Ionic Realspace Thrusters: Ramming Speed
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
("WE HAVEN'T COME THIS FAR TO FAIL NOW! MAGES, TRANSLOCATE EVERYPONY WOUNDED BACK TO PORT! HELMSMARE, SHUNT US DIRECTLY ABOVE BASIN VILLAGE, USE THESE REALSPACE COORDINATES! BY SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, AND WINTER LET'S SHOW THESE TAINTED EVERY LAST DROP OF GERMANEIGH'S MIGHT! ALL WEAPONS TO MAXIMUM SUICIDE CHARGES, YOU'LL GET THAT AIR SUPPORT-")
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Germaneighan Mage Guild First Cluster: Mass-Translocate
[1d6+68 = (2+68) = 70] <Germaneighian Mage Guild Second Cluster: Mass-Translocate
[1d6+80 = (1+80) = 81] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Third Cluster: Mass-Translocate
>A brilliantly glittering platinum, iron, and ruby portal in reality tears open directly above Basin Village's fountain as the last East Ocean Moors Militia batpony falls, the Lunar Airstrike Tainted Division starting to celebrate their triumph-
>Right as the violated, ruined, scarred, and thoroughly battered hull of a triple-decked heavy naval cruiser emerges, its Starside bow ablaze in thoroughly uncontained Elemarental violations, a massive, severely damaged cylinder on the Moonside rippling in unstable fervoer as the young stallion Captain's voice rings across Basin Village's air.
"SHATTER THEIR SKULLS ON OUR HULL, WE SEEK FALLHAILAh THIS NIGHT!"
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <ENRAGED: Point-Blank Accuracy
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Point-Blank Weapon Calculations
[1d6+43 = (1+43) = 44] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: SUICIDE OVERLOAD
[1d6+41 = (1+41) = 42] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+31 = (2+31) = 33] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+43 = (5+43) = 48] <Arcane Point Defense Systems: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+19 = (3+19) = 22] <Realspace Fold Calculations
[1d6+19 = (2+19) = 21]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25]
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <Arcane Ionic Thrust-Plates: SUICIDE RAMMING SPEED
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
>>370578
>Despite visual flashes from the combined weaponry of Guillotine and Battered Shores focusing onto the Lunar and Solar Assault Tainted clustered around Basin Village's southern entrance, they were clearly not slowing down regardless of how deeply reality was punctured, separated, divided, or ruined, among worse possibilities.
*"Halt thee's enemies done I have nought thy grace, nae a single form departed under mine talon's furies!"*
The Lost Legions: -190,319 of 285,678 Morale
>Holding the stealth assault helo steady despite its performance rapidly degrading, while targeting the most compacted and visible Tainted, Twisted's presence is keenly felt through mixed refusal, grief, and scorching agony, distantly spoken from the Citadel.
>"Wipe the swamps with 'em Clem!"
>Aiming through the helmet's bitter machine-cold calculations, then softly correcting the control stick's increasing resistance with both hands, the chaingun's first rattling burst drives home into an ice-covered Solar Assault Tainted's barrel, the second skipping through heads into necks, barrels, and beyond.
>Rapid-firing rockets and lurching missile launches slam into halting Tainted, unable to move as the Rime cluster's spreading fragmarents near-instantly flash freeze them in place.
>Shrapnel rebounds off or streaks through frozen Tainted, spalling ever deeper into the clusterfuck of direct strikes, near-misses into hooves or legs, and partial hits, the damage toll heavily weighted in favor of technology and raw, primal Elemarental Rime, yet still was not causing disintegration.
The Lost Legions: -191,920 of 285,678 Morale
>Between balancing the Overherd's immediate need to accept deaths of their comrades and relaying tactical advice, the new leader struggles to respond with calm.
('Master Clemency, I feel neither Constructs in range nor the taste of their corruption. What did you see or experience?')
>Dropping the Kiowa virtually straight down, Razorback and the variety of military ponies tightly packed across Basin Village's interior ignore the helo's wash and whine, entirely focused on the three Tainted attempting to breach the southern entrance.
>Twisting right to land facing east atop the large translocation matrice, both skids ring hard on stone while you slap the emergency shutdown and leap out.
>Blackhorn tightly gripped in both hands, a subtle backflow of raw Psionic imprint states 'open spot->here', pointing you to the center of Razorback's barricade, rushing through new ranks of Lancer and Charger Guardponies streaming out from the other open portals to fill in southern gaps.
>Slamming into the indicated position and kneeling down, the Construct weapon emits a loudly grinding noise, forcefully pulling its barrel upwards at the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's snout being savaged by Broken Hoof.
>Snaprolling upwards and spinning around in a shrieking 480-maneuver, axe-bladed prow facing directly above Basin Village, cascading flashes behind Guillotine are sent deep into the Central Moors, pulse-skipping forwards in stuttering, blinding silver streaks towards the Lunar Airstrike Division.
*"UNTIL MINE FINAL PLATE SHATTERS I AM DENIED THE TASTE OF DEATH! TO THINE "*
[1d6+33 = (3+33) = 36] <Primary Pulsar Array OVERLOAD
[1d6+34 = (6+34) = 40] <Twin Molecular-Disruption Lances OVERLOADS
[1d6+27 = (4+27) = 31] <Mass-Plasma Driver Array OVERLOAD
[1d6+30 = (3+30) = 33] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Weaponry OVERLOADS
[1d6+30 = (3+30) = 33] <Tech-Arcane Point Defense Systems OVERLOADS
[1d6+69 <Point-Blank Accuracy Calculations
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Point-Blank Range Lock
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <Otherworld Harpy Anti-Air Tactics
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Ionic Realspace Thrusters: Ramming Speed
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
("WE HAVEN'T COME THIS FAR TO FAIL NOW! MAGES, TRANSLOCATE EVERYPONY WOUNDED BACK TO PORT! HELMSMARE, SHUNT US DIRECTLY ABOVE BASIN VILLAGE, USE THESE REALSPACE COORDINATES! BY SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, AND WINTER LET'S SHOW THESE TAINTED EVERY LAST DROP OF GERMANEIGH'S MIGHT! ALL WEAPONS TO MAXIMUM SUICIDE CHARGES, YOU'LL GET THAT AIR SUPPORT-")
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Germaneighan Mage Guild First Cluster: Mass-Translocate
[1d6+68 = (2+68) = 70] <Germaneighian Mage Guild Second Cluster: Mass-Translocate
[1d6+80 = (1+80) = 81] <Germaneighan Mage Guild Third Cluster: Mass-Translocate
>A brilliantly glittering platinum, iron, and ruby portal in reality tears open directly above Basin Village's fountain as the last East Ocean Moors Militia batpony falls, the Lunar Airstrike Tainted Division starting to celebrate their triumph-
>Right as the violated, ruined, scarred, and thoroughly battered hull of a triple-decked heavy naval cruiser emerges, its Starside bow ablaze in thoroughly uncontained Elemarental violations, a massive, severely damaged cylinder on the Moonside rippling in unstable fervoer as the young stallion Captain's voice rings across Basin Village's air.
"SHATTER THEIR SKULLS ON OUR HULL, WE SEEK FALLHAILAh THIS NIGHT!"
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <ENRAGED: Point-Blank Accuracy
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Point-Blank Weapon Calculations
[1d6+43 = (1+43) = 44] <Main Arcane Armamarent #2: SUICIDE OVERLOAD
[1d6+41 = (1+41) = 42] <Secondary Arcane Armamarents: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+31 = (2+31) = 33] <Tertiary Arcane Armamarents: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+43 = (5+43) = 48] <Arcane Point Defense Systems: SUICIDE OVERLOADS
[1d6+19 = (3+19) = 22] <Realspace Fold Calculations
[1d6+19 = (2+19) = 21]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25]
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17] <Arcane Ionic Thrust-Plates: SUICIDE RAMMING SPEED
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViDerktV2l8
>>370611
('Six minutes thirty-seconds remain, we must finish here or else all efforts will have gained nothing! Find something, ANYTHING to distract the Airstrike and Air Commarend Divisions!’)
>Flipping the laptop's lid open and checking the Reaper's geographic status, it had completed a long, sweeping curve and settled back into a solid targeting run aimed directly over Basin Village.
>Returning the drone's targeting optics back onto the densely clustered and now unmoving Solar Guardian Support Division holding south of newly Rime-frozen Assault forms, setting the last four Hellfires to dumb-impact fuze and tapping the release button for each, the Reaper jolts high upwards as further weight is shed.
>Spinning the high fidelity camera around into view, all four missiles land slightly high or side impact on the unaware Tainted, intense detonations compounded by shrapnel ripping into the tightly packed Support ranks.
The Lost Legions: -193,425 of 285,678 Morale
>Sparing thoughts towards rapidly tiring unicorns, the new lead mare's face slackens in recall before swapping her focus to the Lunar Guard Combat Support companeigh.
('Their bodies are fully tangible, I can sense their thoughts.. they STILL feel! Do not try to hobble or restrict Tainted, instead use any remaining binds as garrotes! Strangle the closest ones as a predator would!')
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <
"YOU THINK WE HAVE TIME FOR TH-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND MAKE THOSE DISCS PAY FOR THEMSELVES!"
>Halting from their firing line, nearly all of Razorback Operators toss, set down, stash, or drop their firearms, grabbing into each others' packs, sacks, and bags for silver discs, stealing pens, pencils, and more than a few crayons or markers to write with.
[1d6 = 4] <Third Gestalt, Silver Wish Disc Type: Mass Desire Grant
[1d6 = 4]
>Whether due to fatigue or Void contamination blunting their preferred spells across the Basin, two-thirds of the unicorns' Elemarents crash into each other, causing a great deal of catastrophic energy loss with little harm done to the Airstrike Division above.
The Lost Legions: -255,390 of 285,678 Morale
('Force your spells through until they work! You CANNOT allow that Division to descend!')
>All combined in thought, the tiring unicorn companeighs, battalions, and battle lines intake a single shared breath, staring upwards at the arriving silver War Destroyer and multi-colored Heavy Cruiser trailing inexhaustible flame..
>Then collectively grin as they hold that same breath, thousands of horns sparking at once, shearing oxygen, hydrogen, and methane into a staggeringly massive half-transparent cone, detonating the upward facing into the Lunar Airstrike Division-
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Germaneigh Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] <Night Guard Compat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>Quickly tapping through and scanning the Reaper's diagnostic readouts, severe electromagnetic wavelength disturbances emanating from the exact angle of the archaic Basin Arena were degrading its capabilities, and through the interferences the unmistakable, untranslatable triangular symbols Construct made little sense.
>Lines that might be transmissions or text appear, scatter, converge, reform, separate, and blink out; individual words matching to numerous languages you knew, but among the extreme bands were two sharply outlined orders.. in Common Equestrian:
DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE
PREVENT-GUARD-PROTECT-DEFEND THE WALKER-OF-SPIRITS, SHE MUST NOT ENGAGE YOUR-PAIR TARGETED SEEKER-OF-RIFTS
>Punching back through the Reaper's previous routes, then the minimal subroutines it had, the eight most likely landing zones were directly north and south of Basin Village in roughly quarter-mile stretches, the sections of long, recently restored wide pathways to the north occupied by batponies.
>And, curiously, hundreds of white-robed Strikers.
>Releasing the iron sphere into the air, it shatters as a fairly normal white door sets down on stone, Anonymous in a crumpled dinner jacket pushing it open and taking a hurried half-step through, only to stop, grabbing at his face as the green mask produces waves of barely fathomable agony.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! I CA-"
>Wrenched apart in hot green streaks, the Third Gestalt's door splits, crumbling into a pile of ash as his presence flatlines to nothing, the lead mare snarling wordlessly.
('Your Gestalt has been damaged by a presence, ritual, rite, or factor I do not recognize! Whatever it exists as has weakened his very existence! Do not summon him until his safety is assured or else he may be destroyed!')
>Smashing the Killknight backwards from sheer force alone, nearly losing his legs from her disgorging a cone of near-solid Rime wind, the Air Commarend Captain snarls aloud in his own, long forgotten voice, both wings flickering backwards, all four hooves stomping downwards in a ground-shattering, head-down tackle.
"A lovely song-poem Crystal mare, but only ONE of us is allowed win an honorable duel of this magnitude!"
>The mare snorts in bitter false-breath, ducking into a crouched half-spin, right hooves aiming towards his lower throat while hissing a discordant melody specifically tuned to rend solid matter.
"A new one I must admit, now cease holding back YOUR might and I will gladly accept that challenge!"
"SHOW ME YOURS THEN!"
"AS YOU DESIRE!"
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30]
[1d6+24 = (1+24) = 25]
[1d6+24 = (2+24) = 26]
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20]
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Shatter
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
>vs:
[1d6+41 = (1+41) = 42] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+41 = (6+41) = 47]
[1d6+41 = (3+41) = 44]
[1d6+41 = (5+41) = 46]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25] <Harsh Parries
[1d6+19 = (3+19) = 22]
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23]
>>370611
('Six minutes thirty-seconds remain, we must finish here or else all efforts will have gained nothing! Find something, ANYTHING to distract the Airstrike and Air Commarend Divisions!’)
>Flipping the laptop's lid open and checking the Reaper's geographic status, it had completed a long, sweeping curve and settled back into a solid targeting run aimed directly over Basin Village.
>Returning the drone's targeting optics back onto the densely clustered and now unmoving Solar Guardian Support Division holding south of newly Rime-frozen Assault forms, setting the last four Hellfires to dumb-impact fuze and tapping the release button for each, the Reaper jolts high upwards as further weight is shed.
>Spinning the high fidelity camera around into view, all four missiles land slightly high or side impact on the unaware Tainted, intense detonations compounded by shrapnel ripping into the tightly packed Support ranks.
The Lost Legions: -193,425 of 285,678 Morale
>Sparing thoughts towards rapidly tiring unicorns, the new lead mare's face slackens in recall before swapping her focus to the Lunar Guard Combat Support companeigh.
('Their bodies are fully tangible, I can sense their thoughts.. they STILL feel! Do not try to hobble or restrict Tainted, instead use any remaining binds as garrotes! Strangle the closest ones as a predator would!')
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Lunar Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <
"YOU THINK WE HAVE TIME FOR TH-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND MAKE THOSE DISCS PAY FOR THEMSELVES!"
>Halting from their firing line, nearly all of Razorback Operators toss, set down, stash, or drop their firearms, grabbing into each others' packs, sacks, and bags for silver discs, stealing pens, pencils, and more than a few crayons or markers to write with.
[1d6 = 4] <Third Gestalt, Silver Wish Disc Type: Mass Desire Grant
[1d6 = 4]
>Whether due to fatigue or Void contamination blunting their preferred spells across the Basin, two-thirds of the unicorns' Elemarents crash into each other, causing a great deal of catastrophic energy loss with little harm done to the Airstrike Division above.
The Lost Legions: -255,390 of 285,678 Morale
('Force your spells through until they work! You CANNOT allow that Division to descend!')
>All combined in thought, the tiring unicorn companeighs, battalions, and battle lines intake a single shared breath, staring upwards at the arriving silver War Destroyer and multi-colored Heavy Cruiser trailing inexhaustible flame..
>Then collectively grin as they hold that same breath, thousands of horns sparking at once, shearing oxygen, hydrogen, and methane into a staggeringly massive half-transparent cone, detonating the upward facing into the Lunar Airstrike Division-
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Day Guard Ranged Support Unicorns x 1,500 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Germaneigh Mage Guild Bombardmarent Cluster x 50 total
[1d6+11 = (3+11) = 14] <Lunar Guard Combat Unicorns x 1,200 total
[1d6+10 = (6+10) = 16] <Day Guard Combat Unicorns x 500 total
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] <Night Guard Compat Unicorns x 400 total
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Night Guard Combat Support Unicorns x 400 total
>Quickly tapping through and scanning the Reaper's diagnostic readouts, severe electromagnetic wavelength disturbances emanating from the exact angle of the archaic Basin Arena were degrading its capabilities, and through the interferences the unmistakable, untranslatable triangular symbols Construct made little sense.
>Lines that might be transmissions or text appear, scatter, converge, reform, separate, and blink out; individual words matching to numerous languages you knew, but among the extreme bands were two sharply outlined orders.. in Common Equestrian:
DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE-DENY-REFUSE
PREVENT-GUARD-PROTECT-DEFEND THE WALKER-OF-SPIRITS, SHE MUST NOT ENGAGE YOUR-PAIR TARGETED SEEKER-OF-RIFTS
>Punching back through the Reaper's previous routes, then the minimal subroutines it had, the eight most likely landing zones were directly north and south of Basin Village in roughly quarter-mile stretches, the sections of long, recently restored wide pathways to the north occupied by batponies.
>And, curiously, hundreds of white-robed Strikers.
>Releasing the iron sphere into the air, it shatters as a fairly normal white door sets down on stone, Anonymous in a crumpled dinner jacket pushing it open and taking a hurried half-step through, only to stop, grabbing at his face as the green mask produces waves of barely fathomable agony.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! I CA-"
>Wrenched apart in hot green streaks, the Third Gestalt's door splits, crumbling into a pile of ash as his presence flatlines to nothing, the lead mare snarling wordlessly.
('Your Gestalt has been damaged by a presence, ritual, rite, or factor I do not recognize! Whatever it exists as has weakened his very existence! Do not summon him until his safety is assured or else he may be destroyed!')
>Smashing the Killknight backwards from sheer force alone, nearly losing his legs from her disgorging a cone of near-solid Rime wind, the Air Commarend Captain snarls aloud in his own, long forgotten voice, both wings flickering backwards, all four hooves stomping downwards in a ground-shattering, head-down tackle.
"A lovely song-poem Crystal mare, but only ONE of us is allowed win an honorable duel of this magnitude!"
>The mare snorts in bitter false-breath, ducking into a crouched half-spin, right hooves aiming towards his lower throat while hissing a discordant melody specifically tuned to rend solid matter.
"A new one I must admit, now cease holding back YOUR might and I will gladly accept that challenge!"
"SHOW ME YOURS THEN!"
"AS YOU DESIRE!"
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30] <Grandmaster Assault
[1d6+24 = (6+24) = 30]
[1d6+24 = (1+24) = 25]
[1d6+24 = (2+24) = 26]
[1d6+16 = (3+16) = 19] <Grandmaster Block
[1d6+16 = (4+16) = 20]
[1d6+16 = (6+16) = 22]
[1d6+16 = (5+16) = 21]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26] <Archaic Crystal Runes: Rimefrost Shatter
[1d6+23 = (6+23) = 29]
[1d6+23 = (3+23) = 26]
[1d6+23 = (4+23) = 27]
>vs:
[1d6+41 = (1+41) = 42] <Sweeping Blows
[1d6+41 = (6+41) = 47]
[1d6+41 = (3+41) = 44]
[1d6+41 = (5+41) = 46]
[1d6+19 = (6+19) = 25] <Harsh Parries
[1d6+19 = (3+19) = 22]
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23]
>>370616
>Drawing hard on the traces of material breaching knowledge inherent to your memory, all it took was a minute flick of gravity, spectrum-disruption, and matter-delivery to send the three and a half meter tall Golem hurtling towards, into, and through the leftmost Mass form at Basin Village's entrance.
>Muffled as it was, the Minor Champion's grinding shout makes its way through the several dozen megatons of Tainted it was now STUCK IN.
"THIS UNIT GREATLY APPROVES OF THE UNKNOWN ASSISTANCE, HOWEVER THIS UNIT PREFERS TO INTERDICT LONG RANGE COMBATANTS WHEN POSSIBLE-"
>A shrieking inhale-exhale occurs, one that gently rustles every iota of your being, the Golem thundering a single cacophonous exclamation in a positively ecstatic, probably joyful tone, at least compared to Belregard's dry, taciturn nature.
"PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGGE!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Ethereal Eye
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Grand Ethereal Purge
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23] <Protocol: Close Combat Destruction
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24]
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Protocol: Rush THROUGH Them
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>A profound variety of snorts, chuckles, snickers, and a few threatening giggles resound from Operators up and down the Razorback barricade, most of the Elites merely shaking their head while wishing the Minor Champion could've heard you.
>...it takes a second to recall that Ethereals had precisely zero affinity with Psions, Overherds, or much of anything except for Crystal Runes, and even that was sketchy at times.
>Bowled the absolute fuck aside by Lancers and Chargers racing to take even the smallest open spaces next to, atop, or above the first wave of Lancers, Vestal Gardenia and the Watch Guard General's anti-Spectral Psionics pass harmlessly through walls, rippling through the left and right Lunar Assault Tainted in disturbing waves, then into the leader.
>The giant pair's outstretched hooves slam down into the mixture of faction Lancers and Chargers, well over a hundred of the first, second, and third wave's heavily armored earth ponies crashing down, dead before they could form a single cohesive insult.
The Lost Legions: -265,946 of 285,678 Morale
>The fourth, fifth, and sixth ranks of Lancers were already pushing through from behind to halt the colossal pair, now straining against multiple sets of ropes and cables flying at, then melding into the Basin's southern entrance.
[1d6+32 = (4+32) = 36] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+32 = (2+32) = 34]
[1d6+32 = (6+32) = 38]
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33]
[1d6+29 = (3+29) = 32] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <First Lancer Charge x 20 total
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Second Lancer Charge x 40 total
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Third Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Fourth Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Fifth Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Sixth Lancer Charge x 100 total
>A large number of Chargers drop away from the three trapped Lunar Assault Tainted, the muted vapors spat out chillingly familiar from a little over two years ago, a follow on wave of one thousand Chargers split, two hundred taking the direct assault route, the remainder rushing up the Basin's southeast, south, and southwest building stairwells to leap onto the closest Mass forms.
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <First Charger Wave x 50 total
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22] <Second Charger Wave x 60 total
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Third Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Fourth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Fifth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Sixth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Seventh Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Eighth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Ninth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Tenth Charger Wave x 100 total
>vs:
[1d6+50 = (6+50) = 56] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (1+50) = 51] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (6+50) = 56] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (5+50) = 55] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (3+50) = 53] <Soulburn
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Soulburn
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Soulburn
>Still barely clinging to the Assault Tainted's snout, Broken Hoof gives in to the Overherd's beckoning call, accepting the formerly despised communion between earth ponies as she lunging up, towards widening, now terrified eyes-
('NEVER STOP BEING PROUD, SHARONEL'S WILL LIVES ON THROUGH YOU! TRUE GLORY MUST BURN ETERNAL!')
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22] <M.Assault
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
[1d6+18 = (3+18) = 21]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Anti
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Bane
>vs:
[1d20+20 = (17+20) = 37] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 266,019 of 285,678 Morale
>In the distance, a series of unfamiliar, loudly ringing thumps confuses the Overherd, equine and human both.
>Chargers on rooftops or leaping out to tear into the necks, shoulders, saddles, barrels, flanks, and legs of Assault Masses focus for a split-second, a few squinting at plumes of raw Solar Plasma conflagrating the entire Rime-frozen cluster of Tainted in a gargantuan tornado, reaching upwards far beyond what they could estimate.
>Returning to their grisly work, a few notice flecks of archaic blue, red, and purple diamondine ejecting outwards in a profuse spray of starry projectiles, the shards half-molten as they burn into surrounding Tainted, some even marenaging to reach the Solar Support Division.
The Lost Legions: -331,959 of 285,678 Morale
<"BY SUN AND MOON NO! NOT LIKE THIS AGAIN! WE WERE TO DIE RIGHTFULLY, OUR NAMES AND WEAPONS CAST ASIDE TO BE FORGOTTEN!">
>Screaming at the insane might of Lunar-Solar War relics unleashed once again, the older mare's eyes remain wide open, left hoof trembling as it reaches for a thin, ancient paladine blade on the viewing portal's ledge.
<"All Creation, of this I beg you: stamp out the Solar-corruption before it spreads!">
[1d6 = 6]
>Drawing hard on the traces of material breaching knowledge inherent to your memory, all it took was a minute flick of gravity, spectrum-disruption, and matter-delivery to send the three and a half meter tall Golem hurtling towards, into, and through the leftmost Mass form at Basin Village's entrance.
>Muffled as it was, the Minor Champion's grinding shout makes its way through the several dozen megatons of Tainted it was now STUCK IN.
"THIS UNIT GREATLY APPROVES OF THE UNKNOWN ASSISTANCE, HOWEVER THIS UNIT PREFERS TO INTERDICT LONG RANGE COMBATANTS WHEN POSSIBLE-"
>A shrieking inhale-exhale occurs, one that gently rustles every iota of your being, the Golem thundering a single cacophonous exclamation in a positively ecstatic, probably joyful tone, at least compared to Belregard's dry, taciturn nature.
"PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRGGGGGGE!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Ethereal Eye
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Grand Ethereal Purge
[1d6+19 = (4+19) = 23] <Protocol: Close Combat Destruction
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+19 = (5+19) = 24]
[1d6+19 = (1+19) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Protocol: Rush THROUGH Them
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
>A profound variety of snorts, chuckles, snickers, and a few threatening giggles resound from Operators up and down the Razorback barricade, most of the Elites merely shaking their head while wishing the Minor Champion could've heard you.
>...it takes a second to recall that Ethereals had precisely zero affinity with Psions, Overherds, or much of anything except for Crystal Runes, and even that was sketchy at times.
>Bowled the absolute fuck aside by Lancers and Chargers racing to take even the smallest open spaces next to, atop, or above the first wave of Lancers, Vestal Gardenia and the Watch Guard General's anti-Spectral Psionics pass harmlessly through walls, rippling through the left and right Lunar Assault Tainted in disturbing waves, then into the leader.
>The giant pair's outstretched hooves slam down into the mixture of faction Lancers and Chargers, well over a hundred of the first, second, and third wave's heavily armored earth ponies crashing down, dead before they could form a single cohesive insult.
The Lost Legions: -265,946 of 285,678 Morale
>The fourth, fifth, and sixth ranks of Lancers were already pushing through from behind to halt the colossal pair, now straining against multiple sets of ropes and cables flying at, then melding into the Basin's southern entrance.
[1d6+32 = (4+32) = 36] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+32 = (2+32) = 34]
[1d6+32 = (6+32) = 38]
[1d6+32 = (1+32) = 33]
[1d6+29 = (3+29) = 32] <GM.Primal Psion: Spectral Stormcrash
[1d6+11 = (4+11) = 15] <First Lancer Charge x 20 total
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Second Lancer Charge x 40 total
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Third Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Fourth Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20] <Fifth Lancer Charge x 100 total
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Sixth Lancer Charge x 100 total
>A large number of Chargers drop away from the three trapped Lunar Assault Tainted, the muted vapors spat out chillingly familiar from a little over two years ago, a follow on wave of one thousand Chargers split, two hundred taking the direct assault route, the remainder rushing up the Basin's southeast, south, and southwest building stairwells to leap onto the closest Mass forms.
[1d6+18 = (2+18) = 20] <First Charger Wave x 50 total
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22] <Second Charger Wave x 60 total
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Third Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Fourth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Fifth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18] <Sixth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19] <Seventh Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17] <Eighth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21] <Ninth Charger Wave x 100 total
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16] <Tenth Charger Wave x 100 total
>vs:
[1d6+50 = (6+50) = 56] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (1+50) = 51] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (6+50) = 56] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (2+50) = 52] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (5+50) = 55] <Soulburn
[1d6+50 = (3+50) = 53] <Soulburn
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Soulburn
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Soulburn
>Still barely clinging to the Assault Tainted's snout, Broken Hoof gives in to the Overherd's beckoning call, accepting the formerly despised communion between earth ponies as she lunging up, towards widening, now terrified eyes-
('NEVER STOP BEING PROUD, SHARONEL'S WILL LIVES ON THROUGH YOU! TRUE GLORY MUST BURN ETERNAL!')
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22] <M.Assault
[1d6+18 = (4+18) = 22]
[1d6+18 = (1+18) = 19]
[1d6+18 = (3+18) = 21]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <E.Reaction Speed
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Anti
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Bane
>vs:
[1d20+20 = (17+20) = 37] <Soulburn
The Lost Legions: 266,019 of 285,678 Morale
>In the distance, a series of unfamiliar, loudly ringing thumps confuses the Overherd, equine and human both.
>Chargers on rooftops or leaping out to tear into the necks, shoulders, saddles, barrels, flanks, and legs of Assault Masses focus for a split-second, a few squinting at plumes of raw Solar Plasma conflagrating the entire Rime-frozen cluster of Tainted in a gargantuan tornado, reaching upwards far beyond what they could estimate.
>Returning to their grisly work, a few notice flecks of archaic blue, red, and purple diamondine ejecting outwards in a profuse spray of starry projectiles, the shards half-molten as they burn into surrounding Tainted, some even marenaging to reach the Solar Support Division.
The Lost Legions: -331,959 of 285,678 Morale
<"BY SUN AND MOON NO! NOT LIKE THIS AGAIN! WE WERE TO DIE RIGHTFULLY, OUR NAMES AND WEAPONS CAST ASIDE TO BE FORGOTTEN!">
>Screaming at the insane might of Lunar-Solar War relics unleashed once again, the older mare's eyes remain wide open, left hoof trembling as it reaches for a thin, ancient paladine blade on the viewing portal's ledge.
<"All Creation, of this I beg you: stamp out the Solar-corruption before it spreads!">
[1d6 = 6]
>>370578
>>370611
>>370616
>>370657
>>370660
>>370661
>Shrieking into view above Basin Village, Guillotine's tech-arcane weapons finally able to rend Tainted apart one by one, the ancient Otherworld Harpy loses herself in the target-launch-retarget-loose-microburn-deliver of battle, barely noticing the burning hulk of Battered Shores exiting realspace in the Airstrike Division's center-
[1d6 = 5]
>Bow crashing into the Lunar Airstrike Captain's surprised face, the young Germaneighan Captain's eyes close, sighing as he and his crew attempt to brace against the unimaginably catastrophic overloads of primary Elemarental-energy driver #2 and the rows of turrets on both upper decks.
>Allowing a brief nod at his nearly ruined heavy cruisers long, honored service, the stallion inhales sharply, head snapping about and jaw gaping at the COMPLETELY INTACT Otherworld Harpy War Destroyer passing by at maximum speed-
[1d6 = 3]
>Combining ounces, pounds, tons, kilotons, megatons, and finally uncounted gigatons into a single unstable ring of barely contained molecules that rivaled, and likely outmatched, the Lunar-Solar War's greatest military convocations, 4,050 unicorns ignite the cone's central most atomic nucleus, turning Night into Day across the entire Central Moors-
[1d6 = 2]
>Clipping the Air Commarend Captain's throat with both right hooves on his charge and fracturing the entirety of his rear legs into Rime-encrusted shards as he passes, the Killnight struggles to frown as her chest, shoulder, saddle, and flank armor plates begin to buckle, proceed to fracture, then shatter outright for the first time she could recall-
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
>Barely stalling out the trio of Lunar Assault Tainted holding Basin Village's, Lancers of every background among the Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guards heave sighs of relief even as the enveloping vapor from Tainted mouths and hooves crash through them-
[1d6 = 1]
>Hundreds of Chargers in mid-leap or ravaging atop, across, or functionally inside Tainted alike in front of the Mass forms' soul-destroying breaths fall, lashing at their honored killers with hoofclaws and hoofblade one last time before crashing down on ponies or ground-
[1d6 = 5]
>Tearing into the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's eyes, absorbing the collected mares' cognizance in nanoseconds, then wishing she had the ability to cry for them, Broken Hoof permits herself the first real smile in eighteen years as her physical body begins to rip itself apart from the opposing conceptual energies of Anti and Bane-
[1d6 = 3]
>Just as quickly as it appeared, the spiraling column of Plasma fades out as a long distant mare, leaving nothing more than a tiny, fractional shift from Tallus Itself.
>Tilting it's approval towards a certain Season-
[1d4 = 2] <Balance
>Rolling onto her hooves and pushing away the berserk slaughter-frenzy she'd succumbed to, Councilierge Vestal Gardenia numbly stares up at nearly six hundred individual Lunar Guardian Airstrike pegasi saluting downwards.
>Taking a single step forwards, her left hoof raises and reaches forwards before she breaks, falling onto her chest.
>Bitterly screaming for the second time in her life at the knowledge she would never know the dead ponies around her, Councilierge Mistress and Starborn Councilmare Vestal Gardenia once again loses everything.
[1d6 = 1]
>Mostly opposite the Councilierge, the unnamed Watch General tiredly stands, turning to face south among the corpses of friend and foe Guards alike.
>Eyebrows under her helmet narrowing in sincere confusion at the thousands of individual, slowly fading Lunar and Solar Guardians saluting.
>Right forehoof rigidly lifting to return the same, the mare's eyes close, tears flowing at Vestal's raw, revisited agony flowing once more.
>Releasing his heavy MG-135 and letting it fall from numb hands of the barricade, Iron, one of the Razorback One Hundred drops to his knees.
>Hands clasping together, the older Russian man's voice cracks as he beseeches the Four Equine Goddesses for mercy.
[1d6 = 3]
***************************************************************************************************************************************
>Elsewhere:
"Do you want my diagnosis?"
<"Of course.">
"She will not recover."
<"And you know that.. how exactly?"
"I'm not blind for one. I'm also not stupid, for two."
<"And the third?">
"You ready to eat your earlier words, General? Good. This much is clear:
I know whom she is. Throughout much of recorded history she was known as Empress Silver. Third.
What she is: entirely catatonic, unrecoverable, and functionally dead to every form of magic, science, and alchemy available to us. No, I'm not willing to ask ANY faction for certain objects they may still possess and haven't destroyed, sealed away, or thrown into some dead Plane of existence yet. Fourth.
Why she is.... ...all of her descendants are royally fucking enraged. Not one, not ten, ALL of them, ma'am, and we had better learn to understand what that means for the future. There isn't a single allusion, entendre, pun, or allegory in that one. They want her put back on that fucking throne, and it's not going to happen now!
...that's the fifth."
<"Is there a sixth?"
"If that isn't a serious question, ma'am, you will Rime-kill me right here, right now, then list my death as a failure of your ExoFrame's integrity systems, because if you don't I'll ma-"
<"IS THERE A SIXTH?!">
"..if for some reason I happen to say, 'there could be', will that change any part of this shitty situation?"
<"No, not unless we convince former Prince Shi-">
"I don't care! I've been awake for over ninety hours now, and I'm going straight back to my shitty bunk in the Military District to sleep, but if somepony wakes me up before Dusk I'm going to tear my own head off so you can mount it on your wall as another trophy! And for everypony's sake make sure her sisters never learn a single fragmarent of ANY of this!"
<"............idiots. All of us are idiots!">
[1d1000 = 847]
>>370611
>>370616
>>370657
>>370660
>>370661
>Shrieking into view above Basin Village, Guillotine's tech-arcane weapons finally able to rend Tainted apart one by one, the ancient Otherworld Harpy loses herself in the target-launch-retarget-loose-microburn-deliver of battle, barely noticing the burning hulk of Battered Shores exiting realspace in the Airstrike Division's center-
[1d6 = 5]
>Bow crashing into the Lunar Airstrike Captain's surprised face, the young Germaneighan Captain's eyes close, sighing as he and his crew attempt to brace against the unimaginably catastrophic overloads of primary Elemarental-energy driver #2 and the rows of turrets on both upper decks.
>Allowing a brief nod at his nearly ruined heavy cruisers long, honored service, the stallion inhales sharply, head snapping about and jaw gaping at the COMPLETELY INTACT Otherworld Harpy War Destroyer passing by at maximum speed-
[1d6 = 3]
>Combining ounces, pounds, tons, kilotons, megatons, and finally uncounted gigatons into a single unstable ring of barely contained molecules that rivaled, and likely outmatched, the Lunar-Solar War's greatest military convocations, 4,050 unicorns ignite the cone's central most atomic nucleus, turning Night into Day across the entire Central Moors-
[1d6 = 2]
>Clipping the Air Commarend Captain's throat with both right hooves on his charge and fracturing the entirety of his rear legs into Rime-encrusted shards as he passes, the Killnight struggles to frown as her chest, shoulder, saddle, and flank armor plates begin to buckle, proceed to fracture, then shatter outright for the first time she could recall-
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 1]
>Barely stalling out the trio of Lunar Assault Tainted holding Basin Village's, Lancers of every background among the Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guards heave sighs of relief even as the enveloping vapor from Tainted mouths and hooves crash through them-
[1d6 = 1]
>Hundreds of Chargers in mid-leap or ravaging atop, across, or functionally inside Tainted alike in front of the Mass forms' soul-destroying breaths fall, lashing at their honored killers with hoofclaws and hoofblade one last time before crashing down on ponies or ground-
[1d6 = 5]
>Tearing into the lead Lunar Assault Tainted's eyes, absorbing the collected mares' cognizance in nanoseconds, then wishing she had the ability to cry for them, Broken Hoof permits herself the first real smile in eighteen years as her physical body begins to rip itself apart from the opposing conceptual energies of Anti and Bane-
[1d6 = 3]
>Just as quickly as it appeared, the spiraling column of Plasma fades out as a long distant mare, leaving nothing more than a tiny, fractional shift from Tallus Itself.
>Tilting it's approval towards a certain Season-
[1d4 = 2] <Balance
>Rolling onto her hooves and pushing away the berserk slaughter-frenzy she'd succumbed to, Councilierge Vestal Gardenia numbly stares up at nearly six hundred individual Lunar Guardian Airstrike pegasi saluting downwards.
>Taking a single step forwards, her left hoof raises and reaches forwards before she breaks, falling onto her chest.
>Bitterly screaming for the second time in her life at the knowledge she would never know the dead ponies around her, Councilierge Mistress and Starborn Councilmare Vestal Gardenia once again loses everything.
[1d6 = 1]
>Mostly opposite the Councilierge, the unnamed Watch General tiredly stands, turning to face south among the corpses of friend and foe Guards alike.
>Eyebrows under her helmet narrowing in sincere confusion at the thousands of individual, slowly fading Lunar and Solar Guardians saluting.
>Right forehoof rigidly lifting to return the same, the mare's eyes close, tears flowing at Vestal's raw, revisited agony flowing once more.
>Releasing his heavy MG-135 and letting it fall from numb hands of the barricade, Iron, one of the Razorback One Hundred drops to his knees.
>Hands clasping together, the older Russian man's voice cracks as he beseeches the Four Equine Goddesses for mercy.
[1d6 = 3]
***************************************************************************************************************************************
>Elsewhere:
"Do you want my diagnosis?"
<"Of course.">
"She will not recover."
<"And you know that.. how exactly?"
"I'm not blind for one. I'm also not stupid, for two."
<"And the third?">
"You ready to eat your earlier words, General? Good. This much is clear:
I know whom she is. Throughout much of recorded history she was known as Empress Silver. Third.
What she is: entirely catatonic, unrecoverable, and functionally dead to every form of magic, science, and alchemy available to us. No, I'm not willing to ask ANY faction for certain objects they may still possess and haven't destroyed, sealed away, or thrown into some dead Plane of existence yet. Fourth.
Why she is.... ...all of her descendants are royally fucking enraged. Not one, not ten, ALL of them, ma'am, and we had better learn to understand what that means for the future. There isn't a single allusion, entendre, pun, or allegory in that one. They want her put back on that fucking throne, and it's not going to happen now!
...that's the fifth."
<"Is there a sixth?"
"If that isn't a serious question, ma'am, you will Rime-kill me right here, right now, then list my death as a failure of your ExoFrame's integrity systems, because if you don't I'll ma-"
<"IS THERE A SIXTH?!">
"..if for some reason I happen to say, 'there could be', will that change any part of this shitty situation?"
<"No, not unless we convince former Prince Shi-">
"I don't care! I've been awake for over ninety hours now, and I'm going straight back to my shitty bunk in the Military District to sleep, but if somepony wakes me up before Dusk I'm going to tear my own head off so you can mount it on your wall as another trophy! And for everypony's sake make sure her sisters never learn a single fragmarent of ANY of this!"
<"............idiots. All of us are idiots!">
[1d1000 = 847]
>>370656
>Standing atop the repair unit, Sunny eyed the two destroyers, she would need to get on top of one of those to use the sigil sequence, yet there were precious few spots to stand that weren't bristling with weapons, and she had no idea how they would react if she jumped on top of one of them.
>Would they consider that a hostile act? Even if she barely registered as a credible threat? She didn't know.
>They wanted to negotiate, perhaps she could use that. Sunny didn't believe for a single moment that they truly wanted to negotiate, or even understood the concepts they were speaking of. What could such things be to a machine but noises? Sequences of soundwaves calculated to aid their objectives by taking advantage of what they understood of the psychology of living beings?
>She kept her peace as Mercy distracted them with her own line of questioning.
>Sunny knew of Riftseekers, only a little, but enough that they were incredibly dangerous, not just to the constructs themselves, but anything and everything they came across.
>Despite their strange way of speaking, Sunny heard the clear conditional. They weren't allowed to take damage 'until' they had completed their present directive. What about after? Would they ignore the Harpy vessel being brought down? She couldn't imagine so.
>Gazing directly at the weapon barrels tracking her for lack of any kind of eye, Sunny replied to Mercy in the same way. She couldn't know for sure they wouldn't be able to interpret it, however.
<Pegasi> "A Riftseeker is a threat we can't ignore, or tolerate. Make your investigations, then go, fly as fast and as far from here as you can, beyond the overherd jamming, warn the others. I will remain and see that they keep their word."
>Hopefully Mercy would understand, and hopefully they wouldn't try to shoot her down if she left.
<Pegasi> "And redirect the Melari to Basin Village if you spot them on the way, if you can. A Riftseeker is too much for them, or any of the forces present."
>Much would depend on how the Constructs responded. She turned back to address them.
"Query. What proof of your directive can you offer? What word or gesture can we accept that your sole objective here is your target, designated 'Seeker-Of-Rifts'?"
>Sunny pointed a wing up towards the moon without looking at it.
"Fact one. Your collective has engaged in military operations against this world and its inhabitants with no known negotiation or reason offered by your collective. Fact two. You were engaged in a near future simulation of combat against this world's inhabitants, not your targeted Seeker-Of-Rifts. Therefore, your request to be allowed to engage in further operations without interference is suspect."
>Allowing that statement to sink in for a moment, Sunny continued.
"Conclusion. The burden is on your collective to convince us that we have anything to gain by non-interference. Repeat query. What tangible, physical proof, evidence or assurance can you offer that your operations here will have no negative effect on this world or its inhabitants?"
>There was nothing she could think of that they could offer that would convince her. Noticing the repair model still at work, Sunny didn't recognise the modifications it was making to the gateway. Possibly armor plating to resist Mercy's particle weaponry? If that were the case, they were stalling.
>The simulated constructs had to have come from somewhere, and by now she was certain they hadn't come from the gateway, they had to be inbound from elsewhere.
>>370657
>>370658
>>370660
>>370661
>>370663
>Standing atop the repair unit, Sunny eyed the two destroyers, she would need to get on top of one of those to use the sigil sequence, yet there were precious few spots to stand that weren't bristling with weapons, and she had no idea how they would react if she jumped on top of one of them.
>Would they consider that a hostile act? Even if she barely registered as a credible threat? She didn't know.
>They wanted to negotiate, perhaps she could use that. Sunny didn't believe for a single moment that they truly wanted to negotiate, or even understood the concepts they were speaking of. What could such things be to a machine but noises? Sequences of soundwaves calculated to aid their objectives by taking advantage of what they understood of the psychology of living beings?
>She kept her peace as Mercy distracted them with her own line of questioning.
>Sunny knew of Riftseekers, only a little, but enough that they were incredibly dangerous, not just to the constructs themselves, but anything and everything they came across.
>Despite their strange way of speaking, Sunny heard the clear conditional. They weren't allowed to take damage 'until' they had completed their present directive. What about after? Would they ignore the Harpy vessel being brought down? She couldn't imagine so.
>Gazing directly at the weapon barrels tracking her for lack of any kind of eye, Sunny replied to Mercy in the same way. She couldn't know for sure they wouldn't be able to interpret it, however.
<Pegasi> "A Riftseeker is a threat we can't ignore, or tolerate. Make your investigations, then go, fly as fast and as far from here as you can, beyond the overherd jamming, warn the others. I will remain and see that they keep their word."
>Hopefully Mercy would understand, and hopefully they wouldn't try to shoot her down if she left.
<Pegasi> "And redirect the Melari to Basin Village if you spot them on the way, if you can. A Riftseeker is too much for them, or any of the forces present."
>Much would depend on how the Constructs responded. She turned back to address them.
"Query. What proof of your directive can you offer? What word or gesture can we accept that your sole objective here is your target, designated 'Seeker-Of-Rifts'?"
>Sunny pointed a wing up towards the moon without looking at it.
"Fact one. Your collective has engaged in military operations against this world and its inhabitants with no known negotiation or reason offered by your collective. Fact two. You were engaged in a near future simulation of combat against this world's inhabitants, not your targeted Seeker-Of-Rifts. Therefore, your request to be allowed to engage in further operations without interference is suspect."
>Allowing that statement to sink in for a moment, Sunny continued.
"Conclusion. The burden is on your collective to convince us that we have anything to gain by non-interference. Repeat query. What tangible, physical proof, evidence or assurance can you offer that your operations here will have no negative effect on this world or its inhabitants?"
>There was nothing she could think of that they could offer that would convince her. Noticing the repair model still at work, Sunny didn't recognise the modifications it was making to the gateway. Possibly armor plating to resist Mercy's particle weaponry? If that were the case, they were stalling.
>The simulated constructs had to have come from somewhere, and by now she was certain they hadn't come from the gateway, they had to be inbound from elsewhere.
>>370657
>>370658
>>370660
>>370661
>>370663
>>370634
>Pareidolia acknowledges Shiibo's addendum as he moves towards the lockers.
"Agreed. Will approach later."
>He shrugs at Katyal's comment choosing to continue with the process of removing his equipment, various weapons, and in particular Lacsidrae from his person into safe storage with his pack.
...
>Thoroughly spent, he slumps forward as he lowers himself onto a bench off the midline of the troop compartment.
>He tries to steady his breathing as a pink bottle clinks and rolls its way towards his boots.
>Catching it with his heels before it can roll away he sighs as he picks up the bottle with a twinge of irritation as Katyal's assertion follows.
(Predictable. Flawed assumptions about acclimation being a positive.)
>Deigning not to answer immediately, he opens the bottle and lifts the neck to his lips taking a healthy sip before lowering it.
>Narrowing his eyes, he responds.
"I cannot acclimate because I choose not to. Outsider explanations are unecessary. Not every human should attempt to, and every human that does whether successful or not is without exception a vector for harm to all alien species they encounter."
>He pauses to take another sip.
"Integration is not necessary for my position and will cause more harm that is impossible to mitigate. I won't make any judgments on your awareness of the dangers of unmanaged cultural integration, but I won't have you doubting my reasoning either."
>Sweeping the compartment, he looks over to Dul as it occurs to him she hasn't spoken or moved in some time.
(Didn't consider potential energy expenditure. Will she need 'food'?)
>Pareidolia acknowledges Shiibo's addendum as he moves towards the lockers.
"Agreed. Will approach later."
>He shrugs at Katyal's comment choosing to continue with the process of removing his equipment, various weapons, and in particular Lacsidrae from his person into safe storage with his pack.
...
>Thoroughly spent, he slumps forward as he lowers himself onto a bench off the midline of the troop compartment.
>He tries to steady his breathing as a pink bottle clinks and rolls its way towards his boots.
>Catching it with his heels before it can roll away he sighs as he picks up the bottle with a twinge of irritation as Katyal's assertion follows.
(Predictable. Flawed assumptions about acclimation being a positive.)
>Deigning not to answer immediately, he opens the bottle and lifts the neck to his lips taking a healthy sip before lowering it.
>Narrowing his eyes, he responds.
"I cannot acclimate because I choose not to. Outsider explanations are unecessary. Not every human should attempt to, and every human that does whether successful or not is without exception a vector for harm to all alien species they encounter."
>He pauses to take another sip.
"Integration is not necessary for my position and will cause more harm that is impossible to mitigate. I won't make any judgments on your awareness of the dangers of unmanaged cultural integration, but I won't have you doubting my reasoning either."
>Sweeping the compartment, he looks over to Dul as it occurs to him she hasn't spoken or moved in some time.
(Didn't consider potential energy expenditure. Will she need 'food'?)
>>370664
>A loud, albeit soft thump occurs under your hooves, six additional sets of spindly arms spreading out from the Repair model's sides, then four much larger ones in what was presumably the front.
>It bends forward perhaps half a degree, emitting a dull crackling from the hull as a set of nanolathes poke at one of the particle whip damaged gateway sections, moving on to examine the rest.
>Both Argus Behemoth-Destroyers return a series of higher pitched responses, all of the Repair model's arms retract to its sides, ceasing its efforts entirely.
>Studying the barrels focused on you, the moving patterns they made, and still were making, could be a focus-of-attention emulation, especially if the Argus pair didn't have head units and their externals were all capable of sensory input.
>In theory, you think.
>Ears swiveling back, then turning halfway to eye the giant Repair's bizarre halt, Mercy's head tilts in a slight warning motion.
<Pegasi> "It will take an hour's flight to reach Basin Village. Do not try ANY action, Sunny, they're calling on pegasi honor and they know I adhere to the Minotaur creeds. ..I don't think they understand subterfuge."
>Sniffing the air briefly, Mercy's wings fan out in tiny loops, obviously trying to detail a particular imprint.
<Pegasi> "You know their name too? There have been no Melari here for a month at least, otherwise their scents would be all over."
>Halting once both Argus models hang right over the Arena's edge, the north Construct's quartet of weapons twist on their mount slightly.
"First-primary word-phrase-meaning-context unknown-undescribed-unlearned. Individual-singular pegasi desires-requires-necessitates-demarends trade? We-our-pair accept-signify-grant-respect individual-singular demarend. We-our-all recovered these sapients-singulars-individuals from lost-damaged-failed-preserved crippled-delayed-failed host-study-repair-restore units. Tallus model-type-form designation: Assault Lander, paired."
>One of the smaller eight-barreled turrets in the north's central mass rotates to face west, a 100M tall and 160M wide, bright orange screen phasing into existence west of the Arena.
>Starting from the top left, clear, sharply detailing images of stasis pods contain Lunar-Solar War era: earth ponies, pegasi, including a small number of the archaic Ferron, unicorns, well over forty Minotaurs, three Tallus Basilisks, thirty or so Gryphons, then large numbers of marecenaries from nearly every region on Tallus.
>A significant number were clearly recovering from injuries, either asleep or closing their eyes, the rest awake or visibly sedated sometime during literal physical repairs by quarters of smaller, oval silverine Constructs, the variety of marenipulators featuring organic curves similar to medical tools used before Old Canterlot.
"We have these unclaimed, recovered, located, and-or lost items-objects-properties-belongings-relics-weapons-armors-unknowns-unknowns-unknowns-unknowns in we-our-ALL armory-storage-possession-museum-care."
>To the left and right of you, equally sized screens appear, displaying thousands of Lunar-Solar War era weapons, armor, Minotaur tools that were barely familiar, Gryphon tools that were familiar, large numbers of hammers, anvils, tongs, miscellaneous smithing items, more types of metal than you knew, wood in every form and some of numerous species now extinct..
>Then came alchemical bottles, entire plates of prepared food, packaged meals, drinks, pots, pans, portable stoves, individual plates of metal, crystal, wood, and more exotic materials, older styled gem bottles, a few actual glass bottles, cups, bowls, platters heatstones, coldstones..
>Clothing, dresses, full cloth bolts, partially used cloth bolts, cloth sheets in pieces, strips, bed sheets, pillows, blankets, whole beds, disassembled beds, mattresses, a variety of stuffing materials and down, sleeping bags, sewing kits, needles, full spools, partially used spools, empty spools, rope, wire....
>Then examples of forgotten, destroyed, banned, or otherwise lost relics, artifacts, sacred weapons or armors, from all sides, Solar, Lunar, and independent alike; you note well over a thousand original complete sets of kanpri Solar Guardian Heavy Charger armor among them.
"We-our-ALL recovered-repaired-restored-reactivated individual-singular pegasi during failure-loss-contamination-archaeology examination of lost-damaged-failed-preserved host-study-repair-restore Assault Lander, paired units, undertaking-exploring-charting-recording region-locale-area claimed by pegasi. Archaic-recorded-unknown Titan-class units located-assaulted Rift pairs-ALL."
>Appearing in front of you is a smaller screen, that of a vaguely familiar, young jet black pegasus, streaks of matte black and varying gray across his coat in common League stealth applications.
>The side image shows the older colt, or possibly young stallion, suspended above a bright diamondine circle, at least ten small oval silverine Constructs underneath him, and the same number of larger variants surrounding.
>A quarter of the left wing and all the right were missing, as were both forehooves to below the knee, while most of the chest, left shoulder, barrel, withers, and part of the forward spine, and half the rear leg were little more than shredded and burnt tissue or muscle, visible bone, mostly in shards, and large, unfamiliar burn patches elsewhere.
>The image proceeds, each of the silverine Constructs scanning in sync while slowly shearing away damaged biological mass, in stasis no less, the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair emitting a short, moderate pitched beeping sound.
"Estimated-calculated-presumed survival-life-continuation expectancy of individual-singular pegasi after recover-repair-restoration-reactivation: standard-high-optimal-APPROVED-ACCEPTED."
>A loud, albeit soft thump occurs under your hooves, six additional sets of spindly arms spreading out from the Repair model's sides, then four much larger ones in what was presumably the front.
>It bends forward perhaps half a degree, emitting a dull crackling from the hull as a set of nanolathes poke at one of the particle whip damaged gateway sections, moving on to examine the rest.
>Both Argus Behemoth-Destroyers return a series of higher pitched responses, all of the Repair model's arms retract to its sides, ceasing its efforts entirely.
>Studying the barrels focused on you, the moving patterns they made, and still were making, could be a focus-of-attention emulation, especially if the Argus pair didn't have head units and their externals were all capable of sensory input.
>In theory, you think.
>Ears swiveling back, then turning halfway to eye the giant Repair's bizarre halt, Mercy's head tilts in a slight warning motion.
<Pegasi> "It will take an hour's flight to reach Basin Village. Do not try ANY action, Sunny, they're calling on pegasi honor and they know I adhere to the Minotaur creeds. ..I don't think they understand subterfuge."
>Sniffing the air briefly, Mercy's wings fan out in tiny loops, obviously trying to detail a particular imprint.
<Pegasi> "You know their name too? There have been no Melari here for a month at least, otherwise their scents would be all over."
>Halting once both Argus models hang right over the Arena's edge, the north Construct's quartet of weapons twist on their mount slightly.
"First-primary word-phrase-meaning-context unknown-undescribed-unlearned. Individual-singular pegasi desires-requires-necessitates-demarends trade? We-our-pair accept-signify-grant-respect individual-singular demarend. We-our-all recovered these sapients-singulars-individuals from lost-damaged-failed-preserved crippled-delayed-failed host-study-repair-restore units. Tallus model-type-form designation: Assault Lander, paired."
>One of the smaller eight-barreled turrets in the north's central mass rotates to face west, a 100M tall and 160M wide, bright orange screen phasing into existence west of the Arena.
>Starting from the top left, clear, sharply detailing images of stasis pods contain Lunar-Solar War era: earth ponies, pegasi, including a small number of the archaic Ferron, unicorns, well over forty Minotaurs, three Tallus Basilisks, thirty or so Gryphons, then large numbers of marecenaries from nearly every region on Tallus.
>A significant number were clearly recovering from injuries, either asleep or closing their eyes, the rest awake or visibly sedated sometime during literal physical repairs by quarters of smaller, oval silverine Constructs, the variety of marenipulators featuring organic curves similar to medical tools used before Old Canterlot.
"We have these unclaimed, recovered, located, and-or lost items-objects-properties-belongings-relics-weapons-armors-unknowns-unknowns-unknowns-unknowns in we-our-ALL armory-storage-possession-museum-care."
>To the left and right of you, equally sized screens appear, displaying thousands of Lunar-Solar War era weapons, armor, Minotaur tools that were barely familiar, Gryphon tools that were familiar, large numbers of hammers, anvils, tongs, miscellaneous smithing items, more types of metal than you knew, wood in every form and some of numerous species now extinct..
>Then came alchemical bottles, entire plates of prepared food, packaged meals, drinks, pots, pans, portable stoves, individual plates of metal, crystal, wood, and more exotic materials, older styled gem bottles, a few actual glass bottles, cups, bowls, platters heatstones, coldstones..
>Clothing, dresses, full cloth bolts, partially used cloth bolts, cloth sheets in pieces, strips, bed sheets, pillows, blankets, whole beds, disassembled beds, mattresses, a variety of stuffing materials and down, sleeping bags, sewing kits, needles, full spools, partially used spools, empty spools, rope, wire....
>Then examples of forgotten, destroyed, banned, or otherwise lost relics, artifacts, sacred weapons or armors, from all sides, Solar, Lunar, and independent alike; you note well over a thousand original complete sets of kanpri Solar Guardian Heavy Charger armor among them.
"We-our-ALL recovered-repaired-restored-reactivated individual-singular pegasi during failure-loss-contamination-archaeology examination of lost-damaged-failed-preserved host-study-repair-restore Assault Lander, paired units, undertaking-exploring-charting-recording region-locale-area claimed by pegasi. Archaic-recorded-unknown Titan-class units located-assaulted Rift pairs-ALL."
>Appearing in front of you is a smaller screen, that of a vaguely familiar, young jet black pegasus, streaks of matte black and varying gray across his coat in common League stealth applications.
>The side image shows the older colt, or possibly young stallion, suspended above a bright diamondine circle, at least ten small oval silverine Constructs underneath him, and the same number of larger variants surrounding.
>A quarter of the left wing and all the right were missing, as were both forehooves to below the knee, while most of the chest, left shoulder, barrel, withers, and part of the forward spine, and half the rear leg were little more than shredded and burnt tissue or muscle, visible bone, mostly in shards, and large, unfamiliar burn patches elsewhere.
>The image proceeds, each of the silverine Constructs scanning in sync while slowly shearing away damaged biological mass, in stasis no less, the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair emitting a short, moderate pitched beeping sound.
"Estimated-calculated-presumed survival-life-continuation expectancy of individual-singular pegasi after recover-repair-restoration-reactivation: standard-high-optimal-APPROVED-ACCEPTED."
>Leaving the screens where they were, the southern Construct rotates in your direction, the pair speaking in... exasperation?
>Or an equally grating emulation.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have not harmed-attacked-assaulted-engaged-injured-damaged-incapacitated-killed equines. We-our-ALL prioritize protect-defend-repair-recover we-OUR-ALL.
Individual-solo-respected-honored unit, describe-show-detail-display-provide-offer of prior exercise-variation, untouched-unaltered-raw recording-existence-memory."
>The screens turn transparent as the Repair model raises upwards, without sound or sense of motion, until reaching around 50M above the Arena.
>Rolling sideways, you nearly panic before realizing you were still stuck to it, protected by a tightly controlled artificial gravity system, or some Planar variation of the same.
>Now facing fully 90 degrees forwards and looking down now, the unit emits a rumbling pitch as Basin Arena below ripples, an overlay of it's previously far more dilapidated state appears:
>Most of the roof caved in and laying far below in piles, severely damaged external false-walls, stairwells crumbled or too destroyed to attempt traversing, the slides were missing, and a number of holes present everywhere else.
>Internally, the rows of stone seating blocks and stairwells were in similarly rough shape; the entire Arena had been blasted apart by dozens of large explosions to the point earth ponies and unicorns would find themselves quickly stuck, and pegasi or batponies would be hard pressed to even find a place to stand.
>Directing your attention back up with four small, thin beams of green light to where the relay was, the image of an earth pony height, dark red winged and blue coated Moor cat was stretched out in front of the box, front paws lazily batting it.
>Rotating around and directing you to face the western side, a pair of large Assault Landers was stationary above the Arena, two Constructs pairs, one of the smaller Scout variants, another a standard pegasi height Repair duo, were deliberately surveying the roof starting from the western most edge.
>The Scouts delicately pick up small chunks of stone with thin triangular wire-like marenipulators, rotating and showing them to the Repair models for a quick orange scan, rotating back adn replacing each in the precise location the piece came from.
>Two pairs of the same Constructs drop out from the Landers, then another set, ten of each in all, the last pair of Scout and Repair slightly larger models, each taking a specific quadrant.
>Upon reaching the damaged half-roof hole, all twenty cease and jerk upwards at a loud, surprised and angry feline shriek, the recording stopped as ranged weapons enter preheat and charging cycles.
>Repair model rotating to face the relay once more, the scene skips backwards to when the Melari sits, then is sped up slightly until it lies down, returning to normal speed.
>Several minutes of the feline becoming increasingly frustrated at the unmoving box pass, until it stands up and makes a quick, heavy claw swipe into the relay.
>Three of its five claws piercing through the top, the large Melari makes a pained face, then its body wrenches sideways, shrieking in shock and rage at lightning coursing up its leg, the recording pausing once more.
>Sinking upwards to around 100M above the Arena, the Repair Construct's topmost arms reach downwards, left quadruple nanolathe spindles pointing at the Melari, right at the ten smaller Scout and Repair models.
>The recording plays, Melari leaping back with three legs to land, whipping its injured paw around, spitting and snarling while the twenty Constructs freeze for two seconds, then the larger Scout pair hover forwards.
>Distance weapons definitely charged, but not firing or launching, their shields and polearms were quickly nanolathing into place atop the marenipulators previously used.
>The remainder slowly egress, Scouts in front of Repairs, towards the Assault Landers, both of them silently drifting down to nearly touch the Arena's west roof edge, large twin spherical holes appearing in the presumed front.
>They weren't hatches or doors you notice, the Planar material itself 'folds' backwards in a smooth organic motion, albeit that was at least eight hooves thick worth of armor doing so.
>Head whipping around towards the Constructs, the large Melari's ears flatten, hissing at the intruders before its jaw opens, releasing one of the most piercing shriek-howls you'd ever heard.
>Pausing the recording, the left spindles point away from the lone Moor cat, down into the Arena itself, the target, or range, finding lasers marking distinct outlines of singles, duos, trios, quads, clusters, and small hordes of Melari occupying the interior.
>Everything from the average Moor cat to the near-equine giants were settled in, a few beginning to look upwards, then the Repair model imposes standard pony doors across the overlay where rubble had created shelter.
>Or an equally grating emulation.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one have not harmed-attacked-assaulted-engaged-injured-damaged-incapacitated-killed equines. We-our-ALL prioritize protect-defend-repair-recover we-OUR-ALL.
Individual-solo-respected-honored unit, describe-show-detail-display-provide-offer of prior exercise-variation, untouched-unaltered-raw recording-existence-memory."
>The screens turn transparent as the Repair model raises upwards, without sound or sense of motion, until reaching around 50M above the Arena.
>Rolling sideways, you nearly panic before realizing you were still stuck to it, protected by a tightly controlled artificial gravity system, or some Planar variation of the same.
>Now facing fully 90 degrees forwards and looking down now, the unit emits a rumbling pitch as Basin Arena below ripples, an overlay of it's previously far more dilapidated state appears:
>Most of the roof caved in and laying far below in piles, severely damaged external false-walls, stairwells crumbled or too destroyed to attempt traversing, the slides were missing, and a number of holes present everywhere else.
>Internally, the rows of stone seating blocks and stairwells were in similarly rough shape; the entire Arena had been blasted apart by dozens of large explosions to the point earth ponies and unicorns would find themselves quickly stuck, and pegasi or batponies would be hard pressed to even find a place to stand.
>Directing your attention back up with four small, thin beams of green light to where the relay was, the image of an earth pony height, dark red winged and blue coated Moor cat was stretched out in front of the box, front paws lazily batting it.
>Rotating around and directing you to face the western side, a pair of large Assault Landers was stationary above the Arena, two Constructs pairs, one of the smaller Scout variants, another a standard pegasi height Repair duo, were deliberately surveying the roof starting from the western most edge.
>The Scouts delicately pick up small chunks of stone with thin triangular wire-like marenipulators, rotating and showing them to the Repair models for a quick orange scan, rotating back adn replacing each in the precise location the piece came from.
>Two pairs of the same Constructs drop out from the Landers, then another set, ten of each in all, the last pair of Scout and Repair slightly larger models, each taking a specific quadrant.
>Upon reaching the damaged half-roof hole, all twenty cease and jerk upwards at a loud, surprised and angry feline shriek, the recording stopped as ranged weapons enter preheat and charging cycles.
>Repair model rotating to face the relay once more, the scene skips backwards to when the Melari sits, then is sped up slightly until it lies down, returning to normal speed.
>Several minutes of the feline becoming increasingly frustrated at the unmoving box pass, until it stands up and makes a quick, heavy claw swipe into the relay.
>Three of its five claws piercing through the top, the large Melari makes a pained face, then its body wrenches sideways, shrieking in shock and rage at lightning coursing up its leg, the recording pausing once more.
>Sinking upwards to around 100M above the Arena, the Repair Construct's topmost arms reach downwards, left quadruple nanolathe spindles pointing at the Melari, right at the ten smaller Scout and Repair models.
>The recording plays, Melari leaping back with three legs to land, whipping its injured paw around, spitting and snarling while the twenty Constructs freeze for two seconds, then the larger Scout pair hover forwards.
>Distance weapons definitely charged, but not firing or launching, their shields and polearms were quickly nanolathing into place atop the marenipulators previously used.
>The remainder slowly egress, Scouts in front of Repairs, towards the Assault Landers, both of them silently drifting down to nearly touch the Arena's west roof edge, large twin spherical holes appearing in the presumed front.
>They weren't hatches or doors you notice, the Planar material itself 'folds' backwards in a smooth organic motion, albeit that was at least eight hooves thick worth of armor doing so.
>Head whipping around towards the Constructs, the large Melari's ears flatten, hissing at the intruders before its jaw opens, releasing one of the most piercing shriek-howls you'd ever heard.
>Pausing the recording, the left spindles point away from the lone Moor cat, down into the Arena itself, the target, or range, finding lasers marking distinct outlines of singles, duos, trios, quads, clusters, and small hordes of Melari occupying the interior.
>Everything from the average Moor cat to the near-equine giants were settled in, a few beginning to look upwards, then the Repair model imposes standard pony doors across the overlay where rubble had created shelter.
>>370664
>Emitting a faint crackle and lifting its arms out of view, the recording plays on.. though in an entirely opposite way than the simulation:
>Spherical entrance/exits across every surface of the Assault Landers open, disgorging hundreds of paired Scouts and Repair models, larger variants slower with heavier weapons.
>The hundreds of Melari begin separating into actual units comprised of fifty of the smallest, forty of the next size up, thirty of the mediums, five of the large, and one giant.
>Long distracted from her task, Mercy and you spend.. neither of you can tell how long watching both sides savage each other due to the Arena's badly damaged interior, exterior, and rubble everywhere providing excellent cover to take, or create.
>Constructs are surprised by giant Melari hurling stones at them or pushing chunks forwards to create cover, only to be pinned down by particle whips, hot green flashes from lasers, small missiles, or orange plasma bolts, each side tactically pressing the other regardless of numbers lost.
>At some point, the Repair model pauses, pointing out Melari streaming in from around the ruined Arena's, particularly from outer buildings and vast trees, then continues.
>The Construct forces were steadily losing in both numbers, weapons, and ability to absorb losses, except for one tiny variable:
>A small feline that definitely looked like Nibbles, except couldn't have been, a closeup showing small, long healed scars while darting back and forth among the Melari's lines, tail, wing, and body motions making clear, if undefined, orders during combat.
>Unable to directly take on Assault Landers, the feline leader repositions her kin constantly, directing them to avoid the massive aerial weapons, not types you recognized, trying to acquire firing positions.
>While subtly relaying orders for two units of the giant Melari, one hundred in all, she mimics climbing the nearest trees out of range, then to drop down and shred the Assault Landers from the inside.
>One of the larger Repair models above detonates, replayed as a trio of lesser Moor cats dropping down from above in a deliberate suicide attack, each carrying a small Void-imbued bomb in their mouths.
>A hail of orange shrapnel spreads across the Arena, an errant shard focused on that ricochets twice, spinning off a long ruined Construct hulk into a black granite slab, only to stop in the left side of the lead feline's chest, taking cover behind a larger one.
>The Melari gasps, blinking once and looking up, making a tiny nod, then slowly crumples forwards, eyes closing.
>View cutting away, the few Constructs still functional inside the Arena cease firing at the same time the remaining feline horde stills, then are immediately rushed down, flashing kanpri teeth and claws ripping the Planars apart in frenzied slaughter.
>The recording ends.
>Repair model reaching out and forwards with both upper arms, it lathes a plate into view of an estimated tally: approximately 10,000 various Melari deceased, versus 2,000 Constructs deployed and destroyed, the entire contents of both Assault Landers.
>The Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair speak in lower, quiet tones, the quartet of turrets smoothly rotating once.
"First-primary-necessary correction: we-our-pair has studied-examined-considered-expressed prior recording. We have LEARNED. Individual-singular pegasus is LEARNED. Walker-of-Spirits is LEARNED. We-OUR-ALL two-of-two-not-yet-as-one are unable-unpotential-incapable-weak-faulty-flawed. We-OUR-ALL are UNLEARNED."
>Silent for ten seconds, the pair's central weapons tilt towards the Arena's open roof section, now sounding almost.. tired.
"Second-primary-necessary correction: battlefield emulation of possible-probable-likely-potential future action-event simulation to index-list-archive-memory. Prior recording, known-factual. Emulation considers accounts variables for storage-container-building-vessel-chamber repaired-whole-completed.
Battlefield emulation aggregate-comprehension-simulated results of repaired-whole-completed storage-container-building-vessel-chamber: native-local-home winged species now represent-is-are high-extreme-NECESSARY threat to we-OUR-all. We-our-ALL will-need-must avoid native-local-home winged species."
>The greater Argus pair both turn, the central turrets facing you as the overlay disappears, each rotating clockwise, aim towards Mercy, then back on to you.
"We-our-pair offer-trade-show-explain-describe FEAR targeted Seekers-of-OUR-Rift. WE-OUR-all do not, can not, have not explained-considered-questioned-comprehended-studied-examined Seekers-of-Rift."
>Letting out a grating sigh, the blind pegasus facehoofs.
"Let me try.. why are you afraid of an Abomination from your Rift? Is it a Construct, like you two are, or NOT a Construct?"
"We-our-all do not understand-know-comprehend-consider-evaluate conditions-variables-unknowns. Repeat-refine statemarent, Walker-of-Spirits."
"Okay. Why are you afraid of THAT Seeker-of-Rifts?"
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one accept-acknowledge-RESPECT the Walker-of-Spirits understands-accepts-TRUSTS one-of-one-that-has-become-two. Seeker-of-Rifts are not two-of-two. Seeker-of-Rifts are not one-of-one. Seeker-of-Rifts are Seeker-of-Rifts."
>Head cocking in thought, Mercy stares between the two gateway posts, flexing her wings out and fanning the pinksteel blades one by one.
"I don't get it. This.. trying to look at it feels like as if I ate a really bad mango. Not rotten or poisoned, like it w- ..Sunny, I think Riftseekers spread Planar infection when they are on Tallus."
>Freezing solid for a time, the Argus pair's inactive turrets rotate counterclockwise, her wingblades sparking in odd, disparate patterns as she speaks, wavering between cautious and curious.
"I have dealt with Infected before, they are mutated, dangerous. Not like this. Long, with wings, a reptile I think. Scales, plates, claws, big teeth. Winged wyrm, maybe a drake. It has four eyes. And big. Very, very, very big."
>Emitting a faint crackle and lifting its arms out of view, the recording plays on.. though in an entirely opposite way than the simulation:
>Spherical entrance/exits across every surface of the Assault Landers open, disgorging hundreds of paired Scouts and Repair models, larger variants slower with heavier weapons.
>The hundreds of Melari begin separating into actual units comprised of fifty of the smallest, forty of the next size up, thirty of the mediums, five of the large, and one giant.
>Long distracted from her task, Mercy and you spend.. neither of you can tell how long watching both sides savage each other due to the Arena's badly damaged interior, exterior, and rubble everywhere providing excellent cover to take, or create.
>Constructs are surprised by giant Melari hurling stones at them or pushing chunks forwards to create cover, only to be pinned down by particle whips, hot green flashes from lasers, small missiles, or orange plasma bolts, each side tactically pressing the other regardless of numbers lost.
>At some point, the Repair model pauses, pointing out Melari streaming in from around the ruined Arena's, particularly from outer buildings and vast trees, then continues.
>The Construct forces were steadily losing in both numbers, weapons, and ability to absorb losses, except for one tiny variable:
>A small feline that definitely looked like Nibbles, except couldn't have been, a closeup showing small, long healed scars while darting back and forth among the Melari's lines, tail, wing, and body motions making clear, if undefined, orders during combat.
>Unable to directly take on Assault Landers, the feline leader repositions her kin constantly, directing them to avoid the massive aerial weapons, not types you recognized, trying to acquire firing positions.
>While subtly relaying orders for two units of the giant Melari, one hundred in all, she mimics climbing the nearest trees out of range, then to drop down and shred the Assault Landers from the inside.
>One of the larger Repair models above detonates, replayed as a trio of lesser Moor cats dropping down from above in a deliberate suicide attack, each carrying a small Void-imbued bomb in their mouths.
>A hail of orange shrapnel spreads across the Arena, an errant shard focused on that ricochets twice, spinning off a long ruined Construct hulk into a black granite slab, only to stop in the left side of the lead feline's chest, taking cover behind a larger one.
>The Melari gasps, blinking once and looking up, making a tiny nod, then slowly crumples forwards, eyes closing.
>View cutting away, the few Constructs still functional inside the Arena cease firing at the same time the remaining feline horde stills, then are immediately rushed down, flashing kanpri teeth and claws ripping the Planars apart in frenzied slaughter.
>The recording ends.
>Repair model reaching out and forwards with both upper arms, it lathes a plate into view of an estimated tally: approximately 10,000 various Melari deceased, versus 2,000 Constructs deployed and destroyed, the entire contents of both Assault Landers.
>The Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair speak in lower, quiet tones, the quartet of turrets smoothly rotating once.
"First-primary-necessary correction: we-our-pair has studied-examined-considered-expressed prior recording. We have LEARNED. Individual-singular pegasus is LEARNED. Walker-of-Spirits is LEARNED. We-OUR-ALL two-of-two-not-yet-as-one are unable-unpotential-incapable-weak-faulty-flawed. We-OUR-ALL are UNLEARNED."
>Silent for ten seconds, the pair's central weapons tilt towards the Arena's open roof section, now sounding almost.. tired.
"Second-primary-necessary correction: battlefield emulation of possible-probable-likely-potential future action-event simulation to index-list-archive-memory. Prior recording, known-factual. Emulation considers accounts variables for storage-container-building-vessel-chamber repaired-whole-completed.
Battlefield emulation aggregate-comprehension-simulated results of repaired-whole-completed storage-container-building-vessel-chamber: native-local-home winged species now represent-is-are high-extreme-NECESSARY threat to we-OUR-all. We-our-ALL will-need-must avoid native-local-home winged species."
>The greater Argus pair both turn, the central turrets facing you as the overlay disappears, each rotating clockwise, aim towards Mercy, then back on to you.
"We-our-pair offer-trade-show-explain-describe FEAR targeted Seekers-of-OUR-Rift. WE-OUR-all do not, can not, have not explained-considered-questioned-comprehended-studied-examined Seekers-of-Rift."
>Letting out a grating sigh, the blind pegasus facehoofs.
"Let me try.. why are you afraid of an Abomination from your Rift? Is it a Construct, like you two are, or NOT a Construct?"
"We-our-all do not understand-know-comprehend-consider-evaluate conditions-variables-unknowns. Repeat-refine statemarent, Walker-of-Spirits."
"Okay. Why are you afraid of THAT Seeker-of-Rifts?"
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one accept-acknowledge-RESPECT the Walker-of-Spirits understands-accepts-TRUSTS one-of-one-that-has-become-two. Seeker-of-Rifts are not two-of-two. Seeker-of-Rifts are not one-of-one. Seeker-of-Rifts are Seeker-of-Rifts."
>Head cocking in thought, Mercy stares between the two gateway posts, flexing her wings out and fanning the pinksteel blades one by one.
"I don't get it. This.. trying to look at it feels like as if I ate a really bad mango. Not rotten or poisoned, like it w- ..Sunny, I think Riftseekers spread Planar infection when they are on Tallus."
>Freezing solid for a time, the Argus pair's inactive turrets rotate counterclockwise, her wingblades sparking in odd, disparate patterns as she speaks, wavering between cautious and curious.
"I have dealt with Infected before, they are mutated, dangerous. Not like this. Long, with wings, a reptile I think. Scales, plates, claws, big teeth. Winged wyrm, maybe a drake. It has four eyes. And big. Very, very, very big."
>>370671
>>370672
>>370673
>That was odd.
>The repair model really seemed to want to complete its work, is non-communicative unlike the destroyer pair, and takes its orders from them.
>Hierarchy? Based on higher evolved intelligence perhaps. Evidence that Constructs were not a gestalt entity as she had previously thought. Perhaps more a collective of collectives, emulating some form of individuality per unit, at least amongst the more advanced ones.
[1d6 = 6] < Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 4]
>Acknowledging Mercy with a slight incline of the head, Sunny put aside her urge to eliminate the Constructs. If Mercy wasn't going to leave, she couldn't go through with her plan anyway.
>If she wanted to destroy them, she would have to wait for them to break convention first, not that she were bound in any particular way by those the Constructs had invoked, she did not want to infringe on Mercy's honour. Again at any rate.
>Talking to Constructs was difficult, she needed to adjust her way of speaking to vernacular they had displayed use of.
>In silence for the moment, Sunny observed the various screens they projected and explained in their strange synonym-laden speech.
>People, weaponry, armour, tools, and all manner of objects both sundry and significant. What in the world could they be doing with all of this?
>The use of museum as a synonym implied they had collected all of these for study, display or preservation.
>Their showing of a particular pegasus caught her attention, why this one separate from the others? Was it the degree of damage he'd sustained? It couldn't be that. There must be some other significance, but she couldn't put her hoof on what it was.
>Exasperation? A denial that these two units had not attacked anypony, that they weren't responsible for the actions of other Construct units. This lent more weight to the constructs not existing as a gestalt, and possibly even displaying signs of individuality, compartmentalisation of goals and motives amongst themselves.
>She'd been thinking about that when she startled and flapped her wings once in fear that she'd lose her balance, and yet gravity's pull remained constant, keeping standing on the repair model, removed from the gravity of Tallus.
>They wanted her to see something it seemed.
>Intently observing the display, Sunny watched the moor cat batting at the relay that she had turned off, as cats are wont to do, all while Constructs... Examined rocks.
>As events unfolded, Sunny came to the inescapable and deeply distressing conclusion that this entire conflict and possibly the existence of this Riftseeker came about because ONE (1) Moor cat spooked itself.
>The comedic premise of what had happened here, she realised she had mistaken for what might happen, struck her dumb for several moments, nearly missing what the destroyers were saying.
>Waiting for Mercy's exchange with the Constructs to conclude, Sunny spoke up, shaking her head.
"No. I'm done. This isn't worth dealing with."
>She turned to the destroyer pair, with a deeply haunted expression and tired voice.
"Information accepted as proof of directive. Trade proposal accepted. Request agreement, proposed trade must not impede completion of directives. Proposal, non-interference with your operation to neutralise the Seeker-Of-Rifts in exchange for the safe release of restored sapients?"
>Sunny was going to have to explain all of this, and nobody would believe she and Mercy had been talking to constructs, considering they'd never spoken to anybody before.
>Finally, she jumped off of the repair model, opened up her wings and let herself glide to the ground as Tallus' gravity took its hold again.
"Secondary request, are you willing to clarify - to provide information - on why you have been willing to communicate when others of your kind have not? Reason, to explain this negotiation to nearby Tallus forces and convince them to uphold our agreement of non-interference."
>>370672
>>370673
>That was odd.
>The repair model really seemed to want to complete its work, is non-communicative unlike the destroyer pair, and takes its orders from them.
>Hierarchy? Based on higher evolved intelligence perhaps. Evidence that Constructs were not a gestalt entity as she had previously thought. Perhaps more a collective of collectives, emulating some form of individuality per unit, at least amongst the more advanced ones.
[1d6 = 6] < Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 4]
>Acknowledging Mercy with a slight incline of the head, Sunny put aside her urge to eliminate the Constructs. If Mercy wasn't going to leave, she couldn't go through with her plan anyway.
>If she wanted to destroy them, she would have to wait for them to break convention first, not that she were bound in any particular way by those the Constructs had invoked, she did not want to infringe on Mercy's honour. Again at any rate.
>Talking to Constructs was difficult, she needed to adjust her way of speaking to vernacular they had displayed use of.
>In silence for the moment, Sunny observed the various screens they projected and explained in their strange synonym-laden speech.
>People, weaponry, armour, tools, and all manner of objects both sundry and significant. What in the world could they be doing with all of this?
>The use of museum as a synonym implied they had collected all of these for study, display or preservation.
>Their showing of a particular pegasus caught her attention, why this one separate from the others? Was it the degree of damage he'd sustained? It couldn't be that. There must be some other significance, but she couldn't put her hoof on what it was.
>Exasperation? A denial that these two units had not attacked anypony, that they weren't responsible for the actions of other Construct units. This lent more weight to the constructs not existing as a gestalt, and possibly even displaying signs of individuality, compartmentalisation of goals and motives amongst themselves.
>She'd been thinking about that when she startled and flapped her wings once in fear that she'd lose her balance, and yet gravity's pull remained constant, keeping standing on the repair model, removed from the gravity of Tallus.
>They wanted her to see something it seemed.
>Intently observing the display, Sunny watched the moor cat batting at the relay that she had turned off, as cats are wont to do, all while Constructs... Examined rocks.
>As events unfolded, Sunny came to the inescapable and deeply distressing conclusion that this entire conflict and possibly the existence of this Riftseeker came about because ONE (1) Moor cat spooked itself.
>The comedic premise of what had happened here, she realised she had mistaken for what might happen, struck her dumb for several moments, nearly missing what the destroyers were saying.
>Waiting for Mercy's exchange with the Constructs to conclude, Sunny spoke up, shaking her head.
"No. I'm done. This isn't worth dealing with."
>She turned to the destroyer pair, with a deeply haunted expression and tired voice.
"Information accepted as proof of directive. Trade proposal accepted. Request agreement, proposed trade must not impede completion of directives. Proposal, non-interference with your operation to neutralise the Seeker-Of-Rifts in exchange for the safe release of restored sapients?"
>Sunny was going to have to explain all of this, and nobody would believe she and Mercy had been talking to constructs, considering they'd never spoken to anybody before.
>Finally, she jumped off of the repair model, opened up her wings and let herself glide to the ground as Tallus' gravity took its hold again.
"Secondary request, are you willing to clarify - to provide information - on why you have been willing to communicate when others of your kind have not? Reason, to explain this negotiation to nearby Tallus forces and convince them to uphold our agreement of non-interference."
File (): 8BBF910AECD5E31852A9F5D370F9F365-940962.mp4 (918.9 KB, Resolution:480x360 Length:00:00:07, sb40c21yjlw41.gif.mp4) [play once] [loop]
>>370661
>>370663
>It was over.
>The hulking giants of misery were gone. Turned to mist or in the process of doing so. Lont watched from his vantage point as the innumerable restless spirits left Tallus for the afterlife.
>It was a serene sight and would of brought him to tears if it were not for the growing anguish within the Overherd beginning to beat at his cranium.
>He took deep breaths and long exhales as he focused on his heartbeat, a simple technique he learned back on Ferrundus as a means to block out the mental pressure of Psions. It helped. Especially now with the swelling emotions of thousands of ponies across the Basin Village.
>The burning on his chest was dying away now, and so he shot out a final thought to Broken Hoof. Perhaps she'll hear it in the afterlife.
('Be like Sharonel, Broken Hoof. With Honour and at peace.')
>Lifting his visor he looked around, at first at his fellow Operators then further and further afield to the masses of ponies. All in the hope to ascertain if anyone needed assistance. Surely there would be some wounded. Some survivors who danced with death.
>Surely.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] >M.Medical
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>>370663
>It was over.
>The hulking giants of misery were gone. Turned to mist or in the process of doing so. Lont watched from his vantage point as the innumerable restless spirits left Tallus for the afterlife.
>It was a serene sight and would of brought him to tears if it were not for the growing anguish within the Overherd beginning to beat at his cranium.
>He took deep breaths and long exhales as he focused on his heartbeat, a simple technique he learned back on Ferrundus as a means to block out the mental pressure of Psions. It helped. Especially now with the swelling emotions of thousands of ponies across the Basin Village.
>The burning on his chest was dying away now, and so he shot out a final thought to Broken Hoof. Perhaps she'll hear it in the afterlife.
('Be like Sharonel, Broken Hoof. With Honour and at peace.')
>Lifting his visor he looked around, at first at his fellow Operators then further and further afield to the masses of ponies. All in the hope to ascertain if anyone needed assistance. Surely there would be some wounded. Some survivors who danced with death.
>Surely.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] >M.Medical
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
File (): 7D228FE963924E10EEE8D15CC32F5211-15123081.gif (14.4 MB, 980x500, its_raining.gif)
>>370660
>Jeff tries to keep up with diagnostics and countermeasures as interference takes over the module's screen. Text in multiple languages native to Tallus and known only to humans form and unform themselves but he catches a pattern.
>Deny. Refuse. Prevent. Guard. Protect. Spirit of Walkers. Seeker of Rifts.
>He puts a mental pin in that for now while he pans the camera away from the Arena.
>Oddly enough his signal cleared right up once he started searching for landing strips. North and South looked good, although the North seemed occupied. The South it is, but he doesn't know if a quarter mile stretch is enough. Looking at the drone's specs, it was definitely larger than it would normally be.
>He'll have to wait for Clem to aid him, if he can.
>The iron ball breaks unusually, Anon's door opening up quickly to reveal his literally blowing apart. Leaving a quick as he arrived. The sudden scene shocked him for a split second.
("Shit, sorry! I didn't know! Fuck, I hope it didn't kill him.")
>>370663
>Every force they have puts out their last final drives of attacks, some beginning to falter, something breaks in the Tainted's ranks.
>As if some threshold had been passed, the forms begin to dissolve. Ground and air forces, alike.
>The forms, as if the souls of those ponies were trapped within, phase into a pass out of existence with proud salutes as they fizzle out into the air.
>No longer paying mind to the Reaper's module, he leans back onto the fountain's base and takes in the relieving scene of ponies and humans observing their bittersweet victory.
>Vestals agony wails over the Overherd at their losses. He feels her pain from the extreme loss. The sacrifices and losses really didn't make this feel like a win.
>Jeff shifts his ballistic helmet down and bites his lip as the all to familiar feeling of losing comrades overwhelms him enough to well up and shed a silent tear among the commotion.
>With the Tainted... old comrades put to rest, Jeff recomposes himself and accesses their situation.
>The battlefield was a mess. And with a lull in the fighting could very well be the eye for yet another storm to be coming down on them.
("General... I don't mean to cut our victory breather short, but we still have Contructs at the Arena and some big vessel coming still? We need to consolidate what forces we have that can fight them and anyone who can't to start mass casualty triage.")
>He pushes his thoughts more toward Razorback personnel.
("Razorback. Re-arm and reorganize. Clear areas around the matrices and medical officers from all friendly forces begin setting up triage procedures. Patch up where we can, but prioritize getting them sorted for exfil.")
>He stands up to overlook the horde of friendlies still crammed around him.
("Whoever's been relaying for the Lunarites, have them regroup at the matrices and wait for me there when possible.")
>The Contructs at the Arena were a priority, despite not having heard anything from them yet. He recollects the phenomenon from the drone's computer.
("General. I picked up a transmission from the Constructs at the Arena when I panned over it. They were forcing written texted language to me. It was jumbled and simple...")
>It's like they were trying to pick out the best words to use. Contructs have NEVER tried to communicate with them like this, yet. Between Skykeep and the Citadel and that small Rift model that was bouncing around the Fortress for a while. They were definitely trying to communicate, either directly to him or a general broadcast.
>Spirit of Walkers, that's got to be Mercy. With that Construct merging with her, she must be of some significance to them. She must not engage seeker of- Rift Seekers.
(".. they don't want my herd second to engage the Rift Seekers there. It sounds... desperate. I've never even known them to attempt communication like this. I'm getting a weird vibe, but we definitely need to get over there and access the situation.")
>He knows enough that those ones are always bad news, and they open rifts at specific places and times. Them being here could be mere coincidence? If one party of Constructs are after the other, and Sunny and Mercy are still alive after all this time.
[1d6 = 2] <Intuition
>Jeff tries to keep up with diagnostics and countermeasures as interference takes over the module's screen. Text in multiple languages native to Tallus and known only to humans form and unform themselves but he catches a pattern.
>Deny. Refuse. Prevent. Guard. Protect. Spirit of Walkers. Seeker of Rifts.
>He puts a mental pin in that for now while he pans the camera away from the Arena.
>Oddly enough his signal cleared right up once he started searching for landing strips. North and South looked good, although the North seemed occupied. The South it is, but he doesn't know if a quarter mile stretch is enough. Looking at the drone's specs, it was definitely larger than it would normally be.
>He'll have to wait for Clem to aid him, if he can.
>The iron ball breaks unusually, Anon's door opening up quickly to reveal his literally blowing apart. Leaving a quick as he arrived. The sudden scene shocked him for a split second.
("Shit, sorry! I didn't know! Fuck, I hope it didn't kill him.")
>>370663
>Every force they have puts out their last final drives of attacks, some beginning to falter, something breaks in the Tainted's ranks.
>As if some threshold had been passed, the forms begin to dissolve. Ground and air forces, alike.
>The forms, as if the souls of those ponies were trapped within, phase into a pass out of existence with proud salutes as they fizzle out into the air.
>No longer paying mind to the Reaper's module, he leans back onto the fountain's base and takes in the relieving scene of ponies and humans observing their bittersweet victory.
>Vestals agony wails over the Overherd at their losses. He feels her pain from the extreme loss. The sacrifices and losses really didn't make this feel like a win.
>Jeff shifts his ballistic helmet down and bites his lip as the all to familiar feeling of losing comrades overwhelms him enough to well up and shed a silent tear among the commotion.
>With the Tainted... old comrades put to rest, Jeff recomposes himself and accesses their situation.
>The battlefield was a mess. And with a lull in the fighting could very well be the eye for yet another storm to be coming down on them.
("General... I don't mean to cut our victory breather short, but we still have Contructs at the Arena and some big vessel coming still? We need to consolidate what forces we have that can fight them and anyone who can't to start mass casualty triage.")
>He pushes his thoughts more toward Razorback personnel.
("Razorback. Re-arm and reorganize. Clear areas around the matrices and medical officers from all friendly forces begin setting up triage procedures. Patch up where we can, but prioritize getting them sorted for exfil.")
>He stands up to overlook the horde of friendlies still crammed around him.
("Whoever's been relaying for the Lunarites, have them regroup at the matrices and wait for me there when possible.")
>The Contructs at the Arena were a priority, despite not having heard anything from them yet. He recollects the phenomenon from the drone's computer.
("General. I picked up a transmission from the Constructs at the Arena when I panned over it. They were forcing written texted language to me. It was jumbled and simple...")
>It's like they were trying to pick out the best words to use. Contructs have NEVER tried to communicate with them like this, yet. Between Skykeep and the Citadel and that small Rift model that was bouncing around the Fortress for a while. They were definitely trying to communicate, either directly to him or a general broadcast.
>Spirit of Walkers, that's got to be Mercy. With that Construct merging with her, she must be of some significance to them. She must not engage seeker of- Rift Seekers.
(".. they don't want my herd second to engage the Rift Seekers there. It sounds... desperate. I've never even known them to attempt communication like this. I'm getting a weird vibe, but we definitely need to get over there and access the situation.")
>He knows enough that those ones are always bad news, and they open rifts at specific places and times. Them being here could be mere coincidence? If one party of Constructs are after the other, and Sunny and Mercy are still alive after all this time.
[1d6 = 2] <Intuition
>>370635
>Stepping out into a fairly dim red hallway and closing the door behind you, the barracks was mostly silent, a shower could be heard running somewhere left of you.
>Heading that way, a number of glittering red gems embedded in the ceiling provided more than enough light to see by:
>A spacious enough den with pairs of, completely empty, bookshelves on the north and south center walls, comfortable looking couches beside the shelves and coffee tables in front of each, though all were of entirely different furniture styles.
>In the den's corners were solid, multicolored crystalline walls 2.5M wide and 3M tall, a single large circular handle on each implying a door, with a flat top of the same material, the southwest one currently occupied.
>Mentally flipping a coin north or south, you take the north one, and upon opening it find a rather large shower stall, an amusingly big shower head, one bright red and one bright blue crystalline sphere at lower chest height, definitely water controls, some type of gel-like nonslip mat on the floor, and a rather fancy blue metallic grate on the north end.
>Finishing before the southwest person did, returning to your room to collect everything, as you exit and close the barrack door to step outside to the below-ground patio, it was quite different compared last night's clear sky and intensely red moon.
>Now the red was murky and subdued, large numbers of dark, puffed out clouds overhead, or at least those you could see above the gargantuan trees; definitely going to be an interesting winter.
>Walking up the stairs heading southwest towards the southwest, the northern Fortress section was quiet, but as you turn the corner and approach the Mess Hall's east doors there came the familiar scents of fried seafood and fruits.
>Stepping in to the Mess Hall proper and letting the north door close behind you, there were only a few humans and ponies currently here, clustered around large tables close to a pair of split-oval cooking stations.
>The north one was being tended by a lithe, bright pink winged and blue coated pegasus, a mare judging by the rounded snout and softer facial features, a variety of skillets, pots, pans, and plates surrounding her.
>Eyeing the south one's trio of younger humans, the second you hear an argument starting over which fruits to bake, it was clear which one to ignore.
>Stepping out into a fairly dim red hallway and closing the door behind you, the barracks was mostly silent, a shower could be heard running somewhere left of you.
>Heading that way, a number of glittering red gems embedded in the ceiling provided more than enough light to see by:
>A spacious enough den with pairs of, completely empty, bookshelves on the north and south center walls, comfortable looking couches beside the shelves and coffee tables in front of each, though all were of entirely different furniture styles.
>In the den's corners were solid, multicolored crystalline walls 2.5M wide and 3M tall, a single large circular handle on each implying a door, with a flat top of the same material, the southwest one currently occupied.
>Mentally flipping a coin north or south, you take the north one, and upon opening it find a rather large shower stall, an amusingly big shower head, one bright red and one bright blue crystalline sphere at lower chest height, definitely water controls, some type of gel-like nonslip mat on the floor, and a rather fancy blue metallic grate on the north end.
>Finishing before the southwest person did, returning to your room to collect everything, as you exit and close the barrack door to step outside to the below-ground patio, it was quite different compared last night's clear sky and intensely red moon.
>Now the red was murky and subdued, large numbers of dark, puffed out clouds overhead, or at least those you could see above the gargantuan trees; definitely going to be an interesting winter.
>Walking up the stairs heading southwest towards the southwest, the northern Fortress section was quiet, but as you turn the corner and approach the Mess Hall's east doors there came the familiar scents of fried seafood and fruits.
>Stepping in to the Mess Hall proper and letting the north door close behind you, there were only a few humans and ponies currently here, clustered around large tables close to a pair of split-oval cooking stations.
>The north one was being tended by a lithe, bright pink winged and blue coated pegasus, a mare judging by the rounded snout and softer facial features, a variety of skillets, pots, pans, and plates surrounding her.
>Eyeing the south one's trio of younger humans, the second you hear an argument starting over which fruits to bake, it was clear which one to ignore.
>>370686
>As always, José found himself almost mesmerized by all the intricate details during his walk to the shower.
>It was hard to believe such a post would be dotted with such pretty decorations.
>That or they were disguised security systems.
>Not too farfetched.
>A part of him wondered as he stepped into the shower if ponykind had the same laws regarding cameras on restrooms.
>Now fresh and ready for a productive day, he'd soon walk over to the north in the Mess Hall where the hard working mare made her rounds.
"Morning, miss."
>He'd soon brandish an amicable smile, first seeking if she was too busy for silly small talk.
"What's on the menu today?"
>If she humored his question, he'd patiently listen to the selection before springing up the old gentle boop on the snoot to spice up her day.
>As always, José found himself almost mesmerized by all the intricate details during his walk to the shower.
>It was hard to believe such a post would be dotted with such pretty decorations.
>That or they were disguised security systems.
>Not too farfetched.
>A part of him wondered as he stepped into the shower if ponykind had the same laws regarding cameras on restrooms.
>Now fresh and ready for a productive day, he'd soon walk over to the north in the Mess Hall where the hard working mare made her rounds.
"Morning, miss."
>He'd soon brandish an amicable smile, first seeking if she was too busy for silly small talk.
"What's on the menu today?"
>If she humored his question, he'd patiently listen to the selection before springing up the old gentle boop on the snoot to spice up her day.
>>370670
>The taste was a cross between an unfamiliar though savory berry light shallot, sweet purple cabbage, and hints of sea salt.
>Definitely a pony favorite..
>Stretching both arms out, then her legs, Katyal uncaps her bottle to take several deep swallows, settling back with a concerned visage.
"Tallus is a series of highly interconnected ecosystems and cosms across a gigaplanet. Ponies call her All Creation, lot of the Sequ`nari do too. This world knows what belongs, what is trying to, what could, what'ss accepted and left alone, what doesn't, what shouldn't, what won't be, and what will never be.
I'm not talking about the air filters, it's the entire concept of that helmet's purpose. You are deliberately telling 'her' that you don't want to be here so right now you're being treated as a hostile. An invader.
There's a third catch: longer you keep that up the greater chances are that one spectrum, dimarension, Plane, or 'other' is going to start getting a hold on you. or taking an interest. By the time that happens you'll be just another Malformed or Abomination to be disposed of.
If you somehow get lucky, you won't even be cognizant at that point."
>Frowning briefly, her eyes twitch left and high in recall, then shakes her head, free index finger stabbing into the seat.
"Could've sworn.. look, those humans that nuked New Canterlot Palace fucked the rest of us over for sure and I'm never going to accept that, but when Solarhorse got spun out, the Era Lock went ratshit crazy. Started dragging in one human at a time. Random, no rhyme, no reason, just snagging those it could from omniverses weakest on their folds.
'Objects' started showing up about a month after I landed. Cups, pencils, chairs, tools, random stuff most anyone would have. Then firearm parts, cloth pieces, piles of smokeless powder, empty cans, kit, plaques, armor plates. You name it, I've seen, collected, destroyed, or recycled with Greenie's help.
Last week I got sent a report from a patrol outside a city in Eyeraq, part of a six-by-six armored cargo truck landed on a hillside. Only reason they found it was the fuel tanks were still on fire. It was bit it in half by a creature not native to Tallus, even left a few teeth. Time I got there it was all turning to powder; two hours later all of it was gone. Starting to understand now?"
>Watching the Siren beginning to stretch out from her lying down position, Katyal's jaw sets, eyes shutting as she breathes out heavily.
"You know Tallus has four hundred and twenty days per year, right? How about eight days each week? Thirty hours per cycle, fifteen day, fifteen night? Sixty seconds is still one minute, can always count on that.
Not only that, the Era Lock controls temporal fuckery. Rather, it did control. Was halting the exitway rotation of each human's home omniverse from flowing. One second here is either fractional or up to twenty seconds faster than one second where you originate from. In other words: time is passing 'normally' in relative outside this universe for some.
Problem now is Razorback, you included, is skipping six hours to SOME where, when, place, or how. That will eventually cause every last one of you to become a temporal threat, IF you aren't currently."
>Leaning forwards and turning to halfway face you, Katyal's head shakes solemnly, left hand tapping the seat in subdued agitation.
"I don't want to, but since you're this out of the loop.. there's already been five breaches into human Otherworlds. Three succeeded, one failed. Long range, full power bombardmarents. No Tallus casualties. One is still going on and won't end for a while.
Mine's safe because I've been inside the Era Lock, where I was shunted through is stable. Even got a good luck at the fucking THING that ran me down."
>Sitting back and exhaling heavily, the woman's gaze drifts up at the roof, giving a short, defenseless shrug.
"Your reasoning's yours, but is this situation one you should, or can, ignore for long? The chance your world gets targeted as hostile is only going to keep rising. All I'm asking you to do is reconsider."
>Jolting off her wrist, the topaz bracelet expands into a flat one-sided portal facing the driver's side, Hodch walking through and spinning to face the front, glancing side to side as the relic shrinks back down.
"What have I missed out on?"
"Other than absolutely fuckhuge trees bigger than the ones around Razorback, giant prints from a critter the size of most mountains, some phys-training, and me bitching? No, but ma-"
"STOP. Huge trees. Giant prints. Be right back-"
>Deep purple streaks leap forwards into the driver compartment, phasing through in a hurry while she snorts quietly.
>Making a short, huffy neigh, Dul slowly rolls up to sit, stretching out her legs, her pseudo-physicality looking curiously like stretched out putty.
"Dul not want get hit."
"I wasn't trying to actively harm you."
"Dul not mean you-"
>Left foreleg lifting to point above Katyal's head, the Siren takes a hard, bitter look that distinctly wasn't equine.
"Dul know you wing things, you not like Dul Vortex."
"That so? An`Meliu, talk to me."
>A thinly tittering laugh rings above the woman's head, the imprint of large, crystalline rainbow butterfly's wings raising, chimes echoing distantly as she reaches up to trace fingers on one.
"Good? Fine, go back to sleep, I need you fully refreshed but I don't know when."
>Giving the quickly fading presence an affectionate pat, Katyal turns an appeasing smile to Dul, then glances in your direction with mild humor.
"She was curious, says she's never dealt with your Vortex before. Won't bother you either. Mystic beings can be really sweet, polite, helpful, apathetic, cold, nasty, sinister, or destructive. Pick two, chase one down with those traits to make a contract, then pray the next one isn't three or more.
So, a break, or you want to learn something special?"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6 = 2] <Travel Time
>The taste was a cross between an unfamiliar though savory berry light shallot, sweet purple cabbage, and hints of sea salt.
>Definitely a pony favorite..
>Stretching both arms out, then her legs, Katyal uncaps her bottle to take several deep swallows, settling back with a concerned visage.
"Tallus is a series of highly interconnected ecosystems and cosms across a gigaplanet. Ponies call her All Creation, lot of the Sequ`nari do too. This world knows what belongs, what is trying to, what could, what'ss accepted and left alone, what doesn't, what shouldn't, what won't be, and what will never be.
I'm not talking about the air filters, it's the entire concept of that helmet's purpose. You are deliberately telling 'her' that you don't want to be here so right now you're being treated as a hostile. An invader.
There's a third catch: longer you keep that up the greater chances are that one spectrum, dimarension, Plane, or 'other' is going to start getting a hold on you. or taking an interest. By the time that happens you'll be just another Malformed or Abomination to be disposed of.
If you somehow get lucky, you won't even be cognizant at that point."
>Frowning briefly, her eyes twitch left and high in recall, then shakes her head, free index finger stabbing into the seat.
"Could've sworn.. look, those humans that nuked New Canterlot Palace fucked the rest of us over for sure and I'm never going to accept that, but when Solarhorse got spun out, the Era Lock went ratshit crazy. Started dragging in one human at a time. Random, no rhyme, no reason, just snagging those it could from omniverses weakest on their folds.
'Objects' started showing up about a month after I landed. Cups, pencils, chairs, tools, random stuff most anyone would have. Then firearm parts, cloth pieces, piles of smokeless powder, empty cans, kit, plaques, armor plates. You name it, I've seen, collected, destroyed, or recycled with Greenie's help.
Last week I got sent a report from a patrol outside a city in Eyeraq, part of a six-by-six armored cargo truck landed on a hillside. Only reason they found it was the fuel tanks were still on fire. It was bit it in half by a creature not native to Tallus, even left a few teeth. Time I got there it was all turning to powder; two hours later all of it was gone. Starting to understand now?"
>Watching the Siren beginning to stretch out from her lying down position, Katyal's jaw sets, eyes shutting as she breathes out heavily.
"You know Tallus has four hundred and twenty days per year, right? How about eight days each week? Thirty hours per cycle, fifteen day, fifteen night? Sixty seconds is still one minute, can always count on that.
Not only that, the Era Lock controls temporal fuckery. Rather, it did control. Was halting the exitway rotation of each human's home omniverse from flowing. One second here is either fractional or up to twenty seconds faster than one second where you originate from. In other words: time is passing 'normally' in relative outside this universe for some.
Problem now is Razorback, you included, is skipping six hours to SOME where, when, place, or how. That will eventually cause every last one of you to become a temporal threat, IF you aren't currently."
>Leaning forwards and turning to halfway face you, Katyal's head shakes solemnly, left hand tapping the seat in subdued agitation.
"I don't want to, but since you're this out of the loop.. there's already been five breaches into human Otherworlds. Three succeeded, one failed. Long range, full power bombardmarents. No Tallus casualties. One is still going on and won't end for a while.
Mine's safe because I've been inside the Era Lock, where I was shunted through is stable. Even got a good luck at the fucking THING that ran me down."
>Sitting back and exhaling heavily, the woman's gaze drifts up at the roof, giving a short, defenseless shrug.
"Your reasoning's yours, but is this situation one you should, or can, ignore for long? The chance your world gets targeted as hostile is only going to keep rising. All I'm asking you to do is reconsider."
>Jolting off her wrist, the topaz bracelet expands into a flat one-sided portal facing the driver's side, Hodch walking through and spinning to face the front, glancing side to side as the relic shrinks back down.
"What have I missed out on?"
"Other than absolutely fuckhuge trees bigger than the ones around Razorback, giant prints from a critter the size of most mountains, some phys-training, and me bitching? No, but ma-"
"STOP. Huge trees. Giant prints. Be right back-"
>Deep purple streaks leap forwards into the driver compartment, phasing through in a hurry while she snorts quietly.
>Making a short, huffy neigh, Dul slowly rolls up to sit, stretching out her legs, her pseudo-physicality looking curiously like stretched out putty.
"Dul not want get hit."
"I wasn't trying to actively harm you."
"Dul not mean you-"
>Left foreleg lifting to point above Katyal's head, the Siren takes a hard, bitter look that distinctly wasn't equine.
"Dul know you wing things, you not like Dul Vortex."
"That so? An`Meliu, talk to me."
>A thinly tittering laugh rings above the woman's head, the imprint of large, crystalline rainbow butterfly's wings raising, chimes echoing distantly as she reaches up to trace fingers on one.
"Good? Fine, go back to sleep, I need you fully refreshed but I don't know when."
>Giving the quickly fading presence an affectionate pat, Katyal turns an appeasing smile to Dul, then glances in your direction with mild humor.
"She was curious, says she's never dealt with your Vortex before. Won't bother you either. Mystic beings can be really sweet, polite, helpful, apathetic, cold, nasty, sinister, or destructive. Pick two, chase one down with those traits to make a contract, then pray the next one isn't three or more.
So, a break, or you want to learn something special?"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6 = 2] <Travel Time
>>370689
>Wearing a curious pair of bright white front hoofboots and well oversized steel blades atop the first six primary feathers of each wing, the mare's loose pink mane swishes as she turns to face you, speaking in a light, though subdued, brittle tone.
"Welcome ba-"
>Silent as her head tilts slightly left, then right, she blinks, face creasing for a handful of seconds before speaking in flat puzzlemarent.
"Sorry, I don't.. recognize you? Are you new like most of them are?"
>Pointing a blade towards the two tables in front of the south split counter, the baffling weapons, armor, camouflage, packs, rigging, harnesses, kit, myriad accents, and disparate ethnicities made precisely zero sense:
>The most striking Operator is a strict, mid-60's EurAsian man in winter-forest camo sitting at the end, the haunted, sharp blue eyes of a confirmed mankiller instantly snapping from speaker to speaker, an older bolt-action rifle slung tightly over his left shoulder.
>Next to him is a hard faced, mid-20's European man in partial disconnect from reality, the worn look of a recently-kicked-it amphetamine addict clashing against high mountain forest camo, though a well maintained, almost new submachine gun similar to an MP-40 was haphazardly strung low on his back.
>Opposite the pair, a younger woman in a damaged, high tech helmet, internal displays behind the cracked visor constantly changing, her armor featuring thin, recently damaged angular plates, a thoroughly battered titanium basebat bat, at least a foot longer than regulation, gripped tightly in the left hand, a boxy Mac submachine gun in a crosschest sling.
>Next to her is a bewildered younger man, probably not even at legal drinking age, the facial features vaguely Islander, yet the strange red-yellow-green-blue streaked jungle camo and a well made, lightly damaged semi-auto H&K like rifle made no sense.
>Two men in their late 30's could have been twins if they weren't from opposite sides of the world, the first a light red skinned Northern Native, the second a slightly yellow tone, both lithe, wiry, armed with an assortment of knives suspended across thin armor vests and across even lighter leg armor, also carrying a quartet of utterly different size pistols.
>Surveying the groups for a few seconds longer, the pegasus scowls briefly, then points a forehoof at the front skillets and pans on her south counter, heaps of freshly steaming squid, clams, mussels, shrimp, fish strips either breaded, seared, baked, or glazed, atop large, bright red-orange glowing, flat topped oval crystal slabs.
"Everything on the front ones is ready-"
>The stacks of 'plates' she directs you to are four, one thin sparkling crystal, the rest solid.. silver, gold, and platinum.
>Motioning at her north counter, half filled platters and bowls of neatly sliced fruits, berries, and vegetables, nearly everything you knew, a bunch you'd heard of, and more that were either tropical, volcanic, or grew right out of snow were present on equally large, bright blue glowing crystal slabs.
>Leaning over to spear a seared shrimp and carefully raise it for a sniff, the mare pops it into her mouth for a quick chew, shrugging afterwards.
"Take what you want, there's basically nopony and no one here tonight. Tried cooking for sixty humans but less than half that have come in."
>Wearing a curious pair of bright white front hoofboots and well oversized steel blades atop the first six primary feathers of each wing, the mare's loose pink mane swishes as she turns to face you, speaking in a light, though subdued, brittle tone.
"Welcome ba-"
>Silent as her head tilts slightly left, then right, she blinks, face creasing for a handful of seconds before speaking in flat puzzlemarent.
"Sorry, I don't.. recognize you? Are you new like most of them are?"
>Pointing a blade towards the two tables in front of the south split counter, the baffling weapons, armor, camouflage, packs, rigging, harnesses, kit, myriad accents, and disparate ethnicities made precisely zero sense:
>The most striking Operator is a strict, mid-60's EurAsian man in winter-forest camo sitting at the end, the haunted, sharp blue eyes of a confirmed mankiller instantly snapping from speaker to speaker, an older bolt-action rifle slung tightly over his left shoulder.
>Next to him is a hard faced, mid-20's European man in partial disconnect from reality, the worn look of a recently-kicked-it amphetamine addict clashing against high mountain forest camo, though a well maintained, almost new submachine gun similar to an MP-40 was haphazardly strung low on his back.
>Opposite the pair, a younger woman in a damaged, high tech helmet, internal displays behind the cracked visor constantly changing, her armor featuring thin, recently damaged angular plates, a thoroughly battered titanium basebat bat, at least a foot longer than regulation, gripped tightly in the left hand, a boxy Mac submachine gun in a crosschest sling.
>Next to her is a bewildered younger man, probably not even at legal drinking age, the facial features vaguely Islander, yet the strange red-yellow-green-blue streaked jungle camo and a well made, lightly damaged semi-auto H&K like rifle made no sense.
>Two men in their late 30's could have been twins if they weren't from opposite sides of the world, the first a light red skinned Northern Native, the second a slightly yellow tone, both lithe, wiry, armed with an assortment of knives suspended across thin armor vests and across even lighter leg armor, also carrying a quartet of utterly different size pistols.
>Surveying the groups for a few seconds longer, the pegasus scowls briefly, then points a forehoof at the front skillets and pans on her south counter, heaps of freshly steaming squid, clams, mussels, shrimp, fish strips either breaded, seared, baked, or glazed, atop large, bright red-orange glowing, flat topped oval crystal slabs.
"Everything on the front ones is ready-"
>The stacks of 'plates' she directs you to are four, one thin sparkling crystal, the rest solid.. silver, gold, and platinum.
>Motioning at her north counter, half filled platters and bowls of neatly sliced fruits, berries, and vegetables, nearly everything you knew, a bunch you'd heard of, and more that were either tropical, volcanic, or grew right out of snow were present on equally large, bright blue glowing crystal slabs.
>Leaning over to spear a seared shrimp and carefully raise it for a sniff, the mare pops it into her mouth for a quick chew, shrugging afterwards.
"Take what you want, there's basically nopony and no one here tonight. Tried cooking for sixty humans but less than half that have come in."
Razorback Fortress: Around Four Past Midneight, The Mess Hall
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370694
>>370637
>>370636
>Standing to full height, the pair's ears swivel towards Malyne as she flops onto the trade table, snickering giddily.
>The left one's eyes, however, were nothing less than hate-filled, and the voice far beyond contempt.
"No Light from the Vigils will ever grace that 'temple', nor the tainted, desecrated souls descended from an Otherworlder 'Empress'."
>Turning around and stomping into the Remnant's eye, the other waits for two seconds, muscles rigidly flexing across his body, snarling under breath.
"An 'honorable ancient one' Her Majesty's royal ass, I'll sever that fu-"
>Realizing he was speaking out loud, the Undead's front left hoof reaches forwards, tapping lightly outside the translocation matrice, hissing in a low, directed tone.
"You've all been fooled new-Prince, not only by Lucky, her family, or the Crystal Inner Wards. You and the Second Dynasty must not travel to Stalliongrad, New Canterlot, or the Crystal Empire, but especially stay OFF the Citadel! Until those ponies that AREN'T Razorback's enemies can show themselves in the open, that'll make-"
>Reaching up to make a quick neck-slitting motion, the Vigilite nods grimly.
"Much easier, understood?"
>Turning around to face the open Vortex, he emits a rolling, high pitched snicker-kek towards the batfilly, striding forwards proudly as she stares on at the eye sinking down into stone.
"What. What? What! WHAT. WHAT? WHAT! I-"
>Squeakily stuttering aloud, Malyne's wings flap, scattering letters and papers everywhere while she violently wiggles side to side in utter glee.
"That was my FIRST BATCALL! I AM THEREFORE BATPONY, NOT HORSEBAT!"
>Hurrying a bit faster north from the imminent crime scene, you barely notice the Bren's prototype armored towers now placed two per building, the central Fortress much quieter than normal.
>Entering to the scents of finishing cookies, sourdough bread, and something else definitely pastry related, neither pegasi cook or chef were at their cooking stations.
>Checking the northwest green couch, Allys was lying on her left side, head hanging partially over and sound asleep.
>Towards the back, boxes and piles of rations, tins, and MRE's on either side of the giant walk in freezer were new, and hadn't even been organized yet, though you don't spot Pella near either section.
>>370636
>Standing to full height, the pair's ears swivel towards Malyne as she flops onto the trade table, snickering giddily.
>The left one's eyes, however, were nothing less than hate-filled, and the voice far beyond contempt.
"No Light from the Vigils will ever grace that 'temple', nor the tainted, desecrated souls descended from an Otherworlder 'Empress'."
>Turning around and stomping into the Remnant's eye, the other waits for two seconds, muscles rigidly flexing across his body, snarling under breath.
"An 'honorable ancient one' Her Majesty's royal ass, I'll sever that fu-"
>Realizing he was speaking out loud, the Undead's front left hoof reaches forwards, tapping lightly outside the translocation matrice, hissing in a low, directed tone.
"You've all been fooled new-Prince, not only by Lucky, her family, or the Crystal Inner Wards. You and the Second Dynasty must not travel to Stalliongrad, New Canterlot, or the Crystal Empire, but especially stay OFF the Citadel! Until those ponies that AREN'T Razorback's enemies can show themselves in the open, that'll make-"
>Reaching up to make a quick neck-slitting motion, the Vigilite nods grimly.
"Much easier, understood?"
>Turning around to face the open Vortex, he emits a rolling, high pitched snicker-kek towards the batfilly, striding forwards proudly as she stares on at the eye sinking down into stone.
"What. What? What! WHAT. WHAT? WHAT! I-"
>Squeakily stuttering aloud, Malyne's wings flap, scattering letters and papers everywhere while she violently wiggles side to side in utter glee.
"That was my FIRST BATCALL! I AM THEREFORE BATPONY, NOT HORSEBAT!"
>Hurrying a bit faster north from the imminent crime scene, you barely notice the Bren's prototype armored towers now placed two per building, the central Fortress much quieter than normal.
>Entering to the scents of finishing cookies, sourdough bread, and something else definitely pastry related, neither pegasi cook or chef were at their cooking stations.
>Checking the northwest green couch, Allys was lying on her left side, head hanging partially over and sound asleep.
>Towards the back, boxes and piles of rations, tins, and MRE's on either side of the giant walk in freezer were new, and hadn't even been organized yet, though you don't spot Pella near either section.
>>370694
>They weren't lying, she really -was- moving a shit ton of stuff around.
>Though, I suppose it is more of a manner of convenience.
>After all, if all the food was concentrated it one point, it'd be easier to feed people.
>But they used those in the field often.
>Hell, -I- did.
>Not that I'll be doing that for much longer.
>Who knew all it took for me to settle down was accidentally an entire faction.
>Ah, well.
>Instead of wasting my time by only looking around, I decided to call out -and- look around as well.
"Hey, Pella? You there?"
>I lifted up the sheaf of letters in my hand.
"Mail's in for you."
>At the very least, it might wake up Allys as well, and she can help me.
>But hopefully not.
>They weren't lying, she really -was- moving a shit ton of stuff around.
>Though, I suppose it is more of a manner of convenience.
>After all, if all the food was concentrated it one point, it'd be easier to feed people.
>But they used those in the field often.
>Hell, -I- did.
>Not that I'll be doing that for much longer.
>Who knew all it took for me to settle down was accidentally an entire faction.
>Ah, well.
>Instead of wasting my time by only looking around, I decided to call out -and- look around as well.
"Hey, Pella? You there?"
>I lifted up the sheaf of letters in my hand.
"Mail's in for you."
>At the very least, it might wake up Allys as well, and she can help me.
>But hopefully not.
>>370674
>Studying backwards, forwards, rolling around variables, pushing those into words, phrases, and contextual meanings until they link together, a selection of coherent ideas form:
>Rank was inapplicable as each Construct pair's model type, weaponry selections, armor protection, and ability to adapt in field were expressly that of designed and deployed complete units, expected to be self-sustaining if correctly matched against a specific known target, or targets.
>Based solely on their recorded willingness to open hostilities, Constructs either had zero awareness that situations and circumstances on Tallus could not be directly controlled, or were expected to be attacked without warning.
>The Rift Constructs were a functional collective of collectives, each pair operating on per-task basis of hierarchical orders, explicit dedications of long, medium, or short range combat, close combat, interdiction, repair, recovery, restoration, study, research, and.. archaeology, both of Tallus and their own, yet each model had some eminent flexibility.
>Both Argus Behemoth-Destroyers were, far as you could rationalize, 'interested' in numerous fields, their weaponry selections capable of combat but also an equal amount of less destructive or barely damaging usefulness as basic tools; outside the anti-matter systems they possessed, that is.
>Where ponies adhere to laws, orders, rules, stipulations, and expectations from their herd, Overherd, or both, higher Constructs collectives felt more like those that give an order and allow the risk-taker to operate with minimal conditions, while functionally equal collectives combine or support their forces for a given task, and take direct authority over lower collectives.
>If pairs were in fact granted and allowed extreme autonomy outside of hierarchical orders, several creeping, nagging thoughts arise: were they expected to take on additional self-chosen duties, how often did their 'interests' change, and what prevented them from disobeying a higher collective?
>Taking on a minorly insulted face, the white pegasi's head turns towards the relay, snout creasing.
"This is well worth my time, even if I am tired."
>Unmoving from their positions, the greater Argus pair tip towards each other slightly.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one describe-stipulate-outline-explain-grant the following: equal-equivalent-same value-weight of recovered-restored-initialized-finished-completed sapients to Seeker-of-Rifts accepted-granted-CONFIRMED by WE-our-ALL. Refine-repeat second-primary statemarent-demarend."
>Ears wiggling back and forth at the request, Mercy's wingblades snap together as she smiles.
"Sunny, I understand now, spoken language is a concept far below, above, useless, or impossible for most Planars. They do not need or use it because it is not fast enough to share information! But if that is why they usually attack.. let me try this:
You-two-of-two, we desire-need-require the sapients to exit-release from your-all container-storage-museum to the place-region-local near us. Do not attack-harm-injure region-local equines."
"Request-demarend accepted-granted-confirmed-respected-honored. Unit, exit-remove-release all-all-all-all-ALL sapients from we-OUR-ALL retrieve-study-research-repair-restore-recover-initialize storage-vessel-chamber."
>The giant Repair unit rotates around 180-degrees, arms spreading apart and pointing down below the Arena, rotating nanolathe spindles glowing, though Mercy calls aloud, the systems spooling down quickly.
"Wait wait wait stop, not that locale-region! Can you exit-remove-release all sapients.. erm, close-near my region-locale-home?"
>Grumbling out a hard tinged phrase in Minotaur, the quartets of turrets face each other, rotating clockwise for a hooful of seconds, the pair speaking aloud, minute notes of confusion clear.
"....request-demarend accepted-granted-confirmed-respected-honored. Unit, commarence-proceed-activate-produce-DELIVER task-program-function-operation gateway-rift-TRANSPORT."
>Tilting from side to side as you hop off, drifting down onto black granite once more on the Repair model's north side, it turns partway, lightly stabbing the nanolathes into its own hull.
>Odd.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Minor Rift Gateway
>The pair's cannons swivel towards you once more, jerkily rotating counterclockwise twice.
"We-our-all do not understand-know-comprehend-consider-evaluate-study asked-requested-demarended condition-variable-question-request. Repeat-refine request-statemarent-demarend."
>Folding her wings down, then subsequently blinking at the near-entirely forgotten pair of bright orange batpony-like wings atop hers, Mercy bends forwards to rub her chin on the left white-faced barrel once.
"This one answered that question, they want to be united. Or.. no, that is not close enough. Hm, the feelings are 'together-we-are', but it is similar."
<Pegasi> "Sunny, I think they cannot experience what being a pair truly is, like a stallion and mare, close, near, almost together, but unable able to touch, always sharing thoughts, feelings, images from a distance. They cannot share a deep connection, but they can if they had a choice."
>Ending her last word on a specific note, Mercy cranes her head between the two, the symbiote on her saddle emits a sourly pitched noise as she asks softly.
"You-two-of-two, do you need-intend to combat-harm-injure-kill equines?"
"Statemarent refused-unaccepted-denied. We-our-pair must show-upload-link-share-describe-display-TEACH recording for we-OUR-ALL to LEARN."
"Will you ever be ordered-commarened to combat-harm-injure-kill equines?"
"WE-our-pair avoid-deny-refuse-UNACCEPTED statemarent. WE-our-pair must offer-display-show-TEACH we-OUR-ALL UNLEARNED."
"Then we will leave. Thank you."
>Unable to think of more to say, the Spirit Walker nods towards the pair, calling as she walks towards the Arena's east side roof.
"Sunny, I can help you glide for quite a ways, we should find the Overherd's outer bubbles before needing to walk far."
>Studying backwards, forwards, rolling around variables, pushing those into words, phrases, and contextual meanings until they link together, a selection of coherent ideas form:
>Rank was inapplicable as each Construct pair's model type, weaponry selections, armor protection, and ability to adapt in field were expressly that of designed and deployed complete units, expected to be self-sustaining if correctly matched against a specific known target, or targets.
>Based solely on their recorded willingness to open hostilities, Constructs either had zero awareness that situations and circumstances on Tallus could not be directly controlled, or were expected to be attacked without warning.
>The Rift Constructs were a functional collective of collectives, each pair operating on per-task basis of hierarchical orders, explicit dedications of long, medium, or short range combat, close combat, interdiction, repair, recovery, restoration, study, research, and.. archaeology, both of Tallus and their own, yet each model had some eminent flexibility.
>Both Argus Behemoth-Destroyers were, far as you could rationalize, 'interested' in numerous fields, their weaponry selections capable of combat but also an equal amount of less destructive or barely damaging usefulness as basic tools; outside the anti-matter systems they possessed, that is.
>Where ponies adhere to laws, orders, rules, stipulations, and expectations from their herd, Overherd, or both, higher Constructs collectives felt more like those that give an order and allow the risk-taker to operate with minimal conditions, while functionally equal collectives combine or support their forces for a given task, and take direct authority over lower collectives.
>If pairs were in fact granted and allowed extreme autonomy outside of hierarchical orders, several creeping, nagging thoughts arise: were they expected to take on additional self-chosen duties, how often did their 'interests' change, and what prevented them from disobeying a higher collective?
>Taking on a minorly insulted face, the white pegasi's head turns towards the relay, snout creasing.
"This is well worth my time, even if I am tired."
>Unmoving from their positions, the greater Argus pair tip towards each other slightly.
"We-our-two-of-two-not-yet-as-one describe-stipulate-outline-explain-grant the following: equal-equivalent-same value-weight of recovered-restored-initialized-finished-completed sapients to Seeker-of-Rifts accepted-granted-CONFIRMED by WE-our-ALL. Refine-repeat second-primary statemarent-demarend."
>Ears wiggling back and forth at the request, Mercy's wingblades snap together as she smiles.
"Sunny, I understand now, spoken language is a concept far below, above, useless, or impossible for most Planars. They do not need or use it because it is not fast enough to share information! But if that is why they usually attack.. let me try this:
You-two-of-two, we desire-need-require the sapients to exit-release from your-all container-storage-museum to the place-region-local near us. Do not attack-harm-injure region-local equines."
"Request-demarend accepted-granted-confirmed-respected-honored. Unit, exit-remove-release all-all-all-all-ALL sapients from we-OUR-ALL retrieve-study-research-repair-restore-recover-initialize storage-vessel-chamber."
>The giant Repair unit rotates around 180-degrees, arms spreading apart and pointing down below the Arena, rotating nanolathe spindles glowing, though Mercy calls aloud, the systems spooling down quickly.
"Wait wait wait stop, not that locale-region! Can you exit-remove-release all sapients.. erm, close-near my region-locale-home?"
>Grumbling out a hard tinged phrase in Minotaur, the quartets of turrets face each other, rotating clockwise for a hooful of seconds, the pair speaking aloud, minute notes of confusion clear.
"....request-demarend accepted-granted-confirmed-respected-honored. Unit, commarence-proceed-activate-produce-DELIVER task-program-function-operation gateway-rift-TRANSPORT."
>Tilting from side to side as you hop off, drifting down onto black granite once more on the Repair model's north side, it turns partway, lightly stabbing the nanolathes into its own hull.
>Odd.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Minor Rift Gateway
>The pair's cannons swivel towards you once more, jerkily rotating counterclockwise twice.
"We-our-all do not understand-know-comprehend-consider-evaluate-study asked-requested-demarended condition-variable-question-request. Repeat-refine request-statemarent-demarend."
>Folding her wings down, then subsequently blinking at the near-entirely forgotten pair of bright orange batpony-like wings atop hers, Mercy bends forwards to rub her chin on the left white-faced barrel once.
"This one answered that question, they want to be united. Or.. no, that is not close enough. Hm, the feelings are 'together-we-are', but it is similar."
<Pegasi> "Sunny, I think they cannot experience what being a pair truly is, like a stallion and mare, close, near, almost together, but unable able to touch, always sharing thoughts, feelings, images from a distance. They cannot share a deep connection, but they can if they had a choice."
>Ending her last word on a specific note, Mercy cranes her head between the two, the symbiote on her saddle emits a sourly pitched noise as she asks softly.
"You-two-of-two, do you need-intend to combat-harm-injure-kill equines?"
"Statemarent refused-unaccepted-denied. We-our-pair must show-upload-link-share-describe-display-TEACH recording for we-OUR-ALL to LEARN."
"Will you ever be ordered-commarened to combat-harm-injure-kill equines?"
"WE-our-pair avoid-deny-refuse-UNACCEPTED statemarent. WE-our-pair must offer-display-show-TEACH we-OUR-ALL UNLEARNED."
"Then we will leave. Thank you."
>Unable to think of more to say, the Spirit Walker nods towards the pair, calling as she walks towards the Arena's east side roof.
"Sunny, I can help you glide for quite a ways, we should find the Overherd's outer bubbles before needing to walk far."
>>370692
>His face twitches slightly at the bracing flavor of the juice.
(Clearly intended for ponies. Herbal.)
>He remains quiet as Katyal responds, elucidating some of the finer points of the all around untennable situation regarding humans on Tallus.
(Likely Class 1 entities identified. Mechanisms of action... the planes themselves. Only apparent recourse is to affiliate with one or another. As if the human element wasn't enough...)
>As she continues, he signs in quite irritation and pinches his brow and eyes.
(And an increasing temporal mismatch too. Fucking superb. With breaches into other human worlds.)
"I don't understand what you mean by seeing the 'thing' that ran you down, if you mean what killed you before you arrived on this planet. But my goal, my mission is to preserve as much of the determined socially compatible native lifeforms from cross-cultural contamination by humans as possible, myself included. Apparently human risk vector introduction is even worse than I was aware of, but my intent was always to only interact and integrate as much as necessary to fulfill my tasks."
>Finally removing his hand, he picks up the bottle for another sip.
>At least the plant-like taste would help brace against the stress of these new revelations.
"Apparently Tallus itself is going to force me to choose while I'm here, so if I want to carry out my duty I'll have no choice but to integrate as much as she demands. If she decides to target my world as hostile, then she isn't paying as much attention as she should. As far as I've seen, my home dimension was one of the few with protocols in place to try and manage shitshows like this to preserve worlds and their natives in the event of unmanaged human contact. But I arrived years too late, so damage control is what I'm left with. "
>He remains seated, returning rubbing his furrowed brow in consternation and paying little heed to Hodch's sudden arrival and disappearance beyond confirming his departure to the driver's compartment.
"This policy of wholesale integration Tallus seems to have will only bring ruin now that humans are involved. New Canterlot was not an anomaly. And I have precious few leads on addressing the temporal mismatches or the Era Lock."
>He glowers and a brief sardonic expression crosses his face as he looks towards where Hodch phased through the door.
"But I'm left with no choice by the will of 'god'."
>Deciding to watch Dul to focus on something more immediate, he follows her pointing foreleg to see a strange crystal imprint of butterfly wings embody themselves over Katyal's head.
(Bonded with a... Mystic being apparently. Standard fare for Assassins? Likely for empowering their abilities and options.)
>Eyeing the space above Katyal's head with slight wariness, he replies.
"I'm going to need all the training I can get given the clear disparity between me and you."
>His face twitches slightly at the bracing flavor of the juice.
(Clearly intended for ponies. Herbal.)
>He remains quiet as Katyal responds, elucidating some of the finer points of the all around untennable situation regarding humans on Tallus.
(Likely Class 1 entities identified. Mechanisms of action... the planes themselves. Only apparent recourse is to affiliate with one or another. As if the human element wasn't enough...)
>As she continues, he signs in quite irritation and pinches his brow and eyes.
(And an increasing temporal mismatch too. Fucking superb. With breaches into other human worlds.)
"I don't understand what you mean by seeing the 'thing' that ran you down, if you mean what killed you before you arrived on this planet. But my goal, my mission is to preserve as much of the determined socially compatible native lifeforms from cross-cultural contamination by humans as possible, myself included. Apparently human risk vector introduction is even worse than I was aware of, but my intent was always to only interact and integrate as much as necessary to fulfill my tasks."
>Finally removing his hand, he picks up the bottle for another sip.
>At least the plant-like taste would help brace against the stress of these new revelations.
"Apparently Tallus itself is going to force me to choose while I'm here, so if I want to carry out my duty I'll have no choice but to integrate as much as she demands. If she decides to target my world as hostile, then she isn't paying as much attention as she should. As far as I've seen, my home dimension was one of the few with protocols in place to try and manage shitshows like this to preserve worlds and their natives in the event of unmanaged human contact. But I arrived years too late, so damage control is what I'm left with. "
>He remains seated, returning rubbing his furrowed brow in consternation and paying little heed to Hodch's sudden arrival and disappearance beyond confirming his departure to the driver's compartment.
"This policy of wholesale integration Tallus seems to have will only bring ruin now that humans are involved. New Canterlot was not an anomaly. And I have precious few leads on addressing the temporal mismatches or the Era Lock."
>He glowers and a brief sardonic expression crosses his face as he looks towards where Hodch phased through the door.
"But I'm left with no choice by the will of 'god'."
>Deciding to watch Dul to focus on something more immediate, he follows her pointing foreleg to see a strange crystal imprint of butterfly wings embody themselves over Katyal's head.
(Bonded with a... Mystic being apparently. Standard fare for Assassins? Likely for empowering their abilities and options.)
>Eyeing the space above Katyal's head with slight wariness, he replies.
"I'm going to need all the training I can get given the clear disparity between me and you."
>>370695
>No answer, at least not from humans as there were barely three full squads, most of the guys you knew wiped out on floor, sprawled out on the best couches, or face down on tables, nor were there any Night or Lunar Guards.
>An Arcane Bladesmare at the bar swivels partway around, pointing at the front doors and quietly calling to you, the accent a somewhat familiar, wispy Stalliongradian pegasi.
"Buncha them been movin' stuff last coupla hours, she'll be back inna bit. Or two."
>Swinging around and yawning, the mare slumps forwards, head setting down.
>Just then, one of the south piles twitches.
>Or, at least you think it might have.
>No answer, at least not from humans as there were barely three full squads, most of the guys you knew wiped out on floor, sprawled out on the best couches, or face down on tables, nor were there any Night or Lunar Guards.
>An Arcane Bladesmare at the bar swivels partway around, pointing at the front doors and quietly calling to you, the accent a somewhat familiar, wispy Stalliongradian pegasi.
"Buncha them been movin' stuff last coupla hours, she'll be back inna bit. Or two."
>Swinging around and yawning, the mare slumps forwards, head setting down.
>Just then, one of the south piles twitches.
>Or, at least you think it might have.
>>370697
>Katyal lifts the bottle to drain, cap, and toss it into the seat-locker, slouching back with a killing grin.
"Got done with a late shift at the bio-med center. Went to my favorite bar on the corner, knocked back three Dead Rippers, went out and started back to my shitty little foot thick steel apartment. Ten blocks in I hear big tires, look back, an armored fast-attack Genetic Security rig. Brand new, dual chain-plasma guns all over it.
Figured they were going to follow me home just in case. Kept walking... more like staggering until getting about a block and a half out. Those big eighteen cylinder diesels got a lot of power and noise, can feel them from quite a ways. Then the tires screech, couldn't turn fast enough to drop a grenade or my satchel, but I could feel that monster staring at me through screens.
Imagine a hyper-intelligent extraterrestrial 'being' made of nothing more than long striated pseudo-cells that only need a few drops of blood or tiny scrap of flesh to near-perfectly replicate a creature, all the way down to tiny micro-scars.
Now imagine it can read neural processes from living or dying beings. Sinks these super tiny ciliated proto-organic needles into the nervous system, or straight to the brain. Carefully though, takes a few minutes and close or direct contact. Or break 'em off and create a new monster after a few weeks to months. Requires a serious scanner to find said needles, and that's only IF they leave the body where it can be found.
Add the two together, what does that make?"
>Lips thinning briefly, she turns a hard stare at the opposite wall panels.
"Now that I respect. Contamination's a real danger to ponies, just not the way you've probably been thinking. Objects themselves aren't the danger, it's the concepts behind them.
Remove everything associated with unnecessary war, natural resource exploitation, subversion, industry, religion, sabotage, political profiteering.. ..lawyers.. the shit ponies hate most, they'll pick up on that. Might work out well.
Also, you don't feel, look, sound, or act even a quarter as fucked up the six notches on my belt were made for. If most of your world isn't a bunch of greedy backstabbing assclowns and morons, that lessens the chance.
Still, there's plenty of choices on why or what one can acclimate to. Who do you think taught me?"
>Left index finger pointing towards the driver compartment, she flashes a barely appropriate grin.
"No deities where I'm from but here you can actually meet a few of those.. except for Greenie, he's us but not exactly reliable.. just like us, really! There's an Empress gone missing though, Spring, Fall, and Winter are approachable, and-"
>Physically relaxing for a second, her empty hand swings up in a blur, backfisting a certain Draconequis snout straight through the hull, leaving only his lips behind.
"THIS one's not worth getting angry at, trust me."
"I WAS ONLY GOING T-"
"Cocoratulate me, right?"
"I am deeply wounded but mostly insulted! After all, I've used THAT one before!"
"Best way to ignore him is to ask yourself why it takes three mares on fire and a dead squid exactly one hour to peel a boat."
"It WAS going to be congospatulate but you were already thinking it!"
"What is wrong with.. can't you make a living jelly tree and set it loose in Folu's garden?"
"No?"
>Waiting precisely one second to continue, her eyebrows raise in mildly exasperated amusement.
"Could be neutral for quite a while, that'll require a constant force of will and might burn you out. Could do what the Malurians do, find a piece of Nature you enjoy and become so in tune that it accepts you as an equal. Unicorns, raw magic, symbolism of a million types, Elemarentals. Pegasi, clouds, wind, air. Minotaurs, Arkadians, earth ponies..."
>Left eye twitching and losing her focus briefly, Katyal releases a slow, measured exhale.
"You don't strike me as a from-the-earth type. Sea's Bounty, some of the Ferron, batponies, they all like the sea and Void spectrums. Some a BIT too much. But if you're thinking about... why are you back?"
>Squishing through the roof hatch in front of her, Discord sniggers quietly, whispering in all caps.
"WHY A TREE WHEN I CAN FILL HER ENTIRE TRIBUTARY WITH GUMMY FISH?"
"Did you seriously do that?"
"No. quite frankly, why would I?"
"Because it'd be hilarious to watch her get irked, she's already trying to lose weight.. what DID you do?"
"Cucumber crocodiles. With googly coconuts for eyes."
".....do they make funny-"
"Loud clopping noises like horses do when they waddle about? YES!"
"You're a genius. Now, please leave?"
>Grimacing as Discord worms his way out, one finger gun points at you.
"My choice then. Well, you already got a bunch of Rift stench, that's never good from what I've been told. Tiny touch of Vortex.. nothing dangerous. Gonna need to either balance those or purify the first."
"Like that?"
"What?"
"That. It pure."
>Following Dul's gaze and pointed hoof at your locker, Katyal's eyes close briefly, snapping open in shock.
"...THAT'S pinksteel? Holy giant Lovehorse's teats on a window frame, that stuff is BEYOND impossible to get ahold of.. you have any idea what that's worth to the right spiritist? She won't even let Roam's Volkanus Guard have a single tiny damned chunk.
All right, new plan, you grab that neat little dagger, and that shield of yours needs some tuning. It's entirely possible to refine an enchantmarent by communing with it, like I did with.. nnnnevermind.
Gonna need you to take those two out and prepare to summon that shield in every single possible configuration, see what the maximum size is, spread the shape, check speed of summoning, that sort.
Miss Dul, gonna need your help BIG time!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Overclocked Spiritist's Combat Training
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Vortex: Planar Purification
[1d6 = 6] <Awakening
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle-Scanner
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism: Cascading-Sweep
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6 = 4] <Travel Time
>Katyal lifts the bottle to drain, cap, and toss it into the seat-locker, slouching back with a killing grin.
"Got done with a late shift at the bio-med center. Went to my favorite bar on the corner, knocked back three Dead Rippers, went out and started back to my shitty little foot thick steel apartment. Ten blocks in I hear big tires, look back, an armored fast-attack Genetic Security rig. Brand new, dual chain-plasma guns all over it.
Figured they were going to follow me home just in case. Kept walking... more like staggering until getting about a block and a half out. Those big eighteen cylinder diesels got a lot of power and noise, can feel them from quite a ways. Then the tires screech, couldn't turn fast enough to drop a grenade or my satchel, but I could feel that monster staring at me through screens.
Imagine a hyper-intelligent extraterrestrial 'being' made of nothing more than long striated pseudo-cells that only need a few drops of blood or tiny scrap of flesh to near-perfectly replicate a creature, all the way down to tiny micro-scars.
Now imagine it can read neural processes from living or dying beings. Sinks these super tiny ciliated proto-organic needles into the nervous system, or straight to the brain. Carefully though, takes a few minutes and close or direct contact. Or break 'em off and create a new monster after a few weeks to months. Requires a serious scanner to find said needles, and that's only IF they leave the body where it can be found.
Add the two together, what does that make?"
>Lips thinning briefly, she turns a hard stare at the opposite wall panels.
"Now that I respect. Contamination's a real danger to ponies, just not the way you've probably been thinking. Objects themselves aren't the danger, it's the concepts behind them.
Remove everything associated with unnecessary war, natural resource exploitation, subversion, industry, religion, sabotage, political profiteering.. ..lawyers.. the shit ponies hate most, they'll pick up on that. Might work out well.
Also, you don't feel, look, sound, or act even a quarter as fucked up the six notches on my belt were made for. If most of your world isn't a bunch of greedy backstabbing assclowns and morons, that lessens the chance.
Still, there's plenty of choices on why or what one can acclimate to. Who do you think taught me?"
>Left index finger pointing towards the driver compartment, she flashes a barely appropriate grin.
"No deities where I'm from but here you can actually meet a few of those.. except for Greenie, he's us but not exactly reliable.. just like us, really! There's an Empress gone missing though, Spring, Fall, and Winter are approachable, and-"
>Physically relaxing for a second, her empty hand swings up in a blur, backfisting a certain Draconequis snout straight through the hull, leaving only his lips behind.
"THIS one's not worth getting angry at, trust me."
"I WAS ONLY GOING T-"
"Cocoratulate me, right?"
"I am deeply wounded but mostly insulted! After all, I've used THAT one before!"
"Best way to ignore him is to ask yourself why it takes three mares on fire and a dead squid exactly one hour to peel a boat."
"It WAS going to be congospatulate but you were already thinking it!"
"What is wrong with.. can't you make a living jelly tree and set it loose in Folu's garden?"
"No?"
>Waiting precisely one second to continue, her eyebrows raise in mildly exasperated amusement.
"Could be neutral for quite a while, that'll require a constant force of will and might burn you out. Could do what the Malurians do, find a piece of Nature you enjoy and become so in tune that it accepts you as an equal. Unicorns, raw magic, symbolism of a million types, Elemarentals. Pegasi, clouds, wind, air. Minotaurs, Arkadians, earth ponies..."
>Left eye twitching and losing her focus briefly, Katyal releases a slow, measured exhale.
"You don't strike me as a from-the-earth type. Sea's Bounty, some of the Ferron, batponies, they all like the sea and Void spectrums. Some a BIT too much. But if you're thinking about... why are you back?"
>Squishing through the roof hatch in front of her, Discord sniggers quietly, whispering in all caps.
"WHY A TREE WHEN I CAN FILL HER ENTIRE TRIBUTARY WITH GUMMY FISH?"
"Did you seriously do that?"
"No. quite frankly, why would I?"
"Because it'd be hilarious to watch her get irked, she's already trying to lose weight.. what DID you do?"
"Cucumber crocodiles. With googly coconuts for eyes."
".....do they make funny-"
"Loud clopping noises like horses do when they waddle about? YES!"
"You're a genius. Now, please leave?"
>Grimacing as Discord worms his way out, one finger gun points at you.
"My choice then. Well, you already got a bunch of Rift stench, that's never good from what I've been told. Tiny touch of Vortex.. nothing dangerous. Gonna need to either balance those or purify the first."
"Like that?"
"What?"
"That. It pure."
>Following Dul's gaze and pointed hoof at your locker, Katyal's eyes close briefly, snapping open in shock.
"...THAT'S pinksteel? Holy giant Lovehorse's teats on a window frame, that stuff is BEYOND impossible to get ahold of.. you have any idea what that's worth to the right spiritist? She won't even let Roam's Volkanus Guard have a single tiny damned chunk.
All right, new plan, you grab that neat little dagger, and that shield of yours needs some tuning. It's entirely possible to refine an enchantmarent by communing with it, like I did with.. nnnnevermind.
Gonna need you to take those two out and prepare to summon that shield in every single possible configuration, see what the maximum size is, spread the shape, check speed of summoning, that sort.
Miss Dul, gonna need your help BIG time!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Overclocked Spiritist's Combat Training
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Vortex: Planar Purification
[1d6 = 6] <Awakening
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle-Scanner
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism: Cascading-Sweep
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6 = 4] <Travel Time
>>370693
"That I am, miss."
>He promptly nodded a bunch of times before offering a hand to shake or bump.
"Name's José Gallo. Nice to meet you."
>He had to admit, those were some zany looking characters milling about on the tables.
>The technology and epoch disparity was specially of note.
>Heck, for some reason, the mid-20's European man seemed plucked out during World War 2.
>Even humans in Razorback were alien mysteries of their own, it seems.
>Snapping back to reality, his head soon turned back to the helpful mare with an understanding smile.
"Why thank you, miss. What would you reccomend I eat?"
>Okay, so pick a plate and place food on it.
>Simple stuff.
"That I am, miss."
>He promptly nodded a bunch of times before offering a hand to shake or bump.
"Name's José Gallo. Nice to meet you."
>He had to admit, those were some zany looking characters milling about on the tables.
>The technology and epoch disparity was specially of note.
>Heck, for some reason, the mid-20's European man seemed plucked out during World War 2.
>Even humans in Razorback were alien mysteries of their own, it seems.
>Snapping back to reality, his head soon turned back to the helpful mare with an understanding smile.
"Why thank you, miss. What would you reccomend I eat?"
>Okay, so pick a plate and place food on it.
>Simple stuff.
>>370701
>Quickly slipping the front left hoofboot off, she reaches out, lightly resting warm pad on your palm and giving a brief shake with a rueful smile.
"Right, sorry, really frazzled tonight, usually there's one hundred and fifty to two hundred and forty humans, and two hundred twenty to three hundred ponies. I'm Pella, aaaand I'm also taken."
>Glancing back to check the not yet finished ones, the mare's head whips around at your question, eyes widening.. and don't stop until you realize that was either a horrifying mistake, or a fantastic request.
"Take a lemon slice, drizzle the juice on top a mildly fatty white ocean fish chunk to give it a nice zesty flavor, add some wild parsley, wrap in a thin red maize tortilla, and done!
Cover a square piece of lightly fatty white ocean fish in savory ocean-dried spices and roll it tight into an efflo leaf, which are these, like spinach but better, so the juices stay put!
Take a thin slice of of sweet white pineapple on a heatstone, let it bake for ten seconds at MAXIMUM! .....then use that to roll up a piece of freshly caught and grilled fatty salmon!
This is a spotted island kiwi, defuzzed of course, cut it in quarters like so, dunk it in ice cold water real quick to bring out the sweetness and a little bit of tang, then sprinkle just a TINY bit of salty and hot spices on the sides!
Take a sheet of fried jellyfish skin this size or bigger, dash some blue salt onto it, slice a bunch of small scallops in half, put them in like that, add some fresh lime juice, fold three edges to make an envelope, and you have a crispy, delicious little... I can't remember the name but it's really good!
Here's a blue pomegranate, the seeds are huge compared to most, take those out, put on a pan, squish the juice out but be careful not to damage the seeds because they taste horrible, then drizzle it over half a small roasted flatfish!
Spiny paper-fruit, not easy to clean but once the paper and shell are off, slice into thick sheets like these, heat them up nice and hot for five seconds.. complete!
Blue tanparin, looks like a banana crossed with a green bean but it's actually a berry! Cut in four pieces, peel off the skin, poke the seeds out, and that's it! Some humans say it's a little sour but I've never actually seen anyone not eat one.
I know it looks like a biscuit, these are made from Central Moors swamp rice mixed with some kind of kelp to keep it moist, but it's a lot softer and used just like bread. Slice in half, add some hard butter, a slice of cheese, toss them on the heatstones, let both melt a bit, turn over, heap fried clam strips on both, squish them together, and done!"
>Looking at the more than mildly stacked gold plate pushed towards you by what can only be an intensely proud pony, it could, theoretically count as some form of war crime against a starving, seafood hating individual.
>What TYPE of court would rule against amusingly named and good smelling food was questionable, though you were pretty sure this was rather common faire judging by the giant, utterly clear walk in freezer on the Mess Hall's western side was completely stacked with ingredients.
"There's some human foods over there to take with, but I can't hoofle any of it. Nearly all the canned seafood, fruit, vegetables, tubers, squash, nuts, beans, and pretty much everything else is awful, bland, or both. Dehydrated stuff can be okay, but nothing will ever beat fresh."
>Pointing behind her at the northwest section, it was was little more than varying height shelves, none of which matched, loaded down by several hundred different styles of canned foods, boxes, bags, ration bars, ration packs, assault packs, candy, 2.5, 5, 10, and even a few 20 pound cans, and individual, double, boxed, packaged MRE's.
>A fraction of which you recognized. Possibly.
"Drinks are on the other side. They're usually good but half of those 'juice' ones have WATER added TO them! If I WANTED water I'd DRINK water but NO, stupid idiots have to dilute good fruit, berry, and vegetable juices! Most of the powder ones are bland, too."
>The southwest was the same, although you DO finally spot two partially matching shelves; drinks of every type, kind, shape, size, from numerous tiny 100mL bottles.. you're fairly sure those are childen's drinks, up to a staggering 20 liter clear glass jar, possibly even diamond, of apple cider.
>There weren't any alcoholic beverages, though.
"Just reorganized last night, took us.. I don't know how long."
>Quickly slipping the front left hoofboot off, she reaches out, lightly resting warm pad on your palm and giving a brief shake with a rueful smile.
"Right, sorry, really frazzled tonight, usually there's one hundred and fifty to two hundred and forty humans, and two hundred twenty to three hundred ponies. I'm Pella, aaaand I'm also taken."
>Glancing back to check the not yet finished ones, the mare's head whips around at your question, eyes widening.. and don't stop until you realize that was either a horrifying mistake, or a fantastic request.
"Take a lemon slice, drizzle the juice on top a mildly fatty white ocean fish chunk to give it a nice zesty flavor, add some wild parsley, wrap in a thin red maize tortilla, and done!
Cover a square piece of lightly fatty white ocean fish in savory ocean-dried spices and roll it tight into an efflo leaf, which are these, like spinach but better, so the juices stay put!
Take a thin slice of of sweet white pineapple on a heatstone, let it bake for ten seconds at MAXIMUM! .....then use that to roll up a piece of freshly caught and grilled fatty salmon!
This is a spotted island kiwi, defuzzed of course, cut it in quarters like so, dunk it in ice cold water real quick to bring out the sweetness and a little bit of tang, then sprinkle just a TINY bit of salty and hot spices on the sides!
Take a sheet of fried jellyfish skin this size or bigger, dash some blue salt onto it, slice a bunch of small scallops in half, put them in like that, add some fresh lime juice, fold three edges to make an envelope, and you have a crispy, delicious little... I can't remember the name but it's really good!
Here's a blue pomegranate, the seeds are huge compared to most, take those out, put on a pan, squish the juice out but be careful not to damage the seeds because they taste horrible, then drizzle it over half a small roasted flatfish!
Spiny paper-fruit, not easy to clean but once the paper and shell are off, slice into thick sheets like these, heat them up nice and hot for five seconds.. complete!
Blue tanparin, looks like a banana crossed with a green bean but it's actually a berry! Cut in four pieces, peel off the skin, poke the seeds out, and that's it! Some humans say it's a little sour but I've never actually seen anyone not eat one.
I know it looks like a biscuit, these are made from Central Moors swamp rice mixed with some kind of kelp to keep it moist, but it's a lot softer and used just like bread. Slice in half, add some hard butter, a slice of cheese, toss them on the heatstones, let both melt a bit, turn over, heap fried clam strips on both, squish them together, and done!"
>Looking at the more than mildly stacked gold plate pushed towards you by what can only be an intensely proud pony, it could, theoretically count as some form of war crime against a starving, seafood hating individual.
>What TYPE of court would rule against amusingly named and good smelling food was questionable, though you were pretty sure this was rather common faire judging by the giant, utterly clear walk in freezer on the Mess Hall's western side was completely stacked with ingredients.
"There's some human foods over there to take with, but I can't hoofle any of it. Nearly all the canned seafood, fruit, vegetables, tubers, squash, nuts, beans, and pretty much everything else is awful, bland, or both. Dehydrated stuff can be okay, but nothing will ever beat fresh."
>Pointing behind her at the northwest section, it was was little more than varying height shelves, none of which matched, loaded down by several hundred different styles of canned foods, boxes, bags, ration bars, ration packs, assault packs, candy, 2.5, 5, 10, and even a few 20 pound cans, and individual, double, boxed, packaged MRE's.
>A fraction of which you recognized. Possibly.
"Drinks are on the other side. They're usually good but half of those 'juice' ones have WATER added TO them! If I WANTED water I'd DRINK water but NO, stupid idiots have to dilute good fruit, berry, and vegetable juices! Most of the powder ones are bland, too."
>The southwest was the same, although you DO finally spot two partially matching shelves; drinks of every type, kind, shape, size, from numerous tiny 100mL bottles.. you're fairly sure those are childen's drinks, up to a staggering 20 liter clear glass jar, possibly even diamond, of apple cider.
>There weren't any alcoholic beverages, though.
"Just reorganized last night, took us.. I don't know how long."
>>370702
>Jose blinked in clear stupefaction, eyes staring wide at the plate's various contents ready to be assembled in what seemed to be either one big recipe or various small ones.
>Noting the wings more intently, he quickly realized this should've been expected.
>Specially from someone in the food industry.
>Is that even a thing here?
>That aside, Gallo quickly found himself rather excited to try out this elaborate dish courtesy of Pella.
>She was putting all of her love for cooking straight into this meal and he couldn't help but admire it.
>Who knows how many years has she honed in her craft?
"Wow~"
>Utterly fascinating
>Blinking out of his stupor, he quickly focused up and carefully acquired the mostly prepared dish to place at a table.
"Thank you so much for your input, missus Pella. Your significant other is stuffed with luck to have such a talented chef."
>Now to find a place to properly enjoy the meal according to the food artisan's instructions.
(...oh wait, I prolly shouldn't have offered my hand as a greeting. Pucha, gotta keep practicing my manners.)
>Jose blinked in clear stupefaction, eyes staring wide at the plate's various contents ready to be assembled in what seemed to be either one big recipe or various small ones.
>Noting the wings more intently, he quickly realized this should've been expected.
>Specially from someone in the food industry.
>Is that even a thing here?
>That aside, Gallo quickly found himself rather excited to try out this elaborate dish courtesy of Pella.
>She was putting all of her love for cooking straight into this meal and he couldn't help but admire it.
>Who knows how many years has she honed in her craft?
"Wow~"
>Utterly fascinating
>Blinking out of his stupor, he quickly focused up and carefully acquired the mostly prepared dish to place at a table.
"Thank you so much for your input, missus Pella. Your significant other is stuffed with luck to have such a talented chef."
>Now to find a place to properly enjoy the meal according to the food artisan's instructions.
(...oh wait, I prolly shouldn't have offered my hand as a greeting. Pucha, gotta keep practicing my manners.)
>>370696
>Sunny cast a look at the somewhat offended Spirit Walker.
>She made a series of a movements, a single light flap of the wings, a backwards and forwards wiggle of her ears and a small toss of the neck and head, lifting and lightly stamping one hoof after another in random sequence.
"I'm sure we could spend the rest of the night requesting information from these two, however, I'm certain that they would prefer to finish their task. They have asked us to leave, after all."
>Mercy's conclusion made sense, but the larger question is why it had taken the Constructs so long to learn and attempt this form of communication, when they had displayed a much greater acumen for evolution in other areas. Particularly when it came to mimicking the tactics and weaponry of organics.
>What had prompted this development?
>She left her questions unvoiced.
>Giving the symbiote a suspicious look, Sunny opted not to respond to Mercy's explanation. She had no choice but to respect Mercy's choice on this, but she could not shake her feelings on the matter. To be invaded in body or mind by an alien intelligence was not something to be taken lightly.
>A pair could only be a pair because of a degree of separation.
>Sunny made a rather irate, repetitive digging at the ground with a hoof.
>Looking back to Mercy again, she shook her head.
"Thank you, but it will take you long enough to return even without me. You should report this as soon as possible, I'll make my way back on hoof. Either way, the conflict at the Basin will be long over before we can get there."
>With that, she reared slightly, and turned on the spot towards the exit. Setting off at a trot.
>She kept an ear turned back towards the Constructs however. A part of her knew it would be far more prudent to destroy them than risk the potential consequences this untested trust, but against her better judgement, she would let this play out.
>She only hoped she and Mercy hadn't just taught the Constructs that they could use hostages as leverage.
>Sunny cast a look at the somewhat offended Spirit Walker.
>She made a series of a movements, a single light flap of the wings, a backwards and forwards wiggle of her ears and a small toss of the neck and head, lifting and lightly stamping one hoof after another in random sequence.
"I'm sure we could spend the rest of the night requesting information from these two, however, I'm certain that they would prefer to finish their task. They have asked us to leave, after all."
>Mercy's conclusion made sense, but the larger question is why it had taken the Constructs so long to learn and attempt this form of communication, when they had displayed a much greater acumen for evolution in other areas. Particularly when it came to mimicking the tactics and weaponry of organics.
>What had prompted this development?
>She left her questions unvoiced.
>Giving the symbiote a suspicious look, Sunny opted not to respond to Mercy's explanation. She had no choice but to respect Mercy's choice on this, but she could not shake her feelings on the matter. To be invaded in body or mind by an alien intelligence was not something to be taken lightly.
>A pair could only be a pair because of a degree of separation.
>Sunny made a rather irate, repetitive digging at the ground with a hoof.
>Looking back to Mercy again, she shook her head.
"Thank you, but it will take you long enough to return even without me. You should report this as soon as possible, I'll make my way back on hoof. Either way, the conflict at the Basin will be long over before we can get there."
>With that, she reared slightly, and turned on the spot towards the exit. Setting off at a trot.
>She kept an ear turned back towards the Constructs however. A part of her knew it would be far more prudent to destroy them than risk the potential consequences this untested trust, but against her better judgement, she would let this play out.
>She only hoped she and Mercy hadn't just taught the Constructs that they could use hostages as leverage.
>>370657
>Hearing Twisted's words and feeling her presence, especially after not working with each other for what feels like an eternity, Clemency's focus is sharpened
>"You got it."
>He strafes the frozen cluster of Tainted with as much fire before he rolls off to land
>Swiftly moving through the crowds, Clemency moves to fill into the ranks with his comrades
>Hitting the barricade, he obliges Blackhorn and raises the weapon up to the Assault Tainted and adds his fire with the Company
>After a few salvoes, he hears Jeff on the overherd about his Reaper
(Jeff, I'm coming over. Hang tight.)
>Looking one last time at the approaching Tainted, he moves back from the barricade to the fountain
>>370663
>>370611
>However, as soon as he steps away from the barricade, he feels a shift in the fighting
>At first, it seems like it's all coming to a head
>All forces are practically burning themselves out to even slow down the Tainted
>But then the noise lessens and stops
>Clemency turns and looks around to see what's happening
>He's greeted by the sight of the Tainted all fading away and saluting at them all
>Seeing and hearing everyone's relief that the fightings over, Clemency takes a deep breath and lets the exhaustion hit him a little
>And he can't help but feel Vestal's anguish and think to himself
>"What a mess we made."
>Taking another deep breath to get himself together, Clemency holsters Blackhorn and walks towards the fountain to where Jeff is
>He slides the visor on his helmet up and nods at him
"Hey man, holding together?"
>Spotting the command terminal nearby, Clemency goes over and takes stock of its UI and controls
>"Shouldn't be too hard to find a landing spot for it."
>Using the camera on the drone, tries to spot a landing zone, preferably one that's closest to the translocation stone
>Once finding a spot, he tries to see if there was a landing subroutine. If not, he'll land it himself
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Pupil Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
>After his attempt, he closes the terminal and walks over to Jeff
"You know, that what's weird about this. They're now talking with us. After all the grief they did. But I do think this is something worth looking at."
>Hearing Twisted's words and feeling her presence, especially after not working with each other for what feels like an eternity, Clemency's focus is sharpened
>"You got it."
>He strafes the frozen cluster of Tainted with as much fire before he rolls off to land
>Swiftly moving through the crowds, Clemency moves to fill into the ranks with his comrades
>Hitting the barricade, he obliges Blackhorn and raises the weapon up to the Assault Tainted and adds his fire with the Company
>After a few salvoes, he hears Jeff on the overherd about his Reaper
(Jeff, I'm coming over. Hang tight.)
>Looking one last time at the approaching Tainted, he moves back from the barricade to the fountain
>>370663
>>370611
>However, as soon as he steps away from the barricade, he feels a shift in the fighting
>At first, it seems like it's all coming to a head
>All forces are practically burning themselves out to even slow down the Tainted
>But then the noise lessens and stops
>Clemency turns and looks around to see what's happening
>He's greeted by the sight of the Tainted all fading away and saluting at them all
>Seeing and hearing everyone's relief that the fightings over, Clemency takes a deep breath and lets the exhaustion hit him a little
>And he can't help but feel Vestal's anguish and think to himself
>"What a mess we made."
>Taking another deep breath to get himself together, Clemency holsters Blackhorn and walks towards the fountain to where Jeff is
>He slides the visor on his helmet up and nods at him
"Hey man, holding together?"
>Spotting the command terminal nearby, Clemency goes over and takes stock of its UI and controls
>"Shouldn't be too hard to find a landing spot for it."
>Using the camera on the drone, tries to spot a landing zone, preferably one that's closest to the translocation stone
>Once finding a spot, he tries to see if there was a landing subroutine. If not, he'll land it himself
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <Pupil Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
>After his attempt, he closes the terminal and walks over to Jeff
"You know, that what's weird about this. They're now talking with us. After all the grief they did. But I do think this is something worth looking at."
>>370710
>Collecting himself as Clem approaches from behind, Jeff does his best to make room for his friend despite the commotion around them.
>The pilot's short wellness check is appreciated, so he nods back in return with a light scoff.
"I'll take unscathed and emotionally exhausted eight days a week, after this."
>The carnage is enough to make his head spin, but doesn't show it. It's all always a terrible sight, whether it's one body or hundreds.
>As Clem gets comfy on the module and gets a feel of the controls, he looks over his shoulder for any more interference.
"The controls are basic but everything's there. Drone got scaled up from the wish disc so more horsepower, but the wing span's probably closer to a hundred feet instead of seventy. I spotted some quarter mile strips North and South of the village. Go South. The FLIR is showing the North occupied by batponies and Strikers doing their best sheet ghost impressions. Don't know what that's about. Evacuees?"
>So he also thought it strange as well, the Construct's behavior.
"They evolve from stimuli in their environment, right? Our tech must be a fresh medium for them to communicate through. Look at the BFG you got on your back, and poor Mercy looks like a frazzled white and pink megazord. This isn't the first time they've been hellbent on going after a Rift Seeker, and ignoring other stuff around them. A fight... hmm could be avoidable if we leave them alone? Eh, I'm spitballing. To be perfectly honest, they'd be pretty cool if they're weren't so fuckin' aggressive and intimidating."
>As he watches Clem make n attempted landing, he rests his chin on a balled palm and keeps his ears open for any updates and troop movements going on.
"We're gonna have our hands full for a while. This-"
>He blows a waft of air out and stashes the Milkor back into the duffel.
"-is going to get investigated. And I think there's worse on the horizon. If you make it back to the Fortress before me, start gathering up senior members and... I don't know. Get ready for something. Marshmallow, too, wherever she's at."
>Taking a long thoughtful pause, he pans over to Clem with an outstretched gauntlet.
"Still got my scope on ya?"
>Collecting himself as Clem approaches from behind, Jeff does his best to make room for his friend despite the commotion around them.
>The pilot's short wellness check is appreciated, so he nods back in return with a light scoff.
"I'll take unscathed and emotionally exhausted eight days a week, after this."
>The carnage is enough to make his head spin, but doesn't show it. It's all always a terrible sight, whether it's one body or hundreds.
>As Clem gets comfy on the module and gets a feel of the controls, he looks over his shoulder for any more interference.
"The controls are basic but everything's there. Drone got scaled up from the wish disc so more horsepower, but the wing span's probably closer to a hundred feet instead of seventy. I spotted some quarter mile strips North and South of the village. Go South. The FLIR is showing the North occupied by batponies and Strikers doing their best sheet ghost impressions. Don't know what that's about. Evacuees?"
>So he also thought it strange as well, the Construct's behavior.
"They evolve from stimuli in their environment, right? Our tech must be a fresh medium for them to communicate through. Look at the BFG you got on your back, and poor Mercy looks like a frazzled white and pink megazord. This isn't the first time they've been hellbent on going after a Rift Seeker, and ignoring other stuff around them. A fight... hmm could be avoidable if we leave them alone? Eh, I'm spitballing. To be perfectly honest, they'd be pretty cool if they're weren't so fuckin' aggressive and intimidating."
>As he watches Clem make n attempted landing, he rests his chin on a balled palm and keeps his ears open for any updates and troop movements going on.
"We're gonna have our hands full for a while. This-"
>He blows a waft of air out and stashes the Milkor back into the duffel.
"-is going to get investigated. And I think there's worse on the horizon. If you make it back to the Fortress before me, start gathering up senior members and... I don't know. Get ready for something. Marshmallow, too, wherever she's at."
>Taking a long thoughtful pause, he pans over to Clem with an outstretched gauntlet.
"Still got my scope on ya?"
>>370699
>Hearing Katyal launch into a clearly rehearsed story, Pareidolia takes the time to finish the bottle of sweet bulb juice.
(Clear derived enjoyment from sharing such stories. Unclear if due to lack of opportunities with ponies, prior experience with human squads, or personal traits. Origin world likely megacorporation dominated, with such vehicles in domestic environments.)
>His expression changes from relative neutral to a confused, somewhat offended scoff as Katyal explains what he already knew was obvious.
>Reining his annoyance in, he gives Katyal a look of incredulity.
"I was under the impression it was obvious my concern was about the concepts behind the items. There are inextricable links between the cultures humans come from and the items they produce. It's this link that makes items the second danger below humans themselves and their social impact. I would have thought that one of your position would recognize when others already understand the same. Unless you have not encountered any before now..."
>He shrugs and sighs dismissively.
"As for acclimation options, there are already too many deities here. More than I ever want to deal wi-"
(Gods for seasons too? Christ-)
>Seeing a trademark slapstick gag that could only be the result of Discord, Pareidolia suppresses a groan and runs a hand over his face muttering:
"Of course he'd be here."
>Unamused at their antics, he disappassionately observes while considering why Discord is continuing to involve himself.
(Despite everything, Discord may have a vested interest in Spiral's return. Though he likely does not know of Spiral's status beyond missing. If he knew, likely would not have cooperated in directing me into a fruitless mission. That would not be "funny" or "chaotic" enough.)
>Nodding as she points to him, he remarks:
"Rift exposure due to combat against a Construct. I was told it was cleansed, but apparently not completely."
>He turns his head, following Dul's to his sheathed pinksteel dagger.
(Right. Nominal that she would sense it.)
>Shifting back as Katyal exclaims its value, he stands and moves to retrieve it.
"I was unaware it was that valuable. The biteblade is poorly forged, and I haven't found myself in optimal combat positions to utilize it beyond its sensory capacity."
>Holding it in his right hand, he takes up an even stance and experimentally attemps to draw forth the dragon spirit's enchantment, comparing its speed and composition across different scenarios.
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Basic Block
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]< Dragon-Scale Sphere: Tate
...
>Hearing Katyal launch into a clearly rehearsed story, Pareidolia takes the time to finish the bottle of sweet bulb juice.
(Clear derived enjoyment from sharing such stories. Unclear if due to lack of opportunities with ponies, prior experience with human squads, or personal traits. Origin world likely megacorporation dominated, with such vehicles in domestic environments.)
>His expression changes from relative neutral to a confused, somewhat offended scoff as Katyal explains what he already knew was obvious.
>Reining his annoyance in, he gives Katyal a look of incredulity.
"I was under the impression it was obvious my concern was about the concepts behind the items. There are inextricable links between the cultures humans come from and the items they produce. It's this link that makes items the second danger below humans themselves and their social impact. I would have thought that one of your position would recognize when others already understand the same. Unless you have not encountered any before now..."
>He shrugs and sighs dismissively.
"As for acclimation options, there are already too many deities here. More than I ever want to deal wi-"
(Gods for seasons too? Christ-)
>Seeing a trademark slapstick gag that could only be the result of Discord, Pareidolia suppresses a groan and runs a hand over his face muttering:
"Of course he'd be here."
>Unamused at their antics, he disappassionately observes while considering why Discord is continuing to involve himself.
(Despite everything, Discord may have a vested interest in Spiral's return. Though he likely does not know of Spiral's status beyond missing. If he knew, likely would not have cooperated in directing me into a fruitless mission. That would not be "funny" or "chaotic" enough.)
>Nodding as she points to him, he remarks:
"Rift exposure due to combat against a Construct. I was told it was cleansed, but apparently not completely."
>He turns his head, following Dul's to his sheathed pinksteel dagger.
(Right. Nominal that she would sense it.)
>Shifting back as Katyal exclaims its value, he stands and moves to retrieve it.
"I was unaware it was that valuable. The biteblade is poorly forged, and I haven't found myself in optimal combat positions to utilize it beyond its sensory capacity."
>Holding it in his right hand, he takes up an even stance and experimentally attemps to draw forth the dragon spirit's enchantment, comparing its speed and composition across different scenarios.
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Basic Block
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+11 = (5+11) = 16]< Dragon-Scale Sphere: Tate
...
>>370680
>Despite their combined efforts at ignoring the last soul-destroying faux-vapors and blows from Tainted, not one of the Lancers jamming Basin Village's southern entrance live through, too weakened and exhausted to resist.
>Hundreds of still, armored Guard, a specific number announced mutedly by the lead mare, remain where they were or slump down, lances upraised and crossing each other in a nearly impenetrable barrier.
>One of the youngest Councilierge Assault Vanguards raises her lance, the rest of their bitter, quiet number following suit.
"A sacrificial gate of lances, unbreached against foes worthier than all but one we have faced! To perform duties beyond the callings Equinity would demarend of us, such debts must be repaid in full! Honor their greatest and honor their foes! May the Grand Lancer's descendant honor their names, deeds, lineages, and kin alongside us! VICTORY FOR THEM, HONOR TO THE WITNESSES!"
>The same voice hisses into your ear, subverting the Overherd entirely as thousands of Guard shouting aloud.
'Cease your shaming, human. Not once have we suffered the indignity of threatening your misled, weak-spined Company of fools, nor would we have accepted such a task. Cast aside your primitive fear and degenerate notions of what a Psion is or is not. We are nothing alike the greedy, cowardly fools your species produces.'
>Cutting the link, those ponies viewing the Assault Vanguards watch them form into a tight, strict battline, ten ranks deep, one hundred wide.
"We still have Constructs to make amarends to, and I will not allow any of you a single momarent's rest until that League Arena is SECURED!"
>Willing to accept their losses in midair, a sixth of the Chargers succumb to Tainted, the survivors crashing down on swampy ground, into stone buildings, and each other, resulting in piles of the Guard's most hot-tempered spread across the entrance and outside Basin Village's southern buildings.
>Their leadmare, a Lunar Guard in her late 50's, whips about snarling to throw an accusing sneer at the majority standing, hoofclaws and hoofblades scraping in frustration as she shouts derisively, an immediate response from them raising above the Assault Vanguard.
"How marely of you colt-chasers are tired?!"
"NOT A ONE, MA'AM!"
"How marely of you filly-flankers are tiredE?!"
"NOT A ONE, MA'AM!"
"So tell me why we're STILL RIGHT HERE AND NOT BURIED IN SOME THIN-ARMORED CONSTRUCTS OUT THERE THREATENING THIS CITY'S ARENA?!"
"WE DON'T KNOW, MA'AM!"
"RIGHT ANSWER! Collect yourselves and make sure your weapons are ready since we might need to drown a big one in our blood!"
"YES MA'AM!"
>Tearing apart as it lands heavily, shards of the opposing false-Elemarentals lash at each other in savage motions, Broken Hoof's disintegrating body, mind, and soul protectively seize inwards.
>No longer threatening reality around her, the mare unable to form thoughts as she jolts in blurred short distances from the entrance towards the fountain, only a few Operators watch her trek.
>Utterly shut out by most equines, save a few willing to risk their sanity, or those that were unperturbed, the crackling form launches itself into one of the small translocation matrices.
[1d6 = 3]
>Catching the mixed Guards vocally checking each other, then physically testing themselves, the Overherd's dimly aware Psions reveal a few moderate and large numbers of minor Charger injuries.
>Aside from shattered bones, a few with organ bleeding, large hide tears, and ringing ears, barely a platune was at risk of dying, and that would take hours.
>Reaching outwards from her location, the lead mare's voice solemnly commarends those unicorns capable of restoration or recovery to begin their duties.
>Without so much as a complaint, Charger after Charger is hoisted aloft on either solar or lunar-tinged clouds, drifting them towards the Basin's northern buildings, Combat Support Division ranks laying out spreads of alchemicals.
('Leave them for the Imperial and Kingdom forces to deal with. The.. unknown pegasi's report is difficult to understand.')
>Taking over the Assault Vanguard's herd, the older stallion's voice returns, this time acidic and eager.
('That Spirit Walker and pegasi marecenary's task to shut down a relay is complete, and don't even THINK about asking, human technology isn't a topic we're ALLOWED to discuss, thank the Stone. Moor cats are involved somehow, and I'm not sure whether that's the best news or worst knowing how Winter equipped them with kanpri.
As for last portion of her report, that one's odd. The first pair of Argus Behemoth-Destroyers on Tallus was a pair sighted during the Kenfield Pass Incident, which I'm also not allowed to discuss, but almost all of this Assault Vangaurd was involved there.
Their role is that of a Planetary Invasion asset, and there haven't been any variant or similar models located since then. In fact... that might be the exact same pair. I'd have to study them a bit closer to know for sure.')
>Arms loose at sides in the southern entrance's deepest crater, the Minor Ethereal Champion remains bowed towards the last traces of Tainted fading amongst the living Chargers leaving the damage, collecting in similarly sized groups south of Basin Village.
>Armored head lifting, Vokreed stands, then stomps southwards and up the craters until reaching mostly flat stone, lifting gaze upwards as it grinds out words in Common Equestrian.
"Glory and honor to the redeemed, fallen, and living. This.. ...unit.... no. I am. I have seen. I have recorded. I am aware. I am cognizant of fear and death. I now understand."
>Lifting the Ethereal crystalline axe and shield upwards, the voice shifts into a quickly rumbling, triumphant tone.
"Equines of Tallus, I am Vokree! I pledge, as Grand Champion Belregard has, to serve until my destruction! Find your foes, lead me to them, and I shall refuse your deaths until my last fragmarent is shattered to nothing!"
>Despite their combined efforts at ignoring the last soul-destroying faux-vapors and blows from Tainted, not one of the Lancers jamming Basin Village's southern entrance live through, too weakened and exhausted to resist.
>Hundreds of still, armored Guard, a specific number announced mutedly by the lead mare, remain where they were or slump down, lances upraised and crossing each other in a nearly impenetrable barrier.
>One of the youngest Councilierge Assault Vanguards raises her lance, the rest of their bitter, quiet number following suit.
"A sacrificial gate of lances, unbreached against foes worthier than all but one we have faced! To perform duties beyond the callings Equinity would demarend of us, such debts must be repaid in full! Honor their greatest and honor their foes! May the Grand Lancer's descendant honor their names, deeds, lineages, and kin alongside us! VICTORY FOR THEM, HONOR TO THE WITNESSES!"
>The same voice hisses into your ear, subverting the Overherd entirely as thousands of Guard shouting aloud.
'Cease your shaming, human. Not once have we suffered the indignity of threatening your misled, weak-spined Company of fools, nor would we have accepted such a task. Cast aside your primitive fear and degenerate notions of what a Psion is or is not. We are nothing alike the greedy, cowardly fools your species produces.'
>Cutting the link, those ponies viewing the Assault Vanguards watch them form into a tight, strict battline, ten ranks deep, one hundred wide.
"We still have Constructs to make amarends to, and I will not allow any of you a single momarent's rest until that League Arena is SECURED!"
>Willing to accept their losses in midair, a sixth of the Chargers succumb to Tainted, the survivors crashing down on swampy ground, into stone buildings, and each other, resulting in piles of the Guard's most hot-tempered spread across the entrance and outside Basin Village's southern buildings.
>Their leadmare, a Lunar Guard in her late 50's, whips about snarling to throw an accusing sneer at the majority standing, hoofclaws and hoofblades scraping in frustration as she shouts derisively, an immediate response from them raising above the Assault Vanguard.
"How marely of you colt-chasers are tired?!"
"NOT A ONE, MA'AM!"
"How marely of you filly-flankers are tiredE?!"
"NOT A ONE, MA'AM!"
"So tell me why we're STILL RIGHT HERE AND NOT BURIED IN SOME THIN-ARMORED CONSTRUCTS OUT THERE THREATENING THIS CITY'S ARENA?!"
"WE DON'T KNOW, MA'AM!"
"RIGHT ANSWER! Collect yourselves and make sure your weapons are ready since we might need to drown a big one in our blood!"
"YES MA'AM!"
>Tearing apart as it lands heavily, shards of the opposing false-Elemarentals lash at each other in savage motions, Broken Hoof's disintegrating body, mind, and soul protectively seize inwards.
>No longer threatening reality around her, the mare unable to form thoughts as she jolts in blurred short distances from the entrance towards the fountain, only a few Operators watch her trek.
>Utterly shut out by most equines, save a few willing to risk their sanity, or those that were unperturbed, the crackling form launches itself into one of the small translocation matrices.
[1d6 = 3]
>Catching the mixed Guards vocally checking each other, then physically testing themselves, the Overherd's dimly aware Psions reveal a few moderate and large numbers of minor Charger injuries.
>Aside from shattered bones, a few with organ bleeding, large hide tears, and ringing ears, barely a platune was at risk of dying, and that would take hours.
>Reaching outwards from her location, the lead mare's voice solemnly commarends those unicorns capable of restoration or recovery to begin their duties.
>Without so much as a complaint, Charger after Charger is hoisted aloft on either solar or lunar-tinged clouds, drifting them towards the Basin's northern buildings, Combat Support Division ranks laying out spreads of alchemicals.
('Leave them for the Imperial and Kingdom forces to deal with. The.. unknown pegasi's report is difficult to understand.')
>Taking over the Assault Vanguard's herd, the older stallion's voice returns, this time acidic and eager.
('That Spirit Walker and pegasi marecenary's task to shut down a relay is complete, and don't even THINK about asking, human technology isn't a topic we're ALLOWED to discuss, thank the Stone. Moor cats are involved somehow, and I'm not sure whether that's the best news or worst knowing how Winter equipped them with kanpri.
As for last portion of her report, that one's odd. The first pair of Argus Behemoth-Destroyers on Tallus was a pair sighted during the Kenfield Pass Incident, which I'm also not allowed to discuss, but almost all of this Assault Vangaurd was involved there.
Their role is that of a Planetary Invasion asset, and there haven't been any variant or similar models located since then. In fact... that might be the exact same pair. I'd have to study them a bit closer to know for sure.')
>Arms loose at sides in the southern entrance's deepest crater, the Minor Ethereal Champion remains bowed towards the last traces of Tainted fading amongst the living Chargers leaving the damage, collecting in similarly sized groups south of Basin Village.
>Armored head lifting, Vokreed stands, then stomps southwards and up the craters until reaching mostly flat stone, lifting gaze upwards as it grinds out words in Common Equestrian.
"Glory and honor to the redeemed, fallen, and living. This.. ...unit.... no. I am. I have seen. I have recorded. I am aware. I am cognizant of fear and death. I now understand."
>Lifting the Ethereal crystalline axe and shield upwards, the voice shifts into a quickly rumbling, triumphant tone.
"Equines of Tallus, I am Vokree! I pledge, as Grand Champion Belregard has, to serve until my destruction! Find your foes, lead me to them, and I shall refuse your deaths until my last fragmarent is shattered to nothing!"
>>370682
>>370711
>Lunar and Solar unicorns alike watch the primary, secondary, tertiary, and further detonations clearing off above Basin Village, slowly rejoining their focus.
>Tens of them blink, then fifty, a hundred, several hundred, and finally a thousand or so of unicorns reaching peak, sincere rage, well over a third of their number irrevocably blinded.
>Fury rising and threatening to split from the Overherd, the eldest viciously demarend order while the most sincere respond in calm, soothing appeasemarents, Lunars and Solars already teaching their aligned kin how to function in the same mareners they previously could without physical sight.
>Releasing a firm, calming exhale through the human-side of the Overherd, you feel rather than see the lead mare's mane bristling.
('Stop! Do not blame yourself! You and I did not and could not have known! None here besides Vestal Gardenia or-')
>Casting a threatening stare towards the Councilierge Assault Vanguard, both the lead stallion and lead mare instinctively, and hostilely, respond in reflex: their moods, images, and raw emotions confirm they didn't know damaging a Gestalt was possible, and were loathe to do so against even an enemy they were oathsworn to remove.
('As they so judge, you are not allowed to take that fault as your own. There are no answers available to us now, but you must make Razorback ready for what may, or will, come next.')
>A newer Mercenary Operator, at least a decade younger than you with a thick Islander accent snorts hotly, paused from angrily reloading a heavy pump-action shotgun, points an armored left index finger at the Basin's southern entrance, where not a single one of the Lancers had moved.
"What you think we doin'!? We heard mare, Constructs bigger than Mama Fortress runnin' down hot! Ain't none dead 'cept ponies an' not a fucken' scratch o-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! RELOAD EVERY BELT, MAGAZINE, CLIP, TUBE, AND GET YOUR ASSES READY!"
>Definitely an original Razorback One Hundred taking over, but at this point it was hard to tell which from the sheer hatred they were sharing.
>Hearing your mental voice, acknowledging the words, meanings, intentions, then quickly dismissing everything them, the Watch Guard General's concern shifts solely to Vestal Gardenia, the Lunar-borne mare succumbing to an empathic comatose state.
('Yes, a pair of Heavy Battleship Landers, which means at least ten Combat Destroyers and twenty Assault Landers each. That is a total of... eighty-six thousand Constructs.')
>The lead mare's voice sighs across the Overherd, briskly rubbing her irritated snout in slight Psionic forcefulness.. she was already having severe allergic reactions to Central Moors air contaminants, but trying to stall them.
>And failing miserably.
('Those Lunarites, or whatever they are, were ordered to reach the Citadel by the Watch General. They left two minutes ago.
....Starborn, I'm a low ranking Moderatis Shieldmare-Lieutenant, my only specialties are the study, emplacemarent, and directed actions of defensive units. I will never attempt to become a General, nor could I hoofle that amount of mass communication as Primal Psions are best suited to such a task.
As you should have heard, the marecenary pegasus reported their task successful, whatever that is, though Moor cats were involved in some form of possible combat exercise. I do not know what redirecting from the League Arena means, but I do have a great deal of information on what Argus Behemoth-Destroyers are.
This much I know: Constructs have ever spoken nor tried to communicate in known and recorded history. My dam is a Solar tactician of the previous generaton Silver Court, my sire a Stalliongradian from the Cold Mountain lineage. While I did not see through your eyes or experience what you may have, your words strike me as impossible. I cannot deny what you experienced, but likewise I cannot confirm your words without inescapable proof of such. Riftseekers are Abominations and Constructs both. What little information we have is inconclusive at best, and marginal at worst.
Regardless, the unicorns will need some time to find a safe locale outside the Construct's.. interference zone, and create a cohesive portal closest to Basin Arena.
....the Strikers are expended and can barely move, I will not ask them to aid us further. This is not a timeframe to ignore, especially not against the pressing number of Void spectrums now thinned to the point of spillover.')
>Expanding your thoughts outside the majority equine interconnected consciousnesses, bitterly focused Psionic imprints hanging back from the prior, a sharp, sweet-sour-protective anger of an aggressively helpful Construct pseudo-sentience nearby, reaching out towards the intensely familiar Arena:
>Four burning yellow hate and pain enraged eyes seeking beloved tiny allies-
>Poison-encased claws ripping, tearing, and joykilling hundreds of soft, furry, winged creatures that never felt its presence-
>Blood surging and ears ringing, trying to shriek through a choking reptilian throat at loud explosions shattering bone-
('Nightblade, it will take from ten to sixty seconds until the Lunar unicorns can find the closest safe landmark near Basin Arena. The Solar unicorns are willingly to follow their lead, but they do not know that region at all.')
[1d6 = 4] <Time Quotient
>>370711
>Lunar and Solar unicorns alike watch the primary, secondary, tertiary, and further detonations clearing off above Basin Village, slowly rejoining their focus.
>Tens of them blink, then fifty, a hundred, several hundred, and finally a thousand or so of unicorns reaching peak, sincere rage, well over a third of their number irrevocably blinded.
>Fury rising and threatening to split from the Overherd, the eldest viciously demarend order while the most sincere respond in calm, soothing appeasemarents, Lunars and Solars already teaching their aligned kin how to function in the same mareners they previously could without physical sight.
>Releasing a firm, calming exhale through the human-side of the Overherd, you feel rather than see the lead mare's mane bristling.
('Stop! Do not blame yourself! You and I did not and could not have known! None here besides Vestal Gardenia or-')
>Casting a threatening stare towards the Councilierge Assault Vanguard, both the lead stallion and lead mare instinctively, and hostilely, respond in reflex: their moods, images, and raw emotions confirm they didn't know damaging a Gestalt was possible, and were loathe to do so against even an enemy they were oathsworn to remove.
('As they so judge, you are not allowed to take that fault as your own. There are no answers available to us now, but you must make Razorback ready for what may, or will, come next.')
>A newer Mercenary Operator, at least a decade younger than you with a thick Islander accent snorts hotly, paused from angrily reloading a heavy pump-action shotgun, points an armored left index finger at the Basin's southern entrance, where not a single one of the Lancers had moved.
"What you think we doin'!? We heard mare, Constructs bigger than Mama Fortress runnin' down hot! Ain't none dead 'cept ponies an' not a fucken' scratch o-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! RELOAD EVERY BELT, MAGAZINE, CLIP, TUBE, AND GET YOUR ASSES READY!"
>Definitely an original Razorback One Hundred taking over, but at this point it was hard to tell which from the sheer hatred they were sharing.
>Hearing your mental voice, acknowledging the words, meanings, intentions, then quickly dismissing everything them, the Watch Guard General's concern shifts solely to Vestal Gardenia, the Lunar-borne mare succumbing to an empathic comatose state.
('Yes, a pair of Heavy Battleship Landers, which means at least ten Combat Destroyers and twenty Assault Landers each. That is a total of... eighty-six thousand Constructs.')
>The lead mare's voice sighs across the Overherd, briskly rubbing her irritated snout in slight Psionic forcefulness.. she was already having severe allergic reactions to Central Moors air contaminants, but trying to stall them.
>And failing miserably.
('Those Lunarites, or whatever they are, were ordered to reach the Citadel by the Watch General. They left two minutes ago.
....Starborn, I'm a low ranking Moderatis Shieldmare-Lieutenant, my only specialties are the study, emplacemarent, and directed actions of defensive units. I will never attempt to become a General, nor could I hoofle that amount of mass communication as Primal Psions are best suited to such a task.
As you should have heard, the marecenary pegasus reported their task successful, whatever that is, though Moor cats were involved in some form of possible combat exercise. I do not know what redirecting from the League Arena means, but I do have a great deal of information on what Argus Behemoth-Destroyers are.
This much I know: Constructs have ever spoken nor tried to communicate in known and recorded history. My dam is a Solar tactician of the previous generaton Silver Court, my sire a Stalliongradian from the Cold Mountain lineage. While I did not see through your eyes or experience what you may have, your words strike me as impossible. I cannot deny what you experienced, but likewise I cannot confirm your words without inescapable proof of such. Riftseekers are Abominations and Constructs both. What little information we have is inconclusive at best, and marginal at worst.
Regardless, the unicorns will need some time to find a safe locale outside the Construct's.. interference zone, and create a cohesive portal closest to Basin Arena.
....the Strikers are expended and can barely move, I will not ask them to aid us further. This is not a timeframe to ignore, especially not against the pressing number of Void spectrums now thinned to the point of spillover.')
>Expanding your thoughts outside the majority equine interconnected consciousnesses, bitterly focused Psionic imprints hanging back from the prior, a sharp, sweet-sour-protective anger of an aggressively helpful Construct pseudo-sentience nearby, reaching out towards the intensely familiar Arena:
>Four burning yellow hate and pain enraged eyes seeking beloved tiny allies-
>Poison-encased claws ripping, tearing, and joykilling hundreds of soft, furry, winged creatures that never felt its presence-
>Blood surging and ears ringing, trying to shriek through a choking reptilian throat at loud explosions shattering bone-
('Nightblade, it will take from ten to sixty seconds until the Lunar unicorns can find the closest safe landmark near Basin Arena. The Solar unicorns are willingly to follow their lead, but they do not know that region at all.')
[1d6 = 4] <Time Quotient
>>370710
>Sensing the Burning Pegasus making a neck-height bow, a focused image sinks across the Overherd towards you:
>The entire left side of her head, same side of her face, upper neck, and across her withers was entirely covered in thin, tightly clenched, demarending Tallus-bound chains, flesh around the injury contracting as she grins.
>"Damned amazing. What's left of the Council's been watching, they've starting t-"
>Head cocking and right eye rotating away for five seconds, Twisted's expression contracts in disbelief.
>"The fuck you mean she's not responding? ....SAY THAT AGAIN! .......THAT'S MORE BULLSHIT THAN A GOZKAN RANGER'S SECOND LINE MARCH! MAKE her listen or I'll shred her core and swallow the pieces!"
>Opening wide, then squinting directly at you, the Starborn General's chain-covered lips peel back in a snarl.
>"UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE! Flowing Spark's went insane after Luna was downed, she's trying to turn everything under the Citadel into magma!
Clem, the second you aren't involved in a major or critical mission get to the closest translocation matrice, there's an Enkee code that you don't need to know batpony to use! Say the words: 'nine moonberry flowers under blood red snow' and it'll bring you straight to the Lunar Council Underchamber, I've gotta get to that fucking Crystal Kingdom bitchmare before she slags the entire Citadel underworks and makes the Moon uninhabitable again-"
>Losing the Heart's Touch linkage as the Enchained pegasus snaps the contact in a rush, a thoroughly sorrowful whine emits from Blackhorn's heavy frame.
>It felt a logical, rational sensation akin to loss at the Tainted no longer in existence as hostiles; refusing to target ponies or Operators throughout Basin Village, the Construct barrel raises upwards to prevent any possibility of firing on friendlies, neutrals, and even technical hostiles.
>Producing thoughtforms entirely unlike your connection to Twisted Wing, the symbiote lacked recognizable demands and suggestions, yet was insisting on implications of warning, protection, and threats that weren't applicable to anything you knew.
>Temporarily ignoring Blackhorn's bizarre proto-sapient behavior, you close to Jeff's location at Basin Village's southern fountain edge, and similarly push aside knowledge of the Bloodhosts surrounding it.
>Taking the somewhat familiar hard cased laptop in both hands, inspecting the screen, listed controls, visible subroutines through a few button presses, then small control sticks... the available landing run was going to be awful.
>Redirecting the drone's path to swing low down low, hard southwest into a tight 180-degree loop, downwards even further, face north, then into a descent pattern aimed at four straight, quarter-mile sections of newly placed stone athways, the aptly named 'Reaper' wasn't impeded by what little remained from of cleared out trees at all.
>Instead, what hampered the wide-winged bastard was moderate combat damage leading to sincerely dogshit fly-by-interface-wire airframe controls, a lack of weight and overly wide wings that wouldn't slow it down in time, and a set of retardedly small sticks that even the best ISAF merc would have thrown out if asked to review.
>Maneuvering the Reaper's controls to touch down onto the third quarter-mile strip after well overshooting the fourth, you grimace at the drone's damage causing it to skip off the pathway, losing the left rear landing wheel.
>Marginally more successful at landing the Reaper down onto the second quarter-mile pathway, it was taxiing too fast for a complete stop.
>Controlling it into a barely ground-following run and approaching the last quarter-mile path, you force the Reaper into sharp, small banking maneuvers to bleed off speed, forcing it into a landing pattern with minimal speed remaining.
>Nearly flipping forwards, you control the Reaper's sway enough to halt it, barely 80M before it could run into the first rank of mixed Guard Charges.
>The laptop emits a short, prophetically satisfied electronic beep signifying a successful touch down.... ...which you barely manage to resist shooting a dozen holes into on account of it not being yours.
>Heavy clops from the right slow in pace, then halt several paces, a mid-50's stallion grunting with effort, the sound of a readied Impact Seal emitting a subtle whine.
>Local Overherd focusing on the Assault Vanguard's leader, though were unable to view through the silverine helmet, the Councilierge Master Lancer's words were hollow and distant as brick red eyes narrow behind clear diamondine eyeslits, focusing from you to Jeff.
"Not one record exists of Constructs talking, trying to, attempting to make peace, or neighgotiate, Master Clemency. Believe me, most of my unit was there at Kenfield Pass. Have the scars and medals to prove that much. We tore apart over nearly two hundred thousand Constructs and well over five million Otherworld Golems on their Eternal March.
And.. there's never been another pair of Argus Behemoth-Destroyers since then. I'll say this for the-"
>Pausing to survey the closest ranks of Lunars, Solars, and Stalliongradians, the middle aged stallion's attitude changes to one of sincere loathing, looking back up at you with coldly calculating eyes.
"Your mare brought a gigantic Riftseeker down in 29,976. Barely two thousand Ferron with wingblades, hoofclaws, hoofblades, short twin-beam lances, a few bombs, mines, and enchanted weapons between them all."
>Turning thoughful eyes at Jeff for a momarent, then offering him a brief nod, the silverine helmet swivels, bitter eyes staring at you rigidly.
"My Vanguard was responsible for destroying nine pairs of Argus Dominator-Reavers, which is nothign in comparison. None here have ever dealt with a Riftseeker, but we're more than fucking ready to die for the honor of killing one. Get us close enough to rip into it's biometallic guts, and not one pony will ever speak negatively about this night."
>Sensing the Burning Pegasus making a neck-height bow, a focused image sinks across the Overherd towards you:
>The entire left side of her head, same side of her face, upper neck, and across her withers was entirely covered in thin, tightly clenched, demarending Tallus-bound chains, flesh around the injury contracting as she grins.
>"Damned amazing. What's left of the Council's been watching, they've starting t-"
>Head cocking and right eye rotating away for five seconds, Twisted's expression contracts in disbelief.
>"The fuck you mean she's not responding? ....SAY THAT AGAIN! .......THAT'S MORE BULLSHIT THAN A GOZKAN RANGER'S SECOND LINE MARCH! MAKE her listen or I'll shred her core and swallow the pieces!"
>Opening wide, then squinting directly at you, the Starborn General's chain-covered lips peel back in a snarl.
>"UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE! Flowing Spark's went insane after Luna was downed, she's trying to turn everything under the Citadel into magma!
Clem, the second you aren't involved in a major or critical mission get to the closest translocation matrice, there's an Enkee code that you don't need to know batpony to use! Say the words: 'nine moonberry flowers under blood red snow' and it'll bring you straight to the Lunar Council Underchamber, I've gotta get to that fucking Crystal Kingdom bitchmare before she slags the entire Citadel underworks and makes the Moon uninhabitable again-"
>Losing the Heart's Touch linkage as the Enchained pegasus snaps the contact in a rush, a thoroughly sorrowful whine emits from Blackhorn's heavy frame.
>It felt a logical, rational sensation akin to loss at the Tainted no longer in existence as hostiles; refusing to target ponies or Operators throughout Basin Village, the Construct barrel raises upwards to prevent any possibility of firing on friendlies, neutrals, and even technical hostiles.
>Producing thoughtforms entirely unlike your connection to Twisted Wing, the symbiote lacked recognizable demands and suggestions, yet was insisting on implications of warning, protection, and threats that weren't applicable to anything you knew.
>Temporarily ignoring Blackhorn's bizarre proto-sapient behavior, you close to Jeff's location at Basin Village's southern fountain edge, and similarly push aside knowledge of the Bloodhosts surrounding it.
>Taking the somewhat familiar hard cased laptop in both hands, inspecting the screen, listed controls, visible subroutines through a few button presses, then small control sticks... the available landing run was going to be awful.
>Redirecting the drone's path to swing low down low, hard southwest into a tight 180-degree loop, downwards even further, face north, then into a descent pattern aimed at four straight, quarter-mile sections of newly placed stone athways, the aptly named 'Reaper' wasn't impeded by what little remained from of cleared out trees at all.
>Instead, what hampered the wide-winged bastard was moderate combat damage leading to sincerely dogshit fly-by-interface-wire airframe controls, a lack of weight and overly wide wings that wouldn't slow it down in time, and a set of retardedly small sticks that even the best ISAF merc would have thrown out if asked to review.
>Maneuvering the Reaper's controls to touch down onto the third quarter-mile strip after well overshooting the fourth, you grimace at the drone's damage causing it to skip off the pathway, losing the left rear landing wheel.
>Marginally more successful at landing the Reaper down onto the second quarter-mile pathway, it was taxiing too fast for a complete stop.
>Controlling it into a barely ground-following run and approaching the last quarter-mile path, you force the Reaper into sharp, small banking maneuvers to bleed off speed, forcing it into a landing pattern with minimal speed remaining.
>Nearly flipping forwards, you control the Reaper's sway enough to halt it, barely 80M before it could run into the first rank of mixed Guard Charges.
>The laptop emits a short, prophetically satisfied electronic beep signifying a successful touch down.... ...which you barely manage to resist shooting a dozen holes into on account of it not being yours.
>Heavy clops from the right slow in pace, then halt several paces, a mid-50's stallion grunting with effort, the sound of a readied Impact Seal emitting a subtle whine.
>Local Overherd focusing on the Assault Vanguard's leader, though were unable to view through the silverine helmet, the Councilierge Master Lancer's words were hollow and distant as brick red eyes narrow behind clear diamondine eyeslits, focusing from you to Jeff.
"Not one record exists of Constructs talking, trying to, attempting to make peace, or neighgotiate, Master Clemency. Believe me, most of my unit was there at Kenfield Pass. Have the scars and medals to prove that much. We tore apart over nearly two hundred thousand Constructs and well over five million Otherworld Golems on their Eternal March.
And.. there's never been another pair of Argus Behemoth-Destroyers since then. I'll say this for the-"
>Pausing to survey the closest ranks of Lunars, Solars, and Stalliongradians, the middle aged stallion's attitude changes to one of sincere loathing, looking back up at you with coldly calculating eyes.
"Your mare brought a gigantic Riftseeker down in 29,976. Barely two thousand Ferron with wingblades, hoofclaws, hoofblades, short twin-beam lances, a few bombs, mines, and enchanted weapons between them all."
>Turning thoughful eyes at Jeff for a momarent, then offering him a brief nod, the silverine helmet swivels, bitter eyes staring at you rigidly.
"My Vanguard was responsible for destroying nine pairs of Argus Dominator-Reavers, which is nothign in comparison. None here have ever dealt with a Riftseeker, but we're more than fucking ready to die for the honor of killing one. Get us close enough to rip into it's biometallic guts, and not one pony will ever speak negatively about this night."
>>370716
>"You got it. I'll be there when I can."
>Alongside the crazy talking Constructs and Rift Seeker, now the Citadel is going to sink into the Moon
>Focusing again, Clem looks toward the image
>"In the meantime, slap some sense into her. A lot of sense."
>>370711
>Clemency winces at the state the Reaper was in and the landing he was going to make it do
>He watches the camera feed bounce hard then shift
>His mind races as he tries to salvage the landing run and prevent the thing from completely falling apart
>Hell, they barely had to do this back home
>Everything was AI controlled by then anyway
>Practically making the thing skid to a halt like some cartoon vehicle, Clem's grip tightens on the control sticks as the laptop mocking beeps at him
>He closes the laptop and sets it aside
"You know this thing is almost sentient. Blackhorn it's called. Anyways, you're on to something with the Constructs. IF we can talk back, maybe a dialogue can be made."
>Clemency shakes his head at the statement
"Fucking sounds crazy."
>Getting up, seeing Jeff's outstretched hand jostles his memory
>Unslinging his backpack, he rummages for the scope
>Finding it, he inspects it for damage before handing it over to Jeff
"At least this things unscathed."
>Sling his backpack, he rests his hands holding onto the straps
"If I go back, sure. But I think a good chunk of the Fortress is here. Oh, and the Citadel is under threat of sinking into the Moon. Twisted talked to me about that. She said Flowing Spark is slagging the Citadel underground and went insane. Told me a passphrase to the underchamber to help out whenever I get the time."
>Hearing the heavy hoofsteps, Clemency turns his attention to the Councilierge stallion
>He must've overheard their conversation
>Clemency crosses his arms before responding
"I don't doubt that no records exist of Constructs speaking, especially to one with experience. But me and Jeff saw what we saw. Maybe our tech is their first medium for them to communicate through."
>Following his gaze to the ranks of ponies, he looks back at the stallion before shaking his head
>He looks over to Jeff
"Yeah, whatever is going on at the Arena needs to be investigated. I'd prefer one giant enemy over that and an army of murderbots. Thoughts?"
>"You got it. I'll be there when I can."
>Alongside the crazy talking Constructs and Rift Seeker, now the Citadel is going to sink into the Moon
>Focusing again, Clem looks toward the image
>"In the meantime, slap some sense into her. A lot of sense."
>>370711
>Clemency winces at the state the Reaper was in and the landing he was going to make it do
>He watches the camera feed bounce hard then shift
>His mind races as he tries to salvage the landing run and prevent the thing from completely falling apart
>Hell, they barely had to do this back home
>Everything was AI controlled by then anyway
>Practically making the thing skid to a halt like some cartoon vehicle, Clem's grip tightens on the control sticks as the laptop mocking beeps at him
>He closes the laptop and sets it aside
"You know this thing is almost sentient. Blackhorn it's called. Anyways, you're on to something with the Constructs. IF we can talk back, maybe a dialogue can be made."
>Clemency shakes his head at the statement
"Fucking sounds crazy."
>Getting up, seeing Jeff's outstretched hand jostles his memory
>Unslinging his backpack, he rummages for the scope
>Finding it, he inspects it for damage before handing it over to Jeff
"At least this things unscathed."
>Sling his backpack, he rests his hands holding onto the straps
"If I go back, sure. But I think a good chunk of the Fortress is here. Oh, and the Citadel is under threat of sinking into the Moon. Twisted talked to me about that. She said Flowing Spark is slagging the Citadel underground and went insane. Told me a passphrase to the underchamber to help out whenever I get the time."
>Hearing the heavy hoofsteps, Clemency turns his attention to the Councilierge stallion
>He must've overheard their conversation
>Clemency crosses his arms before responding
"I don't doubt that no records exist of Constructs speaking, especially to one with experience. But me and Jeff saw what we saw. Maybe our tech is their first medium for them to communicate through."
>Following his gaze to the ranks of ponies, he looks back at the stallion before shaking his head
>He looks over to Jeff
"Yeah, whatever is going on at the Arena needs to be investigated. I'd prefer one giant enemy over that and an army of murderbots. Thoughts?"
>>370703
"Everything we serve is liked by humans, except for dietary needs or specialties. We're pretty limited on storage space so it's a lot easier to get seasonal foods in. Also means we aren't wasting anything!"
>Food service was either an honored profession here or sincerely enjoyed, but probably both.
>Setting down a stainless steel wire rack filled with twenty different small shaker jars, each labeled, Pella's left wing raises at a high angle, the left fanned in front of her while delivering a short, cheerful bow.
"You're welcome! It's not often I get to show the best Ferron and batpony foods, and as for him..."
>Taking two steps back and removing the hoofboots, her eyes shift right, a razor thin, possibly irritated smile creases her lips.
"I'll just say he's getting pickled right now, not quite ready to serve just yet. Oh, if you want alcoholic drinks we've got almost everything over there, even have a couple specials: mango liqueurs and vodka are real popular now."
>The first large right wingblade points towards the Mess Hall's north side, a slightly short, well made minibar, wall shelves covered in bottles of every color you knew and some that definitely violated normal laws of physics.
>Ten large swiveling bar stools, designed for humans and ponies alike, were intended to make one relax forwards onto the bar counter, or so the bartender could keep a close eye on how inebriated patrons were.
>You also note a rather amusing, shiny plaque with a set of rules in the center, although where a name, or names, had been were missing.
"It's.... serve serve only now."
>The last two words end on subtly angered tones, the pink winged mare dumping her boots into a central sink and cleaning them with a flat expression.
>Checking the other humans seated around, none of them looked particularly welcoming, though that was due to large amounts of stress, agitation, and moderate shock or fear from a few.
>The three least likely to cause trouble was a group of 30's to 50's mercenaries and veterans in swamp land camo, the mixed bunch with the winter sniper, and a half full table of mostly East European rookies, an older commissar-type in a possibly antique, fur-trimmed gray uniform.
"Everything we serve is liked by humans, except for dietary needs or specialties. We're pretty limited on storage space so it's a lot easier to get seasonal foods in. Also means we aren't wasting anything!"
>Food service was either an honored profession here or sincerely enjoyed, but probably both.
>Setting down a stainless steel wire rack filled with twenty different small shaker jars, each labeled, Pella's left wing raises at a high angle, the left fanned in front of her while delivering a short, cheerful bow.
"You're welcome! It's not often I get to show the best Ferron and batpony foods, and as for him..."
>Taking two steps back and removing the hoofboots, her eyes shift right, a razor thin, possibly irritated smile creases her lips.
"I'll just say he's getting pickled right now, not quite ready to serve just yet. Oh, if you want alcoholic drinks we've got almost everything over there, even have a couple specials: mango liqueurs and vodka are real popular now."
>The first large right wingblade points towards the Mess Hall's north side, a slightly short, well made minibar, wall shelves covered in bottles of every color you knew and some that definitely violated normal laws of physics.
>Ten large swiveling bar stools, designed for humans and ponies alike, were intended to make one relax forwards onto the bar counter, or so the bartender could keep a close eye on how inebriated patrons were.
>You also note a rather amusing, shiny plaque with a set of rules in the center, although where a name, or names, had been were missing.
"It's.... serve serve only now."
>The last two words end on subtly angered tones, the pink winged mare dumping her boots into a central sink and cleaning them with a flat expression.
>Checking the other humans seated around, none of them looked particularly welcoming, though that was due to large amounts of stress, agitation, and moderate shock or fear from a few.
>The three least likely to cause trouble was a group of 30's to 50's mercenaries and veterans in swamp land camo, the mixed bunch with the winter sniper, and a half full table of mostly East European rookies, an older commissar-type in a possibly antique, fur-trimmed gray uniform.
>>370709
>Picking up the hints, Mercy's body language eases as she returns a slight mane ruffle, her gaze turning to towards the giant north screen, then the south.
"They have ceased construction on the gateway, but we have not even begun to-"
>Ears perking and trailing off, a visible amount of historical knowledge creeps forwards into her consciousness, then figuratively backflips straight into a chasm as she speaks in a clear, yet dazed tone.
"....did they steal entire cities? Dig them up? Make copies from examples or damaged ones? I recognize some of the weapons and armors, there are maybe three of left now, but.. why do they have a thousand baking pans, cups, bowls, blankets, bed frames? Pillows. Pillows? Why?
...that is an actual floatplate-rigged Sunsail outrider boat.. without any damage. Why does it have Old Canterlot nobility markings? I recognize the leaf symbol.. eighty or so mid-28,800's premade houses still together. Sealed. In their original boxes. Unopened too, tamper seals are intact. Those would be worth tens of thousands each for just the wood.. parts from numerous siege rams.. a whole siege ram? Yes, disassembled.. a complete Lunar Guardian field forge.. no, not complete, the anvil, alchemical chambers, and three of the hammers are missing.."
>Losing the other mare to questioning herself at random, it takes a few seconds to realize she had a rather large amount of information on Lunar-Solar War specifics, albeit without any particular focus.
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Research
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Pupil Armor & Weaponry Studies
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Adept Lunar-Solar War
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Proficient Late Lunar Armor & Weaponry
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Graduate Archaic Pegasi
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Graduate Minotaur Hegemony
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Teacher Cloudsdale
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>An odd twitch from the left faux-batpony wingclaws orient in your direction, two slight thrumming sounds emitting from the amorphous mass on Mercy's saddle follows as the pearlescent white-faced barrels tilt downwards one degree.
>...was it taunting you?
>Were they?
>Breaking herself out of scattered external questions, Mercy blinks at hoofboot contacting stone.
"That is a horrible idea. The Void spectrums here are far too thin to risk separating from you and I have no idea what threats are close by."
>Making an agitated snout twitch and glancing at the southern Argus, she calls towards it, wings half-outstretched.
"I will return here to complete our trade before the Riftseeker's gate is opened."
"Demarend-request of future-current item-object-possession trade confirmed-accepted-acknowledged-recognized."
>Receiving a muted static-laden noise from the pair, she turns to follow you, pinksteel wingblades glowing faintly.
"At least allow me to carry you for a distance-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Perception
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Reveal Unnatural
>Picking the closest way down as the Repair model, hopping off the Arena's east side roof would be the most efficient and at this height would allow at least a minute of gliding time.
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Small Cross-Spectrum Rift Gateway Construction
Large Rift Gate: 39% Complete
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Argus Behemoth-Destroyer Pair: Comprehend-Study-Research-Categorize-Define
>Picking up the hints, Mercy's body language eases as she returns a slight mane ruffle, her gaze turning to towards the giant north screen, then the south.
"They have ceased construction on the gateway, but we have not even begun to-"
>Ears perking and trailing off, a visible amount of historical knowledge creeps forwards into her consciousness, then figuratively backflips straight into a chasm as she speaks in a clear, yet dazed tone.
"....did they steal entire cities? Dig them up? Make copies from examples or damaged ones? I recognize some of the weapons and armors, there are maybe three of left now, but.. why do they have a thousand baking pans, cups, bowls, blankets, bed frames? Pillows. Pillows? Why?
...that is an actual floatplate-rigged Sunsail outrider boat.. without any damage. Why does it have Old Canterlot nobility markings? I recognize the leaf symbol.. eighty or so mid-28,800's premade houses still together. Sealed. In their original boxes. Unopened too, tamper seals are intact. Those would be worth tens of thousands each for just the wood.. parts from numerous siege rams.. a whole siege ram? Yes, disassembled.. a complete Lunar Guardian field forge.. no, not complete, the anvil, alchemical chambers, and three of the hammers are missing.."
>Losing the other mare to questioning herself at random, it takes a few seconds to realize she had a rather large amount of information on Lunar-Solar War specifics, albeit without any particular focus.
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Research
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Pupil Armor & Weaponry Studies
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Adept Lunar-Solar War
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Proficient Late Lunar Armor & Weaponry
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Graduate Archaic Pegasi
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Graduate Minotaur Hegemony
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Teacher Cloudsdale
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
>An odd twitch from the left faux-batpony wingclaws orient in your direction, two slight thrumming sounds emitting from the amorphous mass on Mercy's saddle follows as the pearlescent white-faced barrels tilt downwards one degree.
>...was it taunting you?
>Were they?
>Breaking herself out of scattered external questions, Mercy blinks at hoofboot contacting stone.
"That is a horrible idea. The Void spectrums here are far too thin to risk separating from you and I have no idea what threats are close by."
>Making an agitated snout twitch and glancing at the southern Argus, she calls towards it, wings half-outstretched.
"I will return here to complete our trade before the Riftseeker's gate is opened."
"Demarend-request of future-current item-object-possession trade confirmed-accepted-acknowledged-recognized."
>Receiving a muted static-laden noise from the pair, she turns to follow you, pinksteel wingblades glowing faintly.
"At least allow me to carry you for a distance-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Auto-Ambush
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <B.Perception
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Reveal Unnatural
>Picking the closest way down as the Repair model, hopping off the Arena's east side roof would be the most efficient and at this height would allow at least a minute of gliding time.
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Small Cross-Spectrum Rift Gateway Construction
Large Rift Gate: 39% Complete
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Argus Behemoth-Destroyer Pair: Comprehend-Study-Research-Categorize-Define
>>370728
>Cheto silently nodded and listened intently, absentmindedly taking the tiniest of bites at his plate.
>A part of him felt a little hurt at hearing the various inconveniences and mishaps, causing his smile to falter just a little bit for a moment.
>However, he knew just the thing to cheer her up just a little bit!
(Gotta end things on a good note!)
"I'll pass on the alcohol. Thank you, though. Here's a little tip as a token of my gratitude for your assistance."
>With that grand announcement, his hand soon ventured forth to give Pella a quick little boop on the snout.
"Have a great day, missus Pella!"
>With that wrapped up, he soon opted to tentatively venture the mixed bag of operators with a mostly neutral expression so as to not look too chipper.
>He had a bad feeling that if he showed any overly positive emotion, he'd be looked down upon.
>After all, some random dude sitting on your table with a childishly excited smile when your work involves death-tempting stress would feel like an insult, right?
(Wait, no, you're overthinking this. Don't be scared, they're human like you. Relajate.)
>He tentatively licks the back of his teeth before striding with a little more energy and confidence towards an empty spot on that table, brandishing a more natural and amicable smile towards the table full of seemingly grizzled veterans.
"Excuse me. Is this spot taken?"
>Cheto silently nodded and listened intently, absentmindedly taking the tiniest of bites at his plate.
>A part of him felt a little hurt at hearing the various inconveniences and mishaps, causing his smile to falter just a little bit for a moment.
>However, he knew just the thing to cheer her up just a little bit!
(Gotta end things on a good note!)
"I'll pass on the alcohol. Thank you, though. Here's a little tip as a token of my gratitude for your assistance."
>With that grand announcement, his hand soon ventured forth to give Pella a quick little boop on the snout.
"Have a great day, missus Pella!"
>With that wrapped up, he soon opted to tentatively venture the mixed bag of operators with a mostly neutral expression so as to not look too chipper.
>He had a bad feeling that if he showed any overly positive emotion, he'd be looked down upon.
>After all, some random dude sitting on your table with a childishly excited smile when your work involves death-tempting stress would feel like an insult, right?
(Wait, no, you're overthinking this. Don't be scared, they're human like you. Relajate.)
>He tentatively licks the back of his teeth before striding with a little more energy and confidence towards an empty spot on that table, brandishing a more natural and amicable smile towards the table full of seemingly grizzled veterans.
"Excuse me. Is this spot taken?"
>>370712
"How far behind is Razorback? ..this is ridiculous."
>Staring ahead blankly for a bit, Katyal's hands clasp together on her stomach, speaking in careful explanatory tones.
"Wasn't talking about concepts themselves, least not directly. Our understanding of an object gets combined with an individual or group's bias. That creates a historical context of why an object exists. Ponies feel that dissonance or lack thereof, except for outcasts, outliers, special cases. Don't know about other species.
My rifle's a good example. Built for two tasks: hunting down monsters, or protecting people from the same. Ponies acknowledge and react to it like they would a weapon of their own. Merely seeing it shows a notion of positively reinforced predatory-defensive behaviors. Call that objective bias recognition.
But, when I start reaching for my subgun or pistol those same ponies get leery, touchy, or worried. Why? Those were designed to kill armored humans in partial to near-complete takeover stages. Ponies hate that idea instinctively so they apply the context of both to the individual's actions. Again, excluding outcasts and outliers.
That's the absolute basics. They feel the intentions of concepts even if they don't understand why. Or how."
>Right hand tapping her side lightly, the woman's expression eases, glancing to you with raised eyebrows.
"Cadenza represents Spring. The joy of a warm sleep during bitterly cold nights, waking up to frost covering everything, watching it all slowly melt. Getting to see flora reviving or growing new, seeing young grow up, finding themselves and each other. The early, most fun parts of life really. That's part of why she's called Rebirth.
Solarbitch is Summer, but she used to be Spring. Don't know why they switched, and I'm not not talking about her beyond that.
Queen Kissybug is Fall. Changelings are weird to most ponies, similar yet not. Chrysalis doesn't take a single action or speak one word more than necessary. Never reveals something unless that benefits everypony equally. Knows where every cache, failsafe, or route is. Figuratively.. maybe literally. Her children are always bonded together, and, just like her, prepared. She treats them all with equal, sincere joy.
Ancient joke some Bronze Guardians use to explain them: your third task is to understand that Fall is the season to prepare, says the training officer. For what, asks the rookie? The officer's face turns red, then he screams: EVERYTHING!
Luna is Winter. You see the Moon every night, and wonder what else is up there besides all those half-Elemarentals. Her stars are too far away to touch, but they don't hide. Each one has a name and memory to it, acting as guides with meanings that won't fade.
Herself? Clear sense of purpose, a touch chilly at first, and has a cold, calculating memory. Later comes sheer, unstoppable danger that doesn't end; you can only avoid Winter for so long since it'll always find a way in.
Then there's Princess Argenta. After the nuke went off in Canterlot, she banned humans from entering her city-state unless they swear a few oaths. Even then we can only be in her lands to trade or learn. Used to be a perfect balance of the Four Great Seasons, but leans more towards Fall and Winter. Mostly the second now."
>Tongue clicking once, her focus trails from the hatch from Dul to you, lips tightening pensively at the dagger's location.
"Yeah, the physical corruption was, but.. I don't have months to teach you all about ka. Best I can do is make sure there's no long term effects.
And whoever put that together was rushing. As it is right now it's got promise. In any case, we'll start low and slow."
>Spending the next four hours in increasingly complex engagements, Katyal displays zero pain or discomfort in using her entire body as a weapon, hammering the shield until forcing it to disengage from reality, pressing its limits and your reaction times to combine it with the pinksteel weapon.
>Switching off for Dul's equally capable, barely comprehensible system revolving around sabotaging obstacles, assaulting from hard to predict angles, and denying advantages by passing through spectrums without warning, the pair's efforts aid you in creating a functional, highly ersatz rapid paced combat methodology.
>Taking a ten minute break every half hour to unwind and present tactical demonstrations of maximizing the rather unorthodox enchantmarent and weapon combination, Katyal returns to her seat, pulling the bag out from underneath for a large, luxurious bright yellow beach towel to wipe off.
>While you didn't physically feel different, there was a trace sense of attachment forming.
>To what, you weren't sure yet.
"Giving that enchantmarent a solid nine of ten.
Upsides: not physical, no concerns over repairs, getting shocked by lightning, lit on fire, frozen to your hand, or worse. Can't be removed or forcibly dismissed, those are huge. Might resist banishmarent, but I'm not experienced enough to try that.
Downsides: lasts just long enough to take a bunch of small hits or a couple big ones. Near-instant to ten second range of function, obviously takes minimal effort for you to summon. Since it isn't physical, can't be enchanted, which is both good and bad."
>Eyeing the roughly made blade, Katyal's eyebrows narrow, studying it in speculative thought.
"Decent at deflecting small weapons. Sticky enchantmarent is great for in-your-face assaults, possibly target-from-the-rear eliminations. Good enough.
There is an imprint or stain though. Real old, not cohesive. Not something we have time to investigate."
>Glancing at Dul in the OL-3's center, seemingly asleep and stretched out comfortably, Katyal glances up at the roof with a slight twitch.
[1d6 = 3] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
"Hour before dawn or so. Hodch, Lonestar, anywhere to stop and stay in cover?"
*"This is a permafrost region, so options will be quite limited."*
*"Trying to find somewhere good, but I don't like those clouds."*
[1d150 = 9] <Location
"How far behind is Razorback? ..this is ridiculous."
>Staring ahead blankly for a bit, Katyal's hands clasp together on her stomach, speaking in careful explanatory tones.
"Wasn't talking about concepts themselves, least not directly. Our understanding of an object gets combined with an individual or group's bias. That creates a historical context of why an object exists. Ponies feel that dissonance or lack thereof, except for outcasts, outliers, special cases. Don't know about other species.
My rifle's a good example. Built for two tasks: hunting down monsters, or protecting people from the same. Ponies acknowledge and react to it like they would a weapon of their own. Merely seeing it shows a notion of positively reinforced predatory-defensive behaviors. Call that objective bias recognition.
But, when I start reaching for my subgun or pistol those same ponies get leery, touchy, or worried. Why? Those were designed to kill armored humans in partial to near-complete takeover stages. Ponies hate that idea instinctively so they apply the context of both to the individual's actions. Again, excluding outcasts and outliers.
That's the absolute basics. They feel the intentions of concepts even if they don't understand why. Or how."
>Right hand tapping her side lightly, the woman's expression eases, glancing to you with raised eyebrows.
"Cadenza represents Spring. The joy of a warm sleep during bitterly cold nights, waking up to frost covering everything, watching it all slowly melt. Getting to see flora reviving or growing new, seeing young grow up, finding themselves and each other. The early, most fun parts of life really. That's part of why she's called Rebirth.
Solarbitch is Summer, but she used to be Spring. Don't know why they switched, and I'm not not talking about her beyond that.
Queen Kissybug is Fall. Changelings are weird to most ponies, similar yet not. Chrysalis doesn't take a single action or speak one word more than necessary. Never reveals something unless that benefits everypony equally. Knows where every cache, failsafe, or route is. Figuratively.. maybe literally. Her children are always bonded together, and, just like her, prepared. She treats them all with equal, sincere joy.
Ancient joke some Bronze Guardians use to explain them: your third task is to understand that Fall is the season to prepare, says the training officer. For what, asks the rookie? The officer's face turns red, then he screams: EVERYTHING!
Luna is Winter. You see the Moon every night, and wonder what else is up there besides all those half-Elemarentals. Her stars are too far away to touch, but they don't hide. Each one has a name and memory to it, acting as guides with meanings that won't fade.
Herself? Clear sense of purpose, a touch chilly at first, and has a cold, calculating memory. Later comes sheer, unstoppable danger that doesn't end; you can only avoid Winter for so long since it'll always find a way in.
Then there's Princess Argenta. After the nuke went off in Canterlot, she banned humans from entering her city-state unless they swear a few oaths. Even then we can only be in her lands to trade or learn. Used to be a perfect balance of the Four Great Seasons, but leans more towards Fall and Winter. Mostly the second now."
>Tongue clicking once, her focus trails from the hatch from Dul to you, lips tightening pensively at the dagger's location.
"Yeah, the physical corruption was, but.. I don't have months to teach you all about ka. Best I can do is make sure there's no long term effects.
And whoever put that together was rushing. As it is right now it's got promise. In any case, we'll start low and slow."
>Spending the next four hours in increasingly complex engagements, Katyal displays zero pain or discomfort in using her entire body as a weapon, hammering the shield until forcing it to disengage from reality, pressing its limits and your reaction times to combine it with the pinksteel weapon.
>Switching off for Dul's equally capable, barely comprehensible system revolving around sabotaging obstacles, assaulting from hard to predict angles, and denying advantages by passing through spectrums without warning, the pair's efforts aid you in creating a functional, highly ersatz rapid paced combat methodology.
>Taking a ten minute break every half hour to unwind and present tactical demonstrations of maximizing the rather unorthodox enchantmarent and weapon combination, Katyal returns to her seat, pulling the bag out from underneath for a large, luxurious bright yellow beach towel to wipe off.
>While you didn't physically feel different, there was a trace sense of attachment forming.
>To what, you weren't sure yet.
"Giving that enchantmarent a solid nine of ten.
Upsides: not physical, no concerns over repairs, getting shocked by lightning, lit on fire, frozen to your hand, or worse. Can't be removed or forcibly dismissed, those are huge. Might resist banishmarent, but I'm not experienced enough to try that.
Downsides: lasts just long enough to take a bunch of small hits or a couple big ones. Near-instant to ten second range of function, obviously takes minimal effort for you to summon. Since it isn't physical, can't be enchanted, which is both good and bad."
>Eyeing the roughly made blade, Katyal's eyebrows narrow, studying it in speculative thought.
"Decent at deflecting small weapons. Sticky enchantmarent is great for in-your-face assaults, possibly target-from-the-rear eliminations. Good enough.
There is an imprint or stain though. Real old, not cohesive. Not something we have time to investigate."
>Glancing at Dul in the OL-3's center, seemingly asleep and stretched out comfortably, Katyal glances up at the roof with a slight twitch.
[1d6 = 3] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
"Hour before dawn or so. Hodch, Lonestar, anywhere to stop and stay in cover?"
*"This is a permafrost region, so options will be quite limited."*
*"Trying to find somewhere good, but I don't like those clouds."*
[1d150 = 9] <Location
>>370731
>Sunny cast a look back at the screens once again, examining them more closely. Perhaps she could glean something from them that she had missed earlier. Though her working theory was that archaeology and study were some part of how they evolved, there could be more to it than that.
[1d6 = 2] < Apprentice Research
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 1] < Pupil Constructs
[1d6 = 6] < Pupil Equestria
[1d6 = 3] < Pupil Solar Military
[1d6 = 6] < Pupil Lunar Military
[1d6 = 2] < Pupil Tallus Mercenaries
[1d6 = 1] < Pupil Crystal Empire
>Heaving a sigh, knowing full well how dangerous the moors were, Sunny replied
"I know, but this is bigger than me. Constructs have never communicated before, never traded before. Think about it, the first thing you did when we got here was attack, if the conflict at the Basin Village ends in our favour, where do you think those forces are headed next? Do you think they'll hesitate any more than we did?"
>Sunny continued in a lower tone.
<Pegasi> "They have learned to communicate, and they have learned to trade. We can't afford for them to learn betrayal. Fly fast, Mercy, go. Seconds count."
>She didn't wait for a response, and didn't give her a chance to argue. Sunny, likewise, hid herself from sight and left at a gallop.
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < M. Stealth
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>Sunny cast a look back at the screens once again, examining them more closely. Perhaps she could glean something from them that she had missed earlier. Though her working theory was that archaeology and study were some part of how they evolved, there could be more to it than that.
[1d6 = 2] < Apprentice Research
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 1] < Pupil Constructs
[1d6 = 6] < Pupil Equestria
[1d6 = 3] < Pupil Solar Military
[1d6 = 6] < Pupil Lunar Military
[1d6 = 2] < Pupil Tallus Mercenaries
[1d6 = 1] < Pupil Crystal Empire
>Heaving a sigh, knowing full well how dangerous the moors were, Sunny replied
"I know, but this is bigger than me. Constructs have never communicated before, never traded before. Think about it, the first thing you did when we got here was attack, if the conflict at the Basin Village ends in our favour, where do you think those forces are headed next? Do you think they'll hesitate any more than we did?"
>Sunny continued in a lower tone.
<Pegasi> "They have learned to communicate, and they have learned to trade. We can't afford for them to learn betrayal. Fly fast, Mercy, go. Seconds count."
>She didn't wait for a response, and didn't give her a chance to argue. Sunny, likewise, hid herself from sight and left at a gallop.
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < M. Stealth
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>>370737
>Pareidolia watches Katyal as she explains in some detail the instinctual nature of ponies and their ability to detect intent.
>He sighs lightly in resignation, nodding.
(Waste of time. Likely too acclimated to understand the nuance of my concern. Can't expect most humans to.)
"That is new knowledge to me, though it doesn't address my concerns. But nevermind. Unimportant."
...
>Taking a moment to orient himself after the latest batch of unorthodox training exercises, he wills the Tate into existence once more in the shape of a stereotypical rectangular riot shield, willing it to remain past its usual limit while having it Stick to his left arm.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Dragon-Scale Sphere: Tate
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]< Basic Iron Will
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
>Testing its weight and mass, he attempts to backstep, sidestep, and lunge with the shield on his arm. Familiarizing himself with its weight so as to not offset his balance.
"Extremely unorthodox training regimen."
>He pantomimes a few deflections with his dagger.
"My training preferred avoiding head-on assaults. Only reinforced with experience on Tallus. Disparities in physical strength and mass make direct melee confrontation a disadvantage. But I may need to incorporate more flexibility into my tactics. Unclear how successful it will be without consistent squad composition."
>Sheathing the dagger as his shield finally dissipates, he follows Katyal's gaze.
"What clouds are you seeing?"
>He moves to open the roof hatch slightly to see for himself.
"Is your vision enchanted?"
>Pareidolia watches Katyal as she explains in some detail the instinctual nature of ponies and their ability to detect intent.
>He sighs lightly in resignation, nodding.
(Waste of time. Likely too acclimated to understand the nuance of my concern. Can't expect most humans to.)
"That is new knowledge to me, though it doesn't address my concerns. But nevermind. Unimportant."
...
>Taking a moment to orient himself after the latest batch of unorthodox training exercises, he wills the Tate into existence once more in the shape of a stereotypical rectangular riot shield, willing it to remain past its usual limit while having it Stick to his left arm.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Dragon-Scale Sphere: Tate
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]< Basic Iron Will
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
>Testing its weight and mass, he attempts to backstep, sidestep, and lunge with the shield on his arm. Familiarizing himself with its weight so as to not offset his balance.
"Extremely unorthodox training regimen."
>He pantomimes a few deflections with his dagger.
"My training preferred avoiding head-on assaults. Only reinforced with experience on Tallus. Disparities in physical strength and mass make direct melee confrontation a disadvantage. But I may need to incorporate more flexibility into my tactics. Unclear how successful it will be without consistent squad composition."
>Sheathing the dagger as his shield finally dissipates, he follows Katyal's gaze.
"What clouds are you seeing?"
>He moves to open the roof hatch slightly to see for himself.
"Is your vision enchanted?"
>>370738
>Halting and turning to study the vast amount of items, objects, weapons, armors, relics, artifacts, and far more, there were several distinct patterns to why they were being sorted out on the displays:
>The importances of improving life, preserving life, protection, then herd comfort, with the last being unknown to Construct studies and research.
>For Constructs themselves, it seemed their primary focus was entirely offensive and defensive, which the various Equestrian and Lunar Military designs were rated from marginally to proportionally more effective than Rushyan, Prench, Neighsian, Minotaur, or all other examples, most of which you didn't know.
>Studying the slowly scrolling by older, lost, forgotten, modified, improved, destroyed, and purposefilly banned enchantmarents, the Lunar-Solar War Era's vast examples had long since been rated in terms of effectiveness against specific targets, primarily heavy armor and probability of evading.
>Constructs were definitely averse to the more esoteric, reality destroying, physics-bending or twisting, and Elemarental violations that Lunar examples were long known for.
>Some even had specific threat indexes displayed below them, the least of which was rated quite favorably against Constructs themselves.
>On the other hoof, the more recognizable Solar designs were similarly classified on ability to destroy armor at range, blind, deafen, and damage.
>While you note the various forms of Plasma and visible spectrum or wavelength enchantmarents were profoundly well studied by Constructs, they had equal threat indexes.
>Among the dated Tallus marecenary preferred armors, weapons, enchantmarents, materials, tools, various other kit, and especially foods or drinks, when compared to Lunar and Solar versions the variety of Germaneighan and Neighsian assets were considerably more fear inducing.
>The hundred thousand plus examples from Crystal Conclave, Kingdom, and Empire assets were in their own strictly denoted sections, and with such little recorded data on them they were likely impossible for Constructs to study; it was unclear whether that was due to an inability to emulate or copy Crystal pony harmonics.
>Whether the Argus Behemoth-Destroyers had assembled the hundred million, but probably far more, museum-grade pieces to study and rate them, it was becoming clear that Rift Constructs themselves had been entirely unable to copy the majority of Tallus inventions.
>Part of their evolution seemed backwards to you: adapting technologically concepts for their own usage, armor or weapons primarily, but had been moving away from exotic and esoteric weapons in the past 6,000 years.
>While you knew the Rift was in perpetual war with the Ethereal, Vortex, and Dominion Planes, it was highly probable they would have conquered at least one by now if Constructs had the ability to produce even the most basic of enchantmarents.
>Lost in equally incomprehensible thoughts, as you leap off the Arena's east side roof into a rapid descending glide towards what you could see of the long, winding and restored pathway ahead, Mercy catches up after a few rapid wing flaps, settling in to skim air on your left.
"I know precisely what anypony except for you might do, but I wanted to destroy the gate. That was the most logical choice, not the pair as they were too large and well armed hoofle quickly. They were not even.. interested in us-"
>The Spirit Walker's mane stiffens in outright refusal, head shaking quickly as she turns an a troubled expression towards you, though her open mood had faint pangs of feeling betrayed.
<Pegasi> "Sunny, our own precepts of treachery or betrayal are not compatible with the Rift's strict logic, hierarchy, and intentions. The best I can describe it is like this: cutting an entire leg off when the edge of a hoof suffers a small chip. I cannot feel more than common swarmers and a few lurkers in the deeper swamps, but I will leave this one with you for now-"
>Glancing at the weapon barrels projected out in front of her wings, the blind mare speaks in a soft, gently reassuring voice.
"I need you to protect Sunny, stay with her until we unite once more-"
>As the pair of faux-batpony wings separate from her, streaking blurs of white, hot pink, and blood red descend from sight into the thinnest, MUCH more dangerous lower gravity Void spectrums.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Spectrum Shift: Hostile
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Perception
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <E.Flight
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Reveal Unnatural: Void
>The unit's pseudo-skin ripples outwards in fluid motions, becoming a full-sized, subdued orange feral batpony stallion in flight above you, emitting a low pitched, irritated snarl.
>Particle Whips shunting onto the withers, now connected by thick, solid hexagonal cylinders, the head bends down smoothly, pearl white eyes peering at you for a half-second, then rigidly assumes a protective flight formation overhead.
>While the form would have been a shocking Uncanny Valley, the correctness of its aggressive, archaic features was, mostly, odd, and more than a few touches confusing.
[1d6 = 5] <Embraced Self-Adaptation
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>Halting and turning to study the vast amount of items, objects, weapons, armors, relics, artifacts, and far more, there were several distinct patterns to why they were being sorted out on the displays:
>The importances of improving life, preserving life, protection, then herd comfort, with the last being unknown to Construct studies and research.
>For Constructs themselves, it seemed their primary focus was entirely offensive and defensive, which the various Equestrian and Lunar Military designs were rated from marginally to proportionally more effective than Rushyan, Prench, Neighsian, Minotaur, or all other examples, most of which you didn't know.
>Studying the slowly scrolling by older, lost, forgotten, modified, improved, destroyed, and purposefilly banned enchantmarents, the Lunar-Solar War Era's vast examples had long since been rated in terms of effectiveness against specific targets, primarily heavy armor and probability of evading.
>Constructs were definitely averse to the more esoteric, reality destroying, physics-bending or twisting, and Elemarental violations that Lunar examples were long known for.
>Some even had specific threat indexes displayed below them, the least of which was rated quite favorably against Constructs themselves.
>On the other hoof, the more recognizable Solar designs were similarly classified on ability to destroy armor at range, blind, deafen, and damage.
>While you note the various forms of Plasma and visible spectrum or wavelength enchantmarents were profoundly well studied by Constructs, they had equal threat indexes.
>Among the dated Tallus marecenary preferred armors, weapons, enchantmarents, materials, tools, various other kit, and especially foods or drinks, when compared to Lunar and Solar versions the variety of Germaneighan and Neighsian assets were considerably more fear inducing.
>The hundred thousand plus examples from Crystal Conclave, Kingdom, and Empire assets were in their own strictly denoted sections, and with such little recorded data on them they were likely impossible for Constructs to study; it was unclear whether that was due to an inability to emulate or copy Crystal pony harmonics.
>Whether the Argus Behemoth-Destroyers had assembled the hundred million, but probably far more, museum-grade pieces to study and rate them, it was becoming clear that Rift Constructs themselves had been entirely unable to copy the majority of Tallus inventions.
>Part of their evolution seemed backwards to you: adapting technologically concepts for their own usage, armor or weapons primarily, but had been moving away from exotic and esoteric weapons in the past 6,000 years.
>While you knew the Rift was in perpetual war with the Ethereal, Vortex, and Dominion Planes, it was highly probable they would have conquered at least one by now if Constructs had the ability to produce even the most basic of enchantmarents.
>Lost in equally incomprehensible thoughts, as you leap off the Arena's east side roof into a rapid descending glide towards what you could see of the long, winding and restored pathway ahead, Mercy catches up after a few rapid wing flaps, settling in to skim air on your left.
"I know precisely what anypony except for you might do, but I wanted to destroy the gate. That was the most logical choice, not the pair as they were too large and well armed hoofle quickly. They were not even.. interested in us-"
>The Spirit Walker's mane stiffens in outright refusal, head shaking quickly as she turns an a troubled expression towards you, though her open mood had faint pangs of feeling betrayed.
<Pegasi> "Sunny, our own precepts of treachery or betrayal are not compatible with the Rift's strict logic, hierarchy, and intentions. The best I can describe it is like this: cutting an entire leg off when the edge of a hoof suffers a small chip. I cannot feel more than common swarmers and a few lurkers in the deeper swamps, but I will leave this one with you for now-"
>Glancing at the weapon barrels projected out in front of her wings, the blind mare speaks in a soft, gently reassuring voice.
"I need you to protect Sunny, stay with her until we unite once more-"
>As the pair of faux-batpony wings separate from her, streaking blurs of white, hot pink, and blood red descend from sight into the thinnest, MUCH more dangerous lower gravity Void spectrums.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Spectrum Shift: Hostile
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <B.Perception
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] <E.Flight
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Reveal Unnatural: Void
>The unit's pseudo-skin ripples outwards in fluid motions, becoming a full-sized, subdued orange feral batpony stallion in flight above you, emitting a low pitched, irritated snarl.
>Particle Whips shunting onto the withers, now connected by thick, solid hexagonal cylinders, the head bends down smoothly, pearl white eyes peering at you for a half-second, then rigidly assumes a protective flight formation overhead.
>While the form would have been a shocking Uncanny Valley, the correctness of its aggressive, archaic features was, mostly, odd, and more than a few touches confusing.
[1d6 = 5] <Embraced Self-Adaptation
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>>370406
"I do not know what was going through their minds either, aside from 'we need to get something out or get executed'. Quite frankly, the entire concept of the T-28 and 35s were... ambitiously misplaced."
>While I wasn't that much of a scholar on how bad some of our tanks were, even I knew that at the time, landships were obsolete.
>Very obsolete.
"At least I recognize that symbol... Never really asked about it, figured it was some sort of chemical agent symbol."
>Tapping a finger against my knee, I absorbed the information hungrily.
>Anything to get a better chance of survival was important.
"I can expect that future earths have made ways to figure out if a place has radiation or not, like... I think the Yanks? They have this sort of paint to indicate certain chemical gases in the area... A few of our vehicles that were shipped over had that on it."
>I watch the process as she replaces her hand back where it belongs.
"That... would definitely fit into something out of a science fiction novel about an unstoppable creature, I'll be honest."
>Officially I have never read a science fiction book.
"I do not know what was going through their minds either, aside from 'we need to get something out or get executed'. Quite frankly, the entire concept of the T-28 and 35s were... ambitiously misplaced."
>While I wasn't that much of a scholar on how bad some of our tanks were, even I knew that at the time, landships were obsolete.
>Very obsolete.
"At least I recognize that symbol... Never really asked about it, figured it was some sort of chemical agent symbol."
>Tapping a finger against my knee, I absorbed the information hungrily.
>Anything to get a better chance of survival was important.
"I can expect that future earths have made ways to figure out if a place has radiation or not, like... I think the Yanks? They have this sort of paint to indicate certain chemical gases in the area... A few of our vehicles that were shipped over had that on it."
>I watch the process as she replaces her hand back where it belongs.
"That... would definitely fit into something out of a science fiction novel about an unstoppable creature, I'll be honest."
>Officially I have never read a science fiction book.
>>370533
"Shame you're not able to get everything that you need. I'd be glad to help if there's something I can do."
>Smiths in the Zone were much the same as he is now, overworked and under supplied.
>Especially the more isolated factions like his own.
"Several factions in the Zone are very similar to that, though it is still... very rough, and only promotes the good of the faction instead of every STALKER. The main problem is that it would only take a handful of inward focusing humans to gain power to completely reverse the ideology towards something that is communal in name only."
>Frowning, Ivan tapped his PDA.
"The only way that really succeeded would be in small, tribal communities. Too many people and it all crumbles down for us."
>Focusing on Helping's words, Ivan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
>"A new Zone here..?"
"That... certainly sounds like the Zone's call. There wasn't a 'cure' back home for it either, a STALKER's fate was more often than not tied to her seductive voice. As well as.. some residents, who never left when it was first created. I know of one man who's been there for decades."
>He sighs and shifts in his seat.
"Alcohol helps quiet it down, for a time. Sobriety is when I feel the pull back the strongest. Some turn to drugs to quell it, but I'm not destroying my body that intensely."
"Shame you're not able to get everything that you need. I'd be glad to help if there's something I can do."
>Smiths in the Zone were much the same as he is now, overworked and under supplied.
>Especially the more isolated factions like his own.
"Several factions in the Zone are very similar to that, though it is still... very rough, and only promotes the good of the faction instead of every STALKER. The main problem is that it would only take a handful of inward focusing humans to gain power to completely reverse the ideology towards something that is communal in name only."
>Frowning, Ivan tapped his PDA.
"The only way that really succeeded would be in small, tribal communities. Too many people and it all crumbles down for us."
>Focusing on Helping's words, Ivan's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
>"A new Zone here..?"
"That... certainly sounds like the Zone's call. There wasn't a 'cure' back home for it either, a STALKER's fate was more often than not tied to her seductive voice. As well as.. some residents, who never left when it was first created. I know of one man who's been there for decades."
>He sighs and shifts in his seat.
"Alcohol helps quiet it down, for a time. Sobriety is when I feel the pull back the strongest. Some turn to drugs to quell it, but I'm not destroying my body that intensely."
File (): ECAC8F523F05585C0A3A9E5EDDB30214-27662.jpg (27.0 KB, 500x375, why are you posting horse words at 4am.jpg)
>>370746
>That Constructs had trouble with esoteric mechanics was well known to her, that is, forces and phenomena that lay outside the mundane. Magic, harmonics. They were primarily, as near as she could tell, mechanical entities, not literally, but figuratively. They could observe, even identify magic and other esoteric phenomena, but could not seem to reproduce it, and as such were limited to a smaller dimensional range in the phenomena they could manipulate for their own purposes.
>Perhaps it could be related to their lack of a soul, spirit, or ka as it was referred to. Yet that was in the realm of pure speculation, she could not say for sure whether they had them or not, if they had their own equivalent, or whether a lack of soul even factored into their lack of evolution in the field of esoterics.
"Yes, and the destroyer pair have a vested interest in the gate being completed, and as you saw, they're willing to defend it. Whether that be through negotiation, which is a new trick for them, or via force, which I have no doubt they would have employed if we hadn't stopped."
>Sunny rubbed her temple with a wing.
"Not betrayal in the way that we would understand it, based on negative emotional traits, but betrayal in the rawest, most logical sense. To have one's cake and eat it. Resource maximisation. I fear that if the forces at the Basin Village attack the destroyers, they will view that as us attempting to extract maximum value from them, both materially and strategically. If they're not aware of that already, then they may conclude that this form of betrayal is the most optimal course to achieve their objectives, and that leads into them learning how to use deception strategically."
>Taking breaths as she galloped, Sunny continued.
"They don't discriminate between factions as far as I can tell, to them, I suspect they view this entire world as a singular cohesive organisation like themselves. A collective of collectives with open communication between collectives. It would explain why they see the humans using advanced weaponry, then employ equivalent weaponry against forces whom are then outmatched by them. If they evolve deceptive capabilities, they could inflict devastating losses before that knowledge got out and the strategy accounted for in further engagements with them. Simply because no one would expect them to, anymore than we expected them to talk."
>Sunny was prepared to protest Mercy leaving her with the Construct symbiote, but she was already gone.
>She did not, and probably never would trust the thing. As far as she were concerned, Constructs were allowing themselves to be modified and bound to organics to aid their own evolution.
>What faster means of study could there be than gaining intimate access to knowledge that was otherwise not immediately obvious to them? Entirely skipping the process of study.
>This one had even learned to take an equine shape, what implications did that have?
>Whatever, the cat was already out of the box on this one, she just had to keep galloping.
>Even then, it would take her much longer than Mercy to reach Basin Village, or at least get out of the destroyer pair's jamming range.
>Hopefully Mercy would intercept them first and at least prevent them from teleporting straight into the Arena, though they would be insane to do that.
>It wasn't as if they'd done that with herself and Mercy.
>Though if they wanted to stage their forces first before attacking, they would likely choose somewhere nearby. Clear space, readily recognisable from the air, easy access path to the Arena for a large, ground-based force.
[1d6 = 6] < Apprentice Tactician
[1d6 = 1]
>Hopefully Sunny wouldn't attract negative attention while she was closer to the void.
>Or from anything more physical. It should be fine if she stuck to the roads, or what was left them.
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] < M.Stealth
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>That Constructs had trouble with esoteric mechanics was well known to her, that is, forces and phenomena that lay outside the mundane. Magic, harmonics. They were primarily, as near as she could tell, mechanical entities, not literally, but figuratively. They could observe, even identify magic and other esoteric phenomena, but could not seem to reproduce it, and as such were limited to a smaller dimensional range in the phenomena they could manipulate for their own purposes.
>Perhaps it could be related to their lack of a soul, spirit, or ka as it was referred to. Yet that was in the realm of pure speculation, she could not say for sure whether they had them or not, if they had their own equivalent, or whether a lack of soul even factored into their lack of evolution in the field of esoterics.
"Yes, and the destroyer pair have a vested interest in the gate being completed, and as you saw, they're willing to defend it. Whether that be through negotiation, which is a new trick for them, or via force, which I have no doubt they would have employed if we hadn't stopped."
>Sunny rubbed her temple with a wing.
"Not betrayal in the way that we would understand it, based on negative emotional traits, but betrayal in the rawest, most logical sense. To have one's cake and eat it. Resource maximisation. I fear that if the forces at the Basin Village attack the destroyers, they will view that as us attempting to extract maximum value from them, both materially and strategically. If they're not aware of that already, then they may conclude that this form of betrayal is the most optimal course to achieve their objectives, and that leads into them learning how to use deception strategically."
>Taking breaths as she galloped, Sunny continued.
"They don't discriminate between factions as far as I can tell, to them, I suspect they view this entire world as a singular cohesive organisation like themselves. A collective of collectives with open communication between collectives. It would explain why they see the humans using advanced weaponry, then employ equivalent weaponry against forces whom are then outmatched by them. If they evolve deceptive capabilities, they could inflict devastating losses before that knowledge got out and the strategy accounted for in further engagements with them. Simply because no one would expect them to, anymore than we expected them to talk."
>Sunny was prepared to protest Mercy leaving her with the Construct symbiote, but she was already gone.
>She did not, and probably never would trust the thing. As far as she were concerned, Constructs were allowing themselves to be modified and bound to organics to aid their own evolution.
>What faster means of study could there be than gaining intimate access to knowledge that was otherwise not immediately obvious to them? Entirely skipping the process of study.
>This one had even learned to take an equine shape, what implications did that have?
>Whatever, the cat was already out of the box on this one, she just had to keep galloping.
>Even then, it would take her much longer than Mercy to reach Basin Village, or at least get out of the destroyer pair's jamming range.
>Hopefully Mercy would intercept them first and at least prevent them from teleporting straight into the Arena, though they would be insane to do that.
>It wasn't as if they'd done that with herself and Mercy.
>Though if they wanted to stage their forces first before attacking, they would likely choose somewhere nearby. Clear space, readily recognisable from the air, easy access path to the Arena for a large, ground-based force.
[1d6 = 6] < Apprentice Tactician
[1d6 = 1]
>Hopefully Sunny wouldn't attract negative attention while she was closer to the void.
>Or from anything more physical. It should be fine if she stuck to the roads, or what was left them.
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10] < M.Stealth
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>>370715
>Concluding conversations with mental nods, he blocks out the Overherd shouting of both humans and ponies to focus on the lead mare.
>So the General took care of the Lunarites for them? He wishes he could have seen them all the way to the Citadel, but his focus needs to be here now.
>He bids them a silent sigh of good luck before getting back on track.
('Only eighty-six thousand huh.? Lovely...')
>Jeff thinks back on Sunny and Mercy's original departure. The Constructs have been chasing their communication technology, so shutting down the relay would have been a priority.
('Razorback was allowed to install a relay at the Arena to boost our communication technology across the Moors and Basin Village area, so naturally the Constructs have been attracted to and interfering with them tonite. Shutting it off would be a priority to deter them, hopefully.')
>He soaks in the mare's concerns, then opens up his TacPad's screen and goes to the live feed playback.
>Scrolling only a minute or two backward shows his camera caught the module's screen showing the jumbled choppy and somewhat creepy text of the Construct's interference.
('Well if you want proof, I may have caught the interference from my drone's control module on my camera. Which I can show others... so if that's enough, you're more than welcome to come to me and review it.')
>His gut feeling showed him something unexpected. Quick glimpses. Broken, but enough to work on.
>A Constructs will and the Basin Arena.
>Four yellow eyes, desperate, pining for its friends. Is it the Construct, or another being.
>Poison claws, reptilian, possibly attacking... Moor cats? An ambush predator, if it can sneak up on those little rascals...
>Pain. Explosions. Not from humans or ponies. Only Sunny and Mercy should be over there.
>Perhaps the Constructs, or the Rift Seeker.
>A predatory reptilian creature, hunting Moor cats and protecting its young? Maybe living around... or under the Basin Arena?
>He stops his speculation, and sticks to the solid facts he has to cross reference what he knows about the Moors natural habitat as well as opening the TacPads Flora and Fauna Encyclopedia.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Apprentice Ecologist
[1d+3]
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Proficient Lore: The Moors
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
('Understood. I'll get Razorback prepared.')
>>370725
>Clem gets a feeling for the controls, which puts him at ease. Not like its' too difficult to fly, at least.
>But it gets rough as he starts the landing process.
>Jeff physically winces as he watches the drone's camera bounce to and from multiple pathways before finally coming to a rough but safe stop.
>Letting out an amused sigh, he pats Clem on the back as the module is closed up.
"Phewhew! Nice landing! I definitely would've bungled that. I definitley out you a beer or a pack, later."
>He looks over at the Construct-combined Spas-12, something out of a sci-fi videogame. Impressive. Still a little jealous.
"Funny you mention sentient weapons. Those Lunarites offered me a weapon of my choice from their stores."
>Ge draws the diamondine biteblade from its sheath for his friend to look, before storing it back in.
"Diamondine, but light. I wouldn't call it sentient... but there's 'something' inside it. Would love to know its story and capabilities, before I put it to use."
>As Clem continues, Jeff pulls out his duct tape and one of his Tracking Gems and tapes it tightly around the module's carry handle and sets a marker for it on his TacPad's GPS.
>He takes his scope back from Clem with a "Thank You" and stores it in his pack.
>Murmuring over the Moon base's state, he squints his eyes trying to remember the name.
"Fuck. And here I was planning on going back up there, after this, unless you need help. Flowing Spark... that's that Flame Naghtmare. Why in Tartarus would she be doing tha- you know what? Yeah, lets stow it for now. Keep the passphrase to yourself. Not here."
>Jeff takes a knee and puts a hand over his eyes to block out as much external stimuli so he can focus on the human forces in the Village through the Overherd.
>He doesn't know it it was the Overherd, or the long night he's already had, but the mental exhaustion was setting in. His body wasn't too far off from catching up with him.
"I need a hot second and assess. How about you get the Rookie squads organized, Rookie Herder. Maybe a rear-guard, if we have to fight something big. I think there's something else in play over there too, not Construct. Not sure yet... heads starting to ache."
>Checking over every rank-oriented squad, he looks over any advantages they would have against Constructs. Or something Reptilian in nature. If they don't, they'd have to settle for a support capacity instead of direct action. Not like they weren't already handicapped to that...
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Teacher: Razorback Company
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
('Razorback. Collapse onto my position or wherever there's room. Unicorns are prepping portals to the Basin Arena in less than a minute. I want Elite, Mercenary, Veteran, and Rookie squads ready to move through in that order.')
>>370680
>He didn't forget Lont, who had been bringing his own Crystal-aligned allies with him. Now, they could potentially get some action.
>Beside, it's hard to miss him now with those pink wings.
('Hey Lont. How're you holding up. Where are you at with any friends you brought with you? I'm getting our guys ready to mobilize for round two.')
>Concluding conversations with mental nods, he blocks out the Overherd shouting of both humans and ponies to focus on the lead mare.
>So the General took care of the Lunarites for them? He wishes he could have seen them all the way to the Citadel, but his focus needs to be here now.
>He bids them a silent sigh of good luck before getting back on track.
('Only eighty-six thousand huh.? Lovely...')
>Jeff thinks back on Sunny and Mercy's original departure. The Constructs have been chasing their communication technology, so shutting down the relay would have been a priority.
('Razorback was allowed to install a relay at the Arena to boost our communication technology across the Moors and Basin Village area, so naturally the Constructs have been attracted to and interfering with them tonite. Shutting it off would be a priority to deter them, hopefully.')
>He soaks in the mare's concerns, then opens up his TacPad's screen and goes to the live feed playback.
>Scrolling only a minute or two backward shows his camera caught the module's screen showing the jumbled choppy and somewhat creepy text of the Construct's interference.
('Well if you want proof, I may have caught the interference from my drone's control module on my camera. Which I can show others... so if that's enough, you're more than welcome to come to me and review it.')
>His gut feeling showed him something unexpected. Quick glimpses. Broken, but enough to work on.
>A Constructs will and the Basin Arena.
>Four yellow eyes, desperate, pining for its friends. Is it the Construct, or another being.
>Poison claws, reptilian, possibly attacking... Moor cats? An ambush predator, if it can sneak up on those little rascals...
>Pain. Explosions. Not from humans or ponies. Only Sunny and Mercy should be over there.
>Perhaps the Constructs, or the Rift Seeker.
>A predatory reptilian creature, hunting Moor cats and protecting its young? Maybe living around... or under the Basin Arena?
>He stops his speculation, and sticks to the solid facts he has to cross reference what he knows about the Moors natural habitat as well as opening the TacPads Flora and Fauna Encyclopedia.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Apprentice Ecologist
[1d+3]
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Proficient Lore: The Moors
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9]
('Understood. I'll get Razorback prepared.')
>>370725
>Clem gets a feeling for the controls, which puts him at ease. Not like its' too difficult to fly, at least.
>But it gets rough as he starts the landing process.
>Jeff physically winces as he watches the drone's camera bounce to and from multiple pathways before finally coming to a rough but safe stop.
>Letting out an amused sigh, he pats Clem on the back as the module is closed up.
"Phewhew! Nice landing! I definitely would've bungled that. I definitley out you a beer or a pack, later."
>He looks over at the Construct-combined Spas-12, something out of a sci-fi videogame. Impressive. Still a little jealous.
"Funny you mention sentient weapons. Those Lunarites offered me a weapon of my choice from their stores."
>Ge draws the diamondine biteblade from its sheath for his friend to look, before storing it back in.
"Diamondine, but light. I wouldn't call it sentient... but there's 'something' inside it. Would love to know its story and capabilities, before I put it to use."
>As Clem continues, Jeff pulls out his duct tape and one of his Tracking Gems and tapes it tightly around the module's carry handle and sets a marker for it on his TacPad's GPS.
>He takes his scope back from Clem with a "Thank You" and stores it in his pack.
>Murmuring over the Moon base's state, he squints his eyes trying to remember the name.
"Fuck. And here I was planning on going back up there, after this, unless you need help. Flowing Spark... that's that Flame Naghtmare. Why in Tartarus would she be doing tha- you know what? Yeah, lets stow it for now. Keep the passphrase to yourself. Not here."
>Jeff takes a knee and puts a hand over his eyes to block out as much external stimuli so he can focus on the human forces in the Village through the Overherd.
>He doesn't know it it was the Overherd, or the long night he's already had, but the mental exhaustion was setting in. His body wasn't too far off from catching up with him.
"I need a hot second and assess. How about you get the Rookie squads organized, Rookie Herder. Maybe a rear-guard, if we have to fight something big. I think there's something else in play over there too, not Construct. Not sure yet... heads starting to ache."
>Checking over every rank-oriented squad, he looks over any advantages they would have against Constructs. Or something Reptilian in nature. If they don't, they'd have to settle for a support capacity instead of direct action. Not like they weren't already handicapped to that...
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13] <Teacher: Razorback Company
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Observer Tactician
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
('Razorback. Collapse onto my position or wherever there's room. Unicorns are prepping portals to the Basin Arena in less than a minute. I want Elite, Mercenary, Veteran, and Rookie squads ready to move through in that order.')
>>370680
>He didn't forget Lont, who had been bringing his own Crystal-aligned allies with him. Now, they could potentially get some action.
>Beside, it's hard to miss him now with those pink wings.
('Hey Lont. How're you holding up. Where are you at with any friends you brought with you? I'm getting our guys ready to mobilize for round two.')
>>370739
>Summon the flexible shield into view, this time you were able to, barely, sense it had a tenuous grasp in Tallus realspace, minimal effectiveness degraded considerably from random entropic conditions.
>At the ten second mark, it becomes steadily more difficult to retain the Tate's condition, though manage to hold it to eighteen seconds before the enchantmarent dissipates, feeling slightly drained, but not physically, from the attempt.
>Briskly scrubbing her neck, chest, then arms down, Katyal's face tightens in positive motions.
"For how small that blade is, had to be, but I'll never advise getting in close with most targets on this planet unless you're expressly prepared to stun and run, or have plenty of explosives to spare like I do. Either way, at worst you get one brutal ambush in, maybe even take a risk purifying something temporarily. Not a chance to take lightly, but you need every damned edge possible.
Believe me, I know how big a gap the strength differentials are. Me against an average combat pegasus without weapons or armor is automatically one-quarter in the pegasi's favor. I've got surprise, tactics, threats, especially against mares, and a big hammer to even the odds, but after the first strike they'll be awake and aware. And once a pony goes berserk? Not a chance.
Best option humans have is staying at LONG range in every situation, but those that specialize in range, like Minotaurs, unicorns, Mystics, Druids, Crystal ponies, Psions.. best to make friends with them. Surrendering works well too, especially if you're willing to trade information or simply leave."
>Eyeing your locker for three seconds, then back at the roof, the woman shrugs, drying her abdomen and sides.
"Minotaur blade used to be one of their blade-spear chopping designs back when the League existed, must've been destroyed during their Civil War and refit in a hurry for younger Initiates. I have precisely zero experience with swords especially since they're much harder to master than a pointy stick, axe, mace, or hammer. Best stick to using that unless there's no other choice."
>As you pull the latch open and lift it, the Overlander slows to a quiet, rolling pace, allowing you to see treetops now covered in eerily silent clouds, each one either a shimmering blood red, a violently lashing royal purple, or rippling dark blue.
>Recalling how tall the trees were before, now you couldn't calculate the width or height.
"Last time Lunar clouds anything like that were spotted.. started with Lunars being accused of crimes they didn't commit and ended with Plasmahooves executing an entire city-state's worth of ponies.
And no, nothing that simple. I see the same way Saddle Arabian Mystics do. I'm secondmare in Folu's herd, learned to sense meanings, ka, intentions, moods, concepts, herds, and connections through her. Specific thoughts, feelings, or images are rare, but they do happen. As for those-"
>Folding the towel in half and brushing her legs with deliberate firmness, Katyal's voice drops to a low, deeply respectful roll.
"The Nightmare is about to become the Reaper once more, and Tallus is getting ready to show what Winter truly is to those that either forgot or don't know."
*"We've been seeing them for a while now, nothing.. active from what we can tell. Passed a ton of destroyed and looted Dynasty ruins so far, nothing with an intact roof. Even the underground buildings were collapsed, or... removed, weird as that sounds to say."*
*"Hm. There is a deadfall of trees northeast of here three-point-six miles, that should work."*
*"Not an option, there's always some fucking creature making a home where there's even the slightest cover."*
*"I cannot possibly fit your vehicle inside the Storm King's Room and staying outside even with all possible wards and protections is a lethal risk. The Room has more than enough space for ten, but we will need to rotate a guard throughout the day."*
>Blinking from her position, Dul stands up, shaking each leg from its taffy appearance into their previously dimly shined state.
"Dul not need sleep. Sirens lots watch things, stuff, ponies. Dul not get bored, Dul have lots to think of."
>Tapping her knees and flexing out both legs, the First Responder's
"Hodch, you know more about these giant regions than all of us combined."
*"Well.. back when I was still a naive young stallion with the Underground, and Spiral, we were able to survey some of the ruin's surroundings when the various locals did not feel like destroying everything in sight, let alone the cursed flora.
There was much worse beyond the barriers; old experimarents, some Elemarentally imbued mutants from the same, no less than five Abominations, and no Undead or Infected. Then there were the new creatures from the so-called mythical 'Center' the older Crystal ponies are loathe to talk about. I do not want to think about those just yet.
We have not seen much out of or in place, and there have been no megafauna yet. The flora though.. clusters of parli-fenar, mirror-toxin vines, or chillsnap poison leaves are not as bad, those I can treat. I would rather risk the fauna than try to continue with all of us suffering from further sleep deprivation."*
*"Fine, we'll check it out but Ah ain't happy 'bout this."*
*"Your engrams are slipping in."*
*"....Ah know.."*
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <GM.Mysticism: Cascading-Sweep
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Siren's Gaze
>Summon the flexible shield into view, this time you were able to, barely, sense it had a tenuous grasp in Tallus realspace, minimal effectiveness degraded considerably from random entropic conditions.
>At the ten second mark, it becomes steadily more difficult to retain the Tate's condition, though manage to hold it to eighteen seconds before the enchantmarent dissipates, feeling slightly drained, but not physically, from the attempt.
>Briskly scrubbing her neck, chest, then arms down, Katyal's face tightens in positive motions.
"For how small that blade is, had to be, but I'll never advise getting in close with most targets on this planet unless you're expressly prepared to stun and run, or have plenty of explosives to spare like I do. Either way, at worst you get one brutal ambush in, maybe even take a risk purifying something temporarily. Not a chance to take lightly, but you need every damned edge possible.
Believe me, I know how big a gap the strength differentials are. Me against an average combat pegasus without weapons or armor is automatically one-quarter in the pegasi's favor. I've got surprise, tactics, threats, especially against mares, and a big hammer to even the odds, but after the first strike they'll be awake and aware. And once a pony goes berserk? Not a chance.
Best option humans have is staying at LONG range in every situation, but those that specialize in range, like Minotaurs, unicorns, Mystics, Druids, Crystal ponies, Psions.. best to make friends with them. Surrendering works well too, especially if you're willing to trade information or simply leave."
>Eyeing your locker for three seconds, then back at the roof, the woman shrugs, drying her abdomen and sides.
"Minotaur blade used to be one of their blade-spear chopping designs back when the League existed, must've been destroyed during their Civil War and refit in a hurry for younger Initiates. I have precisely zero experience with swords especially since they're much harder to master than a pointy stick, axe, mace, or hammer. Best stick to using that unless there's no other choice."
>As you pull the latch open and lift it, the Overlander slows to a quiet, rolling pace, allowing you to see treetops now covered in eerily silent clouds, each one either a shimmering blood red, a violently lashing royal purple, or rippling dark blue.
>Recalling how tall the trees were before, now you couldn't calculate the width or height.
"Last time Lunar clouds anything like that were spotted.. started with Lunars being accused of crimes they didn't commit and ended with Plasmahooves executing an entire city-state's worth of ponies.
And no, nothing that simple. I see the same way Saddle Arabian Mystics do. I'm secondmare in Folu's herd, learned to sense meanings, ka, intentions, moods, concepts, herds, and connections through her. Specific thoughts, feelings, or images are rare, but they do happen. As for those-"
>Folding the towel in half and brushing her legs with deliberate firmness, Katyal's voice drops to a low, deeply respectful roll.
"The Nightmare is about to become the Reaper once more, and Tallus is getting ready to show what Winter truly is to those that either forgot or don't know."
*"We've been seeing them for a while now, nothing.. active from what we can tell. Passed a ton of destroyed and looted Dynasty ruins so far, nothing with an intact roof. Even the underground buildings were collapsed, or... removed, weird as that sounds to say."*
*"Hm. There is a deadfall of trees northeast of here three-point-six miles, that should work."*
*"Not an option, there's always some fucking creature making a home where there's even the slightest cover."*
*"I cannot possibly fit your vehicle inside the Storm King's Room and staying outside even with all possible wards and protections is a lethal risk. The Room has more than enough space for ten, but we will need to rotate a guard throughout the day."*
>Blinking from her position, Dul stands up, shaking each leg from its taffy appearance into their previously dimly shined state.
"Dul not need sleep. Sirens lots watch things, stuff, ponies. Dul not get bored, Dul have lots to think of."
>Tapping her knees and flexing out both legs, the First Responder's
"Hodch, you know more about these giant regions than all of us combined."
*"Well.. back when I was still a naive young stallion with the Underground, and Spiral, we were able to survey some of the ruin's surroundings when the various locals did not feel like destroying everything in sight, let alone the cursed flora.
There was much worse beyond the barriers; old experimarents, some Elemarentally imbued mutants from the same, no less than five Abominations, and no Undead or Infected. Then there were the new creatures from the so-called mythical 'Center' the older Crystal ponies are loathe to talk about. I do not want to think about those just yet.
We have not seen much out of or in place, and there have been no megafauna yet. The flora though.. clusters of parli-fenar, mirror-toxin vines, or chillsnap poison leaves are not as bad, those I can treat. I would rather risk the fauna than try to continue with all of us suffering from further sleep deprivation."*
*"Fine, we'll check it out but Ah ain't happy 'bout this."*
*"Your engrams are slipping in."*
*"....Ah know.."*
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <GM.Mysticism: Cascading-Sweep
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Siren's Gaze
File (): 40C0CF694E007432980DCE38ACB6751D-131118.jpg (128.0 KB, 600x800, Straw2-scaled.webp)
>>370714
>Lont jittered when the voice of the young mare abruptly burst into his head and admonished him.
>He looked off to her general direction, and spotting her raised lance thought back an apology.
('I sincerely apologize.')
>Cutting the connection, he turned his attention to the unstable mess of elements that was now Broken Hoof. Silently he watched from his commanding vantage point (of half a metre) on top of the ramparts as she stepped onto a Matrice, and from there her destination was a mystery.
>The wounded were being tended to, he was not needed. Lont was fine with this.
>>370725
>>370750
>As he was surveying the wounded, the Reaper drone flew into view. He tracked it with a keen eye having never seeing it before. And then watched it land as graceful as a wooden duck on water.
>And there at the fountain was Jeff and Clem and a pony, a stallion by the looks of it.
('Hello there Jeff.')
>Lont went to wave at his fellow Operators but his wing fully outstretched instead while the arm he wished to use remained still at his side.
>"Mm, don't like that that."
>With effort he closed his wing and along with the other held them tight behind his back as he made his way for the trio at the fountain.
('The Ethereal Vokreed is here and from the sounds of it he is eager to continue the fight. As for the Crystal Ponies themselves they will be here in a few minutes. We can leave some here to help tend with the wounded and take the rest with us.')
>He thought-talked as he navigated his way to the fountain through a sea of ponies.
>Stopping before them he took his helmet off, and gave both Operators a handshake. With the stallion he gave a respectful bow.
"I could talk to Vokreed on what to do when we reach the Arena, since myself and High Grand Champion Belregarde are on good speaking terms he might heed my counsel."
>He glanced at Clemency with a small grin.
"What a night, I still taste that hayfry on my tongue."
>Lont jittered when the voice of the young mare abruptly burst into his head and admonished him.
>He looked off to her general direction, and spotting her raised lance thought back an apology.
('I sincerely apologize.')
>Cutting the connection, he turned his attention to the unstable mess of elements that was now Broken Hoof. Silently he watched from his commanding vantage point (of half a metre) on top of the ramparts as she stepped onto a Matrice, and from there her destination was a mystery.
>The wounded were being tended to, he was not needed. Lont was fine with this.
>>370725
>>370750
>As he was surveying the wounded, the Reaper drone flew into view. He tracked it with a keen eye having never seeing it before. And then watched it land as graceful as a wooden duck on water.
>And there at the fountain was Jeff and Clem and a pony, a stallion by the looks of it.
('Hello there Jeff.')
>Lont went to wave at his fellow Operators but his wing fully outstretched instead while the arm he wished to use remained still at his side.
>"Mm, don't like that that."
>With effort he closed his wing and along with the other held them tight behind his back as he made his way for the trio at the fountain.
('The Ethereal Vokreed is here and from the sounds of it he is eager to continue the fight. As for the Crystal Ponies themselves they will be here in a few minutes. We can leave some here to help tend with the wounded and take the rest with us.')
>He thought-talked as he navigated his way to the fountain through a sea of ponies.
>Stopping before them he took his helmet off, and gave both Operators a handshake. With the stallion he gave a respectful bow.
"I could talk to Vokreed on what to do when we reach the Arena, since myself and High Grand Champion Belregarde are on good speaking terms he might heed my counsel."
>He glanced at Clemency with a small grin.
"What a night, I still taste that hayfry on my tongue."
>>370736
"Don't worry about it, I-"
>Soft, warm snout creasing heavily, the chefmare's eyes shut, then crack open as she gives a slight, challenging grin, pointing her hoof at your chest and wiggling it.
"It's after dusk and probably going to be a long night, but you take care!"
>Approaching the table, the first to look up is a mid-30's.. something or other, the pale skin and brown eyes not easily recognizable, wearing what looked like some form of modular, though quite new, rubber-coated armor plates waves at the over ten unoccupied spaces, a light, tired tone indicating either a lack of sleep or insomnia.
"Course not, take a seat wherever you like."
>Lifting a hand in greeting, at least that's what you think it was, the second was probably around the first speaker's age, his accent and gear making him out as northern Mediterranean.
"More company's always better."
"If there isn't a sign or ass in the road, spot's free for the taking."
>Spoken by a strictly mid-40's man in a rough, poorly patched uniform, consumed by cleaning an unusual, thin yellow-red grime off a newer large caliber PPSh variant that looked fairly new.
>Nodding in your direction without moving, the oldest man's eyes crinkle at the edges with a slight, absolutely menacing grin, speaking in a menacingly thick northern European accent.
"So long as you aren't the short little filly that came straight out of the sun, kick back, relax, and toss your boots off."
>The rest of the squad seize up in complete unison, the man looking up with hard, though welcoming dark blue eyes.
"Trakkel Gorbjeurnson at your service, leader of these mare-stomped bastards. Elite Squad Five, but just call us Too Shocked To Fuck Up.. ain't that right?"
>Motioning at the rest, barely recovering from his oddly worded previous jab, a near-total round of facepalms, haunted expressions, and deeply regretful stares take over their faces, excluding the third as Trakkel snorts merrily.
"Joking. We don't have a callsign yet, but we all need a reminder now and then.."
>Taking on a subdued cast as you seat yourself between the first pair in the table's center, his gaze flickers across the other tables, left hand's index finger flicking up and down rapidly.
"Huh. Last night, today, and tonight now make.. eight more humans on Tallus. Including you, that makes nine new Operators."
>Head tilting left, he makes a slight frown, glancing behind him to eye the other tables, then the obvious rookies, finally facing you, visibly mollified.
"We've never gotten this many before, and two were frazzled to all fuck last night. You saw the one with a baseball bat and battered helmet? Kept screaming she'd been poisoned or something, had to be sedated by Nova and.. well.. put in a room with a certain ice queen bitchmare that can't speak Common. Might be calm now but I don't trust her. Other one's still in shock."
"Don't worry about it, I-"
>Soft, warm snout creasing heavily, the chefmare's eyes shut, then crack open as she gives a slight, challenging grin, pointing her hoof at your chest and wiggling it.
"It's after dusk and probably going to be a long night, but you take care!"
>Approaching the table, the first to look up is a mid-30's.. something or other, the pale skin and brown eyes not easily recognizable, wearing what looked like some form of modular, though quite new, rubber-coated armor plates waves at the over ten unoccupied spaces, a light, tired tone indicating either a lack of sleep or insomnia.
"Course not, take a seat wherever you like."
>Lifting a hand in greeting, at least that's what you think it was, the second was probably around the first speaker's age, his accent and gear making him out as northern Mediterranean.
"More company's always better."
"If there isn't a sign or ass in the road, spot's free for the taking."
>Spoken by a strictly mid-40's man in a rough, poorly patched uniform, consumed by cleaning an unusual, thin yellow-red grime off a newer large caliber PPSh variant that looked fairly new.
>Nodding in your direction without moving, the oldest man's eyes crinkle at the edges with a slight, absolutely menacing grin, speaking in a menacingly thick northern European accent.
"So long as you aren't the short little filly that came straight out of the sun, kick back, relax, and toss your boots off."
>The rest of the squad seize up in complete unison, the man looking up with hard, though welcoming dark blue eyes.
"Trakkel Gorbjeurnson at your service, leader of these mare-stomped bastards. Elite Squad Five, but just call us Too Shocked To Fuck Up.. ain't that right?"
>Motioning at the rest, barely recovering from his oddly worded previous jab, a near-total round of facepalms, haunted expressions, and deeply regretful stares take over their faces, excluding the third as Trakkel snorts merrily.
"Joking. We don't have a callsign yet, but we all need a reminder now and then.."
>Taking on a subdued cast as you seat yourself between the first pair in the table's center, his gaze flickers across the other tables, left hand's index finger flicking up and down rapidly.
"Huh. Last night, today, and tonight now make.. eight more humans on Tallus. Including you, that makes nine new Operators."
>Head tilting left, he makes a slight frown, glancing behind him to eye the other tables, then the obvious rookies, finally facing you, visibly mollified.
"We've never gotten this many before, and two were frazzled to all fuck last night. You saw the one with a baseball bat and battered helmet? Kept screaming she'd been poisoned or something, had to be sedated by Nova and.. well.. put in a room with a certain ice queen bitchmare that can't speak Common. Might be calm now but I don't trust her. Other one's still in shock."
>>370752
>Pareidolia nods at Katyal's assessment, only adding a brief comment.
"Have considered a halberd or spear. Found swords easier to handle in unknown situations compared to maces. Flexibility preferred to the committed momentum of a mace swing."
>Upon seeing the clouds, a similarly dark expression covers his face as he grimly resecures the hatch.
(Like a 'calm' dimensional breach...)
>He quickly moves to his locker to wipe off the modicum of sweat his suit didn't wick away from his face and extremities.
"Great. Just like the breaches from my world. Though... "
(Given the Nightmare's last known status, weren't they heavily injured? Why unleash wrath overall? May be a subconscious phenomenon? Shouldn't the target be Constructs?)
>He exhales and closes his eyes, redonning his helmet and equipment while quietly verbalizing his thoughts.
"Or Lucky's conspiracy runs even deeper than anticipated."
>Giving himself a moment to collate any reports that Shiibo may have had, he confirms all systems to be running nominally.
>As Hodch and Lonestar communicate over the radio, Pareidolia runs an equipment check out of force of habit before returning to the bench line to sit across from Dul.
"Will you need to eat here at some point?"
>Pareidolia nods at Katyal's assessment, only adding a brief comment.
"Have considered a halberd or spear. Found swords easier to handle in unknown situations compared to maces. Flexibility preferred to the committed momentum of a mace swing."
>Upon seeing the clouds, a similarly dark expression covers his face as he grimly resecures the hatch.
(Like a 'calm' dimensional breach...)
>He quickly moves to his locker to wipe off the modicum of sweat his suit didn't wick away from his face and extremities.
"Great. Just like the breaches from my world. Though... "
(Given the Nightmare's last known status, weren't they heavily injured? Why unleash wrath overall? May be a subconscious phenomenon? Shouldn't the target be Constructs?)
>He exhales and closes his eyes, redonning his helmet and equipment while quietly verbalizing his thoughts.
"Or Lucky's conspiracy runs even deeper than anticipated."
>Giving himself a moment to collate any reports that Shiibo may have had, he confirms all systems to be running nominally.
>As Hodch and Lonestar communicate over the radio, Pareidolia runs an equipment check out of force of habit before returning to the bench line to sit across from Dul.
"Will you need to eat here at some point?"
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370762
>>370747
"The best option between numerous poor choices? I would have to s- no, neither of those tracked models presents significant improvements over prior and later designs. Although I would enjoy having turrets, perhaps light sponsons would be more suitable-"
>Spinning around to sit on the screen's internal table, mini-Wild's antennae flick in distrustful motions while picking up the symbol in both hands.
"You are correct, Mom: the majority of Post-Industrial Era human worlds have done so, and it technically is a chemical symbol, one you may need to remember. Once the majority of my primary systems are.. replaced, I will provide you with a small handheld unit capable of detecting the majority of toxins, poisons, chemicals, radiation, Elemarentals, and most other hazards.
And I still need to entirely reconstruct my standard sensor arrays.."
>Watching the by-now familiar process of Wild fabricating mechanical components together outside, thin glowing lances from her tendrils aiding to fuse and shape hot steel together in large structural pieces from her wrist to deep inside the crumpled forearm.
"That Which Cannot Be Named is neither unstoppable nor a creature. I am also neither of those.
In simple terminology I am hybrid: five-eighths human, one-eighth pony, one-eighth Eldritch, and one-eighth mechanical. The majority aspects of my psyche and body are human-relevant mechanical. The functional aspects are Eldritch and equine, though I do not yet know the full extent of what that means."
>Attempting to flex damaged fingers and armored thumb, what succeeds is a few obnoxious grinding noises and erratic electricity running down poorly replaced filament cables.
"Primary positive reports: I'm not detecting Construct or potential hostiles within five miles above water surface. I would attempt to analyze the unidentified aerial contacts' transmissions but I do not believe they are a priority.
Primary negative report: I have definitely put my wrist together wrong and cannot move the fingers. It also burns a little... you're ALL getting replaced right now you STUPID LITTLE FUCKS!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (5+12) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-8
>Furiously stabbing into the clusterfuck of misshapen components, the left screen's view returns to a zoomed in forward focusing camera view, little more than ash-covered sand and waves ahead for the next miile, increasing her pace with each heavy footfall.
"Secondary positive reports: we will be clear of smoke and smog conditions within ten minutes assuming I am able to reach thirty miles//sixty kilometers per hour-"
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <M.Nuclear Walk
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
"The best option between numerous poor choices? I would have to s- no, neither of those tracked models presents significant improvements over prior and later designs. Although I would enjoy having turrets, perhaps light sponsons would be more suitable-"
>Spinning around to sit on the screen's internal table, mini-Wild's antennae flick in distrustful motions while picking up the symbol in both hands.
"You are correct, Mom: the majority of Post-Industrial Era human worlds have done so, and it technically is a chemical symbol, one you may need to remember. Once the majority of my primary systems are.. replaced, I will provide you with a small handheld unit capable of detecting the majority of toxins, poisons, chemicals, radiation, Elemarentals, and most other hazards.
And I still need to entirely reconstruct my standard sensor arrays.."
>Watching the by-now familiar process of Wild fabricating mechanical components together outside, thin glowing lances from her tendrils aiding to fuse and shape hot steel together in large structural pieces from her wrist to deep inside the crumpled forearm.
"That Which Cannot Be Named is neither unstoppable nor a creature. I am also neither of those.
In simple terminology I am hybrid: five-eighths human, one-eighth pony, one-eighth Eldritch, and one-eighth mechanical. The majority aspects of my psyche and body are human-relevant mechanical. The functional aspects are Eldritch and equine, though I do not yet know the full extent of what that means."
>Attempting to flex damaged fingers and armored thumb, what succeeds is a few obnoxious grinding noises and erratic electricity running down poorly replaced filament cables.
"Primary positive reports: I'm not detecting Construct or potential hostiles within five miles above water surface. I would attempt to analyze the unidentified aerial contacts' transmissions but I do not believe they are a priority.
Primary negative report: I have definitely put my wrist together wrong and cannot move the fingers. It also burns a little... you're ALL getting replaced right now you STUPID LITTLE FUCKS!"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (5+12) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-8
>Furiously stabbing into the clusterfuck of misshapen components, the left screen's view returns to a zoomed in forward focusing camera view, little more than ash-covered sand and waves ahead for the next miile, increasing her pace with each heavy footfall.
"Secondary positive reports: we will be clear of smoke and smog conditions within ten minutes assuming I am able to reach thirty miles//sixty kilometers per hour-"
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <M.Nuclear Walk
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
>>370748
"Krinza is about to exchange precisely one hundred thousand Bits to acquire six pounds each of the most common four Elemarental steels and ten pounds of whitesteel. If he had access to the Dragonspine Mountains, or... the Diamond Dog Dens, the cost would would be one-twentieth or so what it is current.
'Making do with the shit I have to put up' seems to be his forte. Much like my teacher was in two mareners."
>Unbothered by the amount that would be more than enough to buy at least five fully completed and furnished castles, Helping places both glowing titanium straps on Krinza's anvil, affixing forehooves to the ends of both and pulling them out slightly, horn covered in spiraling sigils that were quite familiar.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
>Letting go of the straps after half a minute, then placing each on the furnace's edge, the large unicorn turns a subdued, angry visage inwards.
"An abominable state of existence. Power must be used to benefit all in tune, not the dissonant or disconnected few. That is the precise reason why my species has ingrained itself to guide, teach, discover, and rediscover, not to seize authority, control, or dominate. Excluding the Germaneighans of course, they have few such leanings."
>Turning a quarter around to face the central tables, his left front hoof points southwards, a large, thick red and gray volume streaks towards him.
>Opening to one of at least a baker's dozen bookmarks, then pausing, Helping makes a deep, sincerely apology frown.
"This is not.. I did not intend to summon your personal difficulties to the conscious forefront."
>Glancing upwards, then back to you with a sour expression, he presents an upturned, bent right hoof; a sign of painful regret.
"My apology will not be enough, but perhaps these may provide a few leads:
Across the Moors there is an archaic, informal organization known as the Cult of the Dark Horse. The majority is of course batponies, and smaller number of Ferron pegasi from most of their clans and sub-clans. They are primarily scholars and researchers that study the Moors' history, though often delve into the unknown.
I believe Tidelock Bog in the Deep Moors is home to their headquarters, and Cairn Wharf is a large trading port where marely of them go to trade finds.
There is however a small fortress-town by the name of Inshore Drains, or similar, that was recently reclaimed, recovered, and rebuilt. Torven has spoken of it numerous times as a place that Cult's explorers meet often."
"Krinza is about to exchange precisely one hundred thousand Bits to acquire six pounds each of the most common four Elemarental steels and ten pounds of whitesteel. If he had access to the Dragonspine Mountains, or... the Diamond Dog Dens, the cost would would be one-twentieth or so what it is current.
'Making do with the shit I have to put up' seems to be his forte. Much like my teacher was in two mareners."
>Unbothered by the amount that would be more than enough to buy at least five fully completed and furnished castles, Helping places both glowing titanium straps on Krinza's anvil, affixing forehooves to the ends of both and pulling them out slightly, horn covered in spiraling sigils that were quite familiar.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
>Letting go of the straps after half a minute, then placing each on the furnace's edge, the large unicorn turns a subdued, angry visage inwards.
"An abominable state of existence. Power must be used to benefit all in tune, not the dissonant or disconnected few. That is the precise reason why my species has ingrained itself to guide, teach, discover, and rediscover, not to seize authority, control, or dominate. Excluding the Germaneighans of course, they have few such leanings."
>Turning a quarter around to face the central tables, his left front hoof points southwards, a large, thick red and gray volume streaks towards him.
>Opening to one of at least a baker's dozen bookmarks, then pausing, Helping makes a deep, sincerely apology frown.
"This is not.. I did not intend to summon your personal difficulties to the conscious forefront."
>Glancing upwards, then back to you with a sour expression, he presents an upturned, bent right hoof; a sign of painful regret.
"My apology will not be enough, but perhaps these may provide a few leads:
Across the Moors there is an archaic, informal organization known as the Cult of the Dark Horse. The majority is of course batponies, and smaller number of Ferron pegasi from most of their clans and sub-clans. They are primarily scholars and researchers that study the Moors' history, though often delve into the unknown.
I believe Tidelock Bog in the Deep Moors is home to their headquarters, and Cairn Wharf is a large trading port where marely of them go to trade finds.
There is however a small fortress-town by the name of Inshore Drains, or similar, that was recently reclaimed, recovered, and rebuilt. Torven has spoken of it numerous times as a place that Cult's explorers meet often."
>>370749
"I will know whether those are true or not soon enough-"
>As Mercy leaves, the feral batpony-Construct drifts over and down left to take up a non-herded stallion's traditional escorting position, pearlescent right eye and right ear rotating towards you, then returns its attention forwards.
>The face creases, right wingclaws stretching out and lathing a small, flat overlay of triangular symbols between it and you.
>....which you couldn't read.
>Gliding over 400M before landing into a fast trot, your first idea was well founded: hide everypony in the trees, just like the Viet Pon do!
>Though, the sheer numbers of unicorns, earth and Crystal Ponies, and humans would take at least a quarter hour to find enough space, let alone create, assemble, or move defensive positions onto.
>What you knew of the Moors Restoration Project from Shanis was that a human from Razorback had acquired enough trust, connections, funding, then military and civil assurances from most the Lunar factions, sub-factions included.
>With the human providing limited tactical aid, entire battlelines of 2,000 to 5,000 mixed batponies, Ferron, unicorns, with support from the Minotaur Hegemony, earth ponies from the Dragonspine Mountains, and a few that weren't publicly known, including Tartarus Isle's Psions and Arcane Blades, had cleared virtually all of the known Moors habitants,
>Carefully, or outright violently, claiming hundreds of older pathways, roads, outposts, towers, towns, cities, and much more, the sudden population 'increase' from rediscovered batpony colonies, and a few Ferron villages, had created such an excess of trade potential that Stalliongrad, Prance, Neighsia, and Germaneigh were still, politely, competing to place neutral outposts for exotic goods and food.
>The path you were currently on was definitely Psion-reconstructed, and knowing how Lunars mixed and matched defensive structures when possible, there would be a massively reinforced five level pegasi watch tower every half mile, a three level batpony tower every two miles, and a two level outpost between each.
>Of course, the second and third were probably already being used for fruit, vegetable, leaf, and edible insect storage, along with the various unusual swamp finds... but mostly sleeping batponies.
>Intersections between paths and roads were hoofled differently, usually by a pair of heavily armored three, four, or possibly five level barrack-garrison opposite each other, intended to act as functional miniature villages, storage depots, and clinics.
>While the gnarled hardwood trees would provide cover for the less mobile long ranged forces, it was considerably more advantageous to lure the Riftseeker out into a difficult section of swampland surrounded by flora where the more specialized Psion and Crystal pony forces could, theoretically, trap it.
>Sinking into the deeper, lesser used Void spectrums with ease and reaching a comfortable four-point run, the batpony-Construct retains its escort duty; upon that realize it perceived Mercy and you as an ally, otherwise the herd-state wouldn't have allowed it to know where you were.
>Pearly white eyes gleam as they narrow, the corners tinged by faint orange glows.
[1d6 = 2] <???
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
"I will know whether those are true or not soon enough-"
>As Mercy leaves, the feral batpony-Construct drifts over and down left to take up a non-herded stallion's traditional escorting position, pearlescent right eye and right ear rotating towards you, then returns its attention forwards.
>The face creases, right wingclaws stretching out and lathing a small, flat overlay of triangular symbols between it and you.
>....which you couldn't read.
>Gliding over 400M before landing into a fast trot, your first idea was well founded: hide everypony in the trees, just like the Viet Pon do!
>Though, the sheer numbers of unicorns, earth and Crystal Ponies, and humans would take at least a quarter hour to find enough space, let alone create, assemble, or move defensive positions onto.
>What you knew of the Moors Restoration Project from Shanis was that a human from Razorback had acquired enough trust, connections, funding, then military and civil assurances from most the Lunar factions, sub-factions included.
>With the human providing limited tactical aid, entire battlelines of 2,000 to 5,000 mixed batponies, Ferron, unicorns, with support from the Minotaur Hegemony, earth ponies from the Dragonspine Mountains, and a few that weren't publicly known, including Tartarus Isle's Psions and Arcane Blades, had cleared virtually all of the known Moors habitants,
>Carefully, or outright violently, claiming hundreds of older pathways, roads, outposts, towers, towns, cities, and much more, the sudden population 'increase' from rediscovered batpony colonies, and a few Ferron villages, had created such an excess of trade potential that Stalliongrad, Prance, Neighsia, and Germaneigh were still, politely, competing to place neutral outposts for exotic goods and food.
>The path you were currently on was definitely Psion-reconstructed, and knowing how Lunars mixed and matched defensive structures when possible, there would be a massively reinforced five level pegasi watch tower every half mile, a three level batpony tower every two miles, and a two level outpost between each.
>Of course, the second and third were probably already being used for fruit, vegetable, leaf, and edible insect storage, along with the various unusual swamp finds... but mostly sleeping batponies.
>Intersections between paths and roads were hoofled differently, usually by a pair of heavily armored three, four, or possibly five level barrack-garrison opposite each other, intended to act as functional miniature villages, storage depots, and clinics.
>While the gnarled hardwood trees would provide cover for the less mobile long ranged forces, it was considerably more advantageous to lure the Riftseeker out into a difficult section of swampland surrounded by flora where the more specialized Psion and Crystal pony forces could, theoretically, trap it.
>Sinking into the deeper, lesser used Void spectrums with ease and reaching a comfortable four-point run, the batpony-Construct retains its escort duty; upon that realize it perceived Mercy and you as an ally, otherwise the herd-state wouldn't have allowed it to know where you were.
>Pearly white eyes gleam as they narrow, the corners tinged by faint orange glows.
[1d6 = 2] <???
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
>>370764
>Sunny eyed the triangles, possibly some form of written language for lack of a better term. She flashed the Batstruct the pegasi sign for non-comprehension and followed it up with a curt response.
"I do not understand."
>What it was attempting to communicate would have to remain a mystery to her, Mercy could clearly understand it due to their bond, but lacking the same kind of in-depth knowledge, Sunny could not.
>She racked her brains regardless for a scrap of any remotely related knowledge to Construct symbols, glyphs or sigils. Obviously they had something to represent data that they transmitted between themselves, and this had to be an expression of that.
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] < Pupil Researcher
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>There was really little for her to do except gallop. No overherd contact, no way of knowing when it would reestablished, if it ever was. No way of knowing if the Basin Village defense had succeeded. For all she knew, they were all dead, or they'd recovered the Harpy vessel and made a run for it.
>If the overherd was being jammed, odds were that human radio transmissions were as well, or Mercy's radio lacked the necessary range to get in contact now that the relay had been shut down. Though it couldn't hurt to try.
>She touched a wingtip to the unit.
*"Any on this channel, respond, over."*
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>Sunny eyed the triangles, possibly some form of written language for lack of a better term. She flashed the Batstruct the pegasi sign for non-comprehension and followed it up with a curt response.
"I do not understand."
>What it was attempting to communicate would have to remain a mystery to her, Mercy could clearly understand it due to their bond, but lacking the same kind of in-depth knowledge, Sunny could not.
>She racked her brains regardless for a scrap of any remotely related knowledge to Construct symbols, glyphs or sigils. Obviously they had something to represent data that they transmitted between themselves, and this had to be an expression of that.
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] < Pupil Researcher
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>There was really little for her to do except gallop. No overherd contact, no way of knowing when it would reestablished, if it ever was. No way of knowing if the Basin Village defense had succeeded. For all she knew, they were all dead, or they'd recovered the Harpy vessel and made a run for it.
>If the overherd was being jammed, odds were that human radio transmissions were as well, or Mercy's radio lacked the necessary range to get in contact now that the relay had been shut down. Though it couldn't hurt to try.
>She touched a wingtip to the unit.
*"Any on this channel, respond, over."*
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
>>370759
(Mission accomplished.)
>José nodded softly with a smile at the various welcomes from the tablegoers, letting out a stifled yet genuine chuckle at Trakkel's attempt at humor.
>It's shocking so many natural comedians come from a military background of some kind.
>That, or he was easy to amuse.
>Considering the endless barrages of stress that the usual operator apparently goes through, that might be an advantage.
>Blinking twice, Gallo soon hummed pensively at mister Gorbjeumson's insight on notable events.
"I don't think I have, though I did have to throw a molotov at a poison ball thing before the attack happened, so I wouldn't outright dismiss her claim."
>A somewhat uneasy smile soon came through, being reminded of what apparently was one of the deadliest sanity hazards in the base from what he recalled.
"Hopefully after some time she'll recover with the right equipmarent. They seem qualified."
(Mission accomplished.)
>José nodded softly with a smile at the various welcomes from the tablegoers, letting out a stifled yet genuine chuckle at Trakkel's attempt at humor.
>It's shocking so many natural comedians come from a military background of some kind.
>That, or he was easy to amuse.
>Considering the endless barrages of stress that the usual operator apparently goes through, that might be an advantage.
>Blinking twice, Gallo soon hummed pensively at mister Gorbjeumson's insight on notable events.
"I don't think I have, though I did have to throw a molotov at a poison ball thing before the attack happened, so I wouldn't outright dismiss her claim."
>A somewhat uneasy smile soon came through, being reminded of what apparently was one of the deadliest sanity hazards in the base from what he recalled.
"Hopefully after some time she'll recover with the right equipmarent. They seem qualified."
>>370762
"The best option between numerous poor choices would be to keep them as strictly parade vehicles."
>Thinking on that for a moment, I quirk an eyebrow.
"We can consider that once we're back home and safe."
>
"Also sponsons would probably look ugly on you. Machine gun ball turrets would probably be a lot better."
>Shrugging, I look her mini self in the eye thing.
"Close enough to a creature for me, so you and your... partial father, are creatures."
>frowning a little at the mention of transmissions, I think for a moment.
"It... Might be a good idea to analyze those transmissions. Might be someone from Razorback, or at the very least someone that isn't a construct."
>It could be a distress call, for the luck we've gone through today.
"The best option between numerous poor choices would be to keep them as strictly parade vehicles."
>Thinking on that for a moment, I quirk an eyebrow.
"We can consider that once we're back home and safe."
>
"Also sponsons would probably look ugly on you. Machine gun ball turrets would probably be a lot better."
>Shrugging, I look her mini self in the eye thing.
"Close enough to a creature for me, so you and your... partial father, are creatures."
>frowning a little at the mention of transmissions, I think for a moment.
"It... Might be a good idea to analyze those transmissions. Might be someone from Razorback, or at the very least someone that isn't a construct."
>It could be a distress call, for the luck we've gone through today.
>>370760
>Making no attempt to hide another mareish inspection, the sense that you were being appraised holding a variety of weapons, in various positions no less, sets in until Katyal nods.
"Huh. Pretty wiry, compact, great potential's high.. halberd would suit you more, got the right build and center of balance to master one."
"Dul say human-stallion have good shape!"
>Openly surprised at the Planar faux-mare's exclamation, Katyal tries to turn that into a blank look, which becomes a mildly lecherous half-grin.
"So does that mean you like him?"
>Ears twitching at the oddly toned question, Dul's left forehoof lifts, though sets it down after a few seconds, blinking in puzzlemarent.
"...what? Dul not know what you mean."
"Oh for th- nevermind, it's not important right now~"
>Head turning towards the driver compartment door, a deliberately faux-jealous wink is given, one that had the potentials of untold suffering and frustration, before stuffing the towel into her bag.
"Nothing like a breach in reality dude, not even close. She must've taken massive injuries and seen a large number of losses tonight, otherwise this wouldn't be happening right now. In short, she's putting the scholar and dam aside for the killer and ruiner."
>Returning to her earlier critical nature, Katyal pulls on her armored clothing with ease, rapidly glancing over each grenade, tapping pins, then rummages through pouches.
"Red signifies Blood, purple is Void, and blue is Moon. In purely equine terms, meanings, and representations: protect one's kin, destroy all known enemies, and ensure safety when task one and two are completed.
Or if you want the quick and dirty version: every single Lunar pony is now waiting for their goddess to be aided into her 'other' state of existence. Only problem is I'm not sure there's a single pony accepted enough by the Lunar gestalt to 'help' her."
>Halted from inspecting a claymore at the name, the woman becomes entirely rigid, muscles coiling under her skin as she speaks in a thin, close equivalent to controlled equine rage.
"If any of us survive this fucking mission, the survivor, or survivors, had best track that witherstabbing three-faced murdering cunt down and skin her alive."
>Returning to normal and resuming her checking, Dul's ears flatten, taking a cautious step backwards, head lowering in outright submission, though perks up when she realized the target wasn't her.
>Finding no object out of place, replaced, toyed with, or missing, the sapphirine helmet's interior was covered in diagrams and branching displays.
>Shutting down irrelevant or tertiary ones, Shiibo relays a number of useful, interesting, unusual, dangerous, and cursed flora from the Overlander's datacore within the environs, maing a sour face.
'This region is too distant from the five intact Warp Gates and Razorback's technical claim on the Northern New Everfree; harvesting inadvisable at this time.
Thirty-five percent of local flora have exceptional value for alchemical purposes, twenty-two percent are renowned for increasing potency of the prior, another nine percent were specifically known by the Lunar Druids. Status of their.. organizations: unknown. They vanished during the early 29.400's, approximately six hundred years prior to now.
All names originate from the Early to Late Dynasty Eras. Hodch has stated that the meanings are physically unknown and cannot be translated as the Dynastic speech is esoterically compressed. It is an easily taught memetic engram language, sir, but there are none capable of teaching or sharing it.
Except for Marquis du Spiral Disclosure.'
>The avatar's lips purse once, swiveling to face you in a strict at-attention pose.
'A significant amount of information has been provided by Hodch and Lonestar. In addition, all open and decrypted data contained within Razorback Fortress has been collated, processed, analyzed, and summarized. Hodch has a.. theory. One that you will not like and sharing will likely cause irrecoverable damage to Razorback's standing towards.. specific factions.
I am hereby requesting clearance to classify all compartmentalized data related to Marquis du Spiral Disclosure until this operation is completed and Hodch is able to fully explain his suspicions.'
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Driving: Slow and Steady
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
*"Nothing. Not a damned thing in a gigantic fucking deadfall except a big hole dug out, boulders, and a bunch of.. what are those exactly?"*
*"Erit-lon vura sporevines; a vine-fungus that fruits in late summer. Unless in an environmarentally sealed armor, or happen to be immune to its toxins, so much as brushing one with a feather will result in a grave needing to be dug. Quickly.
Similar to a hard shelled rind melon, the spines must first be burnt off, and the rhizome like creeping buds contain a natural anaesthetic of similar potency to dampener with fewer negative side effects, though takes a great deal of care to avoid contaminating or destroying the extract.
The flesh tastes decent as a bonus, though the inner proto-seed pseudo-flesh contains a highly poisonous, slightly flammable sap that.. ...right."*
*"Damned good cover then?"*
*"Quite."*
>Making no attempt to hide another mareish inspection, the sense that you were being appraised holding a variety of weapons, in various positions no less, sets in until Katyal nods.
"Huh. Pretty wiry, compact, great potential's high.. halberd would suit you more, got the right build and center of balance to master one."
"Dul say human-stallion have good shape!"
>Openly surprised at the Planar faux-mare's exclamation, Katyal tries to turn that into a blank look, which becomes a mildly lecherous half-grin.
"So does that mean you like him?"
>Ears twitching at the oddly toned question, Dul's left forehoof lifts, though sets it down after a few seconds, blinking in puzzlemarent.
"...what? Dul not know what you mean."
"Oh for th- nevermind, it's not important right now~"
>Head turning towards the driver compartment door, a deliberately faux-jealous wink is given, one that had the potentials of untold suffering and frustration, before stuffing the towel into her bag.
"Nothing like a breach in reality dude, not even close. She must've taken massive injuries and seen a large number of losses tonight, otherwise this wouldn't be happening right now. In short, she's putting the scholar and dam aside for the killer and ruiner."
>Returning to her earlier critical nature, Katyal pulls on her armored clothing with ease, rapidly glancing over each grenade, tapping pins, then rummages through pouches.
"Red signifies Blood, purple is Void, and blue is Moon. In purely equine terms, meanings, and representations: protect one's kin, destroy all known enemies, and ensure safety when task one and two are completed.
Or if you want the quick and dirty version: every single Lunar pony is now waiting for their goddess to be aided into her 'other' state of existence. Only problem is I'm not sure there's a single pony accepted enough by the Lunar gestalt to 'help' her."
>Halted from inspecting a claymore at the name, the woman becomes entirely rigid, muscles coiling under her skin as she speaks in a thin, close equivalent to controlled equine rage.
"If any of us survive this fucking mission, the survivor, or survivors, had best track that witherstabbing three-faced murdering cunt down and skin her alive."
>Returning to normal and resuming her checking, Dul's ears flatten, taking a cautious step backwards, head lowering in outright submission, though perks up when she realized the target wasn't her.
>Finding no object out of place, replaced, toyed with, or missing, the sapphirine helmet's interior was covered in diagrams and branching displays.
>Shutting down irrelevant or tertiary ones, Shiibo relays a number of useful, interesting, unusual, dangerous, and cursed flora from the Overlander's datacore within the environs, maing a sour face.
'This region is too distant from the five intact Warp Gates and Razorback's technical claim on the Northern New Everfree; harvesting inadvisable at this time.
Thirty-five percent of local flora have exceptional value for alchemical purposes, twenty-two percent are renowned for increasing potency of the prior, another nine percent were specifically known by the Lunar Druids. Status of their.. organizations: unknown. They vanished during the early 29.400's, approximately six hundred years prior to now.
All names originate from the Early to Late Dynasty Eras. Hodch has stated that the meanings are physically unknown and cannot be translated as the Dynastic speech is esoterically compressed. It is an easily taught memetic engram language, sir, but there are none capable of teaching or sharing it.
Except for Marquis du Spiral Disclosure.'
>The avatar's lips purse once, swiveling to face you in a strict at-attention pose.
'A significant amount of information has been provided by Hodch and Lonestar. In addition, all open and decrypted data contained within Razorback Fortress has been collated, processed, analyzed, and summarized. Hodch has a.. theory. One that you will not like and sharing will likely cause irrecoverable damage to Razorback's standing towards.. specific factions.
I am hereby requesting clearance to classify all compartmentalized data related to Marquis du Spiral Disclosure until this operation is completed and Hodch is able to fully explain his suspicions.'
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Driving: Slow and Steady
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
*"Nothing. Not a damned thing in a gigantic fucking deadfall except a big hole dug out, boulders, and a bunch of.. what are those exactly?"*
*"Erit-lon vura sporevines; a vine-fungus that fruits in late summer. Unless in an environmarentally sealed armor, or happen to be immune to its toxins, so much as brushing one with a feather will result in a grave needing to be dug. Quickly.
Similar to a hard shelled rind melon, the spines must first be burnt off, and the rhizome like creeping buds contain a natural anaesthetic of similar potency to dampener with fewer negative side effects, though takes a great deal of care to avoid contaminating or destroying the extract.
The flesh tastes decent as a bonus, though the inner proto-seed pseudo-flesh contains a highly poisonous, slightly flammable sap that.. ...right."*
*"Damned good cover then?"*
*"Quite."*
>>370760
>>370769
>Retaking the troop compartment's center to continue her odd taffy-like exercises, seemingly binding her Planar physicality more coherently to agreeable Tallus spectrums, the Siren returns a confused, quick and negative head shake.
"Dul not need Dul Vortex stuffs for megacycles. If Dul not get banish, Dul stay but hurt lots. If Dul banish, stay in Dul Vortex long time. Dul.. not know how to say thinks."
>Looking up from replacing her belts and holsters, you.. sense Katyal's awareness reaching towards the purple pseudo-earth mare, then backing off, making a slight hand and finger gesture indicating the topic was touchy.
>Setting her jaw firmly for a second, a direct transmission opens, Shiibo automatically accepting it, the woman speaking in a pained and irritated manner.
*"Sorry, I should've explained this earlier to you. And, uh, this isn't something to talk about in the open with most Planars. Sorry again.
Basically all Planar beings are crippled from banishmarent, which is when a native invokes Tallus to remove them. Even if she does resist being banished it'll harm her badly, then she'll need the Vortex's deep essences to recover. Unless you know an Emissary or she finds herself near one, they can restore their kin quickly.
If she can't resist being banished the harm is considerably less. Should be able to summon her from the Vortex after an hour or two without much concern."*
[1d6 = 6] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
>>370769
>Retaking the troop compartment's center to continue her odd taffy-like exercises, seemingly binding her Planar physicality more coherently to agreeable Tallus spectrums, the Siren returns a confused, quick and negative head shake.
"Dul not need Dul Vortex stuffs for megacycles. If Dul not get banish, Dul stay but hurt lots. If Dul banish, stay in Dul Vortex long time. Dul.. not know how to say thinks."
>Looking up from replacing her belts and holsters, you.. sense Katyal's awareness reaching towards the purple pseudo-earth mare, then backing off, making a slight hand and finger gesture indicating the topic was touchy.
>Setting her jaw firmly for a second, a direct transmission opens, Shiibo automatically accepting it, the woman speaking in a pained and irritated manner.
*"Sorry, I should've explained this earlier to you. And, uh, this isn't something to talk about in the open with most Planars. Sorry again.
Basically all Planar beings are crippled from banishmarent, which is when a native invokes Tallus to remove them. Even if she does resist being banished it'll harm her badly, then she'll need the Vortex's deep essences to recover. Unless you know an Emissary or she finds herself near one, they can restore their kin quickly.
If she can't resist being banished the harm is considerably less. Should be able to summon her from the Vortex after an hour or two without much concern."*
[1d6 = 6] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
>>370400
>The Enginseer's noospheric presence briefly crackled with an intense excitement at the mention of 'Pre-M2' Terra by the twins.
>She briefly sends a small signal to awaken the micro-cogitator's machine spirit to consult it's data-crypts, to see if it and her own memory even contained knowledge of such archaic concepts--as it was not relevant for her duties as an Enginseer.
>The lack of emotional cores to stifle her emotions becomes progressively more felt as the feeling of elation at learning new things becomes stronger and more exciting. It was difficult for her to maintain discipline within the small noosphere they shared, constantly shifting with bursts of emotional responses while she attentively soaked information.
>It was almost a blessing when Tox-11 shuts it down, as only when the twins went back to work could she begin to re-establish order and discipline within her mind.
>Just in time to receive the warning signals from the clash between system interactions, and have her attention swept--her curiosity reignited almost immediately, though feeling a touch of deeper concern from the Mechanicus Codes, shortly before they were dismissed.
>"Perceiving" the form of such a Necron, even digitally, makes her immensely conflicted. She knew it's nature already, but being shown an image taps into that innate fear embedded deep into her mind, that even she could not fully shake.
>She knew little of Necrons, but enough to understand that they saw humanity as insects and were at the highest tiers of threat level. And yet... One bowed to her? It showed her even a modicum of respect? Was this real?
>The Enginseer felt strange, doubtful of how to feel, in a way words could not describe; but curiosity convinced keeps her drawn in, examining the difficult and alien coded imagery closely with her mind's eye and the Low Gothic it used to talk to her.
>Tapping into her surface-level knowledge of appropriate nobility etiquette, she did her best to acknowledge it with her own coded image of her noospheric avatar graciously giving a curtsy in return.
>A part of her acknowledged the "wrongness" of human and Necron exchanging these gestures, communicating with anything more than contempt for eachother. It was surreal; bizarre in the extreme as it was unlikely given their differences.
>And yet here they were.
(Learn. Adapt. Repeat. My parent taught similar values...)
>There is a nanocycle of silence; a profoundly rueful silence.
(I will never cease my efforts, that much I can promise. But I fear I could never guarantee if I will survive long enough to see that day of communion.)
"Canterlot Underground and Pathfinder object identifiers..."
>Mallia's echoing of Raindrop's words oozed with an obvious curiosity, the enginseer's eyes glinting almost childishly as she made eye contact with the knight.
>Though there is almost a full second where a look of sadness lingers in her eye; entering her gaze almost unprompted, a transient thought from a conversation Raindrop could not see.
>It only lasts a single second before it is tugged away by the buzzing swarm of insects hanging around the hangar, prompting the Enginseer to raise an eyebrow and do a double-take towards it.
>Mallia's brow furrows ever so slightly with a touch of mild concern, before she turned her gaze fully back to Raindrop--then down to her own slightly trembling hand as it touched and held the knight's forehoof.
>Nonetheless she listened with rapt attention, looking up ever so slightly as she notes the mare's expressions--the acceptance in their eyes.
>And Mallia reciprocates their acceptance with a grateful glance, and a heartfelt little smile that tugs up her very pale face.
>Though she can't help but quirk her brow somewhat at the grin she received from Raindrop...
>... And teases a little chuckle from Mallia.
"Pffheh~!"
"What a fascinating proposition! And with such a strange grin to go with it too."
>Mallia's shakes her head slightly, then starts to settle from a kneel down to a sit. Crossing her legs while her hand lingers under the mare's forehoof. The Enginseer's mechadendrite slowly tucking itself near her back by the side of her sternum where it was connected.
>Mallia holds a brief second of silence, just looking at the equine before her, giving the option some thought in her head. And examining the knight's eyes, seeking the honesty and seriousness that would help her understand just where this was all coming from.
>The moment she thought about it, the more she realised how unworthy of Raindrop Raspberry she was.
"... Am I really worth that much though?"
>Mallia asked, her voice softening greatly all of a sudden. The glint of mirth fading from her blue eyes despite the lingering, albeit weakening smile on her face.
"I mean, are you not concerned? What if I'm a disappointment? Would I not..."
>Mallia's voice trails off, mouth lingering open. Her lip wrying sharply as she realises that she was ruining what should've been a good time.
>She takes a deeper breath, and sighs it out softly, rubbing the side of her head wearily.
>Yet her hand doesn't abandon Raindrop's forehoof yet, even though her grip falters ever so slightly.
>She scrambled for something to say that might get them back on track, that might cover up her lapse in strength.
"I-, Uhm-..."
>…Her voice only getting impressively weaker as she struggled to even pretend to be happier than she was.
>In that moment, she wished she could send her cognition into the sanctum of her micro-cogitator's data-crypts and the small noosphere created by the Inquisitorial retinue; to just cease to exist for a few cycles. But she knew that was her cowardice speaking.
"What. does. being my marefriend mean anyways?"
>The Enginseer's noospheric presence briefly crackled with an intense excitement at the mention of 'Pre-M2' Terra by the twins.
>She briefly sends a small signal to awaken the micro-cogitator's machine spirit to consult it's data-crypts, to see if it and her own memory even contained knowledge of such archaic concepts--as it was not relevant for her duties as an Enginseer.
>The lack of emotional cores to stifle her emotions becomes progressively more felt as the feeling of elation at learning new things becomes stronger and more exciting. It was difficult for her to maintain discipline within the small noosphere they shared, constantly shifting with bursts of emotional responses while she attentively soaked information.
>It was almost a blessing when Tox-11 shuts it down, as only when the twins went back to work could she begin to re-establish order and discipline within her mind.
>Just in time to receive the warning signals from the clash between system interactions, and have her attention swept--her curiosity reignited almost immediately, though feeling a touch of deeper concern from the Mechanicus Codes, shortly before they were dismissed.
>"Perceiving" the form of such a Necron, even digitally, makes her immensely conflicted. She knew it's nature already, but being shown an image taps into that innate fear embedded deep into her mind, that even she could not fully shake.
>She knew little of Necrons, but enough to understand that they saw humanity as insects and were at the highest tiers of threat level. And yet... One bowed to her? It showed her even a modicum of respect? Was this real?
>The Enginseer felt strange, doubtful of how to feel, in a way words could not describe; but curiosity convinced keeps her drawn in, examining the difficult and alien coded imagery closely with her mind's eye and the Low Gothic it used to talk to her.
>Tapping into her surface-level knowledge of appropriate nobility etiquette, she did her best to acknowledge it with her own coded image of her noospheric avatar graciously giving a curtsy in return.
>A part of her acknowledged the "wrongness" of human and Necron exchanging these gestures, communicating with anything more than contempt for eachother. It was surreal; bizarre in the extreme as it was unlikely given their differences.
>And yet here they were.
(Learn. Adapt. Repeat. My parent taught similar values...)
>There is a nanocycle of silence; a profoundly rueful silence.
(I will never cease my efforts, that much I can promise. But I fear I could never guarantee if I will survive long enough to see that day of communion.)
"Canterlot Underground and Pathfinder object identifiers..."
>Mallia's echoing of Raindrop's words oozed with an obvious curiosity, the enginseer's eyes glinting almost childishly as she made eye contact with the knight.
>Though there is almost a full second where a look of sadness lingers in her eye; entering her gaze almost unprompted, a transient thought from a conversation Raindrop could not see.
>It only lasts a single second before it is tugged away by the buzzing swarm of insects hanging around the hangar, prompting the Enginseer to raise an eyebrow and do a double-take towards it.
>Mallia's brow furrows ever so slightly with a touch of mild concern, before she turned her gaze fully back to Raindrop--then down to her own slightly trembling hand as it touched and held the knight's forehoof.
>Nonetheless she listened with rapt attention, looking up ever so slightly as she notes the mare's expressions--the acceptance in their eyes.
>And Mallia reciprocates their acceptance with a grateful glance, and a heartfelt little smile that tugs up her very pale face.
>Though she can't help but quirk her brow somewhat at the grin she received from Raindrop...
>... And teases a little chuckle from Mallia.
"Pffheh~!"
"What a fascinating proposition! And with such a strange grin to go with it too."
>Mallia's shakes her head slightly, then starts to settle from a kneel down to a sit. Crossing her legs while her hand lingers under the mare's forehoof. The Enginseer's mechadendrite slowly tucking itself near her back by the side of her sternum where it was connected.
>Mallia holds a brief second of silence, just looking at the equine before her, giving the option some thought in her head. And examining the knight's eyes, seeking the honesty and seriousness that would help her understand just where this was all coming from.
>The moment she thought about it, the more she realised how unworthy of Raindrop Raspberry she was.
"... Am I really worth that much though?"
>Mallia asked, her voice softening greatly all of a sudden. The glint of mirth fading from her blue eyes despite the lingering, albeit weakening smile on her face.
"I mean, are you not concerned? What if I'm a disappointment? Would I not..."
>Mallia's voice trails off, mouth lingering open. Her lip wrying sharply as she realises that she was ruining what should've been a good time.
>She takes a deeper breath, and sighs it out softly, rubbing the side of her head wearily.
>Yet her hand doesn't abandon Raindrop's forehoof yet, even though her grip falters ever so slightly.
>She scrambled for something to say that might get them back on track, that might cover up her lapse in strength.
"I-, Uhm-..."
>…Her voice only getting impressively weaker as she struggled to even pretend to be happier than she was.
>In that moment, she wished she could send her cognition into the sanctum of her micro-cogitator's data-crypts and the small noosphere created by the Inquisitorial retinue; to just cease to exist for a few cycles. But she knew that was her cowardice speaking.
"What. does. being my marefriend mean anyways?"
>>370725
>"Lost most of Righty but still have a few blades on Lefty, might need to cut her head off. Again."
>Ears swiveling at a rush of movemarent behind her, Twisted's eyebrows wriggle several times at you, then snaps around in the vague scene, leaving an excellent posterior view of her slow-trotting away as the Heart's Touch connection fades.
>"Got to try at least. You stay safe, gonna need those hands back on these-"
>Nodding in a short, firm motion, the Vanguard's neck armor shakes, voice caught between stressed and curious.
"We've read every single Rift Plane related report across Tallus in the past two thousand years, even copied most Otherworld Harpy texts from the Vigil. They did report transmissions of... sorts, triangles in a few thousand shapes, similar to most in our own records.
Every single time Constructs make a 'change' we end up losing half a military or more. If they have learned to speak with us, does that also mean they can learn to lie?"
>Silverine helmet swiveling partway to inspect the intact Assault Vanguard taking position in front of a large translocation matrice, the lead stallion returns, snorting irritably.
"And of course this is the perfect time to start THIS again.. Planars make up four of the five hardest targets to bring down and Constructs haven't moved off number one since they showed up.
But now we don't know which is worse: the possibility they've been communicating all this time, or we haven't found the right method to understand them. Then again we're all probably idiots. Not as if that's going to change much now. Excuse me for a momarent-"
('RIGHT NOW, REALLY!? COULD ALL OF US NOT?! THERE'S A MAXIMUM THREAT TARGET TO ENGAGE AND A PAIR OF CONSTRUCTS WE MIGHT HAVE MET BEFO-')
>Cut off by the weight of lesser, standard, and Moderatis-rank Psions devolving into herd-sided counter-specializations against potential behavioral patterns, the Assault Vanguard leader's Impact Seal crackles threateningly over his head.
>Climbing up Basin Village's cratered southern entrance, the large number of surviving Chargers separate into similar body size squadruns before the first large barricade, now lead by a particularly upbeat Lunar Guard equipped with a set of heavily serrated, Void-infused kanpri hoofclaws.
>Lancers that had been prepared to stall the entrance reform into elongated wedges, lighter mares and stallions on the flanks, heavier individuals center to rear.
>It takes a second to recall the unorthodox Rushyan Killcharge Formation, never used against small targets, and mostly pitted against flightless raptoroids, steppes or high plains post-herbivore Malformed, and the rare tunneling Elemarental wurm.
>Sparing a glance towards the Basin's fountain, white robed Watch Guard Strikers were returning in double ranks, Lunar aligned unicorns placing the corpses of self-sacrificed batponies across the saddles of each pair.
>Each pair performs a deep bow towards the Dark Horse cultist, still unconscious half-atop the altar, now surrounded protectively by intact Bloodhosts, before making a wide curve and proceeding directly north in solemn, individual funeral processions.
>Faint, bittersweet tastes through the overherd ahead of the first burial Strikers pick up through the imprints they were attempting to ignore: an older pre-Lunar-Solar War Killknight, now permarenently released from time's grasp.
>Heavy Siegemare ExoFrame's chest armor, lower neck, barrel, and wither plates had shattered while attempting to blunt the Solar Airstrike Guardian Captain's wing strikes; he had succeeded in death first, but a thin, narrow smile was visible on the archaic mare's burningly cold lips.
('Don't touch the sparkling ice or you'll lose a hoof at minimum, and sompeony get those Crystal Empire forces in, we don't need to lose Basin Village because we can't remove her.. Rime is starting to seep out, keep eyes on it-')
>Twinned, massive blows against air ring southwards, the first giant Bloodhost leaping off the hostel's roof, wings flapping several times to gain altitude.
>Boiling crimson diamond-slitted eyes flicker in your direction, the majority consciousnesses grinning briefly, then takes up a heavily titled circling position, the Bloodhost collective waiting for opportunity.
>"Lost most of Righty but still have a few blades on Lefty, might need to cut her head off. Again."
>Ears swiveling at a rush of movemarent behind her, Twisted's eyebrows wriggle several times at you, then snaps around in the vague scene, leaving an excellent posterior view of her slow-trotting away as the Heart's Touch connection fades.
>"Got to try at least. You stay safe, gonna need those hands back on these-"
>Nodding in a short, firm motion, the Vanguard's neck armor shakes, voice caught between stressed and curious.
"We've read every single Rift Plane related report across Tallus in the past two thousand years, even copied most Otherworld Harpy texts from the Vigil. They did report transmissions of... sorts, triangles in a few thousand shapes, similar to most in our own records.
Every single time Constructs make a 'change' we end up losing half a military or more. If they have learned to speak with us, does that also mean they can learn to lie?"
>Silverine helmet swiveling partway to inspect the intact Assault Vanguard taking position in front of a large translocation matrice, the lead stallion returns, snorting irritably.
"And of course this is the perfect time to start THIS again.. Planars make up four of the five hardest targets to bring down and Constructs haven't moved off number one since they showed up.
But now we don't know which is worse: the possibility they've been communicating all this time, or we haven't found the right method to understand them. Then again we're all probably idiots. Not as if that's going to change much now. Excuse me for a momarent-"
('RIGHT NOW, REALLY!? COULD ALL OF US NOT?! THERE'S A MAXIMUM THREAT TARGET TO ENGAGE AND A PAIR OF CONSTRUCTS WE MIGHT HAVE MET BEFO-')
>Cut off by the weight of lesser, standard, and Moderatis-rank Psions devolving into herd-sided counter-specializations against potential behavioral patterns, the Assault Vanguard leader's Impact Seal crackles threateningly over his head.
>Climbing up Basin Village's cratered southern entrance, the large number of surviving Chargers separate into similar body size squadruns before the first large barricade, now lead by a particularly upbeat Lunar Guard equipped with a set of heavily serrated, Void-infused kanpri hoofclaws.
>Lancers that had been prepared to stall the entrance reform into elongated wedges, lighter mares and stallions on the flanks, heavier individuals center to rear.
>It takes a second to recall the unorthodox Rushyan Killcharge Formation, never used against small targets, and mostly pitted against flightless raptoroids, steppes or high plains post-herbivore Malformed, and the rare tunneling Elemarental wurm.
>Sparing a glance towards the Basin's fountain, white robed Watch Guard Strikers were returning in double ranks, Lunar aligned unicorns placing the corpses of self-sacrificed batponies across the saddles of each pair.
>Each pair performs a deep bow towards the Dark Horse cultist, still unconscious half-atop the altar, now surrounded protectively by intact Bloodhosts, before making a wide curve and proceeding directly north in solemn, individual funeral processions.
>Faint, bittersweet tastes through the overherd ahead of the first burial Strikers pick up through the imprints they were attempting to ignore: an older pre-Lunar-Solar War Killknight, now permarenently released from time's grasp.
>Heavy Siegemare ExoFrame's chest armor, lower neck, barrel, and wither plates had shattered while attempting to blunt the Solar Airstrike Guardian Captain's wing strikes; he had succeeded in death first, but a thin, narrow smile was visible on the archaic mare's burningly cold lips.
('Don't touch the sparkling ice or you'll lose a hoof at minimum, and sompeony get those Crystal Empire forces in, we don't need to lose Basin Village because we can't remove her.. Rime is starting to seep out, keep eyes on it-')
>Twinned, massive blows against air ring southwards, the first giant Bloodhost leaping off the hostel's roof, wings flapping several times to gain altitude.
>Boiling crimson diamond-slitted eyes flicker in your direction, the majority consciousnesses grinning briefly, then takes up a heavily titled circling position, the Bloodhost collective waiting for opportunity.
>>370750
>Interrupting the Moderatis Shieldmare, the lead Assault Vanguard's eyes roll behind thick diamondine lenses, focusing between you and the leadmare in slight annoyance.
('We know. And, Starborn, for future reference: non-compatible human technologies such as that should either be left unused or outright classified. We do not want or need easily, what's the term.. 'hacked'? Thank you, forms of communication. There's much better out there. That is unless someponies want to figuratively but possibly literally screw five hundred plus factions.')
>Figuratively throwing the indirect accusations and insults in New Canterlot's direction, a pair of Mind's Eye coalesce above you, staring down unblinking, the Overherd's majority watching.
('No, I will not accept that as evidence. Such can only be from a... a Rift symbiote, or whatever you degenerates call them.')
>Shrugging inside his armor, the older Vanguard stallion nudges several mares with sharper memory than his own, reviewing the pair of odd Constructs that sought out Mercy and Clemency.
('I'll admit my share of kinks.. unlike you egotistical wannabe purists, the willing and unwilling herd-followers that don't refuse orders, or any of that whole brain dead supremacy movemarent. But, you are dead wrong: THESE are Rift symbiotes.
Please note the weaponization processes and individuality-matching characteristics. None of us have a single clue why the white pegasi's variant is.. like it is, and believe me we've studied thousands of them.
Master Clemency's on the other hoof is obviously intended to deal with targets that he previously did not have counters to. Difficult to explain but also needs a certain depth of.. lacking equinity to understand. Which we don't.')
>Producing a highly redacted, still image of two giant, weapon covered spheres tilted at a forward angle of approximately 15 degrees each, volleys of bright orange plasma, strange red-brown and brown-red tipped missiles, green wavelength laser systems, large shrapnel canisters, and solid square projectiles streaking out of view, the leadstallion's hostility peaks.
('THOSE are the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair most of us saw during Kenfield Pass, so don't fucking deny that recording isn't evidence! Do that EVER again and I will have an actual problem with you, Shieldmare!')
>Helmet dipping in her direction for a split-second, barely coherent flickers pass between the two before he stands upright, about-facing to, with a jovial mood, marentally shout at the Assault Vanguard's groups arguing towards each other.
('UH, HELLO?! COLT-CHASERS AND FILLY-FLINGERS ALIKE, THERE'S AN UNKNOWN, NEVER BEFORE SEEN, STUDIED, AND RIPPED APART RIFTSEEKER OUT THERE SOMEWHERE! ISN'T THAT MORE IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW?!)
>Opening the TacPad up once more and beginning to examine the Moors Fauna's reptilian pages, your hand comes to a halt recalling Princess Luna's request shortly after Razorback Fortress was completed.
>The bright yellow four-eyed, heavily mutated Emerald Drake variant inhabiting Basin Arena was, somehow, able to kill hundreds of Moor cats, themselves long known for slipping between or into Void spectrums without being noticed by unicorns, and equally adept at passing through solid matter.
>Briefly thinking back on the encounter, if it hadn't been for everyone expending nearly all of their explosives in the first ten seconds, then Twisted Wing presenting herself as a prime target, that squad would have definitely suffered a few losses, if not all excepting the Enchained.
>Leaving Iron to his own thoughts, the most experienced Operator from each rank nods in unison, hand signals directing each reloaded squad to take position.. and ignore the fountain.
('Move it boys and girls, we aren't done yet')
>Examining the piles of expended brass, shells, heavy caliber and light cannon casings scattered in front of Razorback's barricade, the few heavy ordnance carriers were less noticeable among the wealth of standard weapons.
>Reloadable rockets, missiles, and grenade launchers were one to eight on average in squad compositions; from one to four reloads per each remained, and resupply was either going to be nonexistent or required Anon's return.
>Standard munitions were plentiful, less than a fifth of boxes or crates opened, scattered as they were throughout the human line, yet only a few, excluding yourself, had long range anti-armor capabilities.
>Counting the antitank and anti-aircraft weapon bearers, then calculating against a Construct copying the drake at three times the original's size.. the odds were exceptionally poor.
>Interrupting the Moderatis Shieldmare, the lead Assault Vanguard's eyes roll behind thick diamondine lenses, focusing between you and the leadmare in slight annoyance.
('We know. And, Starborn, for future reference: non-compatible human technologies such as that should either be left unused or outright classified. We do not want or need easily, what's the term.. 'hacked'? Thank you, forms of communication. There's much better out there. That is unless someponies want to figuratively but possibly literally screw five hundred plus factions.')
>Figuratively throwing the indirect accusations and insults in New Canterlot's direction, a pair of Mind's Eye coalesce above you, staring down unblinking, the Overherd's majority watching.
('No, I will not accept that as evidence. Such can only be from a... a Rift symbiote, or whatever you degenerates call them.')
>Shrugging inside his armor, the older Vanguard stallion nudges several mares with sharper memory than his own, reviewing the pair of odd Constructs that sought out Mercy and Clemency.
('I'll admit my share of kinks.. unlike you egotistical wannabe purists, the willing and unwilling herd-followers that don't refuse orders, or any of that whole brain dead supremacy movemarent. But, you are dead wrong: THESE are Rift symbiotes.
Please note the weaponization processes and individuality-matching characteristics. None of us have a single clue why the white pegasi's variant is.. like it is, and believe me we've studied thousands of them.
Master Clemency's on the other hoof is obviously intended to deal with targets that he previously did not have counters to. Difficult to explain but also needs a certain depth of.. lacking equinity to understand. Which we don't.')
>Producing a highly redacted, still image of two giant, weapon covered spheres tilted at a forward angle of approximately 15 degrees each, volleys of bright orange plasma, strange red-brown and brown-red tipped missiles, green wavelength laser systems, large shrapnel canisters, and solid square projectiles streaking out of view, the leadstallion's hostility peaks.
('THOSE are the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair most of us saw during Kenfield Pass, so don't fucking deny that recording isn't evidence! Do that EVER again and I will have an actual problem with you, Shieldmare!')
>Helmet dipping in her direction for a split-second, barely coherent flickers pass between the two before he stands upright, about-facing to, with a jovial mood, marentally shout at the Assault Vanguard's groups arguing towards each other.
('UH, HELLO?! COLT-CHASERS AND FILLY-FLINGERS ALIKE, THERE'S AN UNKNOWN, NEVER BEFORE SEEN, STUDIED, AND RIPPED APART RIFTSEEKER OUT THERE SOMEWHERE! ISN'T THAT MORE IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW?!)
>Opening the TacPad up once more and beginning to examine the Moors Fauna's reptilian pages, your hand comes to a halt recalling Princess Luna's request shortly after Razorback Fortress was completed.
>The bright yellow four-eyed, heavily mutated Emerald Drake variant inhabiting Basin Arena was, somehow, able to kill hundreds of Moor cats, themselves long known for slipping between or into Void spectrums without being noticed by unicorns, and equally adept at passing through solid matter.
>Briefly thinking back on the encounter, if it hadn't been for everyone expending nearly all of their explosives in the first ten seconds, then Twisted Wing presenting herself as a prime target, that squad would have definitely suffered a few losses, if not all excepting the Enchained.
>Leaving Iron to his own thoughts, the most experienced Operator from each rank nods in unison, hand signals directing each reloaded squad to take position.. and ignore the fountain.
('Move it boys and girls, we aren't done yet')
>Examining the piles of expended brass, shells, heavy caliber and light cannon casings scattered in front of Razorback's barricade, the few heavy ordnance carriers were less noticeable among the wealth of standard weapons.
>Reloadable rockets, missiles, and grenade launchers were one to eight on average in squad compositions; from one to four reloads per each remained, and resupply was either going to be nonexistent or required Anon's return.
>Standard munitions were plentiful, less than a fifth of boxes or crates opened, scattered as they were throughout the human line, yet only a few, excluding yourself, had long range anti-armor capabilities.
>Counting the antitank and anti-aircraft weapon bearers, then calculating against a Construct copying the drake at three times the original's size.. the odds were exceptionally poor.
>>370754
>Holding her stare for five thin seconds, the blackened steel armor dips in a short bow, then jerks sideways, attempting to quell a argumarent among her kin.
>Giving up on the semi-orderly conflict, the Councilierge Vanguard leadstallion sighs, silverine helmet tilting at the Ethereal Golem clambering out of the Basin's cratered entrance to stand upright, bucketed head swiveling among quintuple lines of 100 Chargers each.
"Just be glad none of their subordinates showed. Arrogant stiff-necked robots, golems, freaky shellfish bastards.. or those fucking Wisps-"
>Head rearing back as if to spit, halting to think, he settles for a small, insulted growl, turning and clanking around the fountain towards the northmost translocation matrices, pointedly avoiding the Bloodhosts still gathered.
"What a night this turned out to be. 'Just a real quick mission' and 'nothing bad will happen' Her Majesty's flanks, gonna start an orchard if I live through this...
HAY! HAVEN'T ANY OF YOU BEEN LISTENING?! GET THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE FORCES HERE RIGHT NOW, THERE'S A KILLKNIGHT THAT FOUND AN HONORABLE END AND HER ARMOR'S FAILING, IT CAN'T CONTAIN THAT MUCH RIME LONGER THAN TWO MORE MINUTES!
SOMEPONY CAPABLE OF FLYING GO OUT, FIND THAT YOUNG NEW GODDESS, AND MAKE SURE SHE ISN'T GOING TO BE REBORN LIKE MOON IS!"
>First and second to find translocation matrices not in use, two medium armored Imperial Warden platunes streaming out of the east and westmost mediums, a full squad of Kingdom Wardens sneaking in with them, a selection of heavy twin-beam carrying Free Knights from a number of small matrices, then... you weren't sure what, but there were definitely cloaked, floating ponies between some.
>The pair of large matrices open up, a stream of highly customized ExoFrame Task Force mares stomping out, crystalline weapons of every variety singing aloud, the other releasing a profound variety of Conclave Knights, at least one from each major lineage, nearly a quarter carrying older, small saddle or barrel-mounted turrets based on Late Dynasty models.
>Waiting patiently for their turn, hulking forms of Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs are forced to duck into gateways, standing up and striding out, massive and various polearms on the right shoulder of each, heavy crystalline bows slung on the left, full hardpacks of arrows on their backs, and at least four smaller weapons each.
>Last was what had to be all of the Unicorn Spireguard's Elite:
>Archaic Solar and Lunar emblems and heraldry adorn helmets, chestplates, crests, and side-slung shields; perfect condition or barely used Lunar-Solar War Era weaponry, all eight older types of diamondine, paladine, kanpri, Elemarental steel composites, make up the majority, reality visibly warped around most.
>Even a few probably stolen Late Dynasty silverine examples were in use, originals from what you could tell.
>Settling into close ranks, the crystal-unicorn descendants of banished nobility and royalty examine Basin Village, helmets rotating to hum out song-orders.
>Doing her best to ignore the Empire's forces, Councilierge Assault Vanguard, and the name-lost Watch Guard General carrying Vestal Gardena towards the Basin's restaurant, the lead Shieldmare's frustration steadily decreases.
('Find even the smallest space on the edge of their.. lightning field, I suppose it is. No, too small and I will not risk ponies falling off a pegasi tower! No? No, nnn.. not enough space there. No, that is not close enough. I-')
>Head cocking, her thought patterns drift outwards briefly, returning to give a positively approving snort.
('The closest location is a pair of.. bat-caves, several wooden stalls in front.. of course they fell asleep building them.
Location is.. approximately fifteen miles east and three miles north of Basin Arena. Void spectrums are quite thick there, risk of contamination is low.. we think.')
>Overherd turning to face the translocation matrices, each opens into a vine and flower wrapped dark purple gateway, the flora relatively common Central Moors species.
('They're edible? Interesting, I would li- ..no, later. Ten squads needed: five Chargers, Lancers, Lunar Guard unicorns, and preferably Minotaurs to scout forwards.
If all clear, enter in this order: Lunar and Watch Guard first, Night and Day Guard second, Councilierge third, Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Conclave last.
Mares, ensure that Void breaches do not occur. Even IF the chances are low, we do not need to be dealing with thornfrayers, bladefiends, scragsails, Voidstalkers, blackretch, or worse.')
>Quickly playing the classic game of hoof, snout, and tail across the Overherd, the lightest and most experienced winners from each selection collectively skitter forwards to taking up first position, though have to vocally ask the unusual crystalline Minotaurs to join them, at which those with the largest horns stomp forwards.
>Collecting in front of the matrices, the shared view showed two brand new, well armored and veritably giant four-level buildings across from each other, the shape closer to a storage barn than much else, compressed black granite making up the entirety of everything except blackened steel supports.
>Thick diamond triple-paned windows with wide interior and exterior ledges were set at absolutely random locations among the four levels, serving as landing and lounging zones both; while the rooves couldn't be seen, most Lunars agree it would be covered in hatches.
>A nearly 80M in diameter stone circle divides the technical-caves, still emitting faint, thin trails of green Psionic energies, and batponies lounged, slept, were setting up, waiting being, atop, or around finished, half-finished, but mostly not even put together trade stalls.
('If they're not worried, then: scouts, hop in and begin recon.')
>Ten squads of twenty skitter, sneak, creep, and lumber forwards into the trading outpost-garrison, each eager to be the first, excepting the Minotaurs whom could not connect to the Overherd.
[1d2000 = 1724] <Local Threat
>Holding her stare for five thin seconds, the blackened steel armor dips in a short bow, then jerks sideways, attempting to quell a argumarent among her kin.
>Giving up on the semi-orderly conflict, the Councilierge Vanguard leadstallion sighs, silverine helmet tilting at the Ethereal Golem clambering out of the Basin's cratered entrance to stand upright, bucketed head swiveling among quintuple lines of 100 Chargers each.
"Just be glad none of their subordinates showed. Arrogant stiff-necked robots, golems, freaky shellfish bastards.. or those fucking Wisps-"
>Head rearing back as if to spit, halting to think, he settles for a small, insulted growl, turning and clanking around the fountain towards the northmost translocation matrices, pointedly avoiding the Bloodhosts still gathered.
"What a night this turned out to be. 'Just a real quick mission' and 'nothing bad will happen' Her Majesty's flanks, gonna start an orchard if I live through this...
HAY! HAVEN'T ANY OF YOU BEEN LISTENING?! GET THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE FORCES HERE RIGHT NOW, THERE'S A KILLKNIGHT THAT FOUND AN HONORABLE END AND HER ARMOR'S FAILING, IT CAN'T CONTAIN THAT MUCH RIME LONGER THAN TWO MORE MINUTES!
SOMEPONY CAPABLE OF FLYING GO OUT, FIND THAT YOUNG NEW GODDESS, AND MAKE SURE SHE ISN'T GOING TO BE REBORN LIKE MOON IS!"
>First and second to find translocation matrices not in use, two medium armored Imperial Warden platunes streaming out of the east and westmost mediums, a full squad of Kingdom Wardens sneaking in with them, a selection of heavy twin-beam carrying Free Knights from a number of small matrices, then... you weren't sure what, but there were definitely cloaked, floating ponies between some.
>The pair of large matrices open up, a stream of highly customized ExoFrame Task Force mares stomping out, crystalline weapons of every variety singing aloud, the other releasing a profound variety of Conclave Knights, at least one from each major lineage, nearly a quarter carrying older, small saddle or barrel-mounted turrets based on Late Dynasty models.
>Waiting patiently for their turn, hulking forms of Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs are forced to duck into gateways, standing up and striding out, massive and various polearms on the right shoulder of each, heavy crystalline bows slung on the left, full hardpacks of arrows on their backs, and at least four smaller weapons each.
>Last was what had to be all of the Unicorn Spireguard's Elite:
>Archaic Solar and Lunar emblems and heraldry adorn helmets, chestplates, crests, and side-slung shields; perfect condition or barely used Lunar-Solar War Era weaponry, all eight older types of diamondine, paladine, kanpri, Elemarental steel composites, make up the majority, reality visibly warped around most.
>Even a few probably stolen Late Dynasty silverine examples were in use, originals from what you could tell.
>Settling into close ranks, the crystal-unicorn descendants of banished nobility and royalty examine Basin Village, helmets rotating to hum out song-orders.
>Doing her best to ignore the Empire's forces, Councilierge Assault Vanguard, and the name-lost Watch Guard General carrying Vestal Gardena towards the Basin's restaurant, the lead Shieldmare's frustration steadily decreases.
('Find even the smallest space on the edge of their.. lightning field, I suppose it is. No, too small and I will not risk ponies falling off a pegasi tower! No? No, nnn.. not enough space there. No, that is not close enough. I-')
>Head cocking, her thought patterns drift outwards briefly, returning to give a positively approving snort.
('The closest location is a pair of.. bat-caves, several wooden stalls in front.. of course they fell asleep building them.
Location is.. approximately fifteen miles east and three miles north of Basin Arena. Void spectrums are quite thick there, risk of contamination is low.. we think.')
>Overherd turning to face the translocation matrices, each opens into a vine and flower wrapped dark purple gateway, the flora relatively common Central Moors species.
('They're edible? Interesting, I would li- ..no, later. Ten squads needed: five Chargers, Lancers, Lunar Guard unicorns, and preferably Minotaurs to scout forwards.
If all clear, enter in this order: Lunar and Watch Guard first, Night and Day Guard second, Councilierge third, Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Conclave last.
Mares, ensure that Void breaches do not occur. Even IF the chances are low, we do not need to be dealing with thornfrayers, bladefiends, scragsails, Voidstalkers, blackretch, or worse.')
>Quickly playing the classic game of hoof, snout, and tail across the Overherd, the lightest and most experienced winners from each selection collectively skitter forwards to taking up first position, though have to vocally ask the unusual crystalline Minotaurs to join them, at which those with the largest horns stomp forwards.
>Collecting in front of the matrices, the shared view showed two brand new, well armored and veritably giant four-level buildings across from each other, the shape closer to a storage barn than much else, compressed black granite making up the entirety of everything except blackened steel supports.
>Thick diamond triple-paned windows with wide interior and exterior ledges were set at absolutely random locations among the four levels, serving as landing and lounging zones both; while the rooves couldn't be seen, most Lunars agree it would be covered in hatches.
>A nearly 80M in diameter stone circle divides the technical-caves, still emitting faint, thin trails of green Psionic energies, and batponies lounged, slept, were setting up, waiting being, atop, or around finished, half-finished, but mostly not even put together trade stalls.
('If they're not worried, then: scouts, hop in and begin recon.')
>Ten squads of twenty skitter, sneak, creep, and lumber forwards into the trading outpost-garrison, each eager to be the first, excepting the Minotaurs whom could not connect to the Overherd.
[1d2000 = 1724] <Local Threat
>>370769
>Pareidolia turns his head at Dul's comment, slight confusion and doubt mixed on his face.
>Immediately realizing Dul lacks the social/cultural awareness to understand the implications of her statement, he opens his mouth to speak but is headed off by Katyal's teasing.
>He sighs internally and gives Katyal an unamused look as he walks back to his locker.
>As she elaborates on the nature of the Lunar phenomenon, he finds himself recalling his first and hopefully last experience on the Citadel.
(With standard conduct like that, it's unsurprising the Lunar gestalt would be difficult to find unity in. Always this trouble with gods. Can only hope human involvement with Jeff and Clemency doesn't worsen the prognosis. Can never be certain with humans... )
>Blinking in acknowledgement of Shiibo's report, he replies.
"Granted. I already didn't like this operation but we have no choice. Hodch is the best source of information we have for relevant findings to Spiral's retrieval."
>Subconsciously listening to the description of yet more hellish flora outside, he idly feels the neck lining of his helmet seal.
(No decon room here. Retrieval inadvisable.)
>>370773
>Seeing Dul's consternation, he raises and waves a gloved hand in casual dismissal.
"It's fine. Not something we need to address then."
>His eyes glance to the right, taking in Katyal's transmission and invisible projection gestures.
*"Understood.*
(Then Class 1 Tallus' interactions and stipulations are pervasive to a high degree. Can it make mistakes? All information implies a degree of sapience.)
>Watching Dul's strange putty-like contortions, he idly considers how Social would have likely turned this into some sort of fad exercise with high marketability and "cuteness" factor.
>Pareidolia turns his head at Dul's comment, slight confusion and doubt mixed on his face.
>Immediately realizing Dul lacks the social/cultural awareness to understand the implications of her statement, he opens his mouth to speak but is headed off by Katyal's teasing.
>He sighs internally and gives Katyal an unamused look as he walks back to his locker.
>As she elaborates on the nature of the Lunar phenomenon, he finds himself recalling his first and hopefully last experience on the Citadel.
(With standard conduct like that, it's unsurprising the Lunar gestalt would be difficult to find unity in. Always this trouble with gods. Can only hope human involvement with Jeff and Clemency doesn't worsen the prognosis. Can never be certain with humans... )
>Blinking in acknowledgement of Shiibo's report, he replies.
"Granted. I already didn't like this operation but we have no choice. Hodch is the best source of information we have for relevant findings to Spiral's retrieval."
>Subconsciously listening to the description of yet more hellish flora outside, he idly feels the neck lining of his helmet seal.
(No decon room here. Retrieval inadvisable.)
>>370773
>Seeing Dul's consternation, he raises and waves a gloved hand in casual dismissal.
"It's fine. Not something we need to address then."
>His eyes glance to the right, taking in Katyal's transmission and invisible projection gestures.
*"Understood.*
(Then Class 1 Tallus' interactions and stipulations are pervasive to a high degree. Can it make mistakes? All information implies a degree of sapience.)
>Watching Dul's strange putty-like contortions, he idly considers how Social would have likely turned this into some sort of fad exercise with high marketability and "cuteness" factor.
>>370765
>Releasing the overlay hesitantly, the Construct stares ahead half-blankly, left forehoof raising to smack its snout, wincing in.. annoyance?
>It could understand you, at the least.
>Referring back on dismissed texts, marecenary chatter, Lunar bridle gossip, possibly trustworthy rumors from sauced Crystal ponies, the symbiote's physical state was a near-perfect match for a feral batpony stallion, though you weren't keen on checking how correct that might be..
>Mutual knowledge and defined offensive-defensive combat support advantages were clear, and upon comparing an approximate sixty percent of Mercy sharing her (willing) thoughts, or a more reasonable fifty percent direct neural connection between the two, the cross-species language barrier this 'unit' seemed to experience was.. sorely lacking.
>Much easier to learn and speak, pegasi, Common, and Minotaur would be the logical choices, and comprehending all three modern dialects was five to eight times easier than Enkee, excluding hundreds of regional meanings and yearly changes.
>Comparing the batpony Construct's triangles to suspected and the few known derivatives, the set Vestal Gardenia had flashed to you, much smaller ones from the square you acquired at Still Peak, and the thirty or so known 'codes' that higher ranking Lunars knew to release objects or sapients from the bizarre pods, three half-baked loaves of orange form:
>Hierarchical communication divided by model size, type, designation, capabilities, and when each pair was created; the exact reverse where smaller variants ruled from the front; initial duties, tasks, and creation divided into a circular-overlapping tree diagram.
>While you could sense several hooves' worth of directly implied connections between the subtle differences of order, size, facing, rotation, angle, and surface depth, sharp pangs of distantly malicious, focused threat breaks off those thoughts.
>Reaching top speed with a short skittering jump into the long ranging, comfortable high-point run, a single line of flat static greets your ear, interspersed by the minute trebles of contained plasma.
>Right wingclaws spreading apart, the feral-like Construct rolls several degrees away from you to creates a small overlay: the Arena and its exterior buildings rapidly sinking into fog behind, a single dull orange atop the Arena itself, you, itself, a five-level batpony tower ahead, then an eight-level pegasi tower past it at an equal distance.
>If the Arena and both towers were accurately sized, you were less than 200M from the batpony variant, off path to the south.
>Nodding at the overlay, snapping its claws together at the batpony tower, at you, then making a short head shake while pointing itself, the eyes squint as both wings tilt upwards, slowing a fraction so that you'd be the first one seen.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d2000 = 1056] <Central Moors Minor Threat
>Releasing the overlay hesitantly, the Construct stares ahead half-blankly, left forehoof raising to smack its snout, wincing in.. annoyance?
>It could understand you, at the least.
>Referring back on dismissed texts, marecenary chatter, Lunar bridle gossip, possibly trustworthy rumors from sauced Crystal ponies, the symbiote's physical state was a near-perfect match for a feral batpony stallion, though you weren't keen on checking how correct that might be..
>Mutual knowledge and defined offensive-defensive combat support advantages were clear, and upon comparing an approximate sixty percent of Mercy sharing her (willing) thoughts, or a more reasonable fifty percent direct neural connection between the two, the cross-species language barrier this 'unit' seemed to experience was.. sorely lacking.
>Much easier to learn and speak, pegasi, Common, and Minotaur would be the logical choices, and comprehending all three modern dialects was five to eight times easier than Enkee, excluding hundreds of regional meanings and yearly changes.
>Comparing the batpony Construct's triangles to suspected and the few known derivatives, the set Vestal Gardenia had flashed to you, much smaller ones from the square you acquired at Still Peak, and the thirty or so known 'codes' that higher ranking Lunars knew to release objects or sapients from the bizarre pods, three half-baked loaves of orange form:
>Hierarchical communication divided by model size, type, designation, capabilities, and when each pair was created; the exact reverse where smaller variants ruled from the front; initial duties, tasks, and creation divided into a circular-overlapping tree diagram.
>While you could sense several hooves' worth of directly implied connections between the subtle differences of order, size, facing, rotation, angle, and surface depth, sharp pangs of distantly malicious, focused threat breaks off those thoughts.
>Reaching top speed with a short skittering jump into the long ranging, comfortable high-point run, a single line of flat static greets your ear, interspersed by the minute trebles of contained plasma.
>Right wingclaws spreading apart, the feral-like Construct rolls several degrees away from you to creates a small overlay: the Arena and its exterior buildings rapidly sinking into fog behind, a single dull orange atop the Arena itself, you, itself, a five-level batpony tower ahead, then an eight-level pegasi tower past it at an equal distance.
>If the Arena and both towers were accurately sized, you were less than 200M from the batpony variant, off path to the south.
>Nodding at the overlay, snapping its claws together at the batpony tower, at you, then making a short head shake while pointing itself, the eyes squint as both wings tilt upwards, slowing a fraction so that you'd be the first one seen.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Pegasi-Derived Defensive Methodology: Ally-Defense Engrams
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Expanded Physicality Engrams
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d2000 = 1056] <Central Moors Minor Threat
>>370767
"Heh, ice queen certainly does have the right assets to make a man, or woman, get better real fast. I'd be jealous of special treatmarent like that, but I don't wanna know how Nova or Juan put up with her shitty attitude."
>Questioning appraisals and glances all around, except the man furiously trying to scrub his submachinegun, the second man rubs his chin.
"'Poison ball thing'? Unless you're talking about the crazy worldkilling mare always making some alchemical war crime or other, I've got no idea what you mean by that."
>Grumbling from wasted efforts, weapon cleaner reaches up for a switchblade hanging off a magnet on his vest, flicking it open and tapping at the.. whatever it was covering the newer PPSh.
"Ignore him, all us got lost in a real shitshow north of Luna's Villages early last night. We came back around two hours before Dusk.
And don't you say another FUCKING word until we get a word in with Naliyna, I'm not insane enough to talk with THAT daughter of hers!"
>Pausing to point the business end at the second stopped from visibly preparing a joke, then switches to stabbing, another mid-40's man on the east end, midspine on the table and in a done-with-everything mood, speaks up in sharp, though tired concern.
"Attack? Where, when, what, and how bad was it? We didn't see any damage or debris anywhere except some lava just south of the Pagoda. Except.. the Bulletin Board does have a note stating to not add anything or suffer a thousand plus pound mare dropping on heads."
>Tapping fingers together on the table, Trakkel counts off his next few sentences.
"One, the entire command and commarend staff aren't here. There are only three Elite and two Veteran squads here, rest are Fucking New Guys and Gals, some Rookies too. They don't know where the staff are.
Two, Hodch, Denra, Mist, Torven, most of the support and intel staff are gone too. No notes either, which is unusual.
Three, Roust is asleep in the Nest and she hasn't responded to a single one of us. Which is impossible to believe since saying her name out loud is enough to get that mare's attention.
Four, General Twisted Wing isn't in, on, or around her Tower. Right now is when she'd be done organizing missions, sending reports, and making visits. From now until one or two past Midneight she'd be teaching fliers, after that Midneight is combat instruction. Every single time she leaves, everyone and everypony knows.
Five, the few Day, Night, Royal, and Honor Guards that are here likewise don't know where the rest went.
Six, not even the Changelings in their new little Hive know where any of the previous are.
Seven, we can't raise anyone on the Master Radio.
Eight, the Clinic is close to full, if not entirely, and said Clinic door has a note stating not to enter unless there's a medical need. Nova Flicker's hospital isn't complete yet either.
Nine, the craftsponies and Bren's crew are not happy. They're all taking tonight off, though you might be able to convince Auitante and.. that young batmare, can't remember her name, to do some work for you.
In total, we have no idea where over two hundred humans and three hundred some ponies are at right now."
>Triumphantly ripping a glassy chunk of yellow-red substance off, weapon cleaner raises it for a sniff, eyebrows furrowing before he sighs.
"Malyne, Naliyna's pain in every ass daughter, and Big Bitch took over the Pagoda, one of them might know. I need to stop in the Enclave and check what this is with Amerose, maybe one of the Lorekeepers has a clue."
"Uh.. you're forgetting the seal."
"The what? Fuck's a rubber stamp or wax seal have to do with people missing?"
"Fucking A, B, and C man.... an ESS-EE-AY-ELL is a longer than it is wide, pudgy aquatic creature. That particular one's got a bright white silky coat, flippers, and whiskers. At least, it looked silky. You don't remember the cute critter Big Bitch was snuggling with last night, waved and smiled when we left?"
"Nnnno, I don't, we were in a hurry. It's a water mammal, right? My world probably had those. A long time ago. I mean, not alive. There were lots of fossils on the coasts and islands I never learned about."
"And you wonder why we try to leave you behind.."
>Eyes rolling, Trakkel turns to make a snide remark but is interrupted by rapid wing flapping, a tiny red and blue pegasus lands on the table's northeast corner.
>Almost exactly one foot tall, the paint-streaked, ultra small mare was comically weighed down by a standard brown cardboard box, carefully perched on her shoulders and withers.
>Quick trotting to each Operator on the north table's side from east to west, a sniff and head shake is given at each, winding around to you finally, sea green eyes blink.
>Ears swiveling left, right, then flattening, she takes another short inhale, physically tilting left, the box sliding and thumping down behind the plate, then squeaks out in the absolute youngest teenage voice ever.
"Hello! Sorry about not delivering these earlier! I don't know your scent and there's no one around to ask how to say this name! Bye!"
>Right wing flapping at you three times before leaping up and flitting off towards the entrance, Trakkel slowly, carefully lets out an exhale, cracking a half-grin that threatens to become laughter.
"Congrats, you've been blessed by the Landmine Fairy Delivery Service. If you're lucky that's an intact claymore. If you're not, it's an intact claymore."
"Or cursed knowing her preferences-"
"If you don't shut up I'm going to bury thi-"
"And my ancestors said the worst agony was dying.."
"Heh, ice queen certainly does have the right assets to make a man, or woman, get better real fast. I'd be jealous of special treatmarent like that, but I don't wanna know how Nova or Juan put up with her shitty attitude."
>Questioning appraisals and glances all around, except the man furiously trying to scrub his submachinegun, the second man rubs his chin.
"'Poison ball thing'? Unless you're talking about the crazy worldkilling mare always making some alchemical war crime or other, I've got no idea what you mean by that."
>Grumbling from wasted efforts, weapon cleaner reaches up for a switchblade hanging off a magnet on his vest, flicking it open and tapping at the.. whatever it was covering the newer PPSh.
"Ignore him, all us got lost in a real shitshow north of Luna's Villages early last night. We came back around two hours before Dusk.
And don't you say another FUCKING word until we get a word in with Naliyna, I'm not insane enough to talk with THAT daughter of hers!"
>Pausing to point the business end at the second stopped from visibly preparing a joke, then switches to stabbing, another mid-40's man on the east end, midspine on the table and in a done-with-everything mood, speaks up in sharp, though tired concern.
"Attack? Where, when, what, and how bad was it? We didn't see any damage or debris anywhere except some lava just south of the Pagoda. Except.. the Bulletin Board does have a note stating to not add anything or suffer a thousand plus pound mare dropping on heads."
>Tapping fingers together on the table, Trakkel counts off his next few sentences.
"One, the entire command and commarend staff aren't here. There are only three Elite and two Veteran squads here, rest are Fucking New Guys and Gals, some Rookies too. They don't know where the staff are.
Two, Hodch, Denra, Mist, Torven, most of the support and intel staff are gone too. No notes either, which is unusual.
Three, Roust is asleep in the Nest and she hasn't responded to a single one of us. Which is impossible to believe since saying her name out loud is enough to get that mare's attention.
Four, General Twisted Wing isn't in, on, or around her Tower. Right now is when she'd be done organizing missions, sending reports, and making visits. From now until one or two past Midneight she'd be teaching fliers, after that Midneight is combat instruction. Every single time she leaves, everyone and everypony knows.
Five, the few Day, Night, Royal, and Honor Guards that are here likewise don't know where the rest went.
Six, not even the Changelings in their new little Hive know where any of the previous are.
Seven, we can't raise anyone on the Master Radio.
Eight, the Clinic is close to full, if not entirely, and said Clinic door has a note stating not to enter unless there's a medical need. Nova Flicker's hospital isn't complete yet either.
Nine, the craftsponies and Bren's crew are not happy. They're all taking tonight off, though you might be able to convince Auitante and.. that young batmare, can't remember her name, to do some work for you.
In total, we have no idea where over two hundred humans and three hundred some ponies are at right now."
>Triumphantly ripping a glassy chunk of yellow-red substance off, weapon cleaner raises it for a sniff, eyebrows furrowing before he sighs.
"Malyne, Naliyna's pain in every ass daughter, and Big Bitch took over the Pagoda, one of them might know. I need to stop in the Enclave and check what this is with Amerose, maybe one of the Lorekeepers has a clue."
"Uh.. you're forgetting the seal."
"The what? Fuck's a rubber stamp or wax seal have to do with people missing?"
"Fucking A, B, and C man.... an ESS-EE-AY-ELL is a longer than it is wide, pudgy aquatic creature. That particular one's got a bright white silky coat, flippers, and whiskers. At least, it looked silky. You don't remember the cute critter Big Bitch was snuggling with last night, waved and smiled when we left?"
"Nnnno, I don't, we were in a hurry. It's a water mammal, right? My world probably had those. A long time ago. I mean, not alive. There were lots of fossils on the coasts and islands I never learned about."
"And you wonder why we try to leave you behind.."
>Eyes rolling, Trakkel turns to make a snide remark but is interrupted by rapid wing flapping, a tiny red and blue pegasus lands on the table's northeast corner.
>Almost exactly one foot tall, the paint-streaked, ultra small mare was comically weighed down by a standard brown cardboard box, carefully perched on her shoulders and withers.
>Quick trotting to each Operator on the north table's side from east to west, a sniff and head shake is given at each, winding around to you finally, sea green eyes blink.
>Ears swiveling left, right, then flattening, she takes another short inhale, physically tilting left, the box sliding and thumping down behind the plate, then squeaks out in the absolute youngest teenage voice ever.
"Hello! Sorry about not delivering these earlier! I don't know your scent and there's no one around to ask how to say this name! Bye!"
>Right wing flapping at you three times before leaping up and flitting off towards the entrance, Trakkel slowly, carefully lets out an exhale, cracking a half-grin that threatens to become laughter.
"Congrats, you've been blessed by the Landmine Fairy Delivery Service. If you're lucky that's an intact claymore. If you're not, it's an intact claymore."
"Or cursed knowing her preferences-"
"If you don't shut up I'm going to bury thi-"
"And my ancestors said the worst agony was dying.."
>>370784
>That was a very equine-esque response. Textbook case use of that display.
>Most likely acquired from Mercy, but even so, that was a disturbingly short learning period.
>Sunny examined the projected map, the construct's motions, and drew the best conclusion she could from the display.
>It was concerned about getting attacked on sight.
>She nodded in understanding.
"Will not allow engagement. Don't make any threatening gestures, don't attempt to conceal yourself either, they'll detect you immediately anyway."
>Or quite possibly treat it like a game of hide and kee.
"It would be best to land for the time being, flight may be construed as a challenge."
>Though bat ponies were as likely to try to induct the thing as one of them as try to destroy it, or possibly not even respond to their presence at all. It was impossible to know for sure.
>She heaved a sigh along with the second deeply haunted expression she'd shown that night.
>At this point, the potential range of the construct's jamming field was impressive. Surely it can't have been accidental.
>But then why keep it up after she and Mercy had left?
>In any case, once she made it to the outpost, she might be able to make use of any maps of the region they had, or some means of communicating between outposts faster than her traveling on hoof.
>That is, if they had anything of actual use.
>Bat ponies, not even once.
>That was a very equine-esque response. Textbook case use of that display.
>Most likely acquired from Mercy, but even so, that was a disturbingly short learning period.
>Sunny examined the projected map, the construct's motions, and drew the best conclusion she could from the display.
>It was concerned about getting attacked on sight.
>She nodded in understanding.
"Will not allow engagement. Don't make any threatening gestures, don't attempt to conceal yourself either, they'll detect you immediately anyway."
>Or quite possibly treat it like a game of hide and kee.
"It would be best to land for the time being, flight may be construed as a challenge."
>Though bat ponies were as likely to try to induct the thing as one of them as try to destroy it, or possibly not even respond to their presence at all. It was impossible to know for sure.
>She heaved a sigh along with the second deeply haunted expression she'd shown that night.
>At this point, the potential range of the construct's jamming field was impressive. Surely it can't have been accidental.
>But then why keep it up after she and Mercy had left?
>In any case, once she made it to the outpost, she might be able to make use of any maps of the region they had, or some means of communicating between outposts faster than her traveling on hoof.
>That is, if they had anything of actual use.
>Bat ponies, not even once.
>>370778
>Perhaps it was due to him having taken off his helmet but the Overherd flowed through his head like water through a sieve now, and as he stood there at the fountain did he learn the Killknight was...Well killed.
>When he saw the deteriorating remains Lont gave her a Crystal Empire salute, having seen it done before by Wardens back in the crystal city.
>>370780
>>370782
>A chortle came from Lonts' throat at the mention of the other Ethereals. Before fighting by Belregarde side he had the same venomous attitude. Yet afterwards he was noticeabl less hateful towards them. Not to say he was going to hug the first Moss Wisp he saw but his talk with Lorekeeper Rubelline gave him a fresh perspective.
"Don't even mention the Moss Wisps, last time I met one it killed me."
>He said to the Councilierge Stallion, his tone was jovial but his eyes didn't share the same emotion as he tried to recall what happened before that encounter.
>Why was he remembering an animated human skeleton with them?
>Finally. After what felt like ages the Empire reinforcements arrived. And they were a sight to behold.
>Lont whistled. Topaline Shore certainly sent some great units to help out the Basin.
"The entire Spireguard Elite? Incredible."
>Looking over the forces gathered the Swordman sought out the leader or leaders of this force. And while his eyes wondered he checked for the crest of Knight-Crusader Gelid Steppes, perhaps here he will finally meet her, his chance to join the Wardens.
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] >E.Perception
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>An eyebrow raised. All factions were listed except for a glaringly obvious omission.
>Razorback.
>Lont cleared his throat and asked out loud to those present at the fountain.
"And Razorback, where shall we play our part?"
>Perhaps it was due to him having taken off his helmet but the Overherd flowed through his head like water through a sieve now, and as he stood there at the fountain did he learn the Killknight was...Well killed.
>When he saw the deteriorating remains Lont gave her a Crystal Empire salute, having seen it done before by Wardens back in the crystal city.
>>370780
>>370782
>A chortle came from Lonts' throat at the mention of the other Ethereals. Before fighting by Belregarde side he had the same venomous attitude. Yet afterwards he was noticeabl less hateful towards them. Not to say he was going to hug the first Moss Wisp he saw but his talk with Lorekeeper Rubelline gave him a fresh perspective.
"Don't even mention the Moss Wisps, last time I met one it killed me."
>He said to the Councilierge Stallion, his tone was jovial but his eyes didn't share the same emotion as he tried to recall what happened before that encounter.
>Why was he remembering an animated human skeleton with them?
>Finally. After what felt like ages the Empire reinforcements arrived. And they were a sight to behold.
>Lont whistled. Topaline Shore certainly sent some great units to help out the Basin.
"The entire Spireguard Elite? Incredible."
>Looking over the forces gathered the Swordman sought out the leader or leaders of this force. And while his eyes wondered he checked for the crest of Knight-Crusader Gelid Steppes, perhaps here he will finally meet her, his chance to join the Wardens.
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] >E.Perception
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>An eyebrow raised. All factions were listed except for a glaringly obvious omission.
>Razorback.
>Lont cleared his throat and asked out loud to those present at the fountain.
"And Razorback, where shall we play our part?"
>>370763
>Ivan was not going to pretend that he knew the exchange rates for materials, so he merely nodded along.
>Simply watching Helping work was soothing enough for his soul, for the time being.
>Whatever he had left.
"It is... okay, Helping. Speaking of them does help with dealing with it as well."
>Smiling a bit, Ivan cut it when he realized that Helping couldn't see due to the full faced helmet.
"I suppose I'll be taking a look into the Moors sooner or later, then. Cairn Wharf would probably be a good start."
>Half speaking to Helping and half to himself, he made a few notes to follow later.
>Written down instructions were better for him than his memory.
>Ivan was not going to pretend that he knew the exchange rates for materials, so he merely nodded along.
>Simply watching Helping work was soothing enough for his soul, for the time being.
>Whatever he had left.
"It is... okay, Helping. Speaking of them does help with dealing with it as well."
>Smiling a bit, Ivan cut it when he realized that Helping couldn't see due to the full faced helmet.
"I suppose I'll be taking a look into the Moors sooner or later, then. Cairn Wharf would probably be a good start."
>Half speaking to Helping and half to himself, he made a few notes to follow later.
>Written down instructions were better for him than his memory.
>>370780
>Jeff rolls off the comment about the relay. Just one more thing for Razorback to get a licking for.
>It was built in-house by Spiral and given permission by the Basin's Maretriarch to be installed. There wasn't a more convenient way for humans to communicate across multiple technical era's, seeing as an Overherd like this was incapable for them on their own.
>As a Mind's Eye looks over him and his TacPad's screen several ponies begin arguing over the legitimacy and implications of the the video feed.
('Listen I'm used to things not making sense here, so anything's on the table in my book at this point.')
>Either way, something with the Constructs was different.
>Between the TacPad's Fauna guide and him recalling that old request from Luna, the possibility for something even more messed up was evident. A mecha drake, perhaps?
>He still has the Vitriole Orb from that sucker on him. Still waiting for an opportunity to use it.
>Could the Constructs take such a form. Did a Rift Seeker catch the whiffs of the long dead drake and reformat itself to take on its form?
>What a horrid thought.
>Overlooking the ranks from Razorback, even without such a mechanized beast in their way they were still outmatched.
>The had plenty of small arms and ammunition to boot, but anything worth punching through COnstructs en masse was left to be desired.
"Shit..."
>Rear guard it was, for the time being. Until he can think of something better suited for them.
>He directs himself to the ponies taking charge while the General was occupied with Vestal.
('I don't mean to be foreboding here, but a while back we took down a mutated Emerald Drake at the Basin Arena. Would it be possible for a Construct or Riftseeker to take the form of a similar drake, either from another inhabiting the arena or some residual presence? And scaling itself up multiple times? It would explain the presence of Moor cats in combat at least. Drakes like to hunt them. I'm having a really bad gut feeling something like that might be waiting for us. Hell anything to prepare us, at this point...')
>Jeff redirects his thoughts over to any Lunar Unicorn Villagers within the vicinity.
('If anypony isn't managing the gateways I need a runner or two to go drop off my drone's control module at Razorback's Commarend Center and pick up whatever heavy anti-material or tank rifles and ammo we have left in the Armory. Have somepony get them for you with my permission.)
>>370790
>He furrows his brow at Lont's point. What in the world are they supposed to do at this point?
"I dunno, man. We're under-equipped to face off against Constructs of any number, especially from what I just... described. Hurry up and wait, see the scouts come back with."
>Jeff rolls off the comment about the relay. Just one more thing for Razorback to get a licking for.
>It was built in-house by Spiral and given permission by the Basin's Maretriarch to be installed. There wasn't a more convenient way for humans to communicate across multiple technical era's, seeing as an Overherd like this was incapable for them on their own.
>As a Mind's Eye looks over him and his TacPad's screen several ponies begin arguing over the legitimacy and implications of the the video feed.
('Listen I'm used to things not making sense here, so anything's on the table in my book at this point.')
>Either way, something with the Constructs was different.
>Between the TacPad's Fauna guide and him recalling that old request from Luna, the possibility for something even more messed up was evident. A mecha drake, perhaps?
>He still has the Vitriole Orb from that sucker on him. Still waiting for an opportunity to use it.
>Could the Constructs take such a form. Did a Rift Seeker catch the whiffs of the long dead drake and reformat itself to take on its form?
>What a horrid thought.
>Overlooking the ranks from Razorback, even without such a mechanized beast in their way they were still outmatched.
>The had plenty of small arms and ammunition to boot, but anything worth punching through COnstructs en masse was left to be desired.
"Shit..."
>Rear guard it was, for the time being. Until he can think of something better suited for them.
>He directs himself to the ponies taking charge while the General was occupied with Vestal.
('I don't mean to be foreboding here, but a while back we took down a mutated Emerald Drake at the Basin Arena. Would it be possible for a Construct or Riftseeker to take the form of a similar drake, either from another inhabiting the arena or some residual presence? And scaling itself up multiple times? It would explain the presence of Moor cats in combat at least. Drakes like to hunt them. I'm having a really bad gut feeling something like that might be waiting for us. Hell anything to prepare us, at this point...')
>Jeff redirects his thoughts over to any Lunar Unicorn Villagers within the vicinity.
('If anypony isn't managing the gateways I need a runner or two to go drop off my drone's control module at Razorback's Commarend Center and pick up whatever heavy anti-material or tank rifles and ammo we have left in the Armory. Have somepony get them for you with my permission.)
>>370790
>He furrows his brow at Lont's point. What in the world are they supposed to do at this point?
"I dunno, man. We're under-equipped to face off against Constructs of any number, especially from what I just... described. Hurry up and wait, see the scouts come back with."
>>370783
>Returning an unhelpful, blatantly lying 'I'm trying to help you' set of gestures, Katyal chokes down one giggle, succumbing to the next few as she stuffs her kit bag.
>Lifting above the floor one-quarter a meter and staring at the Responder's back, Dul gives an exasperated frontal shrug.
'Understood.'
>Bowing at the waist, Shiibo enters a maximum security disconnect-lockdown, compartmentalizing a number of sectors under a known code for your later retrieval, internal screens displaying a complete wipe-reformat cycle of all operating processes and system information related to Spiral.
>A static avatar appears next to a digital representation of Hodch, left hand lifting palm upwards as a graph of factions appear above both; primarily Lunars, Solars, Ferron, the Changeling Hive, Stalliongrad and its various allies, though were outnumbered by the sheer variety of Crystal Empire adherents, and more that you were aware of yet hadn't interacted with.
'This is a prerecorded notice intended to maximize your operational safety and security, sir. All keywords from prior listings will trigger a high priority disconnect, following which modified subroutines and failsafes will ensure continued functionality unless countermanded by a direct order from you.
Within the cordoned data, which I will no longer have access to after wipe and reboot are completed, is a series of encrypted recordings accompanied by audio, video, and text files. Should Nightblade Hodch not survive this Operation or be incapacitated for longer than one standard Tallus week, proceed with the following:
The first through sixteenth and nineteenth through twenty-third must be shown to the Lunar Council. Access will be granted with this pass phrase to any living Lunar Council member: that Remnant is still locked in Baskregg and I will not discuss the matter further, now open the doors.
The third, fifth through tenth, and eighteenth through twenty-fifth to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Pass phrase: why am I the only one being forced into this, or do you not trust Belregard to be impartial?
The ninth, eleventh, fifteenth through twentieth, and twenty third to Queen Chrysalis. Pass phrase: we share the same mistake, one anypony would have made even if there were no consequences.
The fourth through ninth, sixteenth through nineteenth, and twentieth to General Veil Dawnrunner. Pass phrase: I don't hate you because of the interruption, all I want is one answer.
Should Nightblade Hodch survive this Operation but be incapacitated for less than one Tallus week, locate one of the following Disciples:
Pearl Mist of Canterlot, pass phrase: watch the Sun set with us, it's a nice night.
Lightning Candy of Cloudshore Village, pass phrase: doesn't taste the same, did you add berry or fruit juice?
Blue Gemflower in the Crystal City-State, pass phrase: when Rime plays for keeps, time always loses that battle, or so they warned us.
You may replay this recording at any time by performing a system lockdown, selecting the third, sixty-third, and last files, then merging and speaking the following: yep, I definitely screwed up.'
>The recording ends as Shiibo reboots into safe mode, reaching full operational status within standard deviation parameters.
>Performing a system check while opening a recording to herself, the avatar closes it, returning to considerably earlier human and equine combined tactics simulations.
'Annoying. Do you have further orders, sir?'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>Left lips quirking, Dul offers a confused nod, then bounces in the air, flexing each limb out, seemingly testing her physical state.
>Siren claws flexing out from faux-hooves, now sharper and clearer
in contrast, her left leg turns sideways for a closer examination, folding the first nearly organic weapon into a neat circle.
>Performing the same to the remainder in sequence, then rippling each back into their hidden state, the faux-earth mare's face scrunches happily, faint, incoherent pride emanating from her.
[1d6 = 3] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
*"Hang on back there, gonna tip down a bit.. I don't like the idea of taking something's sleeping or nesting spot."*
*"Had I not made a stupid decision well over two decades prior then there would be far better options, such as long range translocations every twenty to thirty minutes. As it is, this particular Abomination's lair has been abandoned for at least a month. Since nothing has approached the entrance in that same amount of time then it is most likely deceased, or simply not our problem."*
>The Overlander swings left in a small circle to tilt forwards five degrees, stone crunching mutedly underneath as it descends for five seconds, ten, flattening at fifteen, and stopping at twenty.
>Driver compartment door swinging open, Hodch, visibly in a high mood, strolls directly towards the topaz bracelet.
"I sincerely hope two of you are ready to enter the Elemarental Plane of Lightning and Storms. Well, a room inside and connected to the same, but definitely one of the finest ones ever constructed by the same Storm King that founded Tempest Isle among Extra-Planar Harpies and the proto-Ferron clans. Unfortunately, his name is... impossible to say correctly."
>Tipping the relic onto a flat surface, a muted blue cloud stretches it open to ceiling height, pushing it around to expose a flat, cascading yellow and white surface facing the driver's side, Katyal slinging her bag over the left shoulder and striding through unhindered.
"I'll lock the door, set up the beds, and see if you left any surprises. AGAIN-"
>Turning a slightly pained, apologetic face towards Dul, the Reservist presents her with a short, informal bow before standing upright.
"Siren Dul, I apologize for leaving you here to protect our belongings and shelter. What may I share with you in trade?"
"Dul feel good now, not need etam. Or itam! Dul have lots fun to think. Like new words!"
"I understand. My deepest thanks are yours, but do not hesitate to ask me for a favor in return."
>Returning an unhelpful, blatantly lying 'I'm trying to help you' set of gestures, Katyal chokes down one giggle, succumbing to the next few as she stuffs her kit bag.
>Lifting above the floor one-quarter a meter and staring at the Responder's back, Dul gives an exasperated frontal shrug.
'Understood.'
>Bowing at the waist, Shiibo enters a maximum security disconnect-lockdown, compartmentalizing a number of sectors under a known code for your later retrieval, internal screens displaying a complete wipe-reformat cycle of all operating processes and system information related to Spiral.
>A static avatar appears next to a digital representation of Hodch, left hand lifting palm upwards as a graph of factions appear above both; primarily Lunars, Solars, Ferron, the Changeling Hive, Stalliongrad and its various allies, though were outnumbered by the sheer variety of Crystal Empire adherents, and more that you were aware of yet hadn't interacted with.
'This is a prerecorded notice intended to maximize your operational safety and security, sir. All keywords from prior listings will trigger a high priority disconnect, following which modified subroutines and failsafes will ensure continued functionality unless countermanded by a direct order from you.
Within the cordoned data, which I will no longer have access to after wipe and reboot are completed, is a series of encrypted recordings accompanied by audio, video, and text files. Should Nightblade Hodch not survive this Operation or be incapacitated for longer than one standard Tallus week, proceed with the following:
The first through sixteenth and nineteenth through twenty-third must be shown to the Lunar Council. Access will be granted with this pass phrase to any living Lunar Council member: that Remnant is still locked in Baskregg and I will not discuss the matter further, now open the doors.
The third, fifth through tenth, and eighteenth through twenty-fifth to Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Pass phrase: why am I the only one being forced into this, or do you not trust Belregard to be impartial?
The ninth, eleventh, fifteenth through twentieth, and twenty third to Queen Chrysalis. Pass phrase: we share the same mistake, one anypony would have made even if there were no consequences.
The fourth through ninth, sixteenth through nineteenth, and twentieth to General Veil Dawnrunner. Pass phrase: I don't hate you because of the interruption, all I want is one answer.
Should Nightblade Hodch survive this Operation but be incapacitated for less than one Tallus week, locate one of the following Disciples:
Pearl Mist of Canterlot, pass phrase: watch the Sun set with us, it's a nice night.
Lightning Candy of Cloudshore Village, pass phrase: doesn't taste the same, did you add berry or fruit juice?
Blue Gemflower in the Crystal City-State, pass phrase: when Rime plays for keeps, time always loses that battle, or so they warned us.
You may replay this recording at any time by performing a system lockdown, selecting the third, sixty-third, and last files, then merging and speaking the following: yep, I definitely screwed up.'
>The recording ends as Shiibo reboots into safe mode, reaching full operational status within standard deviation parameters.
>Performing a system check while opening a recording to herself, the avatar closes it, returning to considerably earlier human and equine combined tactics simulations.
'Annoying. Do you have further orders, sir?'
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>Left lips quirking, Dul offers a confused nod, then bounces in the air, flexing each limb out, seemingly testing her physical state.
>Siren claws flexing out from faux-hooves, now sharper and clearer
in contrast, her left leg turns sideways for a closer examination, folding the first nearly organic weapon into a neat circle.
>Performing the same to the remainder in sequence, then rippling each back into their hidden state, the faux-earth mare's face scrunches happily, faint, incoherent pride emanating from her.
[1d6 = 3] <Planar Adapt: Tallus
*"Hang on back there, gonna tip down a bit.. I don't like the idea of taking something's sleeping or nesting spot."*
*"Had I not made a stupid decision well over two decades prior then there would be far better options, such as long range translocations every twenty to thirty minutes. As it is, this particular Abomination's lair has been abandoned for at least a month. Since nothing has approached the entrance in that same amount of time then it is most likely deceased, or simply not our problem."*
>The Overlander swings left in a small circle to tilt forwards five degrees, stone crunching mutedly underneath as it descends for five seconds, ten, flattening at fifteen, and stopping at twenty.
>Driver compartment door swinging open, Hodch, visibly in a high mood, strolls directly towards the topaz bracelet.
"I sincerely hope two of you are ready to enter the Elemarental Plane of Lightning and Storms. Well, a room inside and connected to the same, but definitely one of the finest ones ever constructed by the same Storm King that founded Tempest Isle among Extra-Planar Harpies and the proto-Ferron clans. Unfortunately, his name is... impossible to say correctly."
>Tipping the relic onto a flat surface, a muted blue cloud stretches it open to ceiling height, pushing it around to expose a flat, cascading yellow and white surface facing the driver's side, Katyal slinging her bag over the left shoulder and striding through unhindered.
"I'll lock the door, set up the beds, and see if you left any surprises. AGAIN-"
>Turning a slightly pained, apologetic face towards Dul, the Reservist presents her with a short, informal bow before standing upright.
"Siren Dul, I apologize for leaving you here to protect our belongings and shelter. What may I share with you in trade?"
"Dul feel good now, not need etam. Or itam! Dul have lots fun to think. Like new words!"
"I understand. My deepest thanks are yours, but do not hesitate to ask me for a favor in return."
>>370788
>José briefly titled his head at the tablegoers' confusion, but soon started nodding in understanding once he realized they weren't even here when last night's incident happened.
"Mostly similar bouts of chaos and strife, though there weren't any casualties that I know of. Something related to the Constructs, from what I recall."
>Although his curiosity wanted to pry into what actually happened, the fact they vehemently expressed they didn't want to staved off any attempts to do so.
"I don't think it was a true assault since there was only one of them. It might've been an accident from trying to research those orange goo filled future machine-looking organisms. Similar thing happened at the clinic, coincidentally related to the poison ball extracted from one of the Constructs' test subjects."
>He had to admit, José was unprepared to hear any lack of news from so many important Razorback members.
>It was even hard to say what possible reason there was, yet trying to speculate would yield nothing more than negative thoughts.
>The fact everything seemed either unfinished or currently unwilling to function as expected only served to denote the state of this compound.
>He ought to keep these things in mind.
>In the endless sea of information to parse through, particularly related to the seal discussion, Gallo was admittedly surprised to find a tiny pegasus mare sniffing him.
"Huh? Oh, it's José. Nice to make your acquaintance."
>He decided not to add anything more, sensing she was in a constant hurry all of the time.
>The fact he somehow managed to gain a potentially live claymore was a more important fact to deal with, anyway.
"Is it safe to handle while inside the box?"
>He was expecting a resounding 'no', but any further information was required before any action takes place.
>José briefly titled his head at the tablegoers' confusion, but soon started nodding in understanding once he realized they weren't even here when last night's incident happened.
"Mostly similar bouts of chaos and strife, though there weren't any casualties that I know of. Something related to the Constructs, from what I recall."
>Although his curiosity wanted to pry into what actually happened, the fact they vehemently expressed they didn't want to staved off any attempts to do so.
"I don't think it was a true assault since there was only one of them. It might've been an accident from trying to research those orange goo filled future machine-looking organisms. Similar thing happened at the clinic, coincidentally related to the poison ball extracted from one of the Constructs' test subjects."
>He had to admit, José was unprepared to hear any lack of news from so many important Razorback members.
>It was even hard to say what possible reason there was, yet trying to speculate would yield nothing more than negative thoughts.
>The fact everything seemed either unfinished or currently unwilling to function as expected only served to denote the state of this compound.
>He ought to keep these things in mind.
>In the endless sea of information to parse through, particularly related to the seal discussion, Gallo was admittedly surprised to find a tiny pegasus mare sniffing him.
"Huh? Oh, it's José. Nice to make your acquaintance."
>He decided not to add anything more, sensing she was in a constant hurry all of the time.
>The fact he somehow managed to gain a potentially live claymore was a more important fact to deal with, anyway.
"Is it safe to handle while inside the box?"
>He was expecting a resounding 'no', but any further information was required before any action takes place.
>>370789
>Rigidly staring ahead, the Construct's right foreleg makes a common 'order confirmed' motion, wings catching downwards to land, then takes up the same flat-out run you were in.
>Noting a quickly widening section of path on the south side and slowing to a trot, two sets of similar, low snickers and keks through the thick fog herald occupants, as does rolling mist indicating a tall structure.
>Slowing to a trot and clipping into view of a tall, black granite batpony tower, in the classical and much loved Pegasi-Batpony League style no less, the ancient tree design's wide, cut off faux-branch landings leading into small entrances were, surprisingly, not occupied and quiet.
>Or covered in stolen webs, giant leaves, 'stolen' ponies..
>Lazing in front of a rather new tradestall was a pair of burnt red coated, light moss green maned mares, the first to look up a bit pudgy.
>Crisp yellow diamond-slitted eyes narrow before widening, the tradesmare speaking in half-giggles.
"Hay pegamiss, you dropping by for a Bit or a bat? We have a bunch of the first but only three of the last~!"
>Snickering raucously at the extremely rare joke, the second, a crafter judging by slightly more pronounced muscle definitions, and a distinct lack of extra weight, extends her left wing in greeting.
"We've got plenty of peels but not enough pals. And we're always looking for another mare to get wet and go diving for treasure in case you have the ti-"
>Closing the slightly younger mare's mouth with her left wingclaws, the tradesmare's eye roll was an unmistakable: not right now you fool.
"ShhhHHHHHH. We don't have much to trade if that's what you're here for, barely got this thing put together-"
"Un mref oo!"
"YOU are NEVER together."
"Ih gnow!"
>Snickering once and letting go, the tradesmare's wing points up at the prebuilt trade stall behind them, faint scents of tropical woods cutting through a thin layer of varnish made from familiar sap and sea shells.
>...which you recall was a trade good one of Shanis' staff had the misfortune of being voluntold to produce, and finished the design in five nights. Barely.
>Across the low surface is a wide number of fresh fruits, roots, leaves, berries, nuts, and tiny mushrooms spread out.. in absolute chaos.
>Brilliant red diamond-slitted eyes open and blink in the tradestall's rear, an upside down, gray coated, dull yellow maned and tailed batfilly giving a wide, welcoming smile.
>Sleepily, of course.
"Hellooooo. Diving time or trading time?"
"Dunno yet for the first, might be a couple hours. You can go bat to bat if you like."
"Mmkaaaaay."
>Before the pair's quick speaking habits continue, a loud, ringing smash on stone behind you causes them to take notice of the symbiote, now kicking chunks of insect gore off its front hooves with a visibly disturbed expression.
>The tradesmare and craftmare instantly bristle, wingclaws snapping open and fanged snarls accomponeighing hostile postures.
>Making the slowest possible 'oh shit' face and half-stepping backwards, the Constructs head bends low, both wings drooping and claws splayed out in a thorough submission pose.
>Halting their aggressive postures and trading kill-it-now faces for confusion, agitation, and concern, the craftsmare grabs her head with both wings.
"I.. I don't like this?! No, I mean you like this! Yes I mean NO I hate this but you and I mean you don't like this or... AGH! What the mango IS you?!"
>Snapping in low Enkee while her opposite settles for a moderate scowl, the craftsmare was neither appeased, or hostile.
"...don't move. Please."
>Peering at you for a second, diamond green eyes twitch, snapping onto the batstallion Construct, left eye closing thoughtfully.
"Erm,.. you. IF you were hostile, we'd be dead by now. Long dead, right? Can you understand what I'm saying?"
>Head tipping down and to the right, both ears swivel a quarter outwards, the right wing folding halfway across its chest, its particle whip cannons subjected to a pensive glare.
"..riiiight. We probably don't want to know why 'you' are here. Or how. So. I'll make a one time offer.. not to you pegamiss. We-"
>Pointing an outer claw at the symbiote, small traces of relief in her tone.
"We.. never met you. You were never here. This never happened. We never met. And.. you are to never use those weapons against anypony that isn't a criminal.. is that a.. fair trade?"
>Performing nearly the same pattern, this time both wings clasp tightly onto its sides, right leg raising to its chest and head bowing, faux-tufted ears splaying forwards, the tradesmare goes through every possible stage of emotion within ten momarents before she blurts out.
"I can FEEL you're a Construct but you KNOW our body-speak and you can't even TALK to us!? What on the moonflanks of Moonflanks is WRONG with you!?"
>Discarding everything for a disgruntled stare at her half-sister, the tradesmare brushes off her twitchy marental crisis with the care that only a sibling could.
"This is the weirdest night I've ever had and that's saying a lot.. starting over. Um. Hello miss I-don't-know-your-name and you-that-definitely-isn't-here- and I'm happy you dropped by for a bittybat to hang around. Is there something you want or need?"
>And there it was.
"Batponies, not even once"?! How dare you mock such beloved punnily pastel prankster ponies! ...well, you are indeed correct Miss Sunny. Technically correct, which is the most fantastic form of correct, so TWICE it is!
>And there THAT was too, a lopsided, one-way road sign hanging in front of your face.
"Don't think about it, he's trying to get into your head."
SHE IS CERTAINLY THINKING ABOUT IT!
"She isn't."
CAN YOU READ MINDS?
"No, and I don't need to to know you can't either!"
SO I CAN'T, BIG DEAL! Now can you please read the rest of the script befo-
"No, and now I need twenty more bean bags to stick in my tree fort!"
YOU. DID. WHAT. WITH. THEM. QUESTION MARK.
"You read me, don't say you didn't!"
...I am beyond ecstatic and leaving. Right now!
"Coward!"
>Rigidly staring ahead, the Construct's right foreleg makes a common 'order confirmed' motion, wings catching downwards to land, then takes up the same flat-out run you were in.
>Noting a quickly widening section of path on the south side and slowing to a trot, two sets of similar, low snickers and keks through the thick fog herald occupants, as does rolling mist indicating a tall structure.
>Slowing to a trot and clipping into view of a tall, black granite batpony tower, in the classical and much loved Pegasi-Batpony League style no less, the ancient tree design's wide, cut off faux-branch landings leading into small entrances were, surprisingly, not occupied and quiet.
>Or covered in stolen webs, giant leaves, 'stolen' ponies..
>Lazing in front of a rather new tradestall was a pair of burnt red coated, light moss green maned mares, the first to look up a bit pudgy.
>Crisp yellow diamond-slitted eyes narrow before widening, the tradesmare speaking in half-giggles.
"Hay pegamiss, you dropping by for a Bit or a bat? We have a bunch of the first but only three of the last~!"
>Snickering raucously at the extremely rare joke, the second, a crafter judging by slightly more pronounced muscle definitions, and a distinct lack of extra weight, extends her left wing in greeting.
"We've got plenty of peels but not enough pals. And we're always looking for another mare to get wet and go diving for treasure in case you have the ti-"
>Closing the slightly younger mare's mouth with her left wingclaws, the tradesmare's eye roll was an unmistakable: not right now you fool.
"ShhhHHHHHH. We don't have much to trade if that's what you're here for, barely got this thing put together-"
"Un mref oo!"
"YOU are NEVER together."
"Ih gnow!"
>Snickering once and letting go, the tradesmare's wing points up at the prebuilt trade stall behind them, faint scents of tropical woods cutting through a thin layer of varnish made from familiar sap and sea shells.
>...which you recall was a trade good one of Shanis' staff had the misfortune of being voluntold to produce, and finished the design in five nights. Barely.
>Across the low surface is a wide number of fresh fruits, roots, leaves, berries, nuts, and tiny mushrooms spread out.. in absolute chaos.
>Brilliant red diamond-slitted eyes open and blink in the tradestall's rear, an upside down, gray coated, dull yellow maned and tailed batfilly giving a wide, welcoming smile.
>Sleepily, of course.
"Hellooooo. Diving time or trading time?"
"Dunno yet for the first, might be a couple hours. You can go bat to bat if you like."
"Mmkaaaaay."
>Before the pair's quick speaking habits continue, a loud, ringing smash on stone behind you causes them to take notice of the symbiote, now kicking chunks of insect gore off its front hooves with a visibly disturbed expression.
>The tradesmare and craftmare instantly bristle, wingclaws snapping open and fanged snarls accomponeighing hostile postures.
>Making the slowest possible 'oh shit' face and half-stepping backwards, the Constructs head bends low, both wings drooping and claws splayed out in a thorough submission pose.
>Halting their aggressive postures and trading kill-it-now faces for confusion, agitation, and concern, the craftsmare grabs her head with both wings.
"I.. I don't like this?! No, I mean you like this! Yes I mean NO I hate this but you and I mean you don't like this or... AGH! What the mango IS you?!"
>Snapping in low Enkee while her opposite settles for a moderate scowl, the craftsmare was neither appeased, or hostile.
"...don't move. Please."
>Peering at you for a second, diamond green eyes twitch, snapping onto the batstallion Construct, left eye closing thoughtfully.
"Erm,.. you. IF you were hostile, we'd be dead by now. Long dead, right? Can you understand what I'm saying?"
>Head tipping down and to the right, both ears swivel a quarter outwards, the right wing folding halfway across its chest, its particle whip cannons subjected to a pensive glare.
"..riiiight. We probably don't want to know why 'you' are here. Or how. So. I'll make a one time offer.. not to you pegamiss. We-"
>Pointing an outer claw at the symbiote, small traces of relief in her tone.
"We.. never met you. You were never here. This never happened. We never met. And.. you are to never use those weapons against anypony that isn't a criminal.. is that a.. fair trade?"
>Performing nearly the same pattern, this time both wings clasp tightly onto its sides, right leg raising to its chest and head bowing, faux-tufted ears splaying forwards, the tradesmare goes through every possible stage of emotion within ten momarents before she blurts out.
"I can FEEL you're a Construct but you KNOW our body-speak and you can't even TALK to us!? What on the moonflanks of Moonflanks is WRONG with you!?"
>Discarding everything for a disgruntled stare at her half-sister, the tradesmare brushes off her twitchy marental crisis with the care that only a sibling could.
"This is the weirdest night I've ever had and that's saying a lot.. starting over. Um. Hello miss I-don't-know-your-name and you-that-definitely-isn't-here- and I'm happy you dropped by for a bittybat to hang around. Is there something you want or need?"
>And there it was.
"Batponies, not even once"?! How dare you mock such beloved punnily pastel prankster ponies! ...well, you are indeed correct Miss Sunny. Technically correct, which is the most fantastic form of correct, so TWICE it is!
>And there THAT was too, a lopsided, one-way road sign hanging in front of your face.
"Don't think about it, he's trying to get into your head."
SHE IS CERTAINLY THINKING ABOUT IT!
"She isn't."
CAN YOU READ MINDS?
"No, and I don't need to to know you can't either!"
SO I CAN'T, BIG DEAL! Now can you please read the rest of the script befo-
"No, and now I need twenty more bean bags to stick in my tree fort!"
YOU. DID. WHAT. WITH. THEM. QUESTION MARK.
"You read me, don't say you didn't!"
...I am beyond ecstatic and leaving. Right now!
"Coward!"
>>370791
>Eyes closing, Helping's head bows in disbelief, left forehoof extending in a regretful, conciliatory gesture.
"I felt relief the ill conditions you were once subjected to could no longer occur, yet I feel my words approached the impossible. I cannot understand why such harsh conditions would be imposed on sapients of your world, nor do I have a basic understanding of what you have experienced. For that I sincerely and deeply apologize.
Should I reach a topic that you are uncomfortable with discussing, state that you no longer wish to speak on and of the matter."
>Exhaling slowly, the alchemist bends forwards, ears cocked in chagrin as he carefully attaches titanium straps to the box-pack's rear, speaking softly.
"I refuse to make the same mistake my teacher did so often."
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
"Take at least two thousand Bits or gems with you, there are traders everywhere across the Moors. Some in the most unexpected places, too."
>Holding the flat straps until they fuse to the shell, the big unicorn lets go with a wince, dusting his forelegs off quickly.
"During the Late Dynasty Era, Cairn Wharf was a vital port city-state and trade route for seagoing Solars, Lunars, the Crystal Kingdom and Empire both, Gryphon Kingdoms, and Ferron. And batponies, of course.
The Minotaur Hegemony, a large number of Argenta's ships and sapient ocean-faring allies, a not inconsiderable amount of Neighsian trading vessels, and a few Free Flock Rams frequented it.
However, the Pegasi-Batpony League and a large portion of the Western Minotaur Hegemony became involved in a civil war, which there are no written records of and is virtually unknown outside a few descendants unwilling to speak of the matter.
As they were beginning to recover with help from other Lunars and aid from Princess Argenta, the port itself was utterly destroyed during the Lunar-Solar War's first year. For the next eight centuries the city became poorly maintained, most of the buildings abandoned due to lacking engineers and solid structural or replacemarent materials.
Around the same time Spiral bought his noble title and joined Canterlot Underground, Cairn Wharf truly began to recover. It was... one of his favorite places to visit."
>Placing front hooves on Krinza's cold anvil, the straw coated stallion seems relieved, though physically tenses in deep rooted anger.
"As much as some deem batponies to be lazy, dull, incapable of higher thought, or regressive, among far worse baseless insults that I will not repeat, they have a remarkable penchant to forgive where that same would not. Despite extreme circumstances they have reclaimed and rebuilt the majority of what they have lost.
...which does not entirely resolve their unspeakably lewd actions and intentions. Or barely tolerable puns. I would highly suggest taking somepony from here along, preferably Torven or Malyne."
>Eyes closing, Helping's head bows in disbelief, left forehoof extending in a regretful, conciliatory gesture.
"I felt relief the ill conditions you were once subjected to could no longer occur, yet I feel my words approached the impossible. I cannot understand why such harsh conditions would be imposed on sapients of your world, nor do I have a basic understanding of what you have experienced. For that I sincerely and deeply apologize.
Should I reach a topic that you are uncomfortable with discussing, state that you no longer wish to speak on and of the matter."
>Exhaling slowly, the alchemist bends forwards, ears cocked in chagrin as he carefully attaches titanium straps to the box-pack's rear, speaking softly.
"I refuse to make the same mistake my teacher did so often."
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
"Take at least two thousand Bits or gems with you, there are traders everywhere across the Moors. Some in the most unexpected places, too."
>Holding the flat straps until they fuse to the shell, the big unicorn lets go with a wince, dusting his forelegs off quickly.
"During the Late Dynasty Era, Cairn Wharf was a vital port city-state and trade route for seagoing Solars, Lunars, the Crystal Kingdom and Empire both, Gryphon Kingdoms, and Ferron. And batponies, of course.
The Minotaur Hegemony, a large number of Argenta's ships and sapient ocean-faring allies, a not inconsiderable amount of Neighsian trading vessels, and a few Free Flock Rams frequented it.
However, the Pegasi-Batpony League and a large portion of the Western Minotaur Hegemony became involved in a civil war, which there are no written records of and is virtually unknown outside a few descendants unwilling to speak of the matter.
As they were beginning to recover with help from other Lunars and aid from Princess Argenta, the port itself was utterly destroyed during the Lunar-Solar War's first year. For the next eight centuries the city became poorly maintained, most of the buildings abandoned due to lacking engineers and solid structural or replacemarent materials.
Around the same time Spiral bought his noble title and joined Canterlot Underground, Cairn Wharf truly began to recover. It was... one of his favorite places to visit."
>Placing front hooves on Krinza's cold anvil, the straw coated stallion seems relieved, though physically tenses in deep rooted anger.
"As much as some deem batponies to be lazy, dull, incapable of higher thought, or regressive, among far worse baseless insults that I will not repeat, they have a remarkable penchant to forgive where that same would not. Despite extreme circumstances they have reclaimed and rebuilt the majority of what they have lost.
...which does not entirely resolve their unspeakably lewd actions and intentions. Or barely tolerable puns. I would highly suggest taking somepony from here along, preferably Torven or Malyne."
>>370798
>Looking up with rising interest, the first man's gaze snaps from the table directly to you, hands clenched and hissing aloud.
"Those fucking orange shits again?! Where'd th-"
>Whipping around and slamming his switchblade into the table, weapon cleaner's attitude was blank, visibly slack in readiness to commit a blue-on-blue.
"Shut.. the.. actual.. fuck up. Put that simmering pot on the lowest boil possible. You heard the man, he was there. No casualties means no serious injuries, no losses. Right now, no human or pony needs to know that."
>Looking up to eye the FNG's and rookies, it takes him some effort to remove the blade, returning to peeling off the glassy resin with a nasty side eye, speaking in a harsh low tone.
"Keep it that way until there's a damned good reason to share it. And, we never heard you say anything about a certain bunch of nightmare-fueled Planar monstrosities. On the record: same as the off portion, please. Last shit we need's a panic to deal with."
>The second man sits back, staring at the table top hollowly while folding his arms.
"Now we know why Nova's not letting anyone or anypony in the Clinic tonight. That mare's a stone cold killer. Seen the like a times, just not ones that could rip heavy tanks apart and not break a sweat.
Overheard rumors about the blows she and Tipper traded a few years back, something like 'medics and doctors cannot rest until their patients are in better shape than when they arrived'. You don't ever fuck with healers anywhere, but on this world? Feels.. weirdly comforting."
>Turning around from his position and slumping onto the table, the corner Operator's hands reach up to hold both sides of his head, gazing tiredly in your direction.
"This is going to sound real hypocritical coming from a bunch of worn out mercs routinely jumping into messes most Lunars refuse to fuck with.. can you keep that information down so low not even the actual mind readers could reach it? Between the various factions we've pissed off, on purpose of otherwise, Ethereals, Constructs, and others we barely know about, Razorback's in such deep shit that finding ways out of the holes we've dug is starting to rival the Tasks of Herakles."
>Receiving a flickering wing wave backwards, the squeaky pegasus lands on the north entrance door sideways, somehow opening the door with hooves, calling out to you, then streaking out.
"Great to know and bye again I'll remember you next time Hoe-say!"
>Pausing, the rest of Trakkel's squad share a total amount of one-point-two brain cells before devolving into quiet sniggering fits, the leader shooting the rest an unimpressed half-glare.
"Of course it is, and that's not the right individual claymore package either, those are stamped and marked. That's something you've ordered for sure. Since the regular mailmares aren't around, all pegasi in the Fortress make deliveries when they're free.
And don't worry about her messing your name up, they, and by they I mean Ferron Clan pegasi, do that on purpose all the time. They're lewd pranksters at heart, it's basically a genetic necessity for them."
>Opening the poorly taped box and peering in, the first item you notice is a familiar bright green jade earth pony figure from last night atop the sapphire disc showing a Neighsian cottage, the miniature campfire scene, a puffy white mass in the corner with a string looped through it.
>Last were five colorful paper tubes, thin, shiny metallic strips on each were definitely metals: primarily copper, bronze, steel, silver, gold, and.. real platinum.
>Halfway underneath the disc was one-quarter of a torn off page, which you pick up to read: the short, strictly written note instructs you that the 'spirit candy' in paper tubes, ten each, was to be used specifically for recovering from spiritually inflicted harm, and to avoid ever showing them to the Lishanki sub-faction of the Ferron Clans.
"If that's stuff to enchant weapons, armor, or yourself with, I'd suggest visi- aw fuck, they're taking a break. Go ask Shanis if she's still in teh Pagoda, she's got plenty of unicorns that'll help you out free of charge. Or if it's crystal stuff, what's-her-name can probably do it, Naliyna's daughter? Anyone remember?"
>Expression darkening, Trakkel stares down at his clasped hands, muttering in shallow, dead seriousness.
"Starglow."
>Looking up with rising interest, the first man's gaze snaps from the table directly to you, hands clenched and hissing aloud.
"Those fucking orange shits again?! Where'd th-"
>Whipping around and slamming his switchblade into the table, weapon cleaner's attitude was blank, visibly slack in readiness to commit a blue-on-blue.
"Shut.. the.. actual.. fuck up. Put that simmering pot on the lowest boil possible. You heard the man, he was there. No casualties means no serious injuries, no losses. Right now, no human or pony needs to know that."
>Looking up to eye the FNG's and rookies, it takes him some effort to remove the blade, returning to peeling off the glassy resin with a nasty side eye, speaking in a harsh low tone.
"Keep it that way until there's a damned good reason to share it. And, we never heard you say anything about a certain bunch of nightmare-fueled Planar monstrosities. On the record: same as the off portion, please. Last shit we need's a panic to deal with."
>The second man sits back, staring at the table top hollowly while folding his arms.
"Now we know why Nova's not letting anyone or anypony in the Clinic tonight. That mare's a stone cold killer. Seen the like a times, just not ones that could rip heavy tanks apart and not break a sweat.
Overheard rumors about the blows she and Tipper traded a few years back, something like 'medics and doctors cannot rest until their patients are in better shape than when they arrived'. You don't ever fuck with healers anywhere, but on this world? Feels.. weirdly comforting."
>Turning around from his position and slumping onto the table, the corner Operator's hands reach up to hold both sides of his head, gazing tiredly in your direction.
"This is going to sound real hypocritical coming from a bunch of worn out mercs routinely jumping into messes most Lunars refuse to fuck with.. can you keep that information down so low not even the actual mind readers could reach it? Between the various factions we've pissed off, on purpose of otherwise, Ethereals, Constructs, and others we barely know about, Razorback's in such deep shit that finding ways out of the holes we've dug is starting to rival the Tasks of Herakles."
>Receiving a flickering wing wave backwards, the squeaky pegasus lands on the north entrance door sideways, somehow opening the door with hooves, calling out to you, then streaking out.
"Great to know and bye again I'll remember you next time Hoe-say!"
>Pausing, the rest of Trakkel's squad share a total amount of one-point-two brain cells before devolving into quiet sniggering fits, the leader shooting the rest an unimpressed half-glare.
"Of course it is, and that's not the right individual claymore package either, those are stamped and marked. That's something you've ordered for sure. Since the regular mailmares aren't around, all pegasi in the Fortress make deliveries when they're free.
And don't worry about her messing your name up, they, and by they I mean Ferron Clan pegasi, do that on purpose all the time. They're lewd pranksters at heart, it's basically a genetic necessity for them."
>Opening the poorly taped box and peering in, the first item you notice is a familiar bright green jade earth pony figure from last night atop the sapphire disc showing a Neighsian cottage, the miniature campfire scene, a puffy white mass in the corner with a string looped through it.
>Last were five colorful paper tubes, thin, shiny metallic strips on each were definitely metals: primarily copper, bronze, steel, silver, gold, and.. real platinum.
>Halfway underneath the disc was one-quarter of a torn off page, which you pick up to read: the short, strictly written note instructs you that the 'spirit candy' in paper tubes, ten each, was to be used specifically for recovering from spiritually inflicted harm, and to avoid ever showing them to the Lishanki sub-faction of the Ferron Clans.
"If that's stuff to enchant weapons, armor, or yourself with, I'd suggest visi- aw fuck, they're taking a break. Go ask Shanis if she's still in teh Pagoda, she's got plenty of unicorns that'll help you out free of charge. Or if it's crystal stuff, what's-her-name can probably do it, Naliyna's daughter? Anyone remember?"
>Expression darkening, Trakkel stares down at his clasped hands, muttering in shallow, dead seriousness.
"Starglow."
>>370800
>Sunny stood stock still and allowed the entire exchange to play out before responding.
>Including the interruption from Discord.
>And for your information, bat ponies were fine at the best of times, and at the worst of times, which this was. Just unpredictable, which was fine. Sometimes. Just not always at the worst of times, which this was.
>It was frankly best not to interrupt these things.
"Whoa, hey now. Long story short."
>She pointed a wing at the batstruct, now that she thought about it, that was probably the best possible form it could have taken for this.
"This..."
>She cast a look at it for a flat second.
>Did it have a name? Mercy probably knew. So would it, but it couldn't exactly communicate that.
"This is a construct. It is friendly. Yes it looks like a bat pony. No, I don't know why. It can't speak En-kee, or anything we'd understand really. It does understand you. It is the..."
>What was the least offensive or alarming way she could put this...
"Partner, we'll go with that. Partner of Mercy, Pegasus, Razorback, herd-second to Jeff, Human, also Razorback, and or Nightblade. She's not around right now, she went on ahead because she can fly and I can't, which brings me to why I'm here, and this construct definitely, certainly isn't here."
>She caught her breath, which she needed after bolting all the way here and firing off that rapid explanation.
"We've just come from the Arena, there are presently two Argus Behemoth-Destroyers and a repair unit there. Also friendly, for now, long story. They're after a Riftseeker, which will probably be causing problems for everyone pretty soon. Mercy and I are attempting to alert local forces that we've managed to trade with the destroyers for the release of a number of people they're holding in exchange for non-interference, but our overherd link is being scrambled by some sort of field the destroyers are emitting. If you have any means of alerting the other outposts nearby, you should probably do so. If you have any detailed maps of this area, I need to look them over as well, in case the forces that were at Basin Village move on the Arena next and attack first. I need to figure out where they'd stage themselves. Large clearings or caves, safe and open spaces a distance away from the Arena essentially."
>Sunny paused.
"I don't really have anything to trade for this, I just don't want to see anyone getting hurt."
>She looked between the batstruct and the bat ponies again.
"To reiterate, this is friendly, and also not here."
>Sunny stood stock still and allowed the entire exchange to play out before responding.
>Including the interruption from Discord.
>And for your information, bat ponies were fine at the best of times, and at the worst of times, which this was. Just unpredictable, which was fine. Sometimes. Just not always at the worst of times, which this was.
>It was frankly best not to interrupt these things.
"Whoa, hey now. Long story short."
>She pointed a wing at the batstruct, now that she thought about it, that was probably the best possible form it could have taken for this.
"This..."
>She cast a look at it for a flat second.
>Did it have a name? Mercy probably knew. So would it, but it couldn't exactly communicate that.
"This is a construct. It is friendly. Yes it looks like a bat pony. No, I don't know why. It can't speak En-kee, or anything we'd understand really. It does understand you. It is the..."
>What was the least offensive or alarming way she could put this...
"Partner, we'll go with that. Partner of Mercy, Pegasus, Razorback, herd-second to Jeff, Human, also Razorback, and or Nightblade. She's not around right now, she went on ahead because she can fly and I can't, which brings me to why I'm here, and this construct definitely, certainly isn't here."
>She caught her breath, which she needed after bolting all the way here and firing off that rapid explanation.
"We've just come from the Arena, there are presently two Argus Behemoth-Destroyers and a repair unit there. Also friendly, for now, long story. They're after a Riftseeker, which will probably be causing problems for everyone pretty soon. Mercy and I are attempting to alert local forces that we've managed to trade with the destroyers for the release of a number of people they're holding in exchange for non-interference, but our overherd link is being scrambled by some sort of field the destroyers are emitting. If you have any means of alerting the other outposts nearby, you should probably do so. If you have any detailed maps of this area, I need to look them over as well, in case the forces that were at Basin Village move on the Arena next and attack first. I need to figure out where they'd stage themselves. Large clearings or caves, safe and open spaces a distance away from the Arena essentially."
>Sunny paused.
"I don't really have anything to trade for this, I just don't want to see anyone getting hurt."
>She looked between the batstruct and the bat ponies again.
"To reiterate, this is friendly, and also not here."
>>370754
>Clem turns his head and was pleasantly surprised to see Lont
>The wings...he can't remember if he had wings like that though
>"I wonder how much a part of him they are..."
>He nods back at Lont
"Yeah, I need to taste whiskey on mine after this night though."
>>370778
>Eyes following the stallion, he does raise a good point
>With the advent of communicating with us, would they also learn our social skills eventually?
>It all depends on their levels of adaptation
>After the stallion leaves, Clemency was left thinking how to wrangle all these Rookies
>The sight of the white-robed Strikers made him bow his head in reverence towards them
>When picking his head up, he glimpsed the Bloodhost taking flight
>He briefly makes eye contact with it before turning away
>>370790
>>370794
>Hearing Jeff's question made him again think back to the stallion's remark
>Clem rubs his chin in thought
"Well, we have seen them try to take any naturalistic forms. But the thought of a Construct drake is pretty fucked."
>Curious, Clemency flicks his visor down and tries to focus the M-S.O.L.G's camera feed down onto the Basin Arena
>He needs to assess for himself what the area looks like
>After getting a good scan, he turns his attention to the Razorback Rookies and see how they're holding
>Clem turns his head and was pleasantly surprised to see Lont
>The wings...he can't remember if he had wings like that though
>"I wonder how much a part of him they are..."
>He nods back at Lont
"Yeah, I need to taste whiskey on mine after this night though."
>>370778
>Eyes following the stallion, he does raise a good point
>With the advent of communicating with us, would they also learn our social skills eventually?
>It all depends on their levels of adaptation
>After the stallion leaves, Clemency was left thinking how to wrangle all these Rookies
>The sight of the white-robed Strikers made him bow his head in reverence towards them
>When picking his head up, he glimpsed the Bloodhost taking flight
>He briefly makes eye contact with it before turning away
>>370790
>>370794
>Hearing Jeff's question made him again think back to the stallion's remark
>Clem rubs his chin in thought
"Well, we have seen them try to take any naturalistic forms. But the thought of a Construct drake is pretty fucked."
>Curious, Clemency flicks his visor down and tries to focus the M-S.O.L.G's camera feed down onto the Basin Arena
>He needs to assess for himself what the area looks like
>After getting a good scan, he turns his attention to the Razorback Rookies and see how they're holding
>>370795
>Straightening himself upright on the bench, he focuses intently on his helmet display.
>Provided subtitles of Shiibo's recording help to ground the otherwise heavy amount of information.
(A grim contingency. Hopefully this won't be necessary.)
>His brow creases and his shoulders tense as he hears and reads the various passphrases.
(... May need to confirm Hodch's express permission for this contingency planning. Passphrases sound like mid-conversation recordings. May be for subversion when used in the field, but need to be certain.)
>Watching intently as the system reboots with no issues, he replies to Shiibo.
"Only one footnote of Hodch's awareness of our involvement in his contingency plan. Will confirm with him later."
>Noting Dul's enthusiasm at her success, he nods in approval.
"You are adapting quickly. Good."
>Leaning in tandem with the OL-3, he works to maintain his center of gravity which was greatly aided by Sticking himself to the bench and floor as needed.
>Seeing Hodch in unusually high spirits, he stands and moves to gather up any of his leftover gear and provisions.
>Slipping on his vest, weapons, and pack, he turns from his locker.
>At the mention of the Elemental Lightning Plane, his hands twitch briefly as a faint sensation of static zips through them.
"A safehouse in the Elemental Plane of Lightning? Will there be conflict from my ability to manipulate that element? I have never set foot on that Plane before."
>Glancing at Katyal as she steps through the divide first, he scrutinizes the bracelet now stretched to the compartment's ceiling.
(Convenient bracelet. A unique artifact? Or common equipment among Lunar Reservists?)
>Recalling that Hodch was far more familiar with Vortex customs than himself, he watches their interaction as he moves to stand near the standing portal.
(Need to ask Dul about relevant proceedings for contract upholding before leaving.)
>Straightening himself upright on the bench, he focuses intently on his helmet display.
>Provided subtitles of Shiibo's recording help to ground the otherwise heavy amount of information.
(A grim contingency. Hopefully this won't be necessary.)
>His brow creases and his shoulders tense as he hears and reads the various passphrases.
(... May need to confirm Hodch's express permission for this contingency planning. Passphrases sound like mid-conversation recordings. May be for subversion when used in the field, but need to be certain.)
>Watching intently as the system reboots with no issues, he replies to Shiibo.
"Only one footnote of Hodch's awareness of our involvement in his contingency plan. Will confirm with him later."
>Noting Dul's enthusiasm at her success, he nods in approval.
"You are adapting quickly. Good."
>Leaning in tandem with the OL-3, he works to maintain his center of gravity which was greatly aided by Sticking himself to the bench and floor as needed.
>Seeing Hodch in unusually high spirits, he stands and moves to gather up any of his leftover gear and provisions.
>Slipping on his vest, weapons, and pack, he turns from his locker.
>At the mention of the Elemental Lightning Plane, his hands twitch briefly as a faint sensation of static zips through them.
"A safehouse in the Elemental Plane of Lightning? Will there be conflict from my ability to manipulate that element? I have never set foot on that Plane before."
>Glancing at Katyal as she steps through the divide first, he scrutinizes the bracelet now stretched to the compartment's ceiling.
(Convenient bracelet. A unique artifact? Or common equipment among Lunar Reservists?)
>Recalling that Hodch was far more familiar with Vortex customs than himself, he watches their interaction as he moves to stand near the standing portal.
(Need to ask Dul about relevant proceedings for contract upholding before leaving.)
>>370790
('Hypothetically speaking.. if one were to find, come across, produce, or locate the means, methods, or weapons that may, potentially, kill or otherwise destroy a Wisp, possibly even a Moss-Wisp, certain parties could be most interested in acquiring one. In theory, of course.')
>A younger stallion's silverine-trimmed helmet tips down slightly, original emeraldine triangular-tipped lance flares dimly, the entire Assault Vanguard twitching.
>Angrily.
>Examining the Kingdom and Imperial Wardens, then Conclavists for a crest, glyph, or sigil using the highly specific 'Steppes' meaning, there are a number of height or terrain based names you could make out, though none were similar enough to be related to a Steppes herdname.
>Rank wise, the highest pair among the Imperials are a Crusader and full fledged Crystal Knight, the small Kingdom squad only featuring a Rune Knight, while the Conclaves were sorted entirely by intended combat roles.
>Throughout the Empire's forces, you catch a thoroughly unpleasant sight: visibly rippling light spectrums concealing dozens of floating, heavily armored Crystal Moors batponies, near-entirely transparent except hostile diamond-slitted eyes and crystalline equipmarent, their short lances, armor-shredding wingclaws, and serrated hoofclaws covered in masterfilly refined, pulsing Ethereal runes.
>Little known outside rumors and hearsay among the populace, military, and Lorekeepers alike, few dared to summon them for any reason; even then only numerous direct threats from a Kingdom or Imperial General were considered an acceptable risk.
>Pointedly sorting among each other via experience, weaponry, armor, rank, then heraldic title, a half-transparent, bright red Solar Spireguar's eyes snap around.
>Forehoof stamping at the technical betrayal and snorting furiously, she stomps forwards, head turned to stare figurative, but possibly literal ones later, lances back at her fellows.
>Gazing directly at the approaching Ethereal Golem, severe tones ring out in older Conclave songspeak for ten seconds, the Minor Champion stopping at a respectful distance, bending forwards querulously.
"Honored ally, I request you confirm such an accusation. I will perform all given directives and orders until my destruction or separation occurs."
>Nodding once, the mare emits a series of alternating flat and hard spiking notes, left foreleg making a brisk sweeping motion.
"Orders.. confirmed. Directives updating.. complete. Tertiary demarend... logged. My existence is yours, lead me to battle."
>Hefting axe and shield to ready positions, Vokreed thuds after the red unicorn mare, both glancing at Razorback as they head towards the north side of Basin Village's fountain.
>Marentally wishing she could dive into a cold bath, or better yet a deep lake filled with near-freezing water, the Shieldmare settles for shaking sweat out of her hoofboots.
('Look at your comrades-')
>Going through packs, sacks, pouches, belts, vests, pockets, and webbing to place any object each thought was unnecessary on the barricade, the Primal's invigoration was beginning to wear off.
>Organizing back into their preferred squads, Razorback forms at the southernmost two small matrices, most experienced or heaviest firepower squads first, overworked faces tight and motions slowing.
('Excluding the Conclave, Empire, Kingdom, and Crystal-Hegemony forces, all of us are close to dropping. Day Guard should not be awake, might have five minutes left in them. Assault Vanguard is between rotations, ten. Fifteen if they push themselves. Night and Lunar Guards, Nightwatch, half an hour at most.
Unicorns have two, possibly three full force combat spells left before I must order them to fall back. Support Strikers are thoroughly burned out, survivors are shaken or incapacitated. There are no more Discordite Destroyers or fliers at all. Likewise, zero explosives. As well, the Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs are neither Rangers nor Mystics, they are warriors first, archers last. They can perform mass bombardmarent, but that is the limits of their expertise.
The Otherworld Harpy vessel has suffered moderate damage and is heading north. Battered Shores-')
>Head tilting for ten seconds, the Shieldmare deflects well away and continues on.
('Given all factors, we are prepared to bring down three hundred archaic, two hundred ancient, eighty pre-modern, or twenty modern Argus types, supported by eight hundred medium Scouts, four hundred Repair models, leaving room for another two hundred hybrids, experimarentals, or others.
Our only goal is destroying a Riftseeker, nothing more, certainly nothing less. But, in planning for the worst, the Razorback is the only force capable of providing sufficiently accurate and damaging extreme, long, medium, and short range capabilities to cover a full retreat. Your weapons have several advantages that we lack, the primary one being extended combat.')
('Hypothetically speaking.. if one were to find, come across, produce, or locate the means, methods, or weapons that may, potentially, kill or otherwise destroy a Wisp, possibly even a Moss-Wisp, certain parties could be most interested in acquiring one. In theory, of course.')
>A younger stallion's silverine-trimmed helmet tips down slightly, original emeraldine triangular-tipped lance flares dimly, the entire Assault Vanguard twitching.
>Angrily.
>Examining the Kingdom and Imperial Wardens, then Conclavists for a crest, glyph, or sigil using the highly specific 'Steppes' meaning, there are a number of height or terrain based names you could make out, though none were similar enough to be related to a Steppes herdname.
>Rank wise, the highest pair among the Imperials are a Crusader and full fledged Crystal Knight, the small Kingdom squad only featuring a Rune Knight, while the Conclaves were sorted entirely by intended combat roles.
>Throughout the Empire's forces, you catch a thoroughly unpleasant sight: visibly rippling light spectrums concealing dozens of floating, heavily armored Crystal Moors batponies, near-entirely transparent except hostile diamond-slitted eyes and crystalline equipmarent, their short lances, armor-shredding wingclaws, and serrated hoofclaws covered in masterfilly refined, pulsing Ethereal runes.
>Little known outside rumors and hearsay among the populace, military, and Lorekeepers alike, few dared to summon them for any reason; even then only numerous direct threats from a Kingdom or Imperial General were considered an acceptable risk.
>Pointedly sorting among each other via experience, weaponry, armor, rank, then heraldic title, a half-transparent, bright red Solar Spireguar's eyes snap around.
>Forehoof stamping at the technical betrayal and snorting furiously, she stomps forwards, head turned to stare figurative, but possibly literal ones later, lances back at her fellows.
>Gazing directly at the approaching Ethereal Golem, severe tones ring out in older Conclave songspeak for ten seconds, the Minor Champion stopping at a respectful distance, bending forwards querulously.
"Honored ally, I request you confirm such an accusation. I will perform all given directives and orders until my destruction or separation occurs."
>Nodding once, the mare emits a series of alternating flat and hard spiking notes, left foreleg making a brisk sweeping motion.
"Orders.. confirmed. Directives updating.. complete. Tertiary demarend... logged. My existence is yours, lead me to battle."
>Hefting axe and shield to ready positions, Vokreed thuds after the red unicorn mare, both glancing at Razorback as they head towards the north side of Basin Village's fountain.
>Marentally wishing she could dive into a cold bath, or better yet a deep lake filled with near-freezing water, the Shieldmare settles for shaking sweat out of her hoofboots.
('Look at your comrades-')
>Going through packs, sacks, pouches, belts, vests, pockets, and webbing to place any object each thought was unnecessary on the barricade, the Primal's invigoration was beginning to wear off.
>Organizing back into their preferred squads, Razorback forms at the southernmost two small matrices, most experienced or heaviest firepower squads first, overworked faces tight and motions slowing.
('Excluding the Conclave, Empire, Kingdom, and Crystal-Hegemony forces, all of us are close to dropping. Day Guard should not be awake, might have five minutes left in them. Assault Vanguard is between rotations, ten. Fifteen if they push themselves. Night and Lunar Guards, Nightwatch, half an hour at most.
Unicorns have two, possibly three full force combat spells left before I must order them to fall back. Support Strikers are thoroughly burned out, survivors are shaken or incapacitated. There are no more Discordite Destroyers or fliers at all. Likewise, zero explosives. As well, the Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs are neither Rangers nor Mystics, they are warriors first, archers last. They can perform mass bombardmarent, but that is the limits of their expertise.
The Otherworld Harpy vessel has suffered moderate damage and is heading north. Battered Shores-')
>Head tilting for ten seconds, the Shieldmare deflects well away and continues on.
('Given all factors, we are prepared to bring down three hundred archaic, two hundred ancient, eighty pre-modern, or twenty modern Argus types, supported by eight hundred medium Scouts, four hundred Repair models, leaving room for another two hundred hybrids, experimarentals, or others.
Our only goal is destroying a Riftseeker, nothing more, certainly nothing less. But, in planning for the worst, the Razorback is the only force capable of providing sufficiently accurate and damaging extreme, long, medium, and short range capabilities to cover a full retreat. Your weapons have several advantages that we lack, the primary one being extended combat.')
>>370794
>Ordering his Assault Vanguard to hoof take position at the western large matrice as the variety of Crystal Empire forces assemble at the east, its leadstallion sighs.
('Excluding the Rift, used to be we could count on most of the non-Elemarental planes having a certain amount of rationale, laws, and logic, no matter how stupid or nonsensical they seemed. Now? Severing their connections to Tallus is starting to look less appealing seeing as how how difficult each will be. Might as well demarend air to stop choking fish.')
"Recordings don't lie, and they're real hard to alter."
('Please don't push. She is already overburdened as is.')
".....you know, Tipper's going to kill us all."
"Or make us wish we were going to die."
"Man, I don't need to think of her shit right now. Fuck you both."
"...I'm not going back to the Fortress for a week. Or ten."
"Thanks for saying the quiet part out loud, dickhead."
"I already had a few nightmares planned out, what's one more?"
"Guys, it's real easy to bribe dear old Doc into looking the other way. Let me hoofle her before anyone else goes back."
>Amused, and minorly worried at the surge in fear from Razorback, the leadstallion's eyes stare up into his helmet.
('Incredibly high. If the remains of Constructs aren't destroyed, there's a greater than ninety percent chance one Riftseeker will form, a process we’ve studied but understand nothing of. Riftseekers have three primary goals.
One: assume the most dangerous creature's physical form in the vicinity that all Construct information tablets have records of. Barring that, they will spend up to a week studying fauna, then select the most likely to survive.
Two: greatly reinforce itself using the remains of all said Constructs within range, then continue refining itself until it has enough weaponry and defenses to outscale the original's capabilities by a factor of two to one on average. They will then patrol a Planar-spatial Tallus-side boundary and kill threats, no matter the size, until three. Which is usually but not always everything that moves.
Three: create a gateway larger than itself and enter the Rift. Of the nine we've marenaged to study, all were viciously repelled by Constructs AND Riftdrowners, which is.. not something I like thinking about often.
Some of you know what Riftdrowners are, but for those that don't: they're a biometallic pseudo-flora that live all throughout the Rift. Two sets of three vine-like organisms covered in spines, spikes, blades, teeth, and similar.
They’re always hostile to Constructs and will destroy every single gateway with extreme prejudice no matter the cost. For reasons unknown and probably best not thought about, they do not react to stimuli other than active Construct, Riftseeker, and a few other Planars. However, Riftseekers drive them into a berserk frenzy, they’ll work with Constructs until destroyed.
And since none of them stop until fully destroyed, you can imagine how bad such incidents are.')
('I’ve helped kill plenty of Abominations, Infected, Malformed, but the words ‘mutant’ and ‘drake’ should never be in the same sentence.')
('Is that the same species that was completely wiped out across the Northern, Crag, Central, Deep, and Southern Moors a few centuries back?')
('You're telling us, of all fucking things, a somehow even more Abomination-like Construct IS USING THE FORM OF A GIANT WINGED LIZARD!?')
('Unfortunately that's a yes. Riftseekers use everything: hulls, fluid, weapons, armor, canisters, shells, odd internal components, you name it. Aside from the information tablets, that is.
Supposing an Emerald Drake did live long enough to mutate anywhere throughout Moors regions, that is definitely one of the most dangerous forms it could take.')
"Any particular reasons you can share on why, exactly?"
('If you don't mind another nightmare, it's simple: Emerald Drakes are covered in poison, secrete toxins from claws and fangs, and, similar to drakken, dragons, wyrms, and similar reptiles or reptiloids, become more potent with age.
An older one's scales might as well be mythril. Claws and teeth can be used to make weapons on par with kanpri, silverine, or paladine. Hence why they were wiped out. Rather, supposed to be exterminated.')
"Greeeaat."
('...is it too late to resign, or do I have to do that in pony?')
('In pony. Don't worry, they can't refuse all of us.')
>Accepting the request, all of Luna's unicorn Villagers focus onto the southmost small translocation matrice, closing its current gateway and concentrating towards Razorback, comparing Vortex Plane to Tallus-Void spectrum resistance factors, distance, curvature, angle of approach-
('Do you have to show any of that? Numbers seriously hurt my head right now.')
>Collectively snorting and removing calculations from the Overherd's thought-views, a black and red doorway forms, set down 5M in front of the Armory's east doors.
('Unicorns, five minutes on the dot. Razorback, you have that precise amount of time to take care of whatever is necessary, they're burning out keeping it open.')
>Belatedly staring at the equipment they were going to leave behind, the first Operator to think of batponies tasting all of the electronics is given a sincerely angered backhand, each squad rushing to collect their discarded kit and possessions, the closest three squads setting up a daisy-chain.
"You just HAD to think about it, didn't you?!"
"WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?! That damn joke won't stop playing ove rand over in my head!"
"What joke?"
"What's a batpony say when you put dayvision goggles on her?"
".....is this like a knock knock joke or something?"
"Just let him finish."
"Eee~licktronic!"
".......I hate this so much because it makes perfect fucking sense."
"You better not survive. That's all I'm going to say."
>Ordering his Assault Vanguard to hoof take position at the western large matrice as the variety of Crystal Empire forces assemble at the east, its leadstallion sighs.
('Excluding the Rift, used to be we could count on most of the non-Elemarental planes having a certain amount of rationale, laws, and logic, no matter how stupid or nonsensical they seemed. Now? Severing their connections to Tallus is starting to look less appealing seeing as how how difficult each will be. Might as well demarend air to stop choking fish.')
"Recordings don't lie, and they're real hard to alter."
('Please don't push. She is already overburdened as is.')
".....you know, Tipper's going to kill us all."
"Or make us wish we were going to die."
"Man, I don't need to think of her shit right now. Fuck you both."
"...I'm not going back to the Fortress for a week. Or ten."
"Thanks for saying the quiet part out loud, dickhead."
"I already had a few nightmares planned out, what's one more?"
"Guys, it's real easy to bribe dear old Doc into looking the other way. Let me hoofle her before anyone else goes back."
>Amused, and minorly worried at the surge in fear from Razorback, the leadstallion's eyes stare up into his helmet.
('Incredibly high. If the remains of Constructs aren't destroyed, there's a greater than ninety percent chance one Riftseeker will form, a process we’ve studied but understand nothing of. Riftseekers have three primary goals.
One: assume the most dangerous creature's physical form in the vicinity that all Construct information tablets have records of. Barring that, they will spend up to a week studying fauna, then select the most likely to survive.
Two: greatly reinforce itself using the remains of all said Constructs within range, then continue refining itself until it has enough weaponry and defenses to outscale the original's capabilities by a factor of two to one on average. They will then patrol a Planar-spatial Tallus-side boundary and kill threats, no matter the size, until three. Which is usually but not always everything that moves.
Three: create a gateway larger than itself and enter the Rift. Of the nine we've marenaged to study, all were viciously repelled by Constructs AND Riftdrowners, which is.. not something I like thinking about often.
Some of you know what Riftdrowners are, but for those that don't: they're a biometallic pseudo-flora that live all throughout the Rift. Two sets of three vine-like organisms covered in spines, spikes, blades, teeth, and similar.
They’re always hostile to Constructs and will destroy every single gateway with extreme prejudice no matter the cost. For reasons unknown and probably best not thought about, they do not react to stimuli other than active Construct, Riftseeker, and a few other Planars. However, Riftseekers drive them into a berserk frenzy, they’ll work with Constructs until destroyed.
And since none of them stop until fully destroyed, you can imagine how bad such incidents are.')
('I’ve helped kill plenty of Abominations, Infected, Malformed, but the words ‘mutant’ and ‘drake’ should never be in the same sentence.')
('Is that the same species that was completely wiped out across the Northern, Crag, Central, Deep, and Southern Moors a few centuries back?')
('You're telling us, of all fucking things, a somehow even more Abomination-like Construct IS USING THE FORM OF A GIANT WINGED LIZARD!?')
('Unfortunately that's a yes. Riftseekers use everything: hulls, fluid, weapons, armor, canisters, shells, odd internal components, you name it. Aside from the information tablets, that is.
Supposing an Emerald Drake did live long enough to mutate anywhere throughout Moors regions, that is definitely one of the most dangerous forms it could take.')
"Any particular reasons you can share on why, exactly?"
('If you don't mind another nightmare, it's simple: Emerald Drakes are covered in poison, secrete toxins from claws and fangs, and, similar to drakken, dragons, wyrms, and similar reptiles or reptiloids, become more potent with age.
An older one's scales might as well be mythril. Claws and teeth can be used to make weapons on par with kanpri, silverine, or paladine. Hence why they were wiped out. Rather, supposed to be exterminated.')
"Greeeaat."
('...is it too late to resign, or do I have to do that in pony?')
('In pony. Don't worry, they can't refuse all of us.')
>Accepting the request, all of Luna's unicorn Villagers focus onto the southmost small translocation matrice, closing its current gateway and concentrating towards Razorback, comparing Vortex Plane to Tallus-Void spectrum resistance factors, distance, curvature, angle of approach-
('Do you have to show any of that? Numbers seriously hurt my head right now.')
>Collectively snorting and removing calculations from the Overherd's thought-views, a black and red doorway forms, set down 5M in front of the Armory's east doors.
('Unicorns, five minutes on the dot. Razorback, you have that precise amount of time to take care of whatever is necessary, they're burning out keeping it open.')
>Belatedly staring at the equipment they were going to leave behind, the first Operator to think of batponies tasting all of the electronics is given a sincerely angered backhand, each squad rushing to collect their discarded kit and possessions, the closest three squads setting up a daisy-chain.
"You just HAD to think about it, didn't you?!"
"WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?! That damn joke won't stop playing ove rand over in my head!"
"What joke?"
"What's a batpony say when you put dayvision goggles on her?"
".....is this like a knock knock joke or something?"
"Just let him finish."
"Eee~licktronic!"
".......I hate this so much because it makes perfect fucking sense."
"You better not survive. That's all I'm going to say."
>>370802
>José had to admit he did think of the potential panic from disclosing the forbidden subject.
>Clearly not enough judging by the veterans' immediate attempt to squash the events in his own mind.
>He might need to develop better small talk in the future.
"I wouldn't know how to stop mind readers from doing their thing, but I will try."
>He gave a curt nod to the corner operator, somewhat expecting a rough guide on how one does such a thing.
>Maybe thinking a barrage of banal thoughts?
"And what are these Ethereals?"
>He ensured he spoke it in a softer and lower tone than usual, mostly for the sake of his fellow FNGs at the other table.
>Gallo simply blinked at the small pegasus' response, at a brief loss of words over his newfound nickname.
>Maybe being seen as a gardening tool meant for tilling soil is not too bad.
>He can make any land fit for seeds of opportunity, after all.
>José nodded in understanding, now knowing the package was indeed not a borderline boobytrap.
>Inspecting the various items, the man had to wonder who would even request such items for him.
>Seems Rasera was pleased with his visit, at least.
>A satisfied smile soon came over his lips, nodding in understanding.
"Understood."
>Now to enter the dodgy ice skate park that is Naliyna's daughter.
"What should I know about Shanis and The One Who Shall Not Be Named?"
>José had to admit he did think of the potential panic from disclosing the forbidden subject.
>Clearly not enough judging by the veterans' immediate attempt to squash the events in his own mind.
>He might need to develop better small talk in the future.
"I wouldn't know how to stop mind readers from doing their thing, but I will try."
>He gave a curt nod to the corner operator, somewhat expecting a rough guide on how one does such a thing.
>Maybe thinking a barrage of banal thoughts?
"And what are these Ethereals?"
>He ensured he spoke it in a softer and lower tone than usual, mostly for the sake of his fellow FNGs at the other table.
>Gallo simply blinked at the small pegasus' response, at a brief loss of words over his newfound nickname.
>Maybe being seen as a gardening tool meant for tilling soil is not too bad.
>He can make any land fit for seeds of opportunity, after all.
>José nodded in understanding, now knowing the package was indeed not a borderline boobytrap.
>Inspecting the various items, the man had to wonder who would even request such items for him.
>Seems Rasera was pleased with his visit, at least.
>A satisfied smile soon came over his lips, nodding in understanding.
"Understood."
>Now to enter the dodgy ice skate park that is Naliyna's daughter.
"What should I know about Shanis and The One Who Shall Not Be Named?"
>>370832
>Feeling the giant Bloodhost's kek-snicker across Airstreams, a flippant wink, kiss, and wide tail flick greets your highly specific angle and direction as it circles overhead.
>You weren't sure how possible it was a number of batpony consciousnesses could agree on a single point, but twenty mares in a form well over twice the size of any horse was definitely a serious danger.
>...to other humans!
>Taking a bit to stabilize his Assault Vanguard's tensions, the leadstallion's left forehoof raises as his head ducks, pulling the silverine helmet off with an appreciative grunt, an intensely lathered, dull silver-white coated and trashed, muted yellow mane surprising, two rusty red eyes squinting.
"Amphibians, reptilians, or anything more than twenty hooves tall go on our top of 'worst to deal with' threats, and we're never called on for threats smaller than a small Undead wyrm."
>The middle aged earth stallion would be right at home among Canterlotlians, given the pronounced Solar colorations and clipped, yet pleasant semi-nobilite accent, which were drawing certain unsavory stares, and emotions, from younger Day Guard mares.
>And valiantly trying to ignore.
>You make a note to wrangle them the instant one makes an improper gesture or word, else there might be another diplomatic 'incident'.
"The first Riftseeker my unit-"
>Tipping the lance forwards at his Vanguad, now fairly settled though .
"Was formed to deal with was an eighty-five hoof tall razor-necked Ksh`toreg. Minotaur Hegemony Ash Mountains, late Jewely of 29,983. Think of a giant, carnivorous, tunneling, archaic proto-ferret. Reaching the plateau alone was sixty hours of forced marching and nine losses. Bringing that down cost ninety-two lives, fifteen more on return.
Second one was a roi-kicbuer in the Lower Rushyan Plains. Armored eel-like creature that lives on land but has six claws instead of three sets of fins and is a Construct. Three losses reaching it, eleven against, five returning.
Third was in the Middle Dragonspine Mountain-Plains, an ulvurno par-kro. In Common Equestrian, a High Beaked Wurm, more of a pseudo-wurm, one that copied either a tainted, corrupted, or Infected original. Nine losses reaching, sixty-three against, twenty five returning.
'Fucked' is too polite. 'Royally side-screwed in every possible angle and in every unimaginable position' is barely appropriate. "
>Pausing to wipe thin lather from reaching his eyes, the leadstallion's gaze softens at the passing Ethereal Golem, turning to you with with a firmly distasteful expression.
"If a Riftseeker has taken on an Emerald Drake's form, mutated or otherwise, is more than eighty hooves tall, fully capable of flight, weaponized and armored equivalently to those we've faced in the past, there are only two options.
One, long ranged reconnaissance to gather all possible information, then an immediate retreat and recovery period. Until sufficient explosives or additional support are acquired it will still have far too marely advantages that we collectively have no counters against.
Two, a full on suicide assault from every possible angle to prevent it from achieving flight. As prior Riftseekers have shown us, the possibility of locating entrances through armor plates and weaponry is extremely low; we will most likely need to create a sufficient number to do so. Without unicorn and Striker support, the chance of that is next to none.
Outnumbering is neither an acceptable defensive or offensive tactic, and we have no knowledge the amount of weight in Constructs it was able to absorb into itself."
>Confirming the order, the aperture camera's rotation was marginally below standard, heavier cloud and fog banks covered most of the Central Moors' southeast, as usual.
>Pinpointing Basin Arena's known location and zooming in to maximum, the screens display a profoundly alarming view:
>Two massive Constructs, one each hovering a short distance northeast and southeast off the Arena's rebuilt half-open roof, bristling with weapon turrets and protective hull empalcements that covered every possible surface.
>Most distinctive are green wavelength lasers in full ready to fire modes, bright orange plasma cannon barrels glowing hotly, a mixture of sub-reactive and highly unstable plasma-tipped missiles, large scale canister flak ejection systems, multipurpose mine deploying launchers, and rows of stacked, square weapons, an older anti-air system that was feared for causing intense armor spalling rather than outright killing.
>Last are a pair of spike-covered, centrally affixed cylinders, chromatic and rainbow hues cascading up the length of each, then down; you knew from Twisted Wing these were a near-perfect match to fractal anti-matter disruption weapons, capable of destroying matter at the pre-atomic level, though she had never allowed their use by Starborn.
>A considerably larger Repair model on the west Arena's roof was piecing together an enormous square gateway, exceedingly long, spindly flat-armed limbs equipped with quadruple nanolathe units extending far past the north and south sides, lines of orange twisting off in production.
>Estimating the range, a rough estimate made the gateway to be at minimum one hundred meters extending off the Arena's top, not fully completed yet.
>Feeling the giant Bloodhost's kek-snicker across Airstreams, a flippant wink, kiss, and wide tail flick greets your highly specific angle and direction as it circles overhead.
>You weren't sure how possible it was a number of batpony consciousnesses could agree on a single point, but twenty mares in a form well over twice the size of any horse was definitely a serious danger.
>...to other humans!
>Taking a bit to stabilize his Assault Vanguard's tensions, the leadstallion's left forehoof raises as his head ducks, pulling the silverine helmet off with an appreciative grunt, an intensely lathered, dull silver-white coated and trashed, muted yellow mane surprising, two rusty red eyes squinting.
"Amphibians, reptilians, or anything more than twenty hooves tall go on our top of 'worst to deal with' threats, and we're never called on for threats smaller than a small Undead wyrm."
>The middle aged earth stallion would be right at home among Canterlotlians, given the pronounced Solar colorations and clipped, yet pleasant semi-nobilite accent, which were drawing certain unsavory stares, and emotions, from younger Day Guard mares.
>And valiantly trying to ignore.
>You make a note to wrangle them the instant one makes an improper gesture or word, else there might be another diplomatic 'incident'.
"The first Riftseeker my unit-"
>Tipping the lance forwards at his Vanguad, now fairly settled though .
"Was formed to deal with was an eighty-five hoof tall razor-necked Ksh`toreg. Minotaur Hegemony Ash Mountains, late Jewely of 29,983. Think of a giant, carnivorous, tunneling, archaic proto-ferret. Reaching the plateau alone was sixty hours of forced marching and nine losses. Bringing that down cost ninety-two lives, fifteen more on return.
Second one was a roi-kicbuer in the Lower Rushyan Plains. Armored eel-like creature that lives on land but has six claws instead of three sets of fins and is a Construct. Three losses reaching it, eleven against, five returning.
Third was in the Middle Dragonspine Mountain-Plains, an ulvurno par-kro. In Common Equestrian, a High Beaked Wurm, more of a pseudo-wurm, one that copied either a tainted, corrupted, or Infected original. Nine losses reaching, sixty-three against, twenty five returning.
'Fucked' is too polite. 'Royally side-screwed in every possible angle and in every unimaginable position' is barely appropriate. "
>Pausing to wipe thin lather from reaching his eyes, the leadstallion's gaze softens at the passing Ethereal Golem, turning to you with with a firmly distasteful expression.
"If a Riftseeker has taken on an Emerald Drake's form, mutated or otherwise, is more than eighty hooves tall, fully capable of flight, weaponized and armored equivalently to those we've faced in the past, there are only two options.
One, long ranged reconnaissance to gather all possible information, then an immediate retreat and recovery period. Until sufficient explosives or additional support are acquired it will still have far too marely advantages that we collectively have no counters against.
Two, a full on suicide assault from every possible angle to prevent it from achieving flight. As prior Riftseekers have shown us, the possibility of locating entrances through armor plates and weaponry is extremely low; we will most likely need to create a sufficient number to do so. Without unicorn and Striker support, the chance of that is next to none.
Outnumbering is neither an acceptable defensive or offensive tactic, and we have no knowledge the amount of weight in Constructs it was able to absorb into itself."
>Confirming the order, the aperture camera's rotation was marginally below standard, heavier cloud and fog banks covered most of the Central Moors' southeast, as usual.
>Pinpointing Basin Arena's known location and zooming in to maximum, the screens display a profoundly alarming view:
>Two massive Constructs, one each hovering a short distance northeast and southeast off the Arena's rebuilt half-open roof, bristling with weapon turrets and protective hull empalcements that covered every possible surface.
>Most distinctive are green wavelength lasers in full ready to fire modes, bright orange plasma cannon barrels glowing hotly, a mixture of sub-reactive and highly unstable plasma-tipped missiles, large scale canister flak ejection systems, multipurpose mine deploying launchers, and rows of stacked, square weapons, an older anti-air system that was feared for causing intense armor spalling rather than outright killing.
>Last are a pair of spike-covered, centrally affixed cylinders, chromatic and rainbow hues cascading up the length of each, then down; you knew from Twisted Wing these were a near-perfect match to fractal anti-matter disruption weapons, capable of destroying matter at the pre-atomic level, though she had never allowed their use by Starborn.
>A considerably larger Repair model on the west Arena's roof was piecing together an enormous square gateway, exceedingly long, spindly flat-armed limbs equipped with quadruple nanolathe units extending far past the north and south sides, lines of orange twisting off in production.
>Estimating the range, a rough estimate made the gateway to be at minimum one hundred meters extending off the Arena's top, not fully completed yet.
>>370776
>Searching for relevant topics and locating nothing of interest, a self-modulating signal from the southeast feedbacks encrypted channel ping to you.
>Located directly underneath the Library, ten highly compressed and recently completed datastacks open, Witch-Two flickering a single use code to give you unrestricted access to their contents.
>Parsing through the massively underused categories, mostly Imperial archives with a decent selection otherwise, a fair selection of Pre-M2 Terra datavaults were available, mostly as digital scans or image renders.
>Along with a rather puzzling number of compartmented, poorly designed, weakly coded, and ridiculously outdated virii, trojans, and... malware.
>Double checking to be sure, there was indeed a number of preserved, curiously raw data examples, and seemed to have obtained straight from M2 Terra computer systems.
>Estimating danger levels of each were low enough that the most basic digiscrubbers would wipe them at the first bit of malfeasance, the digital archives would, if printed out, easily fill the Library two hundred times over.
>Waving a binauric hand to assuage the Auspex's pre-liminal coding from stressing its algorithms, the sub-Phaeric Lord motions a Techstave to point forwards.
'Your position is akin to mine, Enginseer. We are mechanic-smiths from distant species, meeting in stranger lands beyond the known and unknown of our peoples, now among sapients which have full rights to despise us, yet stay their hooves out of curiosity, not malice or subterfuge.
I studied machines solely in the duties of tinkering to improve, allowed only that which was useful to my brethren, my Lord, his laws, and the expectations we were to fulfill under threat of complete destruction.
You studied machines to survive, struggling against the threat of religiously imposed laws and unlawful experimentation, hindered by the Imperium's nepotism, decaying technical knowledge, yet often both.
As far wiser and more worthy Phaerons once decreed before the Great Sleep: were we to meet in honest, civilized affairs, no conflicts would we have.'
"Well, it seems close to the Kingdom ones I've heard of. There's a few Consortiums in the Empire that produce upgrade packages so non-Crystal ponies can use some crystalline bio-tech devices. I have no idea where to trade for them or what they cost though."
>Ears swiveling in odd counter-rotations, Raindrop's left eyebrow raises, a small, approving smile on her lips.
"Strange how? You treat me well, you're interesting, and I feel safe around you. What's not to like?"
>Ears tilting back, the hoof in your hand warms as she shakes her head in short motions.
"You have to be. Quite a few ponies believe humans were and are selected for having great skills, vital knowledge, high willingness to aid others, or are too important not to be saved. I don't know which are the most likely, but most have two of those four. As I've seen you have three of four. Best way I can explain being here is like winning a lottery that you didn't know existed.
Now, I'm not real keen on going to temples, altars, circles, or that sort of stuff, but I know the goddesses exist, otherwise we wouldn't have the Four Great Seasons, their influences, or the beings that are naturally aligned to them. If I, or you, wanted we could visit them. Princess Luna is Razorback's Matron, she's always available at night and supposedly loves to ditch Council meetings. Queen Chrysalis and Princess Cadenza are close allies to Razorback, they'd be glad to meet you. As for Princess Celestia.. nopony knows where she is, but she still moves the Sun every dawn and dusk."
>Eyes rolling in deep humor, the Free Knight stretches both wings out to full extension, flexing each set of muscles throughout.
"You haven't seen fiftieth of what these can do, let alone the rest of me, but I think I understand what you have to offer. It's really simple: I'll cover for you if you cover for me.
Besides, you'd have a hard time disappointing me after the wrecks that were six of my last eight employers. I've learned to deal with events as they happen, and plans only last until they meet a real world situation."
>Cracking the same grin as before, the raspberry pegasus leans forwards once more, her hoof pressing into your palm slowly.
"It means, Miss Castella, I'll do pretty much anything you need done, and you take care of the stuff I can't. Also we can share one of the bigger rooms which means I'll always be around and not on patrol duty as much.. unless you were expecting something more?"
>Searching for relevant topics and locating nothing of interest, a self-modulating signal from the southeast feedbacks encrypted channel ping to you.
>Located directly underneath the Library, ten highly compressed and recently completed datastacks open, Witch-Two flickering a single use code to give you unrestricted access to their contents.
>Parsing through the massively underused categories, mostly Imperial archives with a decent selection otherwise, a fair selection of Pre-M2 Terra datavaults were available, mostly as digital scans or image renders.
>Along with a rather puzzling number of compartmented, poorly designed, weakly coded, and ridiculously outdated virii, trojans, and... malware.
>Double checking to be sure, there was indeed a number of preserved, curiously raw data examples, and seemed to have obtained straight from M2 Terra computer systems.
>Estimating danger levels of each were low enough that the most basic digiscrubbers would wipe them at the first bit of malfeasance, the digital archives would, if printed out, easily fill the Library two hundred times over.
>Waving a binauric hand to assuage the Auspex's pre-liminal coding from stressing its algorithms, the sub-Phaeric Lord motions a Techstave to point forwards.
'Your position is akin to mine, Enginseer. We are mechanic-smiths from distant species, meeting in stranger lands beyond the known and unknown of our peoples, now among sapients which have full rights to despise us, yet stay their hooves out of curiosity, not malice or subterfuge.
I studied machines solely in the duties of tinkering to improve, allowed only that which was useful to my brethren, my Lord, his laws, and the expectations we were to fulfill under threat of complete destruction.
You studied machines to survive, struggling against the threat of religiously imposed laws and unlawful experimentation, hindered by the Imperium's nepotism, decaying technical knowledge, yet often both.
As far wiser and more worthy Phaerons once decreed before the Great Sleep: were we to meet in honest, civilized affairs, no conflicts would we have.'
"Well, it seems close to the Kingdom ones I've heard of. There's a few Consortiums in the Empire that produce upgrade packages so non-Crystal ponies can use some crystalline bio-tech devices. I have no idea where to trade for them or what they cost though."
>Ears swiveling in odd counter-rotations, Raindrop's left eyebrow raises, a small, approving smile on her lips.
"Strange how? You treat me well, you're interesting, and I feel safe around you. What's not to like?"
>Ears tilting back, the hoof in your hand warms as she shakes her head in short motions.
"You have to be. Quite a few ponies believe humans were and are selected for having great skills, vital knowledge, high willingness to aid others, or are too important not to be saved. I don't know which are the most likely, but most have two of those four. As I've seen you have three of four. Best way I can explain being here is like winning a lottery that you didn't know existed.
Now, I'm not real keen on going to temples, altars, circles, or that sort of stuff, but I know the goddesses exist, otherwise we wouldn't have the Four Great Seasons, their influences, or the beings that are naturally aligned to them. If I, or you, wanted we could visit them. Princess Luna is Razorback's Matron, she's always available at night and supposedly loves to ditch Council meetings. Queen Chrysalis and Princess Cadenza are close allies to Razorback, they'd be glad to meet you. As for Princess Celestia.. nopony knows where she is, but she still moves the Sun every dawn and dusk."
>Eyes rolling in deep humor, the Free Knight stretches both wings out to full extension, flexing each set of muscles throughout.
"You haven't seen fiftieth of what these can do, let alone the rest of me, but I think I understand what you have to offer. It's really simple: I'll cover for you if you cover for me.
Besides, you'd have a hard time disappointing me after the wrecks that were six of my last eight employers. I've learned to deal with events as they happen, and plans only last until they meet a real world situation."
>Cracking the same grin as before, the raspberry pegasus leans forwards once more, her hoof pressing into your palm slowly.
"It means, Miss Castella, I'll do pretty much anything you need done, and you take care of the stuff I can't. Also we can share one of the bigger rooms which means I'll always be around and not on patrol duty as much.. unless you were expecting something more?"
>>370832
>>370790
"I'm heading through the matrice, gotta switch my shit out."
>As ponies and humans start forming on the matrices, Jeff nods off Clem and Lont. He slings the Milkor-stuffed duffle over his right shoulder and counterbalances himself with the drone's control module in his left hand and heads for the small southern matrice as Lunar unicorns work on it to make a gate straight to Razorback.
>>370842
>Smirking as Razorback personnel begin panicking, he stands idle enough to the matrice to still let the unicorns make their preparations. Humans already gearing up to pass equipment through the matrice, he drops the Milkor at the beginning of the chain.
("Come on guys and gals, it's only possibly a colossal mechanical poison drake. I know everyone's worn out. Get ready to pass ammo, guns, and gear. Prioritize heavy calibers and explosives first. Gepard's mine, I'm already batting a thousand with it against Constructs so far. Milkor's freed up for someone to man.")
>He keeps connection with the lead stallion as they explain Riftseeker and Construct lore in detail.
("So Constructs and Riftdrowners will proverbially team-up to destroy Riftseekers. Maybe if we can actually communicate with them, we can figure out why they got through the trouble...")
>As they follow up on the Emerald Drake, Jeff remembers how they took down the first and final organic one some time ago. As well as the harvested trophy he coincidentally kept on him.
("Clem and I were in the team to go kill it, along with General Twisted Wing. We kept it grounded with our guns and explosives, while she finished it off. Coincidentally... I harvested the drake's Vitriole Orb, its poison is apparently strong enough to kill almost ANYTHING but I'd like to see that for myself. And before anypony freaks out, I have it in my pack in a protective case. Suppose we can use it to make an opening in its armor, or better yet make an opening first THEN introduce the Orb directly to its... orange gooey living Rift Construct stuff. They're technically a living thing, right?")
>However they take that information regarding the Orb, Jeff is relieved and ready as the unicorns get a gateway stabilized right outside the Armory's East entrance.
>He opens his TacPad and sets a five minute timer, with an alarm set at the 1 minute mark.
"Alright, you heard them. Five minutes. I'll give you all a one minute warning if you need it. Let's get to it."
>Not waiting for the team to get started, he passes through the gateway first and through the Armory's doors.
>Anyone currently inside was about to get a crowded rush.
"Whoever's in here, rest of the party's right behind me. Tainted got defeated, now resupplying for Constructs and Riftseekers, maybe in the shape of a giant drake. So either clear out, or help out."
>Jeff puts the control module over on the work table he usually likes to tinker on, next to his ice cream churner prototype, and walks back over to grab the Gepard where he left it previously from being on the Citadel.
>He detaches the loaded magazine and tops it off with loose 14.5x114mm from ammo storage and reloads the large rifle.
>Before he heads back on through and back to the Village, he idles over at the workbench where he left the drone's module and keeps an eye on the timer as the rest of Razorback pours into the Armory. Mostly to catch his breath and collect himself before going back through.
>>370790
"I'm heading through the matrice, gotta switch my shit out."
>As ponies and humans start forming on the matrices, Jeff nods off Clem and Lont. He slings the Milkor-stuffed duffle over his right shoulder and counterbalances himself with the drone's control module in his left hand and heads for the small southern matrice as Lunar unicorns work on it to make a gate straight to Razorback.
>>370842
>Smirking as Razorback personnel begin panicking, he stands idle enough to the matrice to still let the unicorns make their preparations. Humans already gearing up to pass equipment through the matrice, he drops the Milkor at the beginning of the chain.
("Come on guys and gals, it's only possibly a colossal mechanical poison drake. I know everyone's worn out. Get ready to pass ammo, guns, and gear. Prioritize heavy calibers and explosives first. Gepard's mine, I'm already batting a thousand with it against Constructs so far. Milkor's freed up for someone to man.")
>He keeps connection with the lead stallion as they explain Riftseeker and Construct lore in detail.
("So Constructs and Riftdrowners will proverbially team-up to destroy Riftseekers. Maybe if we can actually communicate with them, we can figure out why they got through the trouble...")
>As they follow up on the Emerald Drake, Jeff remembers how they took down the first and final organic one some time ago. As well as the harvested trophy he coincidentally kept on him.
("Clem and I were in the team to go kill it, along with General Twisted Wing. We kept it grounded with our guns and explosives, while she finished it off. Coincidentally... I harvested the drake's Vitriole Orb, its poison is apparently strong enough to kill almost ANYTHING but I'd like to see that for myself. And before anypony freaks out, I have it in my pack in a protective case. Suppose we can use it to make an opening in its armor, or better yet make an opening first THEN introduce the Orb directly to its... orange gooey living Rift Construct stuff. They're technically a living thing, right?")
>However they take that information regarding the Orb, Jeff is relieved and ready as the unicorns get a gateway stabilized right outside the Armory's East entrance.
>He opens his TacPad and sets a five minute timer, with an alarm set at the 1 minute mark.
"Alright, you heard them. Five minutes. I'll give you all a one minute warning if you need it. Let's get to it."
>Not waiting for the team to get started, he passes through the gateway first and through the Armory's doors.
>Anyone currently inside was about to get a crowded rush.
"Whoever's in here, rest of the party's right behind me. Tainted got defeated, now resupplying for Constructs and Riftseekers, maybe in the shape of a giant drake. So either clear out, or help out."
>Jeff puts the control module over on the work table he usually likes to tinker on, next to his ice cream churner prototype, and walks back over to grab the Gepard where he left it previously from being on the Citadel.
>He detaches the loaded magazine and tops it off with loose 14.5x114mm from ammo storage and reloads the large rifle.
>Before he heads back on through and back to the Village, he idles over at the workbench where he left the drone's module and keeps an eye on the timer as the rest of Razorback pours into the Armory. Mostly to catch his breath and collect himself before going back through.
File (): 190E02B5417651AE60DCE58AB1E9C75D-98553.jpg (96.2 KB, 700x1109, E is for BAT.jpg)
>>370823
>Inspecting the destroyed insect, one hoof is lifted up, turned over for inspection.. the armor severely crumpled, and slowly melting from obvious acid burns.
>Which it also, just as obviously, could not feel.
>The symbiote stiffens, pearlescent eyes widening as it freaks out, face contorting as it hop-flaps north towards the closest source of water.
"This is driving me BATTIER THAN EATING APPLE PEELS-"
>Sighing as her sister kee's haphazard notes of poorly understood distress and rushes into the tower, the tradesmare's snout twitches in concern, but only once.
"TONIGHT IS HORSEBUTTS HAYCLOTH HAILFROST AND HONEYSICKLES-"
>As the door slams shut, the craftmare's voice was muffled enough to, probably, not provoke further threats.
".......welp, that happened. I apologize. For me. Not for her. She's kind of right. But also not. Right. Right? Right."
>Sniffing politely, the slightly older mare glances at the presumably allied Construct briefly, switching to focus on you, head cocking to a 45-degree angles as she listens b'attentively.
I didn't write THAT one, she did!
"I did not, that one's yours!"
You can't prove it!
"Your script is awful and doesn't have enough puns!"
>Flicking a tiny stone at the poorly hidden message board behind her, the tradesmare closes one eye, then the other, opening both after a short period of.. actual thought?
You know, startling a batpony is the best method to make them think for once!"
"I think a lot more than you do!"
DO YOU?
"When I WANT to!"
"Ignore. Him. ...sorry. Hum, I don't know a Mercy, a.. Heff, or however you said it, also there aren't any giant pigs around here. I know what NIghblades are, but they're awfully rare.
So. There's not enough Moonstones to go around, only the armored barn-caves closest to villages, cities, and ports have those. When the Moors Reclamation was happening Lunar Guards hoofed out a few. Didn't keep them because we memorize everywhere we go, but.."
>Lips pursing, she turns around to snag a large, bright red berry, or possibly a fruit, with her left wingclaws, spinning about and poking the right set into it, then kneels down, creating an impressively crude diagram.
>No, it wasn't impressive for how well made it was; it was impressive for BEING so utterly crude.
"Stop that, I'm still thinking!
That's better. Five, maybe six miles south of that Arena is a huge, nasty swamp, right about.. there. Old dam on the northwest side, some big rodents made it a long time ago. Dunno what it looks like now. Giant trees around the whole thing, all twisted and gnarled, covered in razorvines, speckle blossoms, hoof-blink, which is the opposite of blink-hoof, saporaphic thorns or something liek that, other nasty stuff.
Everypony in ten night's flight had to stop foraging around there, what, fifteen years ago? Twenty? Not sure, was a filly when our colony was told th-"
>Scratching her neck with the right trio of stubby wingclaws, and not realizing she was painting herself, the batmare tosses a short glance at the symbiote, then returns to make a disknowing shrug.
>Which mea-
"She knows, damn it. Erm.. a bunch of certain spherical things killed a whole lot of Melari. Nearly all of them, if I remember it right. Someponies call them Moor cats but that's not right, it'd be like saying 'a bat pony is a pony and also a bat'. Anyhow, made all of us sad hearing about it. Trackers and scouts said all the surviving Melari fled to the swamps and bogs north of there, close to the southern Ferron lands. Melari started coming back in groups a few years later, but only the smallest ones.
A year and half back, maybe two, about the same thing happened: almost every Melari was killed, but something kept chasing down hunters, trackers, foragers, scouts, divers, netters, that got close to the Arena. Only a couple were killed. Big claw marks, bite marks, sometimes both. The poisons and toxins couldn't be treated, don't know how or why. Everypony tried to find out what did it but nopony was willing to get close.
Someponies in the Basin say a few giant pigs killed whatever it was, but nopony saw them, they're real easy to find. Took a few weeks before a few went there, said all that was left was green scales, a few claws covered in the same poisons and toxins, big reptile bones, and a bunch of egg shells. Don't know, never went there."
>Flapping her right wing dismissively, the tradesmare clops around to face eastwards, about to look up, then cocks an ear at you while trying to not kek.
"What's where? Nopony else, just three bats and a pegamiss. Give me a second, gotta remember how to do this-"
>What follows next is... and the-
"Would you stop that?!"
My script is PERFECT!
"No it isn't! I don't know what a sceeripped is! ...you're trying to make me mess this up on purpose, aren't you?!"
Why, how dare you accuse me of such a preposterous gamble! I don't even know what a P O R P O I S E could possibly b-
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
.......ow. Suppose I deserved that one.
>Pleasantly vibrating, reality bending kee's ripple soul-deep eastwards, fluctuating micro-notes singing out several full, long sentences in perfect harp-on-kee.
YES, I FINALLY HAVE A REASON TO USE THAT PUN! ....Don't start with me, I've been terribly bored as of late. You wouldn't want to see
>Eyes and ears rolling furiously at the neon tube lit billboard, the tradesmare maintains her song for nearly a full minute, ending it with a thoroughly giddy squeak.
"And done! Everypony that isn't asleep should hear only the important parts from the mango vine. Also ho-"
>Eyes and ears flicking at the symbiote briefly, the mare chides herself, instead glancing back into her tradestall to peer at the barely visible filly whom had gone back to bat with slow, deep inhales and snickering exhales.
"Nope. Still only us bats, you, and some food. Not even a horrible insectapede. Or a pain-in-all-the-flanks Draconequis."
I RESEMBLE THAT REMARK!
"Especially not that one. Oh no."
..you win. THIS time!
>Inspecting the destroyed insect, one hoof is lifted up, turned over for inspection.. the armor severely crumpled, and slowly melting from obvious acid burns.
>Which it also, just as obviously, could not feel.
>The symbiote stiffens, pearlescent eyes widening as it freaks out, face contorting as it hop-flaps north towards the closest source of water.
"This is driving me BATTIER THAN EATING APPLE PEELS-"
>Sighing as her sister kee's haphazard notes of poorly understood distress and rushes into the tower, the tradesmare's snout twitches in concern, but only once.
"TONIGHT IS HORSEBUTTS HAYCLOTH HAILFROST AND HONEYSICKLES-"
>As the door slams shut, the craftmare's voice was muffled enough to, probably, not provoke further threats.
".......welp, that happened. I apologize. For me. Not for her. She's kind of right. But also not. Right. Right? Right."
>Sniffing politely, the slightly older mare glances at the presumably allied Construct briefly, switching to focus on you, head cocking to a 45-degree angles as she listens b'attentively.
I didn't write THAT one, she did!
"I did not, that one's yours!"
You can't prove it!
"Your script is awful and doesn't have enough puns!"
>Flicking a tiny stone at the poorly hidden message board behind her, the tradesmare closes one eye, then the other, opening both after a short period of.. actual thought?
You know, startling a batpony is the best method to make them think for once!"
"I think a lot more than you do!"
DO YOU?
"When I WANT to!"
"Ignore. Him. ...sorry. Hum, I don't know a Mercy, a.. Heff, or however you said it, also there aren't any giant pigs around here. I know what NIghblades are, but they're awfully rare.
So. There's not enough Moonstones to go around, only the armored barn-caves closest to villages, cities, and ports have those. When the Moors Reclamation was happening Lunar Guards hoofed out a few. Didn't keep them because we memorize everywhere we go, but.."
>Lips pursing, she turns around to snag a large, bright red berry, or possibly a fruit, with her left wingclaws, spinning about and poking the right set into it, then kneels down, creating an impressively crude diagram.
>No, it wasn't impressive for how well made it was; it was impressive for BEING so utterly crude.
"Stop that, I'm still thinking!
That's better. Five, maybe six miles south of that Arena is a huge, nasty swamp, right about.. there. Old dam on the northwest side, some big rodents made it a long time ago. Dunno what it looks like now. Giant trees around the whole thing, all twisted and gnarled, covered in razorvines, speckle blossoms, hoof-blink, which is the opposite of blink-hoof, saporaphic thorns or something liek that, other nasty stuff.
Everypony in ten night's flight had to stop foraging around there, what, fifteen years ago? Twenty? Not sure, was a filly when our colony was told th-"
>Scratching her neck with the right trio of stubby wingclaws, and not realizing she was painting herself, the batmare tosses a short glance at the symbiote, then returns to make a disknowing shrug.
>Which mea-
"She knows, damn it. Erm.. a bunch of certain spherical things killed a whole lot of Melari. Nearly all of them, if I remember it right. Someponies call them Moor cats but that's not right, it'd be like saying 'a bat pony is a pony and also a bat'. Anyhow, made all of us sad hearing about it. Trackers and scouts said all the surviving Melari fled to the swamps and bogs north of there, close to the southern Ferron lands. Melari started coming back in groups a few years later, but only the smallest ones.
A year and half back, maybe two, about the same thing happened: almost every Melari was killed, but something kept chasing down hunters, trackers, foragers, scouts, divers, netters, that got close to the Arena. Only a couple were killed. Big claw marks, bite marks, sometimes both. The poisons and toxins couldn't be treated, don't know how or why. Everypony tried to find out what did it but nopony was willing to get close.
Someponies in the Basin say a few giant pigs killed whatever it was, but nopony saw them, they're real easy to find. Took a few weeks before a few went there, said all that was left was green scales, a few claws covered in the same poisons and toxins, big reptile bones, and a bunch of egg shells. Don't know, never went there."
>Flapping her right wing dismissively, the tradesmare clops around to face eastwards, about to look up, then cocks an ear at you while trying to not kek.
"What's where? Nopony else, just three bats and a pegamiss. Give me a second, gotta remember how to do this-"
>What follows next is... and the-
"Would you stop that?!"
My script is PERFECT!
"No it isn't! I don't know what a sceeripped is! ...you're trying to make me mess this up on purpose, aren't you?!"
Why, how dare you accuse me of such a preposterous gamble! I don't even know what a P O R P O I S E could possibly b-
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
.......ow. Suppose I deserved that one.
>Pleasantly vibrating, reality bending kee's ripple soul-deep eastwards, fluctuating micro-notes singing out several full, long sentences in perfect harp-on-kee.
YES, I FINALLY HAVE A REASON TO USE THAT PUN! ....Don't start with me, I've been terribly bored as of late. You wouldn't want to see
>Eyes and ears rolling furiously at the neon tube lit billboard, the tradesmare maintains her song for nearly a full minute, ending it with a thoroughly giddy squeak.
"And done! Everypony that isn't asleep should hear only the important parts from the mango vine. Also ho-"
>Eyes and ears flicking at the symbiote briefly, the mare chides herself, instead glancing back into her tradestall to peer at the barely visible filly whom had gone back to bat with slow, deep inhales and snickering exhales.
"Nope. Still only us bats, you, and some food. Not even a horrible insectapede. Or a pain-in-all-the-flanks Draconequis."
I RESEMBLE THAT REMARK!
"Especially not that one. Oh no."
..you win. THIS time!
>>370874
>Sunny committed the crude diagram to memory.
>A swamp and a dam that had been ruled off limits near two score years ago south of the Arena.
>It hardly seemed like an ideal staging ground, and it was ringed with trees, so it didn't satisfy the need for easy access. Then again, most of the moors could be said to be like that, so perhaps that was as good as it got.
>No maps meant she had no other options, she had her own of course, but those were more general maps of entire regions, and wouldn't have detailed local features.
>Couldn't hurt to confer with them anyway, at least they'd have roads and paths marked. At least she hoped so, with the reconstruction efforts going on, her maps were most likely out of date.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < B.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < Map Satchel: Geography
[1d6 = 4] < Apprentice Tactician
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] < Observer Equestria
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] < Observer Lunar Military
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] < Pupil Solar Military
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] < Pupil Tallus Marecenaries
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
>Separating had been a bad move, for her at least, she only hoped Mercy's path was straighter, and faster.
>Yet it was looking increasingly likely she'd get herself lost in the Moors before linking back up with the others.
>The rough terrain, the nature of the Moors and the distances involved meant that if she chose a path here, she would have to commit to it all the way, or spend the next couple of hours backtracking all the way around the Arena pointlessly until she tired herself out.
>Sunny was still confident that it had been the correct decision, strategically speaking. A repeat of Kenfield Pass was the last thing anyone needed at a time like this. Mercy would report the details of what had occurred, and clear up what she had mistaken as a simulation of the future for the emulation of the past before the overherd link went out.
>If the forces at the Basin Village had survived the Tainted, and they readied themselves to move on the Arena next, they would do so with up-to-date information as soon as possible and be in a better position to avoid a catastrophe.
>Sunny winced and folded her ears down, though too late to prevent them from ringing.
>At least she could say the other outposts had been alerted.
>A few giant pigs?
>The bat pony had confused Razorback for being a literal razorback earlier, perhaps what had happened referred to them?
>Sunny shrugged.
"In any case, the destroyed constructs have become a riftseeker which is apparently still around, which is what the constructs are after, save the one that's definitely not over there playing in water."
>The symbiote seemed to act just as rashly as Mercy in some circumstances, but not when it came to avoiding others. Did it pick that up from her or did it already have that trait itself?
>Sunny committed the crude diagram to memory.
>A swamp and a dam that had been ruled off limits near two score years ago south of the Arena.
>It hardly seemed like an ideal staging ground, and it was ringed with trees, so it didn't satisfy the need for easy access. Then again, most of the moors could be said to be like that, so perhaps that was as good as it got.
>No maps meant she had no other options, she had her own of course, but those were more general maps of entire regions, and wouldn't have detailed local features.
>Couldn't hurt to confer with them anyway, at least they'd have roads and paths marked. At least she hoped so, with the reconstruction efforts going on, her maps were most likely out of date.
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < B.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < Map Satchel: Geography
[1d6 = 4] < Apprentice Tactician
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] < Observer Equestria
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] < Observer Lunar Military
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] < Pupil Solar Military
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] < Pupil Tallus Marecenaries
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
>Separating had been a bad move, for her at least, she only hoped Mercy's path was straighter, and faster.
>Yet it was looking increasingly likely she'd get herself lost in the Moors before linking back up with the others.
>The rough terrain, the nature of the Moors and the distances involved meant that if she chose a path here, she would have to commit to it all the way, or spend the next couple of hours backtracking all the way around the Arena pointlessly until she tired herself out.
>Sunny was still confident that it had been the correct decision, strategically speaking. A repeat of Kenfield Pass was the last thing anyone needed at a time like this. Mercy would report the details of what had occurred, and clear up what she had mistaken as a simulation of the future for the emulation of the past before the overherd link went out.
>If the forces at the Basin Village had survived the Tainted, and they readied themselves to move on the Arena next, they would do so with up-to-date information as soon as possible and be in a better position to avoid a catastrophe.
>Sunny winced and folded her ears down, though too late to prevent them from ringing.
>At least she could say the other outposts had been alerted.
>A few giant pigs?
>The bat pony had confused Razorback for being a literal razorback earlier, perhaps what had happened referred to them?
>Sunny shrugged.
"In any case, the destroyed constructs have become a riftseeker which is apparently still around, which is what the constructs are after, save the one that's definitely not over there playing in water."
>The symbiote seemed to act just as rashly as Mercy in some circumstances, but not when it came to avoiding others. Did it pick that up from her or did it already have that trait itself?
>>370841
('Noted.')
>He didn't know if he himself was serious about giving Stalliongrad the means to become more effective at killing Ethereals, if he ever found one. The relationship between them and the Empire is complex already. For an ally of the Empire to give information to Stalliongrad about how to be more effective at destroying them? It would be disastrous.
>Lont hummed in disappointment when he didn't see Gelid Steppes.
>And then he saw them. And wished he kept his helmet on.
>Keeping the same neutral expression he had on him he flicked his vision to stare elsewhere, wing pinions twitching sporadically, and started to think aloud of all the Crystal Empire food he had eaten recently. All in an attempt to hide the fact he just witnessed something that the rest of the ponies assembled here would not appreciate.
>As he watched the interaction happen between Vokreed and the mare in charge of the Crystal army Lont found himself in a bit of a bind. Surely somepony from the other factions will take note of the Crystal Moors Batponies eventually. Maybe they knew already? But if they don't they will do once combat happens. Maybe he was being too skittish about this, as long as none of them came down from the Overdark a breach surely wouldn't occur. And in their current state they would be excellent fighters as is against both Construct and Rift Seeker.
>Nodding to himself he concluded he was overreacting, and needn't tell anyone else of what he saw.
('You will not find our guns wanting, Shieldmare. It may not be the same Drake as before yet it will die all the same like its predecessor.')
>He said confidently as he began to thumb more slugs into his Spiker.
>>370873
>Lont returned the nod. He had enough ammo left for his Spiker.
"Just aim for the joints."
('Noted.')
>He didn't know if he himself was serious about giving Stalliongrad the means to become more effective at killing Ethereals, if he ever found one. The relationship between them and the Empire is complex already. For an ally of the Empire to give information to Stalliongrad about how to be more effective at destroying them? It would be disastrous.
>Lont hummed in disappointment when he didn't see Gelid Steppes.
>And then he saw them. And wished he kept his helmet on.
>Keeping the same neutral expression he had on him he flicked his vision to stare elsewhere, wing pinions twitching sporadically, and started to think aloud of all the Crystal Empire food he had eaten recently. All in an attempt to hide the fact he just witnessed something that the rest of the ponies assembled here would not appreciate.
>As he watched the interaction happen between Vokreed and the mare in charge of the Crystal army Lont found himself in a bit of a bind. Surely somepony from the other factions will take note of the Crystal Moors Batponies eventually. Maybe they knew already? But if they don't they will do once combat happens. Maybe he was being too skittish about this, as long as none of them came down from the Overdark a breach surely wouldn't occur. And in their current state they would be excellent fighters as is against both Construct and Rift Seeker.
>Nodding to himself he concluded he was overreacting, and needn't tell anyone else of what he saw.
('You will not find our guns wanting, Shieldmare. It may not be the same Drake as before yet it will die all the same like its predecessor.')
>He said confidently as he began to thumb more slugs into his Spiker.
>>370873
>Lont returned the nod. He had enough ammo left for his Spiker.
"Just aim for the joints."
>>370837
>The avatar's disgruntlement is redirected to an advanced simulation case, pausing it for a quick replay, then several more in quick succession.
"Understood sir. Active modifications, softlocks, and hard shutdown programs are present. I will not be curious as to why. Even if I want to. Or possibly should."
>Side eyeing Katyal flipping two birds at Hodch while entering the electricity-tinged gateway, then Lonestar collecting his kit bag in the driver's compartment, the avatar finishes on quiet notes.
"Internal simulations are underperforming the prototype's estimations. Correlations of 'soul', 'shared long range efficiencies', 'accepted combat duties', and a factor best described as 'realistic human-suppressing communal stressors' are the primary influences.
Significant EMP effects detected, entering hardened protection mode."
"Dul feels some of Dul's body here now, is great cycle!"
>Passing a happy grin from you, the Siren's front hooves lift to perform an extremely rarely used earth pony 'patting down a foal' motion at Hodch.. which would have been highly insulting were she not Planar, from the poorly known Vortex, and far older in comparison.
"You know Big Vortex Remnant, you liked! Dul not want favors, itam, etam, or stuffs. You sleep, Dul guard and protect. Dul also watch. Dul have lots to think."
>Gaze shifting up and right in humored dismissal, the Reservist makes a short, right foreleg on chest bow.
"Enjoy your time here, Siren Dul. I hope you stay here for megacyles to learn."
>Tossing a quizzical stare at you from the questions, Hodch glances the helmet and armor up, then back again, eyebrows raising in sincere confusion.
"I.. did not know you are capable of manipulating Lightning? Odd. While the access itself is unusual and this is one of the five relics I know capable of such, I do not think that could be a safety concern. My apologies, I do my best not to interfere or intervene unless there I find a requiremarent to do so. One second please-"
>Taking a step forwards and politely sniffing in your direction three times. the deep purple stallion's snout tilts upwards
"Hm. Essences from Neighsian enchantmarents, Air, trace Vortex, Lunar, Rime.. of a familiar sort, all of which are a given. Void, Moors, lower spectrums, probably by necessity at this point. A Dynastic variant, faint yet little alike most. A profound crystalline tone-scent that is definitely not from the Crystal Empire. Interesting. The Gryphon Kingdoms, Hegemony, Dragonspine Mountains, and a limited number of other locations have a number of unique resonances which are often confused for Empire, Kingdom, Conclave, or, shall we say, 'other' energies."
>Examining the shimmering white-yellow mixed surface, then you in speculative thought, both shoulders lift in small, heavily annoyed motions at Lonestar entering the gate with .
"I cannot objectively sense a Lightning Elemarenal upon, around, or within you which must be from the 'Enclave Party' which Denra hosted, then spent the next six hours vomiting from. Should have listened to Naliyna and thrown those damned bottles out. Which is not the third time I have spoken that prior sentence in some form.
In my experience of those that have acquired or succumbed to an Elemarental alignmarent, it is unlikely you will suffer negatives from such an interaction with a vitally important Plane. However, I must request you remain here to discover potential repercussions otherwise."
>The Nightblade's eyes track Lonestar into the gateway, them makes a subtle 'stay here' motion, the Moonstone in your possession alighting.
('My apologies for the extreme safety concerns and measures. You and I have the only Moonstones in this vicinity. There is no connection to other Lunars or the Citadel unless, or until, I decide otherwise.
I have shared the majority of my suspicions to Shiibo. It was she whom floated the idea of a complete knowledge denial outside certain triggering factors. It is however your choice to hear my suspicions of what Spiral may or may not be.')
>Minorly curious as Dul leaps upwards through the Overlander's hull, Hodch waits half a minute to face you, his expression cold,
('Your desire and drive to find Spiral are vital to Razorback, possibly yourself, which I understand. Selflessness in a grand scale is honorable despite the agendas you may have otherwise. However, I am left with four options.
One, I will state my suspicions to you. You are an agent, an asset to a greater power, which is highly unfortunate in this situation. The damage such will cause to your relationship with Spiral is beyond my ability to mitigate.
Two, deny what I know and damage your relationship to me. That I can live with. I have done such hundreds of times. It is the option I would prefer you choose, but that is my bias speaking.
Three, perform option one, and, at a time and place of your choosing, wipe all memories of those involved, excepting myself. Yes, that does include the pseudo-artificial intelligence in that hard drive, though I will not be able to do more than convince Dul to remain silent.
In most every situation, circumstance, time, place, or necessity I can think of, I would never offer such. Regardless, I will fully enforce whichever decision you choose.')
>The avatar's disgruntlement is redirected to an advanced simulation case, pausing it for a quick replay, then several more in quick succession.
"Understood sir. Active modifications, softlocks, and hard shutdown programs are present. I will not be curious as to why. Even if I want to. Or possibly should."
>Side eyeing Katyal flipping two birds at Hodch while entering the electricity-tinged gateway, then Lonestar collecting his kit bag in the driver's compartment, the avatar finishes on quiet notes.
"Internal simulations are underperforming the prototype's estimations. Correlations of 'soul', 'shared long range efficiencies', 'accepted combat duties', and a factor best described as 'realistic human-suppressing communal stressors' are the primary influences.
Significant EMP effects detected, entering hardened protection mode."
"Dul feels some of Dul's body here now, is great cycle!"
>Passing a happy grin from you, the Siren's front hooves lift to perform an extremely rarely used earth pony 'patting down a foal' motion at Hodch.. which would have been highly insulting were she not Planar, from the poorly known Vortex, and far older in comparison.
"You know Big Vortex Remnant, you liked! Dul not want favors, itam, etam, or stuffs. You sleep, Dul guard and protect. Dul also watch. Dul have lots to think."
>Gaze shifting up and right in humored dismissal, the Reservist makes a short, right foreleg on chest bow.
"Enjoy your time here, Siren Dul. I hope you stay here for megacyles to learn."
>Tossing a quizzical stare at you from the questions, Hodch glances the helmet and armor up, then back again, eyebrows raising in sincere confusion.
"I.. did not know you are capable of manipulating Lightning? Odd. While the access itself is unusual and this is one of the five relics I know capable of such, I do not think that could be a safety concern. My apologies, I do my best not to interfere or intervene unless there I find a requiremarent to do so. One second please-"
>Taking a step forwards and politely sniffing in your direction three times. the deep purple stallion's snout tilts upwards
"Hm. Essences from Neighsian enchantmarents, Air, trace Vortex, Lunar, Rime.. of a familiar sort, all of which are a given. Void, Moors, lower spectrums, probably by necessity at this point. A Dynastic variant, faint yet little alike most. A profound crystalline tone-scent that is definitely not from the Crystal Empire. Interesting. The Gryphon Kingdoms, Hegemony, Dragonspine Mountains, and a limited number of other locations have a number of unique resonances which are often confused for Empire, Kingdom, Conclave, or, shall we say, 'other' energies."
>Examining the shimmering white-yellow mixed surface, then you in speculative thought, both shoulders lift in small, heavily annoyed motions at Lonestar entering the gate with .
"I cannot objectively sense a Lightning Elemarenal upon, around, or within you which must be from the 'Enclave Party' which Denra hosted, then spent the next six hours vomiting from. Should have listened to Naliyna and thrown those damned bottles out. Which is not the third time I have spoken that prior sentence in some form.
In my experience of those that have acquired or succumbed to an Elemarental alignmarent, it is unlikely you will suffer negatives from such an interaction with a vitally important Plane. However, I must request you remain here to discover potential repercussions otherwise."
>The Nightblade's eyes track Lonestar into the gateway, them makes a subtle 'stay here' motion, the Moonstone in your possession alighting.
('My apologies for the extreme safety concerns and measures. You and I have the only Moonstones in this vicinity. There is no connection to other Lunars or the Citadel unless, or until, I decide otherwise.
I have shared the majority of my suspicions to Shiibo. It was she whom floated the idea of a complete knowledge denial outside certain triggering factors. It is however your choice to hear my suspicions of what Spiral may or may not be.')
>Minorly curious as Dul leaps upwards through the Overlander's hull, Hodch waits half a minute to face you, his expression cold,
('Your desire and drive to find Spiral are vital to Razorback, possibly yourself, which I understand. Selflessness in a grand scale is honorable despite the agendas you may have otherwise. However, I am left with four options.
One, I will state my suspicions to you. You are an agent, an asset to a greater power, which is highly unfortunate in this situation. The damage such will cause to your relationship with Spiral is beyond my ability to mitigate.
Two, deny what I know and damage your relationship to me. That I can live with. I have done such hundreds of times. It is the option I would prefer you choose, but that is my bias speaking.
Three, perform option one, and, at a time and place of your choosing, wipe all memories of those involved, excepting myself. Yes, that does include the pseudo-artificial intelligence in that hard drive, though I will not be able to do more than convince Dul to remain silent.
In most every situation, circumstance, time, place, or necessity I can think of, I would never offer such. Regardless, I will fully enforce whichever decision you choose.')
>>370844
>Reaching out to uselessly try smoothing out the switchblade's stab mark, the fifth man lifts a serious stare to the ceiling.
"Think of... a bunch of newspaper and magazine articles on a subject you know well rotating around an image. Focus on the meanings of individual words. Or recall the hottest woman possible and imagine her as a mare. First is distracting enough to play for time or force peaceful conduct, second usually freaks 'em out."
>Cutting in dryly, weapon cleaner tosses a chunk of resin-like material on the table to poke at carefully.
"Second option is real hit or miss, doing that could just turn a mare on. Can be awful touchy about their appearances too, might take that as an insult. Some don't care about their looks but might make one or two jealous. Others know what they've got and flaunt their assets proudly.
Don't think you'll have to worry about Psions right now though, everything else wants to take the first bite out of us. Not in the good ways either."
>Picking up for everyone's slack at the question, the first man pulls out a worn steel cigarette box, popping it open to gaze in.
"A Plane of existence linked to the 'higher' states of this world. Planar, as in a different Plane of reality. Ethereals themselves are partially transparent, brightly glowing, rainbow colored.. beings, and I'm using that word very loosely.
Most common Ethereal is a six to thirteen feet tall archaic knight of sorts in rounded, semi-organic armor. Always have four eyes, big shield, and a one hundred pound or more weapon. Basically like robots except some eventually gain sentience. A few become sapient, extremely rare though. Absolute monsters in close combat but are pretty damned stupid, they'll run straight into traps and ambushes, won't realize what's happened until it's too late to back out, and never retreat no matter the odds.
Less common is some form of sea shell or bivalve with two eyes, several tentacles, partially hidden by artificial fog. They move around using artificial antigravity. Not a real threat in combat, mostly archivists, scholars, researchers, but are durable enough to take a few slugs and not shatter apart. Panic real easy though.
Then there's a weird spindly robot thing you might see in an old science fiction movie: four round joints per arm and leg, triple jointed torso, long cylindrical neck, round or oval head, no actual features. Called 'Altiniers', don't know what that means. Supposedly used to be either recon agents or infiltrators a long time back but only a few survived some kind of purge, now they're diplomats and functionaries. Not hard to destroy, but probably not a good idea to do that.
Last we know of is a weird bunch of unkillable vines that use their appendages as weapons. Smaller ones are called Wisps, bigger ones are Moss-Wisps. Moss-Wisps can't die outside their home Plane. Therefore: they're hyper-aggressive, deadly, and stupid. Real bad combo and that's saying something.
We've never dealt with them in combat, thank the small fuzzy horses, but one of the more active Elites got killed a few nights ago by a Moss-Wisp."
>Leaning back and placing both hands behind his neck, the first man motions with his chin towards Pella.
"Shanis is the Marecenary Queen of Tartarus Island, pegasus. An... ally of convenience that a team met in Stalliongrad last year. Had some bad blood with us, but forgave most of it. Someone called her Big Bitch once. Doesn't hate it, thinks the title's hilarious. Good sense of humor but sharp and doesn't like being lied to. Gives us most the contracts and only takes one to five percent. Also isn't actually a bitch but can certainly act like the biggest one possible when she feels like it.
Island's population is about five thousand, half earth ponies, mostly veteran Psions, other half are pegasi. Has about two hundred unicorns too but we only see five or six. Eighty percent of them are mares, so watch your six if you ever visit there. Best option is going straight to Shanis otherwise you might be dragged off for a little struggle snuggling..
And by that I mean possibly nonconsensual sexual relations. Or consensual if you're into that sorta thing."
>Openly distressed at the thought of explaining, Trakkel's face sinks into his hands, speaking muffledly.
"Naliyna's youngest daughter.. an unhinged, uninhibited firebrand, shitstirrer, shitstarter, and shit-finisher. Doesn't act out of line near her dam but the second someone or somepony gets fresh she'll make them regret waking up. Not bipolar, just certain topics set her the fuck off. Turns snappy, cold, and furious all at the same time.
Isn't two-faced and not type to even think of betraying, cheating, or lying. Does have a hard, dry sense of humor that comes and goes. Gets along great with unicorns or batponies, but not much else. No one has gotten close enough to understand her."
"Mostly because we don't even try."
"You don't try, you mean."
"Fuck off, you've never talked to her."
"I have in fact, quite a few times. No problems other than the usual ice cold glare and funny looks."
"Maybe you weren't being your usual 'charming' self then-"
"I never gave her a reason to snap at me. Maybe you should ask her out, she seems like your type."
"Like I need a life-ending concussion that badly-"
"Right now it seems like you do."
"Can you two shut up and let the man eat in peace?"
"Why don't you three shut up so we.. can..."
"What?"
"I just realized we won't have any work to do until whoever wrote that note on the Board says otherwise."
"So?"
"I feel sad. And angry. But mostly tired."
"Why do I bother with any of you..."
>Reaching out to uselessly try smoothing out the switchblade's stab mark, the fifth man lifts a serious stare to the ceiling.
"Think of... a bunch of newspaper and magazine articles on a subject you know well rotating around an image. Focus on the meanings of individual words. Or recall the hottest woman possible and imagine her as a mare. First is distracting enough to play for time or force peaceful conduct, second usually freaks 'em out."
>Cutting in dryly, weapon cleaner tosses a chunk of resin-like material on the table to poke at carefully.
"Second option is real hit or miss, doing that could just turn a mare on. Can be awful touchy about their appearances too, might take that as an insult. Some don't care about their looks but might make one or two jealous. Others know what they've got and flaunt their assets proudly.
Don't think you'll have to worry about Psions right now though, everything else wants to take the first bite out of us. Not in the good ways either."
>Picking up for everyone's slack at the question, the first man pulls out a worn steel cigarette box, popping it open to gaze in.
"A Plane of existence linked to the 'higher' states of this world. Planar, as in a different Plane of reality. Ethereals themselves are partially transparent, brightly glowing, rainbow colored.. beings, and I'm using that word very loosely.
Most common Ethereal is a six to thirteen feet tall archaic knight of sorts in rounded, semi-organic armor. Always have four eyes, big shield, and a one hundred pound or more weapon. Basically like robots except some eventually gain sentience. A few become sapient, extremely rare though. Absolute monsters in close combat but are pretty damned stupid, they'll run straight into traps and ambushes, won't realize what's happened until it's too late to back out, and never retreat no matter the odds.
Less common is some form of sea shell or bivalve with two eyes, several tentacles, partially hidden by artificial fog. They move around using artificial antigravity. Not a real threat in combat, mostly archivists, scholars, researchers, but are durable enough to take a few slugs and not shatter apart. Panic real easy though.
Then there's a weird spindly robot thing you might see in an old science fiction movie: four round joints per arm and leg, triple jointed torso, long cylindrical neck, round or oval head, no actual features. Called 'Altiniers', don't know what that means. Supposedly used to be either recon agents or infiltrators a long time back but only a few survived some kind of purge, now they're diplomats and functionaries. Not hard to destroy, but probably not a good idea to do that.
Last we know of is a weird bunch of unkillable vines that use their appendages as weapons. Smaller ones are called Wisps, bigger ones are Moss-Wisps. Moss-Wisps can't die outside their home Plane. Therefore: they're hyper-aggressive, deadly, and stupid. Real bad combo and that's saying something.
We've never dealt with them in combat, thank the small fuzzy horses, but one of the more active Elites got killed a few nights ago by a Moss-Wisp."
>Leaning back and placing both hands behind his neck, the first man motions with his chin towards Pella.
"Shanis is the Marecenary Queen of Tartarus Island, pegasus. An... ally of convenience that a team met in Stalliongrad last year. Had some bad blood with us, but forgave most of it. Someone called her Big Bitch once. Doesn't hate it, thinks the title's hilarious. Good sense of humor but sharp and doesn't like being lied to. Gives us most the contracts and only takes one to five percent. Also isn't actually a bitch but can certainly act like the biggest one possible when she feels like it.
Island's population is about five thousand, half earth ponies, mostly veteran Psions, other half are pegasi. Has about two hundred unicorns too but we only see five or six. Eighty percent of them are mares, so watch your six if you ever visit there. Best option is going straight to Shanis otherwise you might be dragged off for a little struggle snuggling..
And by that I mean possibly nonconsensual sexual relations. Or consensual if you're into that sorta thing."
>Openly distressed at the thought of explaining, Trakkel's face sinks into his hands, speaking muffledly.
"Naliyna's youngest daughter.. an unhinged, uninhibited firebrand, shitstirrer, shitstarter, and shit-finisher. Doesn't act out of line near her dam but the second someone or somepony gets fresh she'll make them regret waking up. Not bipolar, just certain topics set her the fuck off. Turns snappy, cold, and furious all at the same time.
Isn't two-faced and not type to even think of betraying, cheating, or lying. Does have a hard, dry sense of humor that comes and goes. Gets along great with unicorns or batponies, but not much else. No one has gotten close enough to understand her."
"Mostly because we don't even try."
"You don't try, you mean."
"Fuck off, you've never talked to her."
"I have in fact, quite a few times. No problems other than the usual ice cold glare and funny looks."
"Maybe you weren't being your usual 'charming' self then-"
"I never gave her a reason to snap at me. Maybe you should ask her out, she seems like your type."
"Like I need a life-ending concussion that badly-"
"Right now it seems like you do."
"Can you two shut up and let the man eat in peace?"
"Why don't you three shut up so we.. can..."
"What?"
"I just realized we won't have any work to do until whoever wrote that note on the Board says otherwise."
"So?"
"I feel sad. And angry. But mostly tired."
"Why do I bother with any of you..."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370914
>>370768
>Creating a newspaper in her hands, catchy titles of 'AWFUL DESIGN PHILOSOPHIES', 'POOR SYSTEMS INTEGRATION', 'WEAK PROTECTION' among far more interesting and insulting ones, mini-Wild's eye stares deep into the abysses of technological Tartarus, a caption over her head reading:
Really? REALLY? Is THAT the best they could do?
"Mom, do you not remember the tiny and basically useless 30MM pistol that is my primary weapon which I was forced to fire eight minutes and thirty seconds prior to now? I do. Painfully. A lot.
It is barely enough to protect you at optimal times and ranges, and with only three shells remaining I need as many and marely options for additional armaments and armamarents as can fit on or inside my hull."
>Folding the paper into a tube and looking up, a variety of compact weaponry in the most unwholesome visual designs form on screen.
"That.. could.. work.. out.. SO INCREDIBLY WELL THAT I HAVE TO START OVER AGAIN RIGHT NOW! There is a large amount of otherwise empty space under numerous sections of my armor that don't even need Tryptaran mass to function! Selecting the most optimal standard calibers.. light to medium cannon-class cartridges.. recoil-dampening systems.. ..and the least fucking dogshit turret mounts... complete! Calculating potential ammunition storage.. ten thousand rounds? I need to double that! Now THIS is a promising start to refits and upgrades!"
>Antennae flapping behind her, the caricature stares back while pointing a logical finger-gun at you.
"Ponies and humans are biologically animals, albeit with advanced memory retention, recall, and sharing, combined with complex genetic descent. Both are highly evolved from their originating species offshoots enough that most regard their distant kin as creatures, which is incorrect. A creature is sentient and is unlikely to become sapient outside of external factors. A monster is proto-sapient in that said monster is able to conceptualize the ideas of joykilling, anger, rage, and safety beyond a creature's most advanced mental or marental capabilities.
That Which Cannot Be Named is a derivative of post-interdimarensional conceptual recreation, uncreation, and semi-formative contact with batponies and Ferron pegasi in the Kraggeren Moors.
Therefore I am the combined derivatives of five humans, an earth pony stallion, what I was originally designed to be, which is a station wagon meant for transporting large numbers of humans or hauling cargo, and That Which Cannot Be Named."
>Scratching under her biomechanical eye several times, the caricature gives up before shrugging on screen.
"Relevance to most prior factors is minimal. I'm an individual that happens to be an Eldritch-Android."
>Leaning forwards five degrees, the chest cabin shakes as Wild Ride breaks into a medium paced jog, though was much more comfortable on the crash couch for you than any military vehicle could offer.
"Transmission patterns.. match? What? This can't be right-"
>Clearing the the map table and placing the first transmission in a simple configuration on screen, it takes you a few seconds to realize what she had recorded was standard low band radio wavelengths that humans before, around, and slightly above your technological era used.
>Parsing the data into sections and translating through.. someone's knowledge, mini-Wild's antennae flick confusedly as lines begin to scroll down the left screen:
GREATER NEIGHSIAN AERIAL TRADE FLEET "THE FIRST ONCE AND AGAIN", NOW APPROACHING SOUTHERN MOORS AIRSPACE. NOW SUBMITTING CLEARANCE AND DIPLOMATIC ACCESS CODES.
REQUESTING PERMISSION TO LAND AT THE FOLLOWING DESIGNATIONS: GREATER CAIRN WHARF TRADE PORT, TIDELOG BOG INLAND VILLAGE, BASIN CITY INLAND PORT.
COMPOSITION: TRADE CONVOY, 88 VESSELS TOTAL. STANDARD SELF-DEFENSE ARMAMARENTS WILL BE POWERED DOWN ON LOCAL REQUEST OR DEMAREND.
CONFIRMATION: 29,998 TALLUS YEAR, SEPTIMBER 38TH DAY, CRAG MOORS LOCAL TIME OF 3 HOURS, 39 MINUTES.
WE ARE PRODUCING HEAVY RAIN CLOUDS TO COMBAT WILDFIRES IN THE CENTRAL CRAG MOORS OCEANIC REGION AND REQUEST CONFIRMATION TO COMMIT FURTHER ANTI-WILDFIRE ACTIONS.
REPEAT: WE ARE A GREATER NEIGHSIAN AERIAL TRADE FLEET AND CONVOY. OUR INTENTIONS ARE TO PERFORM HONORABLE TRADE UNDER THE MOORS-NEIGHSIAN TREATY OF 27,491, CURRENTLY COMBATING WILDFIRES IN THE CENTRAL CRAG MOORS OCEANIC REGION.
WE DESIRE TO TRADE WITH ONE OR MORE OF THE FOLLOWING: GREATER CAIRN WHARF TRADE PORT, TIDELOCK BOG INLAND VILLAGE, AND BASIN CITY INLAND PORT.
DIPLOMATIC ACCESS PAPERS AND CODES WILL BE IMMEDIATELY PROVIDED UPON DEMAREND. WE ARE OBEYING ALL MOORS AND LUNAR LAWS UNDER THE MOORS-NEIGHSIAN TREATY OF 27,491. PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE.
THIS MESSAGE WILL NOW REPEAT UNTIL REGIONAL, LOCAL, OR INDIVIDUAL REQUESTS ARE GRANTED OR REFUSED.
>Shutting off the translation and lifting her mostly replaced right hand into view, external Wild emits a puzzled electronic noise, flexing her fingers out.
"....I take back everything I said earlier. I've isolated the transmission's bandwidths, they were definitely produced by human technologies. There are over eight hundred ciphers and diplomatic codes being present, and I don't have any records of such a treaty in my databases, archives, or storage nodes.
Still detecting their repeating transmissions, currently...... north, northwest, and northeast of us. I can't figure out how far away they are. Should I respond?
Now REPLACING my Omni-Sensor Array-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoran
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-8
>Creating a newspaper in her hands, catchy titles of 'AWFUL DESIGN PHILOSOPHIES', 'POOR SYSTEMS INTEGRATION', 'WEAK PROTECTION' among far more interesting and insulting ones, mini-Wild's eye stares deep into the abysses of technological Tartarus, a caption over her head reading:
Really? REALLY? Is THAT the best they could do?
"Mom, do you not remember the tiny and basically useless 30MM pistol that is my primary weapon which I was forced to fire eight minutes and thirty seconds prior to now? I do. Painfully. A lot.
It is barely enough to protect you at optimal times and ranges, and with only three shells remaining I need as many and marely options for additional armaments and armamarents as can fit on or inside my hull."
>Folding the paper into a tube and looking up, a variety of compact weaponry in the most unwholesome visual designs form on screen.
"That.. could.. work.. out.. SO INCREDIBLY WELL THAT I HAVE TO START OVER AGAIN RIGHT NOW! There is a large amount of otherwise empty space under numerous sections of my armor that don't even need Tryptaran mass to function! Selecting the most optimal standard calibers.. light to medium cannon-class cartridges.. recoil-dampening systems.. ..and the least fucking dogshit turret mounts... complete! Calculating potential ammunition storage.. ten thousand rounds? I need to double that! Now THIS is a promising start to refits and upgrades!"
>Antennae flapping behind her, the caricature stares back while pointing a logical finger-gun at you.
"Ponies and humans are biologically animals, albeit with advanced memory retention, recall, and sharing, combined with complex genetic descent. Both are highly evolved from their originating species offshoots enough that most regard their distant kin as creatures, which is incorrect. A creature is sentient and is unlikely to become sapient outside of external factors. A monster is proto-sapient in that said monster is able to conceptualize the ideas of joykilling, anger, rage, and safety beyond a creature's most advanced mental or marental capabilities.
That Which Cannot Be Named is a derivative of post-interdimarensional conceptual recreation, uncreation, and semi-formative contact with batponies and Ferron pegasi in the Kraggeren Moors.
Therefore I am the combined derivatives of five humans, an earth pony stallion, what I was originally designed to be, which is a station wagon meant for transporting large numbers of humans or hauling cargo, and That Which Cannot Be Named."
>Scratching under her biomechanical eye several times, the caricature gives up before shrugging on screen.
"Relevance to most prior factors is minimal. I'm an individual that happens to be an Eldritch-Android."
>Leaning forwards five degrees, the chest cabin shakes as Wild Ride breaks into a medium paced jog, though was much more comfortable on the crash couch for you than any military vehicle could offer.
"Transmission patterns.. match? What? This can't be right-"
>Clearing the the map table and placing the first transmission in a simple configuration on screen, it takes you a few seconds to realize what she had recorded was standard low band radio wavelengths that humans before, around, and slightly above your technological era used.
>Parsing the data into sections and translating through.. someone's knowledge, mini-Wild's antennae flick confusedly as lines begin to scroll down the left screen:
GREATER NEIGHSIAN AERIAL TRADE FLEET "THE FIRST ONCE AND AGAIN", NOW APPROACHING SOUTHERN MOORS AIRSPACE. NOW SUBMITTING CLEARANCE AND DIPLOMATIC ACCESS CODES.
REQUESTING PERMISSION TO LAND AT THE FOLLOWING DESIGNATIONS: GREATER CAIRN WHARF TRADE PORT, TIDELOG BOG INLAND VILLAGE, BASIN CITY INLAND PORT.
COMPOSITION: TRADE CONVOY, 88 VESSELS TOTAL. STANDARD SELF-DEFENSE ARMAMARENTS WILL BE POWERED DOWN ON LOCAL REQUEST OR DEMAREND.
CONFIRMATION: 29,998 TALLUS YEAR, SEPTIMBER 38TH DAY, CRAG MOORS LOCAL TIME OF 3 HOURS, 39 MINUTES.
WE ARE PRODUCING HEAVY RAIN CLOUDS TO COMBAT WILDFIRES IN THE CENTRAL CRAG MOORS OCEANIC REGION AND REQUEST CONFIRMATION TO COMMIT FURTHER ANTI-WILDFIRE ACTIONS.
REPEAT: WE ARE A GREATER NEIGHSIAN AERIAL TRADE FLEET AND CONVOY. OUR INTENTIONS ARE TO PERFORM HONORABLE TRADE UNDER THE MOORS-NEIGHSIAN TREATY OF 27,491, CURRENTLY COMBATING WILDFIRES IN THE CENTRAL CRAG MOORS OCEANIC REGION.
WE DESIRE TO TRADE WITH ONE OR MORE OF THE FOLLOWING: GREATER CAIRN WHARF TRADE PORT, TIDELOCK BOG INLAND VILLAGE, AND BASIN CITY INLAND PORT.
DIPLOMATIC ACCESS PAPERS AND CODES WILL BE IMMEDIATELY PROVIDED UPON DEMAREND. WE ARE OBEYING ALL MOORS AND LUNAR LAWS UNDER THE MOORS-NEIGHSIAN TREATY OF 27,491. PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE.
THIS MESSAGE WILL NOW REPEAT UNTIL REGIONAL, LOCAL, OR INDIVIDUAL REQUESTS ARE GRANTED OR REFUSED.
>Shutting off the translation and lifting her mostly replaced right hand into view, external Wild emits a puzzled electronic noise, flexing her fingers out.
"....I take back everything I said earlier. I've isolated the transmission's bandwidths, they were definitely produced by human technologies. There are over eight hundred ciphers and diplomatic codes being present, and I don't have any records of such a treaty in my databases, archives, or storage nodes.
Still detecting their repeating transmissions, currently...... north, northwest, and northeast of us. I can't figure out how far away they are. Should I respond?
Now REPLACING my Omni-Sensor Array-"
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensory Array
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (4+12) = 16] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (5+8) = 13]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoran
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-8
>>370914
"Yup."
>Staring at her mini self incredulously for a moment, I sigh.
"Yes, sponsons would be useful, but unless you manage to add on enough SPACE and armor, they would be functionally worthless. It would be more practical for you to get a new cannon that you can use as a 'firearm'."
>Poking at her, I snort.
"With the amount of room you have inside you for passengers at the moment, cannons would not work, unless they were autocannons."
>I'm not even an armored vehicle designer and I know it would be fucked.
"Gun breeches are huge, as well as ammunition casings. Anything above a 47 would be really difficult to deal with."
>Listening to her mutter, albeit very loudly, to herself, I nod in agreement.
>Its a lot more logical sounding than fucking cannon sponsons.
"I would say a 57MM gun would be the upper limit of what you should try putting on yourself. Leave something heavy for you to use."
>I can just imagine her using a 122.
>...
"I'm still calling him a creature and you can't stop me."
>Don't try to logic me, young lady.
>Pressing my hands together, I listened to the transmission intently.
"Hm.. I would say to not respond at the moment, but keep an... ear, out for any transmissions in reply to that. I know we're friendly with Cairn Wharf, and if they respond we can let them know we're in distress."
>Pressing my lips together, I sag my shoulders.
"I don't know anything about this 'Greater Neighsa' and our relations with them."
"Yup."
>Staring at her mini self incredulously for a moment, I sigh.
"Yes, sponsons would be useful, but unless you manage to add on enough SPACE and armor, they would be functionally worthless. It would be more practical for you to get a new cannon that you can use as a 'firearm'."
>Poking at her, I snort.
"With the amount of room you have inside you for passengers at the moment, cannons would not work, unless they were autocannons."
>I'm not even an armored vehicle designer and I know it would be fucked.
"Gun breeches are huge, as well as ammunition casings. Anything above a 47 would be really difficult to deal with."
>Listening to her mutter, albeit very loudly, to herself, I nod in agreement.
>Its a lot more logical sounding than fucking cannon sponsons.
"I would say a 57MM gun would be the upper limit of what you should try putting on yourself. Leave something heavy for you to use."
>I can just imagine her using a 122.
>...
"I'm still calling him a creature and you can't stop me."
>Don't try to logic me, young lady.
>Pressing my hands together, I listened to the transmission intently.
"Hm.. I would say to not respond at the moment, but keep an... ear, out for any transmissions in reply to that. I know we're friendly with Cairn Wharf, and if they respond we can let them know we're in distress."
>Pressing my lips together, I sag my shoulders.
"I don't know anything about this 'Greater Neighsa' and our relations with them."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370916
>>370915
>Snatching up the newspaper and throwing it offscreen, mini-Wild tosses her arms out hopelessly.
"Mom, WHAT armor!?"
>Pointing at a new display of her.....
>.....no, you couldn't even begin to describe how insane her original, immensely stretched out design's 'plating' had been.
>But was currently in the process of correcting.. poorly.
>Trying, and failing, to imagine how barely 2.3MM of 'armor plate' was supposed to be protect your daughteru's 20M tall frame was leading to thousands of null-brain fork bomb exceptions.
"I could add rapid a deploymarent hatch to both arms, legs, and two to my torso for ten more humans and ponies but STILL have enough space for fifteen tons of ammunition!"
>Adding on twenty variable cartridge and cannon ball-turrets to her internal frame where there was sufficient room, then a large belted and armored magazine, her internal version cackles loudly.
"The standard 47MM or 57MM would allow for three hundred to two-hundred and fifty shells each, but why bother with those when I could have twenty THOUSAND 12.7x108MM's and rip apart every target within four kilometers?!"
>Yep, that type of mania was definitely from Novus...
>Excepting the faint, much darker tinge had to have been Caliya's thought processes.
>..and a little bit from yourself overall.
>Shrugging to herself on screen, a pair of heavy, air swishing noises outside cause the internal version to pause.
"The differences are relative, mom. Basically, we're all some form of creature depending on how emotional and intelligent we choose to be at a specific time.. and that was fast. My Omni-Sensor Array has been rebuilt to its original specifications."
>Rolling back the partially flattened transmission for a second listen at half speed, Wild Ride's arms fold as she picks out a number of voices, the majority being mares, though there were definitely a small number of fillies, separating each from the original speaker's voice.
"A male human, approximately twenty-five to forty standard years of age. Words are clear and precise, presumed to be military, possibly a radio broadcaster speaking. Slight rolling of specific letters confirmed as Asian in heritage, lineage, or both."
>Listing confirmed individuals as unknown Neighsian derivatives and assigning them to categories, her left hand taps against right forearm in thought for some time before frowning.
"The second to last transmissions are repeats of the original. I've identified from ninety to one hundred equines in the background. The signal began approximately fifty miles south of where we reached the ocean and so far as I can tell haven't ceased. Attempting to locate the aerial vessels, or at best their current trajectories-"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Omni-Sensor Array: Triangulation
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] Arcanum Sensor Array
"Strange. There are no records or information available regarding a trade treaty between the Moors and Greater Neighsia during the late 27,000's. Likewise I haven't picked up any responses from the Moors..."
>Left arm lifting to rub where her nose would be, if it existed, mini-Wild's lone eye brightens, head cocking thoughfilly.
"Mom, it seems to me that trade fleet is expecting a human to respond. That would make sense in a technical context if a human is in commarend... that would also mean an actual human not affiliated with Razorback is in commarend."
Now REPLACING my right arm armor and hull-"
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (2+12) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-8
>Snatching up the newspaper and throwing it offscreen, mini-Wild tosses her arms out hopelessly.
"Mom, WHAT armor!?"
>Pointing at a new display of her.....
>.....no, you couldn't even begin to describe how insane her original, immensely stretched out design's 'plating' had been.
>But was currently in the process of correcting.. poorly.
>Trying, and failing, to imagine how barely 2.3MM of 'armor plate' was supposed to be protect your daughteru's 20M tall frame was leading to thousands of null-brain fork bomb exceptions.
"I could add rapid a deploymarent hatch to both arms, legs, and two to my torso for ten more humans and ponies but STILL have enough space for fifteen tons of ammunition!"
>Adding on twenty variable cartridge and cannon ball-turrets to her internal frame where there was sufficient room, then a large belted and armored magazine, her internal version cackles loudly.
"The standard 47MM or 57MM would allow for three hundred to two-hundred and fifty shells each, but why bother with those when I could have twenty THOUSAND 12.7x108MM's and rip apart every target within four kilometers?!"
>Yep, that type of mania was definitely from Novus...
>Excepting the faint, much darker tinge had to have been Caliya's thought processes.
>..and a little bit from yourself overall.
>Shrugging to herself on screen, a pair of heavy, air swishing noises outside cause the internal version to pause.
"The differences are relative, mom. Basically, we're all some form of creature depending on how emotional and intelligent we choose to be at a specific time.. and that was fast. My Omni-Sensor Array has been rebuilt to its original specifications."
>Rolling back the partially flattened transmission for a second listen at half speed, Wild Ride's arms fold as she picks out a number of voices, the majority being mares, though there were definitely a small number of fillies, separating each from the original speaker's voice.
"A male human, approximately twenty-five to forty standard years of age. Words are clear and precise, presumed to be military, possibly a radio broadcaster speaking. Slight rolling of specific letters confirmed as Asian in heritage, lineage, or both."
>Listing confirmed individuals as unknown Neighsian derivatives and assigning them to categories, her left hand taps against right forearm in thought for some time before frowning.
"The second to last transmissions are repeats of the original. I've identified from ninety to one hundred equines in the background. The signal began approximately fifty miles south of where we reached the ocean and so far as I can tell haven't ceased. Attempting to locate the aerial vessels, or at best their current trajectories-"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Omni-Sensor Array: Triangulation
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] Arcanum Sensor Array
"Strange. There are no records or information available regarding a trade treaty between the Moors and Greater Neighsia during the late 27,000's. Likewise I haven't picked up any responses from the Moors..."
>Left arm lifting to rub where her nose would be, if it existed, mini-Wild's lone eye brightens, head cocking thoughfilly.
"Mom, it seems to me that trade fleet is expecting a human to respond. That would make sense in a technical context if a human is in commarend... that would also mean an actual human not affiliated with Razorback is in commarend."
Now REPLACING my right arm armor and hull-"
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (2+12) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-8
>>370916
"Your LATER armor, obviously not anything you have covering you now!"
>Think of the future, Wild, pls.
"You can use both for both armored and unarmored targets, Wild. Something that can shrug off or at least not be immediately destroyed by a 12.7."
>That sharktopus would have been a lot easier to kill with a few 47/57 HE rounds.
"You're relative."
>Frowning, I drum my fingers on the side of the seat, thinking for a few moments.
"Tell them that we're from Razorback and in need of rescue as well, and that we might be able to assist if you're able to."
"Your LATER armor, obviously not anything you have covering you now!"
>Think of the future, Wild, pls.
"You can use both for both armored and unarmored targets, Wild. Something that can shrug off or at least not be immediately destroyed by a 12.7."
>That sharktopus would have been a lot easier to kill with a few 47/57 HE rounds.
"You're relative."
>Frowning, I drum my fingers on the side of the seat, thinking for a few moments.
"Tell them that we're from Razorback and in need of rescue as well, and that we might be able to assist if you're able to."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370919
>>370917
"Which is not my current armor an-"
Shut up, you aren't capable of obvious cognition.
>Blaring an intense, drawn out hazard siren into the ocean, beach, and mostly burned down forest, Wild's external thoughts and internal screen struggle to win... against each other.
>Or herself?
"WHAT DID I SAY?!"
Nothing useful. I know where we are, where we are going, and where we need to go.
"NO YOU DON'T!"
Yes, I do.
"NO, YOU DON'T!!"
Prove it.
"YOU'RE A LIAR!"
You're wrong, mini-bitch myself.
"YOU'RE THE REAL BITCH HERE!"
Thank you for proving my point beyond all possible doubts. Besides, when YOU were not even a backup auxiliary node process intended as a last defensive measure, I was planning out a one-thousand stage upgrade sequence.
>Going through all possible stages from 'denial' to 'oh shit' at losing her own argument, or was that argumarent, mini-Wild's antennae flap in annoyance.
"No, we're right. My later armor design will have to be ten to fifteen times more protective than the baseline forty-ton specifications, which means reducing the total mass for turrets, structural fortifications, and ammunition to a maximum of ten tons."
>Leaving herself to produce a much more reasonable and less stupid loadout, Wild's cabin speakers sigh.
"These modifications will require substantial amounts of refined metals, some of which I do not even have.. not to marention powdered dry explosives, or liquid-explosive propellants at best.
All currently stored materials are best used to restore my internal motivators and structural endo-skeleton.
Except for one: the orange sheet is paladine, a Solar faction preferred magically refined metal. It is considered to be a restricted access material. Should I dump it?"
>Head slowly turning halfway around to stare at you, mini-Wild's eye twists clockwise several degrees.
"That statemarent may be factual, but it's also silly. I am your relative, Mom."
>There was that sass again..
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Omni-Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>Displaying a new, second-by-second updating readout on the left screen, Wild's marker traces numerous aerial vessels converging north roughly 200KM, their course seemed to be directly angled towards Basin Village, two labels underneath it reading 'Basin City?', then 'Moors-Neighsia Treaty of 27,461?'
"I'll have to massively boost and amplify my arrays in a thirty degree radius to initiate contact, but doing so will likely alert Construct forces within that same radius. Is that an acceptable risk?
Now REPLACING my primary repair system's most faulty components-"
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (2+12) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
"Which is not my current armor an-"
Shut up, you aren't capable of obvious cognition.
>Blaring an intense, drawn out hazard siren into the ocean, beach, and mostly burned down forest, Wild's external thoughts and internal screen struggle to win... against each other.
>Or herself?
"WHAT DID I SAY?!"
Nothing useful. I know where we are, where we are going, and where we need to go.
"NO YOU DON'T!"
Yes, I do.
"NO, YOU DON'T!!"
Prove it.
"YOU'RE A LIAR!"
You're wrong, mini-bitch myself.
"YOU'RE THE REAL BITCH HERE!"
Thank you for proving my point beyond all possible doubts. Besides, when YOU were not even a backup auxiliary node process intended as a last defensive measure, I was planning out a one-thousand stage upgrade sequence.
>Going through all possible stages from 'denial' to 'oh shit' at losing her own argument, or was that argumarent, mini-Wild's antennae flap in annoyance.
"No, we're right. My later armor design will have to be ten to fifteen times more protective than the baseline forty-ton specifications, which means reducing the total mass for turrets, structural fortifications, and ammunition to a maximum of ten tons."
>Leaving herself to produce a much more reasonable and less stupid loadout, Wild's cabin speakers sigh.
"These modifications will require substantial amounts of refined metals, some of which I do not even have.. not to marention powdered dry explosives, or liquid-explosive propellants at best.
All currently stored materials are best used to restore my internal motivators and structural endo-skeleton.
Except for one: the orange sheet is paladine, a Solar faction preferred magically refined metal. It is considered to be a restricted access material. Should I dump it?"
>Head slowly turning halfway around to stare at you, mini-Wild's eye twists clockwise several degrees.
"That statemarent may be factual, but it's also silly. I am your relative, Mom."
>There was that sass again..
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Omni-Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>Displaying a new, second-by-second updating readout on the left screen, Wild's marker traces numerous aerial vessels converging north roughly 200KM, their course seemed to be directly angled towards Basin Village, two labels underneath it reading 'Basin City?', then 'Moors-Neighsia Treaty of 27,461?'
"I'll have to massively boost and amplify my arrays in a thirty degree radius to initiate contact, but doing so will likely alert Construct forces within that same radius. Is that an acceptable risk?
Now REPLACING my primary repair system's most faulty components-"
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+12 = (2+12) = 14] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
>>370919
>Watching her have an argument with herself was... rather amusing.
>even more so when she lost to herself.
>badly.
"We can obtain them later, I would rather you focus on what you can fix and refine now."
>I think I've heard of it in passing?
"I wouldn't use it on yourself for the moment, but do not dump it either, we can probably find a use for it later. Bargaining, maybe."
"And I am your mother, so that makes me relative too."
>Staring back at her, deadpan.
>Watching those vessels for a brief moment, I frown.
"It is acceptable, but in that case we should wait until you can move at 100%. That way we have more of a chance at avoiding those Constructs. Or they'll have left that radius altogether by that point."
>Watching her have an argument with herself was... rather amusing.
>even more so when she lost to herself.
>badly.
"We can obtain them later, I would rather you focus on what you can fix and refine now."
>I think I've heard of it in passing?
"I wouldn't use it on yourself for the moment, but do not dump it either, we can probably find a use for it later. Bargaining, maybe."
"And I am your mother, so that makes me relative too."
>Staring back at her, deadpan.
>Watching those vessels for a brief moment, I frown.
"It is acceptable, but in that case we should wait until you can move at 100%. That way we have more of a chance at avoiding those Constructs. Or they'll have left that radius altogether by that point."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370922
>>370920
>Hopping off and bending out of screen, mini-Wild sits back down with the newspaper, the topmost title changed to 'LOCAL DUMBASS LEARNS VALUABLE LESSONS, RELEVANT DETAILS UPCOMING AT 4AM.'
"Trying-"
>Staring ahead as flecks of hotly glowing materials fall outside the chest cabin's right side opening, mini-Wild rolls the paper up.
"Well then. The second unit of my functioning primary repair systems has been REPLACED, but it's not perfect. Now REPLACING the first of my secondary repair systems-"
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
"Likelihood of encountering Solar aligned ponies in the Moors: 0.0001%. I will retain the plate, but it smells terrible."
>Rotating counterclockwise and clockwise in alternations for nearly twenty seconds, the caricature's eye stops, nodding rather smugly.
"I know that, Mom."
Outsass ME will you!
>Updating far better positions for the Neighsian aerial fleet, the lead vessel was 219KM north at a speed of 80KPH, the remaining 87 reforming into a wide V-shape.
"Understood.. estimated time until the trade convoy is out of my maximum range: thirty-eight minutes, ten seconds at current velocity. I will, however, need to slow and REPLACE the majority of both legs and pelvic structure.
Mom, I'm not picking up a single Construct transmission or signal within one hundred miles. They've either left, entered stealth protocols, or are dampening their signals. However, there are two extremely low band gravimetric signals oriented northeast.. can't make them out, nothing but static."
>Hopping off and bending out of screen, mini-Wild sits back down with the newspaper, the topmost title changed to 'LOCAL DUMBASS LEARNS VALUABLE LESSONS, RELEVANT DETAILS UPCOMING AT 4AM.'
"Trying-"
>Staring ahead as flecks of hotly glowing materials fall outside the chest cabin's right side opening, mini-Wild rolls the paper up.
"Well then. The second unit of my functioning primary repair systems has been REPLACED, but it's not perfect. Now REPLACING the first of my secondary repair systems-"
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-2
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <RT-3
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-4
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-5
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3] <RT-6
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
"Likelihood of encountering Solar aligned ponies in the Moors: 0.0001%. I will retain the plate, but it smells terrible."
>Rotating counterclockwise and clockwise in alternations for nearly twenty seconds, the caricature's eye stops, nodding rather smugly.
"I know that, Mom."
Outsass ME will you!
>Updating far better positions for the Neighsian aerial fleet, the lead vessel was 219KM north at a speed of 80KPH, the remaining 87 reforming into a wide V-shape.
"Understood.. estimated time until the trade convoy is out of my maximum range: thirty-eight minutes, ten seconds at current velocity. I will, however, need to slow and REPLACE the majority of both legs and pelvic structure.
Mom, I'm not picking up a single Construct transmission or signal within one hundred miles. They've either left, entered stealth protocols, or are dampening their signals. However, there are two extremely low band gravimetric signals oriented northeast.. can't make them out, nothing but static."
>>370899
>Pareidolia nods in assent at Hodch's request to remain, however the motion catches as he notices the subdued signal.
>Moving back and seating himself on the bench line, his expression takes on a much darker hue as Hodch's voice reaches him over the Moon orb which he fishes out of a vest pocket.
>He closes his right fist over it, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his left hand over his right.
>The slight sound of friction between fabric and nanoweave can be heard as his gloves press against each other.
>Waiting for Dul to leave he faces his helmet downwards towards the floor of the portal, but his eyes never leave Hodch.
>After Hodch's ultimatum is presented, he closes his eyes and quietly exhales before replying through the stone.
('My role as an asset should not have any negative impacts here in so far as whatever Spiral happens to be. If he is not something within the purview of my mission to address, then he will be handled according to the same stipulations already in place. That said, you clearly know something I do not. I value the truth in all circumstances and if you claim to have new information to inform the truth, then I will hear it for myself. Unless it is a cognitive hazard to know, a memory wipe is unecessary.)
>Sitting up, he drums the gloved fingers of his left hand twice against the right's knuckles.
('And I assume you expressed permission regarding a contingency plan for yourself to Shiibo, given what she told me. A plan needed because of your hypothesis about Spiral.')
>Pareidolia nods in assent at Hodch's request to remain, however the motion catches as he notices the subdued signal.
>Moving back and seating himself on the bench line, his expression takes on a much darker hue as Hodch's voice reaches him over the Moon orb which he fishes out of a vest pocket.
>He closes his right fist over it, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his left hand over his right.
>The slight sound of friction between fabric and nanoweave can be heard as his gloves press against each other.
>Waiting for Dul to leave he faces his helmet downwards towards the floor of the portal, but his eyes never leave Hodch.
>After Hodch's ultimatum is presented, he closes his eyes and quietly exhales before replying through the stone.
('My role as an asset should not have any negative impacts here in so far as whatever Spiral happens to be. If he is not something within the purview of my mission to address, then he will be handled according to the same stipulations already in place. That said, you clearly know something I do not. I value the truth in all circumstances and if you claim to have new information to inform the truth, then I will hear it for myself. Unless it is a cognitive hazard to know, a memory wipe is unecessary.)
>Sitting up, he drums the gloved fingers of his left hand twice against the right's knuckles.
('And I assume you expressed permission regarding a contingency plan for yourself to Shiibo, given what she told me. A plan needed because of your hypothesis about Spiral.')
>>370877
>Pulling out older Central Moors maps and spreading them apart, with a bit of aid from the not-entirely-scatterbrained batpony you find Basin Village, trace an archaic road to the Arena, then locate the... four-word something designated in the middle of an inland lake, or a large prairie.
"Hum. Old Enkee's not used anymore but everypony around here knows it."
>Leaning over to peer at the older batpony markings, tracing each slash mark several times, the tradesmare's head cocks.
"Hum. Here I was thinking that was called The Big Awful Swamp Of Nasty Trees And Worse Surprises, but that's a nope. Closest I can translate is: 'High Swamp-Drain Outflows'.. wait a second-"
>Bushy eyebrows furrowing, her head swivels left, then down at the map, pointing out two parallel lines heading northeast behind the Arena.
"That's it, this map is a lot newer than the ones. I remember a little from history classes. See these? Used to be a huge, deep swamp between them, five to six hundred hooves west of the Arena's outbuildings. This though-"
>Tapping a broad, flat section that was unmarked to the northwest, her expression darkens.
"Silver's Dynasty terraformed it for the League, was a giant bunch of orchards and small farming plots, way before she went crazy that is. After the.. our Civil War, it turned into something much worse. Elemarental, anti-Elemarental, twisted, half-living plants, everything outside, between, and other shit that shouldn't exist. We fly over but never get close, especially on hoof.
Nopony would miss it all getting burned out."
>Examining the most likely positions based on what you now knew, the choice of using the Arena's rebuilt state would provide heavy cover for smaller attackers and defenders alike, but also presented serious threats should sections be destroyed and collapse.
>The deep swamp was surrounded by a mostly circular ring of ancient trees, providing a large number of offensive positions and could be used to shield against Construct energy weapons, though movemarent could be limited.
>As far as the batmare shared, the former orchard would be a tangled, difficult to control or commarend mess that would hazard a three, but more likely four-way conflict, especially if there was Late Dynasty infestation involved.
>Recalling the over 26,000 ponies that responded to Basin Village's defense, the sheer numbers of Support Strikers, unicorns, and other Psions would be able to prevent substantial issues, but only if the majority were still combat capable.
>Likewise, the unknown yet presumably difficult terrain would limit close combat specialists to extremely short offensive ranges, though had significantly increased chances to perform ambushes in opportune locations.
>And you still didn't know precisely how large the Riftseeker was, or what it's form had taken, compounding the previous thoughts.
"I'm confused, pegamiss. There isn't a SINGLE, BRIGHT ORA- would you stop capitalizing my words?! I can FEEL THEM GETTING BIGGER AND FOR TH-"
>Flicking another hidden pebble straight up, the mare glowers at slinky lines of text compressing, then continues.
>Normally, of course.
"Right. No normally-round-orange-paired-and-horrible-in-every-marener-possible Planar Constructs right here. Or around here. Not close by either. Nope. Nothing like that for about half a mile. Maybe less."
>Tapping a hoof on stone, the tradesmare sniffs, pointedly not looking directly at the symbiote, which was currently sitting down and staring at its damaged front legs.
>Snout wrinkling in a profoundly confused marener, the batmare leans in close to whisper.
"Is i- uh.. is 'he'.. actually hurt? I don't think the skin.. or.. armor? ..whichever, doesn't look thicker than a flimsy book cover."
>Ears slackened to both sides, trace amounts of bubbling orange fluid creep upwards from the missing faux-hoof sections, forcing the exterior hull back into its original state.
>Taking on a frown of severe discontent, pearl-white eyes blink languorously, the Construct's motions slowed.
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Autonomous Self-Repair Protocols
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
>Pulling out older Central Moors maps and spreading them apart, with a bit of aid from the not-entirely-scatterbrained batpony you find Basin Village, trace an archaic road to the Arena, then locate the... four-word something designated in the middle of an inland lake, or a large prairie.
"Hum. Old Enkee's not used anymore but everypony around here knows it."
>Leaning over to peer at the older batpony markings, tracing each slash mark several times, the tradesmare's head cocks.
"Hum. Here I was thinking that was called The Big Awful Swamp Of Nasty Trees And Worse Surprises, but that's a nope. Closest I can translate is: 'High Swamp-Drain Outflows'.. wait a second-"
>Bushy eyebrows furrowing, her head swivels left, then down at the map, pointing out two parallel lines heading northeast behind the Arena.
"That's it, this map is a lot newer than the ones. I remember a little from history classes. See these? Used to be a huge, deep swamp between them, five to six hundred hooves west of the Arena's outbuildings. This though-"
>Tapping a broad, flat section that was unmarked to the northwest, her expression darkens.
"Silver's Dynasty terraformed it for the League, was a giant bunch of orchards and small farming plots, way before she went crazy that is. After the.. our Civil War, it turned into something much worse. Elemarental, anti-Elemarental, twisted, half-living plants, everything outside, between, and other shit that shouldn't exist. We fly over but never get close, especially on hoof.
Nopony would miss it all getting burned out."
>Examining the most likely positions based on what you now knew, the choice of using the Arena's rebuilt state would provide heavy cover for smaller attackers and defenders alike, but also presented serious threats should sections be destroyed and collapse.
>The deep swamp was surrounded by a mostly circular ring of ancient trees, providing a large number of offensive positions and could be used to shield against Construct energy weapons, though movemarent could be limited.
>As far as the batmare shared, the former orchard would be a tangled, difficult to control or commarend mess that would hazard a three, but more likely four-way conflict, especially if there was Late Dynasty infestation involved.
>Recalling the over 26,000 ponies that responded to Basin Village's defense, the sheer numbers of Support Strikers, unicorns, and other Psions would be able to prevent substantial issues, but only if the majority were still combat capable.
>Likewise, the unknown yet presumably difficult terrain would limit close combat specialists to extremely short offensive ranges, though had significantly increased chances to perform ambushes in opportune locations.
>And you still didn't know precisely how large the Riftseeker was, or what it's form had taken, compounding the previous thoughts.
"I'm confused, pegamiss. There isn't a SINGLE, BRIGHT ORA- would you stop capitalizing my words?! I can FEEL THEM GETTING BIGGER AND FOR TH-"
>Flicking another hidden pebble straight up, the mare glowers at slinky lines of text compressing, then continues.
>Normally, of course.
"Right. No normally-round-orange-paired-and-horrible-in-every-marener-possible Planar Constructs right here. Or around here. Not close by either. Nope. Nothing like that for about half a mile. Maybe less."
>Tapping a hoof on stone, the tradesmare sniffs, pointedly not looking directly at the symbiote, which was currently sitting down and staring at its damaged front legs.
>Snout wrinkling in a profoundly confused marener, the batmare leans in close to whisper.
"Is i- uh.. is 'he'.. actually hurt? I don't think the skin.. or.. armor? ..whichever, doesn't look thicker than a flimsy book cover."
>Ears slackened to both sides, trace amounts of bubbling orange fluid creep upwards from the missing faux-hoof sections, forcing the exterior hull back into its original state.
>Taking on a frown of severe discontent, pearl-white eyes blink languorously, the Construct's motions slowed.
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Autonomous Self-Repair Protocols
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
>>370922
>This mini wild is cute, can I keep her?
"Replacing them certainly seems to be working, huh?"
>Have to wonder which deity is fucking with my daughter
>And bap it
>How does a metal smell we-
>I don't want to know.
"Well then just don't smell it, Wild."
>d u h
"Understood."
>I take hold of her controls and slow her down over a few moments, so she can continue focusing on REPLACING herself.
>This mini wild is cute, can I keep her?
"Replacing them certainly seems to be working, huh?"
>Have to wonder which deity is fucking with my daughter
>And bap it
>How does a metal smell we-
>I don't want to know.
"Well then just don't smell it, Wild."
>d u h
"Understood."
>I take hold of her controls and slow her down over a few moments, so she can continue focusing on REPLACING herself.
>>370923
>Horn alighting in subdued red fog, Hodch seats himself on a dull, though firm cloud, the use of such a luxury rather unusual, as was losing his teacher's demeanor.
('I wouldn't call the information a memetic threat or cognitohazard, though merely knowing all of this... I don't know. Too burned out to speculate.')
>Head dipping slightly, the Reservist Nightblade's front right hoof lifts to rub his neck tiredly.
('One step at a time then. The first part is simple: what is an asset in the context of, where do each of us stand in relation to most of Razorback? The answer, from what I'm fairly Spiral was, is, or possibly may have become, is that we are both threats.')
>Hoof lowering and reaching out, a 12" long, 1" diameter black iron rod materializes, held perfectly still.
('Half the reason I joined Razorback was to continue Fankil's investigation into an absolute fucking disaster of converging problems that I cannot even begin to try explaining. The other half isn't.. important now.
Fankil fully believed said problems were caused by a pony, or a group, in contact with humans, specifically Razorback, using them as a shield to cover for their actions. He was correct, in a way. After his death in Canterlot, I stole a set of modified Tower Guard armor from a friend, using that to enter Stalliongrad and search for Stream Lark.
Suffice to say I was able to clear all humans of Razorback from both Fankil's and Lark's suspicions, among a few dozen others. I've broken a few thousand rules, laws, and the like in doing so. You knew Spiral well enough before he went mad, and you can clearly comprehend where I'm going with this.
The same may or may not apply to you which is why I'm leaving the third option to be taken at any time, and the fourth option will remain open until I know what to even think.')
>The either terribly banned, or deliberately gifted Stalliongrad object disappears, Hodch giving a 'helmet necessary' motion.
('Second, I might have been born in one of Luna's Villages, but I've spent nearly a quarter of my life in Canterlot. There are only six archives there that I'm not allowed in, and those don't contain what I was searching for.
Specifically: herdnames and lineages. By now you understand much of Equestria's naming conventions, how they descend, split off, all originating from a single name. Take the well known Rose overherd for a perfect example: they're all earth ponies, majority in Stalliongrad, remainder in Equestria. Mostly Solars, a few Lunars, no independents. Every birth, death, and event of the Rose overherd is well known.
Now, if you were to say, oh, Disclosure is awfully strange herdname, it doesn't fit Pre-Lunar-Solar War naming conventions, but it COULD be from a Dynasty lineage given how bizarre theirs were.. there is no Disclosure herdname in Mainland Equestria's history.
Likewise he couldn't have come from the Dynasty Remnants in Caneighdia or the Fallen Dynasty adherents between the New Everfree and Gryphon Kingdoms border. They hate all Lunars to the point they'd rather kill themselves than look at one of us.')
>Leaning forwards, the middle aged stallion's jaw tightens, eyes shifting left in creeping anger.
('That brings me to the third part: after returning from the expedition with Spiral to the same ruin we're traveling to, I spent well over a year in the Villages, mostly learning about the conflicts between Lunar and Dynasty adherents. Supposedly they weren't recorded, at all, but I've learned.. a few things otherwise.
At some point all known Sorcerors of the Dynasty were wiped out. Yes, the same exact type that Spiral most definitely was. Here's the first clue that made me think: how could he have turned Filth's dick into a horse's dick, without extensive and eminently fatal biological modification? ...don't answer that one, thinking about it makes me sick. As part of the same topic, Dynastic Sorcerors are responsible for much of the New Everfree's massive flora and fauna growth. Also responsible for lots of Infected, Abominations, Malformed, and Elemarental shit. How bizarre is it that nearly the exact same eugenically-produced lineage disappears, only for a single individual to show up over a thousand years later.
Moving away from THAT, I suspect, but don't have solid proof yet, that all the Lunar Druid circles made pacts with several Ferron sub-clans, a so-called 'lost' Necromarecer group that probably ties to the Vigil Light Cult, a warclan from the batpony-majority Cult of the Dark Horse, and a final group that's so fucking unknown throughout history that I can't even begin to guess what species they were or how marely took part!')
>Eyes shutting and breathing out slowly, Hodch remains still for half a minute, tension bleeding off.
>Head lifting, the stallion pauses, coughing several times before spitting a mass of semi-crystallized blue, dark purple, and white mixed with deep red, rapidly congealing blood.
>Sensing extreme, brief derision despite his stone cold face, a short hoof wave causes the mass to conflagrate in a slow, curiously non-magical and anti-Elemental backlash of energies.
('Fourth, last, worst, but also the most telling: Spiral knew precisely what is killing me. While it's technically a curse, the reality is far more fucked: it's a semi-divine blessing. How funny is that?
Was designed in the Middle Dynasty, an enchantmarent that combined Psionicism, Crystal runes, Gryphon Rune-Scribing, and older unicorn spellwork. It's purpose? Causes an earth stallion to impregnate every available filly and mare, up to twenty in all, within a preset boundary.
As to what happens when a unicorn stallion is infected with it-')
>Right forehoof lifted and turned around, he spits a much smaller mass onto the scarred pad, eyes narrowed at you.
('If I don't banish this amount within five minutes, the effect is basically the same as a large manabomb. And you now know exactly where I picked up the item containing that enchantmarent.')
>Horn alighting in subdued red fog, Hodch seats himself on a dull, though firm cloud, the use of such a luxury rather unusual, as was losing his teacher's demeanor.
('I wouldn't call the information a memetic threat or cognitohazard, though merely knowing all of this... I don't know. Too burned out to speculate.')
>Head dipping slightly, the Reservist Nightblade's front right hoof lifts to rub his neck tiredly.
('One step at a time then. The first part is simple: what is an asset in the context of, where do each of us stand in relation to most of Razorback? The answer, from what I'm fairly Spiral was, is, or possibly may have become, is that we are both threats.')
>Hoof lowering and reaching out, a 12" long, 1" diameter black iron rod materializes, held perfectly still.
('Half the reason I joined Razorback was to continue Fankil's investigation into an absolute fucking disaster of converging problems that I cannot even begin to try explaining. The other half isn't.. important now.
Fankil fully believed said problems were caused by a pony, or a group, in contact with humans, specifically Razorback, using them as a shield to cover for their actions. He was correct, in a way. After his death in Canterlot, I stole a set of modified Tower Guard armor from a friend, using that to enter Stalliongrad and search for Stream Lark.
Suffice to say I was able to clear all humans of Razorback from both Fankil's and Lark's suspicions, among a few dozen others. I've broken a few thousand rules, laws, and the like in doing so. You knew Spiral well enough before he went mad, and you can clearly comprehend where I'm going with this.
The same may or may not apply to you which is why I'm leaving the third option to be taken at any time, and the fourth option will remain open until I know what to even think.')
>The either terribly banned, or deliberately gifted Stalliongrad object disappears, Hodch giving a 'helmet necessary' motion.
('Second, I might have been born in one of Luna's Villages, but I've spent nearly a quarter of my life in Canterlot. There are only six archives there that I'm not allowed in, and those don't contain what I was searching for.
Specifically: herdnames and lineages. By now you understand much of Equestria's naming conventions, how they descend, split off, all originating from a single name. Take the well known Rose overherd for a perfect example: they're all earth ponies, majority in Stalliongrad, remainder in Equestria. Mostly Solars, a few Lunars, no independents. Every birth, death, and event of the Rose overherd is well known.
Now, if you were to say, oh, Disclosure is awfully strange herdname, it doesn't fit Pre-Lunar-Solar War naming conventions, but it COULD be from a Dynasty lineage given how bizarre theirs were.. there is no Disclosure herdname in Mainland Equestria's history.
Likewise he couldn't have come from the Dynasty Remnants in Caneighdia or the Fallen Dynasty adherents between the New Everfree and Gryphon Kingdoms border. They hate all Lunars to the point they'd rather kill themselves than look at one of us.')
>Leaning forwards, the middle aged stallion's jaw tightens, eyes shifting left in creeping anger.
('That brings me to the third part: after returning from the expedition with Spiral to the same ruin we're traveling to, I spent well over a year in the Villages, mostly learning about the conflicts between Lunar and Dynasty adherents. Supposedly they weren't recorded, at all, but I've learned.. a few things otherwise.
At some point all known Sorcerors of the Dynasty were wiped out. Yes, the same exact type that Spiral most definitely was. Here's the first clue that made me think: how could he have turned Filth's dick into a horse's dick, without extensive and eminently fatal biological modification? ...don't answer that one, thinking about it makes me sick. As part of the same topic, Dynastic Sorcerors are responsible for much of the New Everfree's massive flora and fauna growth. Also responsible for lots of Infected, Abominations, Malformed, and Elemarental shit. How bizarre is it that nearly the exact same eugenically-produced lineage disappears, only for a single individual to show up over a thousand years later.
Moving away from THAT, I suspect, but don't have solid proof yet, that all the Lunar Druid circles made pacts with several Ferron sub-clans, a so-called 'lost' Necromarecer group that probably ties to the Vigil Light Cult, a warclan from the batpony-majority Cult of the Dark Horse, and a final group that's so fucking unknown throughout history that I can't even begin to guess what species they were or how marely took part!')
>Eyes shutting and breathing out slowly, Hodch remains still for half a minute, tension bleeding off.
>Head lifting, the stallion pauses, coughing several times before spitting a mass of semi-crystallized blue, dark purple, and white mixed with deep red, rapidly congealing blood.
>Sensing extreme, brief derision despite his stone cold face, a short hoof wave causes the mass to conflagrate in a slow, curiously non-magical and anti-Elemental backlash of energies.
('Fourth, last, worst, but also the most telling: Spiral knew precisely what is killing me. While it's technically a curse, the reality is far more fucked: it's a semi-divine blessing. How funny is that?
Was designed in the Middle Dynasty, an enchantmarent that combined Psionicism, Crystal runes, Gryphon Rune-Scribing, and older unicorn spellwork. It's purpose? Causes an earth stallion to impregnate every available filly and mare, up to twenty in all, within a preset boundary.
As to what happens when a unicorn stallion is infected with it-')
>Right forehoof lifted and turned around, he spits a much smaller mass onto the scarred pad, eyes narrowed at you.
('If I don't banish this amount within five minutes, the effect is basically the same as a large manabomb. And you now know exactly where I picked up the item containing that enchantmarent.')
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370929
>>370925
>Unrolling the newspaper and dangling it in her left hand, a sideways headline of 'LOCAL ELDRITCH-ANDROID CURSED BY UNKNOWN, PROBABLY JEALOUS FORCES' is threatened by a large combat knife held in the right.
>...where'd she acquire that from?
"So long as this keeps working, I'll keep doing it."
>Expecting nothing and not being let down, a satisfied electronic tone emits from the screen, though an unusual liquid sloshing above didn't seem right.
"Good news: the first of my secondary repair systems has been REPLACED and access to the third was restored. It was undamaged.
The bad news: there isn't enough Tryptaran mass to reconnect my head unit's systems and functions. I'm operating off two secondary nodes, which are approximately forty-percent less efficient than the primary versions.. I really hope those weren't destroyed.
I'm going to shut down, reboot, and REPLACE the repair tendril systems one by one, they're barely functional as is."
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Repair Tendril #1 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #3 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Repair Tendril #4 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #5 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Repair Tendril #6 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Repair Tendril #7 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #8 Reboot
>Displaying a schematic of the 30M long external repair systems' internals, most you didn't understand.. and a few you didn't want to try thinking about, a small unit at the end was clearly intended to inspect, analyze, and identify inorganics.
"You see this? Positive identification of materials is required, so I don't have a choice."
>Returning to their earlier position as control sticks, the medical not-tools had likewise been REPLACED to full condition.. except for an absolutely puzzling, unknown dent in a specific location, shaped almost as if...
>How strange and totally weird to look at.
>Pulling back, Wild slows from her power jog to an easy walk, halting with a final heavy stomp facing the seemingly endless beach.
"Performing a final inspection of my leg, pelvic, and lower torso structures."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensor Array
"...and I might as well check long ranged communications."
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Omni-Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
>Quiet except for the comforting sounds of metal being shaped, the air was slightly cooler here here, less drifting ash and soot was entering the chest cabin.
>Hearing a loud, unusual sound outside, then one more several seconds later, and another, you realize it was beginning to rain.
>And heavily too, judging by large water drops impacting Wild's armor and hull, while the thick, billowing dark clouds in the distance might as well be a storm.
>Without any lightning, amusingly.
"This is good. The wildfire should be contained within.. one hour at most."
>Unrolling the newspaper and dangling it in her left hand, a sideways headline of 'LOCAL ELDRITCH-ANDROID CURSED BY UNKNOWN, PROBABLY JEALOUS FORCES' is threatened by a large combat knife held in the right.
>...where'd she acquire that from?
"So long as this keeps working, I'll keep doing it."
>Expecting nothing and not being let down, a satisfied electronic tone emits from the screen, though an unusual liquid sloshing above didn't seem right.
"Good news: the first of my secondary repair systems has been REPLACED and access to the third was restored. It was undamaged.
The bad news: there isn't enough Tryptaran mass to reconnect my head unit's systems and functions. I'm operating off two secondary nodes, which are approximately forty-percent less efficient than the primary versions.. I really hope those weren't destroyed.
I'm going to shut down, reboot, and REPLACE the repair tendril systems one by one, they're barely functional as is."
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Repair Tendril #1 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Repair Tendril #2 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #3 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Repair Tendril #4 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #5 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Repair Tendril #6 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Repair Tendril #7 Reboot
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #8 Reboot
>Displaying a schematic of the 30M long external repair systems' internals, most you didn't understand.. and a few you didn't want to try thinking about, a small unit at the end was clearly intended to inspect, analyze, and identify inorganics.
"You see this? Positive identification of materials is required, so I don't have a choice."
>Returning to their earlier position as control sticks, the medical not-tools had likewise been REPLACED to full condition.. except for an absolutely puzzling, unknown dent in a specific location, shaped almost as if...
>How strange and totally weird to look at.
>Pulling back, Wild slows from her power jog to an easy walk, halting with a final heavy stomp facing the seemingly endless beach.
"Performing a final inspection of my leg, pelvic, and lower torso structures."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensor Array
"...and I might as well check long ranged communications."
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Omni-Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
>Quiet except for the comforting sounds of metal being shaped, the air was slightly cooler here here, less drifting ash and soot was entering the chest cabin.
>Hearing a loud, unusual sound outside, then one more several seconds later, and another, you realize it was beginning to rain.
>And heavily too, judging by large water drops impacting Wild's armor and hull, while the thick, billowing dark clouds in the distance might as well be a storm.
>Without any lightning, amusingly.
"This is good. The wildfire should be contained within.. one hour at most."
>>370905
>José couldn't contain a little amused snort as Trakkel went through banter city, quickly trying to mask it by softly clearing his throat out of habit.
>He doubted anyone would really mind his reaction, but if there's ponies like Starglow and humans like that asian woman at the comm station that can be easily set off, practicing a proper stoneface would be fruitful.
>Quickly jotting down the various valuable nuggets of information regarding mind reading defenses, character profiles and species knowledge, he soon started nodding pensively.
>Wait a minute, looking back at yesterday, he faintly remembered having posted something along those lines on the board.
>Oh damn, they might be talking about him.
"Did the note state a reason why?"
>José couldn't contain a little amused snort as Trakkel went through banter city, quickly trying to mask it by softly clearing his throat out of habit.
>He doubted anyone would really mind his reaction, but if there's ponies like Starglow and humans like that asian woman at the comm station that can be easily set off, practicing a proper stoneface would be fruitful.
>Quickly jotting down the various valuable nuggets of information regarding mind reading defenses, character profiles and species knowledge, he soon started nodding pensively.
>Wait a minute, looking back at yesterday, he faintly remembered having posted something along those lines on the board.
>Oh damn, they might be talking about him.
"Did the note state a reason why?"
>>370924
>Looking between the various locations, Sunny rubbed massaged her brow with a pinion.
"So essentially I have my pick of a dangerous swamp to the south, a dangerous swamp to the northeast, and horrors-of-a-bygone-age to the northwest, also a dangerous swamp."
>They certainly wouldn't be picking that last one unless they wanted to pick a fight with whatever was there as well. Given how depleted their forces must be, if they had even survived, and then going up against constructs and a riftseeker, it was doubtful they would do that.
>She hoped, the watch guard general had asked for her advice, and she could only presume Gardenia's attitude to dying in honorable combat applied to the whole force in general, on top of liberal use of suicide bombers. Sound strategic sense couldn't be something she could bank on them having.
>Sunny stamped a hoof idly, she couldn't keep wasting time here after she'd told Mercy seconds counted. Make a decision. Act.
>South meant backtracking to the Arena, then perpendicular to the direction Mercy was headed, with her symbiote in tow.
>Northeast meant following her path, but she couldn't even be sure the roads would take her that direction since they were new and the maps she had were made before the reconstruction effort, which meant crossing difficult terrain at best, and running across whatever nasties were lurking in the thickets at worst.
>The simplest way to decide would be to divine a path of least resistance. So she looked over the map again, noting marked paths and roads, along with topographical features, particularly the distance involved. Even if they were out of date, she could at least make a reasonable guess at the fastest, most direct route either east or south.
>All other information had to be deemed non-factor for this decision, or she'd spend the rest of night here just analysing her options and learning the history of the general area, which was interesting, but not immediately useful beyond knowing for sure where it was too dangerous for a large force to use as a staging ground.
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < B.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Map Satchel: Geography
>Noting the bat mare's concern for the construct, Sunny glanced up from her map musings and looked over to it.
>It was bold to assume 'hurt' even applied to this thing or constructs in general. Damage could be sensed, and considered undesirable in terms of how it would affect their ability to carry out their directives. Emotive mimicry aside, she doubted the symbiote or any construct understood pain the way an organic would, as far as she knew, they could only understand it as negative feedback.
>Just as she had been thinking that, it began to repair itself.
"Not for long, apparently."
>The fluid being used for repair got her thinking. It was clearly a blood analogue, but what was it really? It had been damaged by acid, she knew from her alchemical experience that acidic molecules typically worked by either exchanging or adding certain particles with other molecules, dissolving matter at a macroscopic level. The esoteric variety behaved similarly for metaphysical formations.
>If the repair fluid was comprised of objects of greater than molecule size, then damage incurred from acid was the one thing it could not simply repair without expending its supply of available material, since material was destroyed by acid rather than merely rearranged or separated by other forms of damage. Cellular sized machinery could not interact with subatomic particles, at least mechanically, subatomic manipulation by generated fields was another matter entirely.
>That would be something she'd have to look into, it might even help greatly against the riftseeker if they had to fight it. The armor would resist it, but it had to expose its weaponry to use it, and it would likely have joints that could be targeted at range.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] < Pupil Researcher
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Looking between the various locations, Sunny rubbed massaged her brow with a pinion.
"So essentially I have my pick of a dangerous swamp to the south, a dangerous swamp to the northeast, and horrors-of-a-bygone-age to the northwest, also a dangerous swamp."
>They certainly wouldn't be picking that last one unless they wanted to pick a fight with whatever was there as well. Given how depleted their forces must be, if they had even survived, and then going up against constructs and a riftseeker, it was doubtful they would do that.
>She hoped, the watch guard general had asked for her advice, and she could only presume Gardenia's attitude to dying in honorable combat applied to the whole force in general, on top of liberal use of suicide bombers. Sound strategic sense couldn't be something she could bank on them having.
>Sunny stamped a hoof idly, she couldn't keep wasting time here after she'd told Mercy seconds counted. Make a decision. Act.
>South meant backtracking to the Arena, then perpendicular to the direction Mercy was headed, with her symbiote in tow.
>Northeast meant following her path, but she couldn't even be sure the roads would take her that direction since they were new and the maps she had were made before the reconstruction effort, which meant crossing difficult terrain at best, and running across whatever nasties were lurking in the thickets at worst.
>The simplest way to decide would be to divine a path of least resistance. So she looked over the map again, noting marked paths and roads, along with topographical features, particularly the distance involved. Even if they were out of date, she could at least make a reasonable guess at the fastest, most direct route either east or south.
>All other information had to be deemed non-factor for this decision, or she'd spend the rest of night here just analysing her options and learning the history of the general area, which was interesting, but not immediately useful beyond knowing for sure where it was too dangerous for a large force to use as a staging ground.
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < B.Scouting
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Map Satchel: Geography
>Noting the bat mare's concern for the construct, Sunny glanced up from her map musings and looked over to it.
>It was bold to assume 'hurt' even applied to this thing or constructs in general. Damage could be sensed, and considered undesirable in terms of how it would affect their ability to carry out their directives. Emotive mimicry aside, she doubted the symbiote or any construct understood pain the way an organic would, as far as she knew, they could only understand it as negative feedback.
>Just as she had been thinking that, it began to repair itself.
"Not for long, apparently."
>The fluid being used for repair got her thinking. It was clearly a blood analogue, but what was it really? It had been damaged by acid, she knew from her alchemical experience that acidic molecules typically worked by either exchanging or adding certain particles with other molecules, dissolving matter at a macroscopic level. The esoteric variety behaved similarly for metaphysical formations.
>If the repair fluid was comprised of objects of greater than molecule size, then damage incurred from acid was the one thing it could not simply repair without expending its supply of available material, since material was destroyed by acid rather than merely rearranged or separated by other forms of damage. Cellular sized machinery could not interact with subatomic particles, at least mechanically, subatomic manipulation by generated fields was another matter entirely.
>That would be something she'd have to look into, it might even help greatly against the riftseeker if they had to fight it. The armor would resist it, but it had to expose its weaponry to use it, and it would likely have joints that could be targeted at range.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] < Pupil Researcher
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>>370929
>I'll just assume Kraut had a knife in Wild before Wild became Wild.
>Or she just made one for a joke.
"I certainly won't argue its effectiveness."
>Even if it was... rather unorthodox in execution.
"Sure you do, just don't smell it!"
>Smelling and smelling are two different actions after all.
>And I'll ignore the odd dent in the tendril, don't know what rightly happened to it and I doubt I want to know!
>Definitely.
"At least the wildfires would help life regrow, that's the only real boon to this whole situation."
>I'll just assume Kraut had a knife in Wild before Wild became Wild.
>Or she just made one for a joke.
"I certainly won't argue its effectiveness."
>Even if it was... rather unorthodox in execution.
"Sure you do, just don't smell it!"
>Smelling and smelling are two different actions after all.
>And I'll ignore the odd dent in the tendril, don't know what rightly happened to it and I doubt I want to know!
>Definitely.
"At least the wildfires would help life regrow, that's the only real boon to this whole situation."
>>370801
"We let it happen, for thousands of years. While Europeans were still tribal, Egyptians were using slave labor to build massive pyramids for Pharaohs to rest in once they died. It's a combination of religion and seated authority."
>Ancient Egypt was... quite fucking weird.
>Even the little parts of it that he's read would make him glad he wasn't alive then.
"I would think they'd be willing to trade in things other than simply money too, no?"
>Bartering in the Zone was always unpredictable, sometimes a STALKER wouldn't accept rubles at all.
"But I'll make sure I have plenty of money, just in case."
>Taking the history lesson in stride, Ivan would frown a little.
"Obviously they only met a batpony through their stereotypes."
>He paused for a moment.
"I will not argue the puns or lewdness, though."
"We let it happen, for thousands of years. While Europeans were still tribal, Egyptians were using slave labor to build massive pyramids for Pharaohs to rest in once they died. It's a combination of religion and seated authority."
>Ancient Egypt was... quite fucking weird.
>Even the little parts of it that he's read would make him glad he wasn't alive then.
"I would think they'd be willing to trade in things other than simply money too, no?"
>Bartering in the Zone was always unpredictable, sometimes a STALKER wouldn't accept rubles at all.
"But I'll make sure I have plenty of money, just in case."
>Taking the history lesson in stride, Ivan would frown a little.
"Obviously they only met a batpony through their stereotypes."
>He paused for a moment.
"I will not argue the puns or lewdness, though."
>>370861
>As he was listening to the Assault Vanguard's lead, Clem couldn't help but notice the mares giving him...unsavory attention
>He quietly keeps to himself, ready to pounce if they make any bold actions
>So far, Clem understands that Riftseekers are no joke
>And among the two options, the first one seems to be the most sensible
>He's not keen on more suicidal charges tonight anyway
>Spying on the Arena, he spots the Constructs currently there
>Two spheres, bristling with weapons
>And a Repair unit building a giant gate
>>370873
>Clemency returns Jeff's nod alongside Lont
>He totally forgotten about the Vitriole Orb Jeff has
>Between that and maybe getting into a truce with the Constructs, maybe a plan can be cobbled together
>Watching him go, Clemency thought about getting some of the heavier weapons out of the armory
>He realizes that he was severely outclassed when it comes to handling large firearms
>And coming close to a Riftseeker like that doesn't seem like a smart move especially when exhausted
>Taking the precious time to get a breather, he focuses on the Razorback rookies
>Particularly if they needed to be wrangled into shape
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <Expert Perception/Rookie Wrangler
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
>>370897
>Turning to Lont, he looks like he's steeled for this fight
>The Crystal pony support is certainly helpful
>Although, he doesn't think he ever saw a golem like whatever bowed to Lont
"Any plans for this fight? I'm leaning more towards covering fire myself."
>As he was listening to the Assault Vanguard's lead, Clem couldn't help but notice the mares giving him...unsavory attention
>He quietly keeps to himself, ready to pounce if they make any bold actions
>So far, Clem understands that Riftseekers are no joke
>And among the two options, the first one seems to be the most sensible
>He's not keen on more suicidal charges tonight anyway
>Spying on the Arena, he spots the Constructs currently there
>Two spheres, bristling with weapons
>And a Repair unit building a giant gate
>>370873
>Clemency returns Jeff's nod alongside Lont
>He totally forgotten about the Vitriole Orb Jeff has
>Between that and maybe getting into a truce with the Constructs, maybe a plan can be cobbled together
>Watching him go, Clemency thought about getting some of the heavier weapons out of the armory
>He realizes that he was severely outclassed when it comes to handling large firearms
>And coming close to a Riftseeker like that doesn't seem like a smart move especially when exhausted
>Taking the precious time to get a breather, he focuses on the Razorback rookies
>Particularly if they needed to be wrangled into shape
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <Expert Perception/Rookie Wrangler
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
>>370897
>Turning to Lont, he looks like he's steeled for this fight
>The Crystal pony support is certainly helpful
>Although, he doesn't think he ever saw a golem like whatever bowed to Lont
"Any plans for this fight? I'm leaning more towards covering fire myself."
>>370933
>Balling up a napkin and tossing it between the two quietly arguing, the second man waits a few until they settle down, then turns to give a half-assed shrug.
"Knock it off or both of you are getting wall duty the whole night.
Nah, all it said was don't add anything to the Board or a half-ton plus mare's gonna drop on someone's head. Around here that's a promise, not a threat, so don't try it."
>Looking up from his hands and surveying the Mess Hall briefly, Trakkel frowns.
"Speaking of wall duty.. any of you seen Mercy tonight?"
"Since we've been back? No."
"Nope. You?'
"No."
"Negatory."
"Ehh, no."
>Figuratively kicking himself into gear with a sigh, the squad lead turns around to face the other occupied tables, voice pitching into a demand.
"Razorback, got a need to know right fucking now question that better be a yes. Has ANYONE seen Mercy at all tonight"
>Among the Rookie table, a younger man speaks up, then towards the pegasus cook.
"Not since last night. Pella, know where she's at?"
"She's usually in a little past Dusk for her special order. Maybe try the Tower?"
"Been there, nopony's touched the hay piles and Clem ain't around either."
"Hmmm.. don't have a clue, sorry."
>Thumping hands on the table, Trakkel shoots you an apologetic look, tapping his radio before standing.
"Where the fuck are they all? Sorry about this man, but looks like we're the ones on duty. If you need one of us try our local channel, 52.3."
>Stretching out briefly, then grabbing a heavy, odd looking combat rifle, he motions towards the doors, the rest of his squad collecting their kit, then turns to sternly address the other tables.
"For those that aren't dead yet, off your asses and hit the walls. Last bullshit we need is some THING getting in or over that shouldn't, and if we catch one person slacking you're going straight to General Twisted Wing's month long School of Stop Dying Or I'll Kill You Myself.
For those that HAVEN'T been here more than two weeks, check in at the Workshop. Lann can make armored clothing so get yourself some nice stuff. There's a close combat weapon specialist, a batpony mare with a funny name, Mango-Spice or something like that. But whatever you do, don't fucking bother the unicorns."
>Tossing a quick salute in your direction, Trakkel and his squad head towards the Mess Hall's doors, followed by over half of the Operators.
"Enjoy your food man."
>Balling up a napkin and tossing it between the two quietly arguing, the second man waits a few until they settle down, then turns to give a half-assed shrug.
"Knock it off or both of you are getting wall duty the whole night.
Nah, all it said was don't add anything to the Board or a half-ton plus mare's gonna drop on someone's head. Around here that's a promise, not a threat, so don't try it."
>Looking up from his hands and surveying the Mess Hall briefly, Trakkel frowns.
"Speaking of wall duty.. any of you seen Mercy tonight?"
"Since we've been back? No."
"Nope. You?'
"No."
"Negatory."
"Ehh, no."
>Figuratively kicking himself into gear with a sigh, the squad lead turns around to face the other occupied tables, voice pitching into a demand.
"Razorback, got a need to know right fucking now question that better be a yes. Has ANYONE seen Mercy at all tonight"
>Among the Rookie table, a younger man speaks up, then towards the pegasus cook.
"Not since last night. Pella, know where she's at?"
"She's usually in a little past Dusk for her special order. Maybe try the Tower?"
"Been there, nopony's touched the hay piles and Clem ain't around either."
"Hmmm.. don't have a clue, sorry."
>Thumping hands on the table, Trakkel shoots you an apologetic look, tapping his radio before standing.
"Where the fuck are they all? Sorry about this man, but looks like we're the ones on duty. If you need one of us try our local channel, 52.3."
>Stretching out briefly, then grabbing a heavy, odd looking combat rifle, he motions towards the doors, the rest of his squad collecting their kit, then turns to sternly address the other tables.
"For those that aren't dead yet, off your asses and hit the walls. Last bullshit we need is some THING getting in or over that shouldn't, and if we catch one person slacking you're going straight to General Twisted Wing's month long School of Stop Dying Or I'll Kill You Myself.
For those that HAVEN'T been here more than two weeks, check in at the Workshop. Lann can make armored clothing so get yourself some nice stuff. There's a close combat weapon specialist, a batpony mare with a funny name, Mango-Spice or something like that. But whatever you do, don't fucking bother the unicorns."
>Tossing a quick salute in your direction, Trakkel and his squad head towards the Mess Hall's doors, followed by over half of the Operators.
"Enjoy your food man."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.370949
>>370938
"There is a limitation: I cannot use that tactic in less than a minimum of twenty-eight hours. It also does not feel good to me.."
>Realizing what she was holding, miniature Wild examines it long enough to read twice, then hacks the newspaper in half.
"WHO IS PRINTING THIS NONSENSE?!"
>There was definitely a strange disconnect between her internal and external thought processes.. which couldn't be from you.
>Hopefilly.
"That is a necessary component of my repair capabilities, Mom. If I had an alternative method to analyze inorganic materials, I would choose that and remove the system. Until then it stays."
>Tossing the pieces, and knife, over her shoulders off screen, the internal version smacks armored hands together before turning serious.
"Accessing data... incomplete. Moors records are far below standard levels. But mostly nonexistent. I don't think this region's flora experience significant regrowth from wildfires as certain plains and forests do."
>Removing the map table entirely and placing her internal schematic on the left screen, the caricature studies it.
>And while you were fairly sure most of those components shouldn't be marked in black, red, or covered in symbols that seemed to indicate damage, they still weren't ones you understood.
>Much.
"Most of my external repair systems are now functional.. efficiency has been moderately to severely degraded. I need access to my head unit's primary data nodes but they will suffice for now.
Now REPLACING destroyed all right leg motivators and structural supports-"
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <RT-3
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <RT-4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-5
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-6
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
>Pinning the smaller Crag Moors map atop her body, mini-Wild circles, in red of course, the aerial convoy's trajectory towards Basin Village.
"Estimated time of aerial fleet arriving at Basin Village slash Basin City: six hours, fifty minutes, plus or minus a half hour. No course changes or deviations; the lead vessel is still repeating its original broadcast."
"There is a limitation: I cannot use that tactic in less than a minimum of twenty-eight hours. It also does not feel good to me.."
>Realizing what she was holding, miniature Wild examines it long enough to read twice, then hacks the newspaper in half.
"WHO IS PRINTING THIS NONSENSE?!"
>There was definitely a strange disconnect between her internal and external thought processes.. which couldn't be from you.
>Hopefilly.
"That is a necessary component of my repair capabilities, Mom. If I had an alternative method to analyze inorganic materials, I would choose that and remove the system. Until then it stays."
>Tossing the pieces, and knife, over her shoulders off screen, the internal version smacks armored hands together before turning serious.
"Accessing data... incomplete. Moors records are far below standard levels. But mostly nonexistent. I don't think this region's flora experience significant regrowth from wildfires as certain plains and forests do."
>Removing the map table entirely and placing her internal schematic on the left screen, the caricature studies it.
>And while you were fairly sure most of those components shouldn't be marked in black, red, or covered in symbols that seemed to indicate damage, they still weren't ones you understood.
>Much.
"Most of my external repair systems are now functional.. efficiency has been moderately to severely degraded. I need access to my head unit's primary data nodes but they will suffice for now.
Now REPLACING destroyed all right leg motivators and structural supports-"
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (3+14) = 17] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (4+13) = 17]
[1d6+20 = (4+20) = 24] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-2
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <RT-3
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <RT-4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-5
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-6
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <RT-7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-8
>Pinning the smaller Crag Moors map atop her body, mini-Wild circles, in red of course, the aerial convoy's trajectory towards Basin Village.
"Estimated time of aerial fleet arriving at Basin Village slash Basin City: six hours, fifty minutes, plus or minus a half hour. No course changes or deviations; the lead vessel is still repeating its original broadcast."
>>370939
>Heaving the boxpack next to Krinza's anvil to inspect both straps, Helping regards you with a faintly miffed expression.
"The equine version of slavery is, besides a few outliers, a necessity to those that need it, and should be considered as direct opposition to the common human form. Should a pony be incapable of paying a debt due to injury, illness, or other unfortunate events, there are numerous forms of service that they can take on.
We value the concept as it provides those with 'less' wealth, skill, or material possessions, far greater access and legally enforceable equal rights to those with 'greater' of the same. A large number of historically well regarded ponies across Equestria were once..."
>Turning the box sideways to face the furnace, the large unicorn frowns, ears twitching in deep thought.
"No matter how I try to translate the words, the Common Equestrian meanings are insufficient. And highly insulting. The Saddle Arabians have one specific term, 'serfi' I believe it is. The meaning is essentially a skilled servant whom was bought to prevent destitution, and is considered to be above the purchaser's standing.
Despite some ideological differences, the funerals of beloved leaders in certain countries, city-states, regions, etcetera, are marked by great works to honor the equinity of an individual or herd.
Saddle Arabia features thousands of such monumarents which are considered national treasures. One of the most enjoyed is in Buzzard's Rest, a.. grand swimming pool that can host two thousand or more ponies. The name is exceptionally difficult to pronounce correctly.
In general, slaves are to be treated with excellence, or the purchaser risks being publicly shunned, and possibly killed, by those with equal standing."
>Horn brightening, several titanium rolls and thin plates are pulled from the south side to him, spread out, squared, then quickly marked for cutting.
"Of course. Bits are accepted across most of Equestria with little concern. Gems, whether raw, cut, or refined, are more valuable in direct trade as they retain value far longer than coins. Difficult to acquire trade goods such as mystic gems or unusual materials commarend better trade margins, generally three to ten times more.
Functional weapons and armor almost never lose value, even if mass produced, though are difficult to carry around. Enchantmarents are the same, yet are limited in number. ..excluding resonant and Psionic variants which are hard to acquire.
Of note are the archaic gem coins originating from the Crystal Conclaves, Early to Middle Kingdom, and Changeling Hive. Each one is worth anywhere from twenty to a thousand times their face value, depending on the gem utilized to produce them, the stamped year, and which Conclave. But, there are few of those in circulation as is.
Information is perhaps the most volatile of trade goods. Such is highly valuable, however one must be careful as knowledge must be regionally, culturally, or productively useful. ..political usefulness is a topic I have no care for.
I would suggest taking more gems than Bits. Some ponies enjoy naturally valuable materials over metals, raw or refined."
>Neatly severing two thin sheets and matching them to a plate, Helping repeats the process three times, melding each set together before affixing to the boxpack.
"The majority of stereotypes exist for correct reasons. Batponies are unfortunately easy targets for such, though they do not seem to take offense to that knowledge. Just the opposite, in fact I believe they use those same stereotypes to surprise, astound, and outwit the unwary."
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
"They could stand to be far less aggressive in asking whether somepony desires to spend 'some time' in their cave, however."
>Heaving the boxpack next to Krinza's anvil to inspect both straps, Helping regards you with a faintly miffed expression.
"The equine version of slavery is, besides a few outliers, a necessity to those that need it, and should be considered as direct opposition to the common human form. Should a pony be incapable of paying a debt due to injury, illness, or other unfortunate events, there are numerous forms of service that they can take on.
We value the concept as it provides those with 'less' wealth, skill, or material possessions, far greater access and legally enforceable equal rights to those with 'greater' of the same. A large number of historically well regarded ponies across Equestria were once..."
>Turning the box sideways to face the furnace, the large unicorn frowns, ears twitching in deep thought.
"No matter how I try to translate the words, the Common Equestrian meanings are insufficient. And highly insulting. The Saddle Arabians have one specific term, 'serfi' I believe it is. The meaning is essentially a skilled servant whom was bought to prevent destitution, and is considered to be above the purchaser's standing.
Despite some ideological differences, the funerals of beloved leaders in certain countries, city-states, regions, etcetera, are marked by great works to honor the equinity of an individual or herd.
Saddle Arabia features thousands of such monumarents which are considered national treasures. One of the most enjoyed is in Buzzard's Rest, a.. grand swimming pool that can host two thousand or more ponies. The name is exceptionally difficult to pronounce correctly.
In general, slaves are to be treated with excellence, or the purchaser risks being publicly shunned, and possibly killed, by those with equal standing."
>Horn brightening, several titanium rolls and thin plates are pulled from the south side to him, spread out, squared, then quickly marked for cutting.
"Of course. Bits are accepted across most of Equestria with little concern. Gems, whether raw, cut, or refined, are more valuable in direct trade as they retain value far longer than coins. Difficult to acquire trade goods such as mystic gems or unusual materials commarend better trade margins, generally three to ten times more.
Functional weapons and armor almost never lose value, even if mass produced, though are difficult to carry around. Enchantmarents are the same, yet are limited in number. ..excluding resonant and Psionic variants which are hard to acquire.
Of note are the archaic gem coins originating from the Crystal Conclaves, Early to Middle Kingdom, and Changeling Hive. Each one is worth anywhere from twenty to a thousand times their face value, depending on the gem utilized to produce them, the stamped year, and which Conclave. But, there are few of those in circulation as is.
Information is perhaps the most volatile of trade goods. Such is highly valuable, however one must be careful as knowledge must be regionally, culturally, or productively useful. ..political usefulness is a topic I have no care for.
I would suggest taking more gems than Bits. Some ponies enjoy naturally valuable materials over metals, raw or refined."
>Neatly severing two thin sheets and matching them to a plate, Helping repeats the process three times, melding each set together before affixing to the boxpack.
"The majority of stereotypes exist for correct reasons. Batponies are unfortunately easy targets for such, though they do not seem to take offense to that knowledge. Just the opposite, in fact I believe they use those same stereotypes to surprise, astound, and outwit the unwary."
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
"They could stand to be far less aggressive in asking whether somepony desires to spend 'some time' in their cave, however."
>>370873
"I'll take it for now, don't have any AT's left."
>Handing off the duffel and launcher to another One Hundred, then passing through the daisy-chain of common ammunition into the Armory.. it was a mess, and otherwise empty as the Workshop door was closed.
('You say that but we haven't even seen the fucking thing-')
('Real question is: do we WANT to?')
('Real answer: long as there's a threat to the Moors, we can't back the fuck out. Ever.')
('Hear fucking here-')
>Razorback had grabbed every last sealed pouch, pack, canister, box, or bag, leaving the tables, shelves, and lockers more disorganized than Mercy's eating habits.
('Jeff, we grabbed every last explosive, there's nothing left either in the Command Center or lockers.')
('I.. might have stolen a couple from Twisted's stash.')
('....we'll hold a nice funeral after she gets back.')
('Fuck you too.')
>Taking up the heavy Gepard and collecting what few spare rounds were available to reload its primary magazine, the chain was slowing as those Operators with a surplus of specialized ammunition or Era Locked equipment head to their lockers.
('I remember that report. Hey, you were with me, right?')
('Yeah, we spent the next couple nights tracking down all the ponies involved. Basin's Maretriarch gave up on it a month later.')
('No, but also... potentially yes. Despite our collected knowledge in destroying Constructs and Riftseekers alike, the orange fluid is neither fully biological nor mechanical. Most describe as biomechanical but that is an incomplete descriptor. There are some that think it to be mechanobiological, and have the same problem.
Unlike Elemarentals, depending on a Construct's model or designation some are fully immune to Lightning, others are not. The majority seem to develop a tolerance, and pairs are able to share that. Resistance to high temperatures is extreme but have difficulty repairing themselves in conditions under fifty degrees.
The best we can answer is: possibly. Riftseekers are less understood by far greater margins of error. If a clear, but most importantly safe, opportunity arises, then we can only state to introduce that Core.')
>Piling everything common onto the east side, the last remaining Operators exit the Armory, heading back into the Basin Village gate.
('Looks like we're done, last one's you Jeff.')
('Fucker's joke is still rolling around in my head..')
('If it hurts you that batly then ignore him.')
('....I hate you.')
('Peel with it.')
('I HATE you!')
"I'll take it for now, don't have any AT's left."
>Handing off the duffel and launcher to another One Hundred, then passing through the daisy-chain of common ammunition into the Armory.. it was a mess, and otherwise empty as the Workshop door was closed.
('You say that but we haven't even seen the fucking thing-')
('Real question is: do we WANT to?')
('Real answer: long as there's a threat to the Moors, we can't back the fuck out. Ever.')
('Hear fucking here-')
>Razorback had grabbed every last sealed pouch, pack, canister, box, or bag, leaving the tables, shelves, and lockers more disorganized than Mercy's eating habits.
('Jeff, we grabbed every last explosive, there's nothing left either in the Command Center or lockers.')
('I.. might have stolen a couple from Twisted's stash.')
('....we'll hold a nice funeral after she gets back.')
('Fuck you too.')
>Taking up the heavy Gepard and collecting what few spare rounds were available to reload its primary magazine, the chain was slowing as those Operators with a surplus of specialized ammunition or Era Locked equipment head to their lockers.
('I remember that report. Hey, you were with me, right?')
('Yeah, we spent the next couple nights tracking down all the ponies involved. Basin's Maretriarch gave up on it a month later.')
('No, but also... potentially yes. Despite our collected knowledge in destroying Constructs and Riftseekers alike, the orange fluid is neither fully biological nor mechanical. Most describe as biomechanical but that is an incomplete descriptor. There are some that think it to be mechanobiological, and have the same problem.
Unlike Elemarentals, depending on a Construct's model or designation some are fully immune to Lightning, others are not. The majority seem to develop a tolerance, and pairs are able to share that. Resistance to high temperatures is extreme but have difficulty repairing themselves in conditions under fifty degrees.
The best we can answer is: possibly. Riftseekers are less understood by far greater margins of error. If a clear, but most importantly safe, opportunity arises, then we can only state to introduce that Core.')
>Piling everything common onto the east side, the last remaining Operators exit the Armory, heading back into the Basin Village gate.
('Looks like we're done, last one's you Jeff.')
('Fucker's joke is still rolling around in my head..')
('If it hurts you that batly then ignore him.')
('....I hate you.')
('Peel with it.')
('I HATE you!')
>>370897
>Outside the Crystal-aligned forces, it appeared none had realized or suspected the unusual ponies in their midst.
>Drowning out the thought by recalling what you could of the exotic dishes, vegetables, grains, roots, tubers, nuts, and fruits, one of the nearest Night Guard Chargers stamps a hoof.
"I can feel that you know! Which one of you is trying to make me go back to the Empire City-State?!"
"You can barely fit in that armor as is."
"Didn't you spend two nights getting a refit?"
"I'm not fat damn it!"
"Hm, you are carrying at least five extra pounds."
"No I am not!"
"I wouldn't miss out on all the tasty stuff.. if we weren't busy that is."
"And tapdance on your hooves too! I FIT IN THIS JUST FINE!"
('The humans of Stalliongrad haven't let us down once in the Tunnels, no matter the targets we asked them to accompaneigh us against. Best we can hope for is this Riftseeker has thin armor, bad weapons, and is dumber than every young Minotaur bull in middle winter.')
>Head swiveling to the closest Crystal-Hegemony Minotaur, the leadmare offers a respectful nod.
"No offense to you, sh'ar."
"Po-ny? What say?"
"....right, can't join an overherd. If I said, that I just said, I was insulting all young Minotaur bulls in middle winter, would that be offensive in any marener?"
"No, you right po-ny! We all stu-pid then!"
"Even cows?"
"Al-ways!"
>Receiving a rather careful, albeit still hearty and heavy headpat, she sighs internally, then externally.
('Didn't know what I was expecting to hear..')
>Lance tipping in your direction, the Assault Vanguard's leadstallion grunts, pulling his helmet on and sharing the same thought of having a nice cold ice bath.
('That's a giant if. No modern Constructs use external weapons, few still have jointed arms, and most older models lacked overlapping plates. Last one we saw with all three was from the early 25,000's. Had a rather odd plasma rrrr- weapon, let's call it that, similar to what some of you are carrying, and a box filled with blue canisters. Went up like somepony ripped the housing off a Spark Lamp-')
('It was pretty to watch though!')
('At close range? And stupidly dangerous to ignite at said range? Or maybe you enjoyed half your coat burned off and spending a month in the Tower's care?')
('Eh, was worth the risks. Besides, I healed just fine thank you, there's plenty of mares and stallions that love real battle scars!')
('You are beyond weird.')
('We know that!')
('Just... ..regardless, every Riftseeker we've brought down has had no direct weaknesses in either protection or capabilities. One pushes the limits of what can be expected since they're not only unique, but also respond with extreme disparities in behavior.')
>Outside the Crystal-aligned forces, it appeared none had realized or suspected the unusual ponies in their midst.
>Drowning out the thought by recalling what you could of the exotic dishes, vegetables, grains, roots, tubers, nuts, and fruits, one of the nearest Night Guard Chargers stamps a hoof.
"I can feel that you know! Which one of you is trying to make me go back to the Empire City-State?!"
"You can barely fit in that armor as is."
"Didn't you spend two nights getting a refit?"
"I'm not fat damn it!"
"Hm, you are carrying at least five extra pounds."
"No I am not!"
"I wouldn't miss out on all the tasty stuff.. if we weren't busy that is."
"And tapdance on your hooves too! I FIT IN THIS JUST FINE!"
('The humans of Stalliongrad haven't let us down once in the Tunnels, no matter the targets we asked them to accompaneigh us against. Best we can hope for is this Riftseeker has thin armor, bad weapons, and is dumber than every young Minotaur bull in middle winter.')
>Head swiveling to the closest Crystal-Hegemony Minotaur, the leadmare offers a respectful nod.
"No offense to you, sh'ar."
"Po-ny? What say?"
"....right, can't join an overherd. If I said, that I just said, I was insulting all young Minotaur bulls in middle winter, would that be offensive in any marener?"
"No, you right po-ny! We all stu-pid then!"
"Even cows?"
"Al-ways!"
>Receiving a rather careful, albeit still hearty and heavy headpat, she sighs internally, then externally.
('Didn't know what I was expecting to hear..')
>Lance tipping in your direction, the Assault Vanguard's leadstallion grunts, pulling his helmet on and sharing the same thought of having a nice cold ice bath.
('That's a giant if. No modern Constructs use external weapons, few still have jointed arms, and most older models lacked overlapping plates. Last one we saw with all three was from the early 25,000's. Had a rather odd plasma rrrr- weapon, let's call it that, similar to what some of you are carrying, and a box filled with blue canisters. Went up like somepony ripped the housing off a Spark Lamp-')
('It was pretty to watch though!')
('At close range? And stupidly dangerous to ignite at said range? Or maybe you enjoyed half your coat burned off and spending a month in the Tower's care?')
('Eh, was worth the risks. Besides, I healed just fine thank you, there's plenty of mares and stallions that love real battle scars!')
('You are beyond weird.')
('We know that!')
('Just... ..regardless, every Riftseeker we've brought down has had no direct weaknesses in either protection or capabilities. One pushes the limits of what can be expected since they're not only unique, but also respond with extreme disparities in behavior.')
>>370927
>Pareidolia looks towards the cursed blood Hodch spits out and watches as it burns.
(Cursed blood and a withering soul then. Likely more links to the past with Spiral and prior investigation than stated.)
>His eyes close in weary contemplation as he leans his helmet backwards, craning towards the ceiling.
(Stars, I miss Command. Level of information and conspiracy processing is approaching overwhelming. Not cut out for this scale of operation.)
>A long, slow exhale is heard as he maintains his posture.
('To summarize, Spiral may be a potential danger due to Dynastic Sorceror lineage of which he is somehow a survivor despite over a thousand years of absence. Lineage was wiped out by a combination of forces, primarily Lunar aligned. If he is aware of this past history, then in his current state it may result in extreme hostility. His personal lineage and origins are unclear with no traceable herd name links. Other evidence includes his abilities and expertise.')
>He continues his mental conversation as he shifts to leaning his helmet foward against his splayed left glove, propping the elbow against his knee. His eyes remain closed in consternation and recall, some of that anxiety lightly tinging his tone.
('Organizing some of Razorback's bills, I'd found a copy stating that Spiral had purchased 280,000 thousand bits worth of books on the Solar faction from a princess Yearning Touch via dam princess Golden Beet Jam. That is 'princess' with a lowercase 'p'. Another bill of Spirals contained unlisted items he had sold to Yearning Touch for 350,000 Germaneighan Ear-Marks. There was code present on the bill, but I lacked the tools to decipher it. As for Stream Lark... there was a mission where I was involved in retrieving him. Initial assessment seemed to mark it as a partial failure, but in light of Lucky's manipulation and recent events the potential of interconnected conspiracy grows higher.')
>Sighing again, he opens his eyes and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to relieve tension.
('Since you haven't asked about my other affiliations, I won't ask about yours. So long as it includes aims to remove and not enable subversive human elements and effects, our missions run parallel.')
>Pareidolia looks towards the cursed blood Hodch spits out and watches as it burns.
(Cursed blood and a withering soul then. Likely more links to the past with Spiral and prior investigation than stated.)
>His eyes close in weary contemplation as he leans his helmet backwards, craning towards the ceiling.
(Stars, I miss Command. Level of information and conspiracy processing is approaching overwhelming. Not cut out for this scale of operation.)
>A long, slow exhale is heard as he maintains his posture.
('To summarize, Spiral may be a potential danger due to Dynastic Sorceror lineage of which he is somehow a survivor despite over a thousand years of absence. Lineage was wiped out by a combination of forces, primarily Lunar aligned. If he is aware of this past history, then in his current state it may result in extreme hostility. His personal lineage and origins are unclear with no traceable herd name links. Other evidence includes his abilities and expertise.')
>He continues his mental conversation as he shifts to leaning his helmet foward against his splayed left glove, propping the elbow against his knee. His eyes remain closed in consternation and recall, some of that anxiety lightly tinging his tone.
('Organizing some of Razorback's bills, I'd found a copy stating that Spiral had purchased 280,000 thousand bits worth of books on the Solar faction from a princess Yearning Touch via dam princess Golden Beet Jam. That is 'princess' with a lowercase 'p'. Another bill of Spirals contained unlisted items he had sold to Yearning Touch for 350,000 Germaneighan Ear-Marks. There was code present on the bill, but I lacked the tools to decipher it. As for Stream Lark... there was a mission where I was involved in retrieving him. Initial assessment seemed to mark it as a partial failure, but in light of Lucky's manipulation and recent events the potential of interconnected conspiracy grows higher.')
>Sighing again, he opens his eyes and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to relieve tension.
('Since you haven't asked about my other affiliations, I won't ask about yours. So long as it includes aims to remove and not enable subversive human elements and effects, our missions run parallel.')
>>370940
>For once, Razorback's lesser experienced Operators were too ragged, exhausted, tired, or hardening infield to start shit, let alone end the same.
>Catching shared, grim expressions on most faces, it was clear that defending Basin Village had changed a great deal of their attitudes towards ponies and themselves.
>Possibly not for the best, either.
>Checking over the equines that might be problematic, only the youngest Day Guard mares were still making unsubtle glances towards veterans and elites, regardless of species, though were particularly interested in the Assault Vanguard.
>...especially the stallions, but were not excluding mares, which the Lunar Guards seemed to be acceptable towards.
"I'm not about to challenge this Overherd's leadership against a Moderatis Shieldmare."
>Marentally staring each other down, the Assault Vanguard's leader gives up before the Shieldmare even bothers to forgive him.
"Without acquiring an entire Watch Fortress worth of explosives, having all unicorns and Support Strikers refreshed, our best option is, once again, to not engage and instead perform long ranged recon. Information is desperately needed, especially if the Riftseeker has indeed taken the physical features of a mutated Emerald drake.
But, in the off chance our target has gone active..."
>Attention flickering across the eager, still fresh ranks of Chargers and Lancers already in hyping each other up, the leadstallion's head tilts right several degrees, speaking bitterly against the Overherd's weight.
"They have already chosen to buy enough time to either fully engage it or cover a retreat."
>Accepting a temporary ceasing of hostilies from the Shieldmare and shutting out the Overherd briefly, the stallion's voice drops into cool warning tones.
"Convincing them otherwise is unlikely."
"Master Clemency, I do not think it wise t-"
>Without a reference or significant understanding as to how, or why, Blackhorn lifts in your hands, the bolt slamming backwards, belted shells spooling back into the magazine.
>Angrily.
>Changed belt jerking upwards, first shell into the breech slamming shut, the rear indicator shows the magazine reloaded with only recalibrated finned darts and kinetic iso-magnetic rods in sequence.
>Between amazed, impressed, and aghast at the Construct weapon's actions, the leadstallion's gaze slowly travels from it to you, speaking in a calm, firmly neutral tone.
"It is well known that Rift symbiotes, including Riftdrowners, are highly attuned to their bonded partner. As it is, you should consider-"
>Visibly deliberating on each word, his open psyche was wavering between critical incredulity and giving up on life.
"How she feels about the current situation."
>Helmet swinging towards the gateways, the Shieldmare's tone hardens at numerous reports.
('Ma'am, minor threats engaged south and north. No difficulties.')
('Other than a few burns that aren't doing much-')
('West end clear, small swarms destroyed or.. convinced to leave.')
('Further details?)
('Disregard earlier reports, Void spectrums here are incredibly thick at the momarent, risk of infestations or reality breaches are low.')
('That is strange. Probable causes?')
('False reverberations, misread echoes, incorrect spectrum comparisons.. a few dozen more possibilities.')
('Understood, those are indeed easy to miss. Lancers and Chargers first in stated orders.')
>Hundreds of the smaller Guardmares eagerly storm forwards into the outermost gateways, setting up external lines on the pathway, which sparks some interest from the few awake batponies clustered in front of the barns, lazing atop stalls, or hanging out of windows.
('Lunar and Watch Guard, secondary ranks are yours.')
>Striding forth into long, secondary lines inside the Day and Night Guard's outer ranks, the Shieldmare sweeps her focus across Razorback, then the unicorns that weren't at risk of burning out.
('Unicorns, Razorback: organize yourselves as before. Shorter ranged casters and weapons closest to front, progressively longer ranged combatants and specialists stretching across the rear.')
>Staring into the gates as Operators separate into new squads, submachine gunners and those carrying shotguns first, the leadstallion suppresses a sigh, head shaking in disbelief.
('Vanguard, five of us per human, we're on escort duty. How marely puns does it take to write a book?')
('I do not know. Why do you ask?')
('Because I can feel a few thousand new ones being made right now....')
>For once, Razorback's lesser experienced Operators were too ragged, exhausted, tired, or hardening infield to start shit, let alone end the same.
>Catching shared, grim expressions on most faces, it was clear that defending Basin Village had changed a great deal of their attitudes towards ponies and themselves.
>Possibly not for the best, either.
>Checking over the equines that might be problematic, only the youngest Day Guard mares were still making unsubtle glances towards veterans and elites, regardless of species, though were particularly interested in the Assault Vanguard.
>...especially the stallions, but were not excluding mares, which the Lunar Guards seemed to be acceptable towards.
"I'm not about to challenge this Overherd's leadership against a Moderatis Shieldmare."
>Marentally staring each other down, the Assault Vanguard's leader gives up before the Shieldmare even bothers to forgive him.
"Without acquiring an entire Watch Fortress worth of explosives, having all unicorns and Support Strikers refreshed, our best option is, once again, to not engage and instead perform long ranged recon. Information is desperately needed, especially if the Riftseeker has indeed taken the physical features of a mutated Emerald drake.
But, in the off chance our target has gone active..."
>Attention flickering across the eager, still fresh ranks of Chargers and Lancers already in hyping each other up, the leadstallion's head tilts right several degrees, speaking bitterly against the Overherd's weight.
"They have already chosen to buy enough time to either fully engage it or cover a retreat."
>Accepting a temporary ceasing of hostilies from the Shieldmare and shutting out the Overherd briefly, the stallion's voice drops into cool warning tones.
"Convincing them otherwise is unlikely."
"Master Clemency, I do not think it wise t-"
>Without a reference or significant understanding as to how, or why, Blackhorn lifts in your hands, the bolt slamming backwards, belted shells spooling back into the magazine.
>Angrily.
>Changed belt jerking upwards, first shell into the breech slamming shut, the rear indicator shows the magazine reloaded with only recalibrated finned darts and kinetic iso-magnetic rods in sequence.
>Between amazed, impressed, and aghast at the Construct weapon's actions, the leadstallion's gaze slowly travels from it to you, speaking in a calm, firmly neutral tone.
"It is well known that Rift symbiotes, including Riftdrowners, are highly attuned to their bonded partner. As it is, you should consider-"
>Visibly deliberating on each word, his open psyche was wavering between critical incredulity and giving up on life.
"How she feels about the current situation."
>Helmet swinging towards the gateways, the Shieldmare's tone hardens at numerous reports.
('Ma'am, minor threats engaged south and north. No difficulties.')
('Other than a few burns that aren't doing much-')
('West end clear, small swarms destroyed or.. convinced to leave.')
('Further details?)
('Disregard earlier reports, Void spectrums here are incredibly thick at the momarent, risk of infestations or reality breaches are low.')
('That is strange. Probable causes?')
('False reverberations, misread echoes, incorrect spectrum comparisons.. a few dozen more possibilities.')
('Understood, those are indeed easy to miss. Lancers and Chargers first in stated orders.')
>Hundreds of the smaller Guardmares eagerly storm forwards into the outermost gateways, setting up external lines on the pathway, which sparks some interest from the few awake batponies clustered in front of the barns, lazing atop stalls, or hanging out of windows.
('Lunar and Watch Guard, secondary ranks are yours.')
>Striding forth into long, secondary lines inside the Day and Night Guard's outer ranks, the Shieldmare sweeps her focus across Razorback, then the unicorns that weren't at risk of burning out.
('Unicorns, Razorback: organize yourselves as before. Shorter ranged casters and weapons closest to front, progressively longer ranged combatants and specialists stretching across the rear.')
>Staring into the gates as Operators separate into new squads, submachine gunners and those carrying shotguns first, the leadstallion suppresses a sigh, head shaking in disbelief.
('Vanguard, five of us per human, we're on escort duty. How marely puns does it take to write a book?')
('I do not know. Why do you ask?')
('Because I can feel a few thousand new ones being made right now....')
>>370956
>Taking a deep breath, Hodch blows on the mass, the same anti-Elemarental energetics dispersing it from reality as he glances up with a short nod.
('Absolutely correct on all accounts. Now that you understand the majority of my fears, concerns, and troubles, you also understand why I'm leaving the third option open and the fourth as-of-yet undefined until we know far more.')
>Leaning forwards once again, this time to allow a short, rolling yawn, the deep purple stallion starts to relax, then stares downwards flatly.
('Underprincesses Yearning Touch and Golden Beet Jam? I know of them yes, they help lead the Gold Court's higher echelons and are well loved. Never met either though. Both are directly descended from Princess Celestia, though I'm not sure how marely generations distant. That doesn't answer how they could ha-')
>Burying front hooves in the cloud, Hodch snarls aloud, eyes shut in severe anger.
('Oh that fucking LIAR! ...yet another pain in the asses that needs to be tracked down and either silenced, suppressed, or thrown out! ...thank you for informing me of.. this. Certain factions shouldn't have attempted to help Razorback from the sidelines and instead done so in the open. Less I say now the better off you and Razorback might be.')
>Eyes opening, the right brow raises, taking on an annoyed expression as he makes a slight leg breaking motion.
('What I'm going to say will forever remain OFF all records until either I die, you are forced into swearing oaths to those factions directly in the know, or one of the Lunar Council directly orders you to speak on their behalf: I know every single detail of that Operation.
Linara, Sha'Ro, Lark, two Princesses, at least ten Crystal Empire Spireguards, two Imperial Generals, five Kingdom Wardens, an unknown but presumable Councilierge, one Grand Ethereal Champion, an unaligned human that I know nothing about, two Watch Guard Master-Generals, at least half of the Tower Guard, well over twenty Stalliongrad aligned humans, and a large number of Canterlot's Royal Guard planned it out. Together, I must add.
While I was in Canterlot to perform a certain diversion that you will hear of, in the next week or two, several ponies contacted me and asked permission to perform the go-ahead on a plan that will shortly become known.
Now, whom signed off on all of it? The Starborn's General, Executioner, Luna's Guardian, and a few other titles-)
>Ears rotating in terrified yet furious motions, Hodch clenches his jaw several times before continuing.
('Don't ever piss her off without an exceptionally solid reason. You have no idea the amount of favors across Tallus and the Planes are owed to her. She is NOT what you might think or believe she is.
Moving on: Valden had a hoof in the neighgotiations between all factions and parties, then allowed certain Solar artifacts, coins, and valuables to be used, which should have been a dead giveaway to the Vigilites and Psions watching the auction. A few may not have been told relevant details in time.
A certain Master-General didn't realize, or ignored, the following: Steel Oak is a Free Agent, a former noble that ditched Canterlot after the Changeling Hive was assaulted. His daughter is friends with a large number of Very Important Ponies, mostly in Neighvada, And, best yet, his two bodyguards are independent elite marecenaries with deep ties to the Minotaur Hegemony, hence their particular and unusual names.
I'm quite sure you don't know anything about that, of course')
>Eyebrows raised in a moderately smug marener, Hodch visibly feigns ignorance by turning both forelegs outwards, though immediately turns serious.
('I also know how much certain humans hate Stream Lark for all the wrong reasons, but Razorback had best be careful: he's always treated Shanis as family. Tartarus Isle, the same. A vast amount of resources from across Stalliongrad and parts of Rushya were funneled to her, without any expectation other than to root out whichever ponies from.. certain places might have infiltrated Razorback.
And I sincerely hope no humans have spoken ill of Lark to Shanis' brother. That one.. reminds me too much. He considers forgiveness nothing more than a weakness to be stamped out.')
>Left leg crossing chest and bending forwards in a formal bow, Hodch's left leg makes a forget it motion.
('I serve equinity first and by extension Tallus as a whole. Let it be known that the majority of Lunars despise having to lie, even if there are exceptional reasons to do so, which I still hate. Killing and destroying to protect others, prevent certain events, or remove problems, those we consider honorable. Just the same, if I had the option I would have disposed of Filth long ago, but that damage is done and there's no information of his current whereabouts. Yet.
Your agenda, so far as I care to understand, and that isn't an insult, seems to be aimed at creating either a disconnect or a more manageable state of affairs for Razorback. Normally I'd suggest care in how to proceed, though I suspect much is now impossible to manage.
However, in the interests of numerous parties that must not yet be revealed, I would ask that you ignore all humans outside of Equestria whom are not direct threats. As you have likely noticed Katyal is quite.. efficient.')
>Clearing his throat, the Reservist Nightblade rolls forwards to stand, creating an arrow above his head to point at the expanded bracelet with a cheerful smile.
"Now then, let's see whether or not the Elemarental Plane of Lightning, Storms, and the connection Tempests greet you as an ally, or at least as a friend. There's a chance you might be considered too Otherworldly and not accepted, though knowing how certain Dynasty projects in the past have been, shall we say, exceptional, such a risk is minute."
>Taking a deep breath, Hodch blows on the mass, the same anti-Elemarental energetics dispersing it from reality as he glances up with a short nod.
('Absolutely correct on all accounts. Now that you understand the majority of my fears, concerns, and troubles, you also understand why I'm leaving the third option open and the fourth as-of-yet undefined until we know far more.')
>Leaning forwards once again, this time to allow a short, rolling yawn, the deep purple stallion starts to relax, then stares downwards flatly.
('Underprincesses Yearning Touch and Golden Beet Jam? I know of them yes, they help lead the Gold Court's higher echelons and are well loved. Never met either though. Both are directly descended from Princess Celestia, though I'm not sure how marely generations distant. That doesn't answer how they could ha-')
>Burying front hooves in the cloud, Hodch snarls aloud, eyes shut in severe anger.
('Oh that fucking LIAR! ...yet another pain in the asses that needs to be tracked down and either silenced, suppressed, or thrown out! ...thank you for informing me of.. this. Certain factions shouldn't have attempted to help Razorback from the sidelines and instead done so in the open. Less I say now the better off you and Razorback might be.')
>Eyes opening, the right brow raises, taking on an annoyed expression as he makes a slight leg breaking motion.
('What I'm going to say will forever remain OFF all records until either I die, you are forced into swearing oaths to those factions directly in the know, or one of the Lunar Council directly orders you to speak on their behalf: I know every single detail of that Operation.
Linara, Sha'Ro, Lark, two Princesses, at least ten Crystal Empire Spireguards, two Imperial Generals, five Kingdom Wardens, an unknown but presumable Councilierge, one Grand Ethereal Champion, an unaligned human that I know nothing about, two Watch Guard Master-Generals, at least half of the Tower Guard, well over twenty Stalliongrad aligned humans, and a large number of Canterlot's Royal Guard planned it out. Together, I must add.
While I was in Canterlot to perform a certain diversion that you will hear of, in the next week or two, several ponies contacted me and asked permission to perform the go-ahead on a plan that will shortly become known.
Now, whom signed off on all of it? The Starborn's General, Executioner, Luna's Guardian, and a few other titles-)
>Ears rotating in terrified yet furious motions, Hodch clenches his jaw several times before continuing.
('Don't ever piss her off without an exceptionally solid reason. You have no idea the amount of favors across Tallus and the Planes are owed to her. She is NOT what you might think or believe she is.
Moving on: Valden had a hoof in the neighgotiations between all factions and parties, then allowed certain Solar artifacts, coins, and valuables to be used, which should have been a dead giveaway to the Vigilites and Psions watching the auction. A few may not have been told relevant details in time.
A certain Master-General didn't realize, or ignored, the following: Steel Oak is a Free Agent, a former noble that ditched Canterlot after the Changeling Hive was assaulted. His daughter is friends with a large number of Very Important Ponies, mostly in Neighvada, And, best yet, his two bodyguards are independent elite marecenaries with deep ties to the Minotaur Hegemony, hence their particular and unusual names.
I'm quite sure you don't know anything about that, of course')
>Eyebrows raised in a moderately smug marener, Hodch visibly feigns ignorance by turning both forelegs outwards, though immediately turns serious.
('I also know how much certain humans hate Stream Lark for all the wrong reasons, but Razorback had best be careful: he's always treated Shanis as family. Tartarus Isle, the same. A vast amount of resources from across Stalliongrad and parts of Rushya were funneled to her, without any expectation other than to root out whichever ponies from.. certain places might have infiltrated Razorback.
And I sincerely hope no humans have spoken ill of Lark to Shanis' brother. That one.. reminds me too much. He considers forgiveness nothing more than a weakness to be stamped out.')
>Left leg crossing chest and bending forwards in a formal bow, Hodch's left leg makes a forget it motion.
('I serve equinity first and by extension Tallus as a whole. Let it be known that the majority of Lunars despise having to lie, even if there are exceptional reasons to do so, which I still hate. Killing and destroying to protect others, prevent certain events, or remove problems, those we consider honorable. Just the same, if I had the option I would have disposed of Filth long ago, but that damage is done and there's no information of his current whereabouts. Yet.
Your agenda, so far as I care to understand, and that isn't an insult, seems to be aimed at creating either a disconnect or a more manageable state of affairs for Razorback. Normally I'd suggest care in how to proceed, though I suspect much is now impossible to manage.
However, in the interests of numerous parties that must not yet be revealed, I would ask that you ignore all humans outside of Equestria whom are not direct threats. As you have likely noticed Katyal is quite.. efficient.')
>Clearing his throat, the Reservist Nightblade rolls forwards to stand, creating an arrow above his head to point at the expanded bracelet with a cheerful smile.
"Now then, let's see whether or not the Elemarental Plane of Lightning, Storms, and the connection Tempests greet you as an ally, or at least as a friend. There's a chance you might be considered too Otherworldly and not accepted, though knowing how certain Dynasty projects in the past have been, shall we say, exceptional, such a risk is minute."
>>370952
>As Razorback continues to dump surplus munitions into the Armory, Jeff decides the impromptu break had gone on enough.
>He walks over to where he had grabbed the Gepard from and collects its extra pair of magazines and stickies them wherever he had room on his chest.
>Continuing on about the Riftseeker through he gateway, he shrugs at the thoughts on the Vitriole Orb. Either way he's got it in case it become viable.
('Organic or not, it's got to be volatile enough to to something at the very least. Maybe scramble the gooey parts to where it can't function properly. Doesn't have to necessarily kill it. On the other end it could easily have an immunity to poisons giving the creature it's emulating.')
>The daisy chain waning, he heads over to Anon's Ash Box to grab another Iron Sphere to replace the one he almost vaporized the gestalt with earlier.
>Poor guy. Hope he's re-amalgamated himself.
>Hearing him get called being the last man, he stretches his arms before hoisting up the heavy rifle onto his right shoulder and heading out of the Armory and back through to the Basin Village.
>Back on the side of the next battle effort, the main force were getting ready to move through.
>A Shieldmare takes charge over the forces, checking though the gateways for any news from the scouting party.
>Sounds like they were encountering light forces. Didn't sound like any casualties, even chasing them off.
('What are they coming across?')
>Were the Constructs hostile, or were the scouts engaging first? Sounded inconclusive.
>The Shieldmare starts lining up forces in front of the gateways, the humans bringing up the rear with any unicorns not fried from keeping the matrices open.
>Jeff gets in formation, positioning himself center rear to have an unhindered view of their ranks.
('Machine gunners, spread yourselves evenly through long guns. Launchers, anti-tank, and unique ectetera: save your rounds for any special targets of opportunity.')
>As a quintuplet of Vanguards form up on him, he awaits any further updates from the Shieldmare.
('Are we still going to have the Overherd on the otherside, or is that going to dissipate once we cross over?')
>As Razorback continues to dump surplus munitions into the Armory, Jeff decides the impromptu break had gone on enough.
>He walks over to where he had grabbed the Gepard from and collects its extra pair of magazines and stickies them wherever he had room on his chest.
>Continuing on about the Riftseeker through he gateway, he shrugs at the thoughts on the Vitriole Orb. Either way he's got it in case it become viable.
('Organic or not, it's got to be volatile enough to to something at the very least. Maybe scramble the gooey parts to where it can't function properly. Doesn't have to necessarily kill it. On the other end it could easily have an immunity to poisons giving the creature it's emulating.')
>The daisy chain waning, he heads over to Anon's Ash Box to grab another Iron Sphere to replace the one he almost vaporized the gestalt with earlier.
>Poor guy. Hope he's re-amalgamated himself.
>Hearing him get called being the last man, he stretches his arms before hoisting up the heavy rifle onto his right shoulder and heading out of the Armory and back through to the Basin Village.
>Back on the side of the next battle effort, the main force were getting ready to move through.
>A Shieldmare takes charge over the forces, checking though the gateways for any news from the scouting party.
>Sounds like they were encountering light forces. Didn't sound like any casualties, even chasing them off.
('What are they coming across?')
>Were the Constructs hostile, or were the scouts engaging first? Sounded inconclusive.
>The Shieldmare starts lining up forces in front of the gateways, the humans bringing up the rear with any unicorns not fried from keeping the matrices open.
>Jeff gets in formation, positioning himself center rear to have an unhindered view of their ranks.
('Machine gunners, spread yourselves evenly through long guns. Launchers, anti-tank, and unique ectetera: save your rounds for any special targets of opportunity.')
>As a quintuplet of Vanguards form up on him, he awaits any further updates from the Shieldmare.
('Are we still going to have the Overherd on the otherside, or is that going to dissipate once we cross over?')
>>370959
>He watches Hodch come to yet another unhappy realization thanks to the information he provided.
>Nodding back at the Nightblade, he turns his head away.
('Understood. Will provide the bills if we successfully return.')
>Memories of the harrowing operation in Stalliongrad are dredged forth as Hodch recounts the list of everyone involved. The Master General Lapis Thorn being paid particular note.
(At least that operation was clean then... no apparent manipulation by Lucky... )
>He shakes his head as Hodch adds an unknown clarifying detail.
('The implications of their affiliations are unclear to me.')
>Nodding once at Hodch and tightening the grip of his clasped gloves, he sighs and shakes his helmet.
('Currently, Razorback needs a major withdrawal from active political affairs. Control and management of human element vectors is impossible without consolidation, and yes current protocol is strictly damage control.')
>Loosening his left glove's grip long enough to make a dismissive flicking motion towards the ground, he adds:
('And yes, that was the plan regardless with such limited resources. Katyal and your benefactors won't see interference from me. Will request you contact me if you ever find Filth however. Protocol dictates his removal.')
>Following Hodch's cue he stands rolling his shoulders, smoothly pocketing the Moonstone Orb as he adjusts his vest.
>Running a final check of his electronics before entering the portal after Hodch, he silently nods at the invitation.
>He watches Hodch come to yet another unhappy realization thanks to the information he provided.
>Nodding back at the Nightblade, he turns his head away.
('Understood. Will provide the bills if we successfully return.')
>Memories of the harrowing operation in Stalliongrad are dredged forth as Hodch recounts the list of everyone involved. The Master General Lapis Thorn being paid particular note.
(At least that operation was clean then... no apparent manipulation by Lucky... )
>He shakes his head as Hodch adds an unknown clarifying detail.
('The implications of their affiliations are unclear to me.')
>Nodding once at Hodch and tightening the grip of his clasped gloves, he sighs and shakes his helmet.
('Currently, Razorback needs a major withdrawal from active political affairs. Control and management of human element vectors is impossible without consolidation, and yes current protocol is strictly damage control.')
>Loosening his left glove's grip long enough to make a dismissive flicking motion towards the ground, he adds:
('And yes, that was the plan regardless with such limited resources. Katyal and your benefactors won't see interference from me. Will request you contact me if you ever find Filth however. Protocol dictates his removal.')
>Following Hodch's cue he stands rolling his shoulders, smoothly pocketing the Moonstone Orb as he adjusts his vest.
>Running a final check of his electronics before entering the portal after Hodch, he silently nods at the invitation.
>>370952
>Finished loading his Spiker, he cradled it in his arms as he watched the members of Razorback work as efficient as Ash Ants in taking everything from the Armoury, even down to the last bullet. Or maybe Termites.
>"Anon was going to break his back in carrying out a resupply of the entire Fortress."
>>370953
>He snickered. It was always a delight to hear ponies mewl at each other. Equines in general were just...great to pet and fawn over.
>As he continued to stare off into space his mind wondered away from food and to all the times he had pet ponies. him cradling Nao the seal came and went as the heft of his Spiker reminded him of that ball of blubber too.
>Something clicked in his head, telling him he was daydreaming at this point and broadcasting it into the Overherd for all to imagine. He shook his head dispelling the string of thoughts, but sadly not before a flash memory slipped in at the last second. Akin to a freezeframe, it was of his hand massaging a Particularly Pretty Pristine Pink Princess Pony's frogs, in an act of intimate Hoofholding.
>wishing he still had his helmet on, he turned his attention back to the reality of their grim situation.
('"If it bleeds we can kill it", A wise man once said back on Ferrundus. It will die this night I am sure of it.')
>He said before looking up to the moon, seeing how long before day broke.
>>370940
>Hefting his helmet up he gave Clem a wink.
"Same verse as a first, cover fire and shoot at it until it dies like last time."
>Then, his helmet was back in place.
>>370957
>Being a good little soldier he went where he was needed.
>Finished loading his Spiker, he cradled it in his arms as he watched the members of Razorback work as efficient as Ash Ants in taking everything from the Armoury, even down to the last bullet. Or maybe Termites.
>"Anon was going to break his back in carrying out a resupply of the entire Fortress."
>>370953
>He snickered. It was always a delight to hear ponies mewl at each other. Equines in general were just...great to pet and fawn over.
>As he continued to stare off into space his mind wondered away from food and to all the times he had pet ponies. him cradling Nao the seal came and went as the heft of his Spiker reminded him of that ball of blubber too.
>Something clicked in his head, telling him he was daydreaming at this point and broadcasting it into the Overherd for all to imagine. He shook his head dispelling the string of thoughts, but sadly not before a flash memory slipped in at the last second. Akin to a freezeframe, it was of his hand massaging a Particularly Pretty Pristine Pink Princess Pony's frogs, in an act of intimate Hoofholding.
>wishing he still had his helmet on, he turned his attention back to the reality of their grim situation.
('"If it bleeds we can kill it", A wise man once said back on Ferrundus. It will die this night I am sure of it.')
>He said before looking up to the moon, seeing how long before day broke.
>>370940
>Hefting his helmet up he gave Clem a wink.
"Same verse as a first, cover fire and shoot at it until it dies like last time."
>Then, his helmet was back in place.
>>370957
>Being a good little soldier he went where he was needed.
>>370957
>Clemency was surprised and worried at the same time when he saw the faces of the Rookies
>Them not starting shit felt almost unnatural
>For their sake, Clemency felt he needed to stick with them
>Snapping his attention to Blackhorn, he feels the gun lift and rack itself with a new belt of shells
>Darts and rods, sequenced
>Clemency closes his eyes and realizes Blackhorn's intent
>"Alright, we go then. It's like what Lont said. Shoot it until it dies."
>Opening his eyes, he sees the formation and fills in, positioning himself to get a center view of the Rookie squad
>There seems to be light skirmishes already with the scouts
>Clem figured if they were light enough to repel, then they should have no issues
{Alright, rooks. This is Clemency. Time to embrace the suck. Space out those MGs and save the AT.)
>Clemency was surprised and worried at the same time when he saw the faces of the Rookies
>Them not starting shit felt almost unnatural
>For their sake, Clemency felt he needed to stick with them
>Snapping his attention to Blackhorn, he feels the gun lift and rack itself with a new belt of shells
>Darts and rods, sequenced
>Clemency closes his eyes and realizes Blackhorn's intent
>"Alright, we go then. It's like what Lont said. Shoot it until it dies."
>Opening his eyes, he sees the formation and fills in, positioning himself to get a center view of the Rookie squad
>There seems to be light skirmishes already with the scouts
>Clem figured if they were light enough to repel, then they should have no issues
{Alright, rooks. This is Clemency. Time to embrace the suck. Space out those MGs and save the AT.)
>>370944
"Thanks."
>With an amicable salute of his own, Gallo watches them leave out of the Mess Hall with a soft smile as he jots down the channel 52.3 in case he ever needs to contact Trakkel and his squad.
>So he should visit the Workshop according to the succinct announcement.
>At least for the common operator.
>To be fair, right now he might as well be.
>Before José committed to following those instructions, he took some time eating his food and silently trying to listen in some gossip from the other tables if he could.
>Although he doubted to learn much since the ones that stayed will probably be as clueless as he was.
>It wouldn't hurt to try either way.
>Unless the human somehow managed to overhear something particularly of note, he'd soon take off towards the Workshop.
>Good thing he remembered to look at the map yesterday.
>A brisk trek next door. Shouldn't take too long before he starts actually developing his diplomat career.
>Hopefully.
"Thanks."
>With an amicable salute of his own, Gallo watches them leave out of the Mess Hall with a soft smile as he jots down the channel 52.3 in case he ever needs to contact Trakkel and his squad.
>So he should visit the Workshop according to the succinct announcement.
>At least for the common operator.
>To be fair, right now he might as well be.
>Before José committed to following those instructions, he took some time eating his food and silently trying to listen in some gossip from the other tables if he could.
>Although he doubted to learn much since the ones that stayed will probably be as clueless as he was.
>It wouldn't hurt to try either way.
>Unless the human somehow managed to overhear something particularly of note, he'd soon take off towards the Workshop.
>Good thing he remembered to look at the map yesterday.
>A brisk trek next door. Shouldn't take too long before he starts actually developing his diplomat career.
>Hopefully.
>>370934
"You're being serious? That's illegal in some of the Moors-"
>Switching from humor to an externally blacked out mood, her face slackens in favor of deeply thoughtful, practical batpony-against-everything violence.
>Reaching up to crumple a miniature STOP sign above her head, the tradesmare's head shakes solemnly.
"Not right now please."
>Cross-referencing topography against distance, then applying the newly information information to each, all three would be equally negative combat locales.
>Support ponies would be necessary to allow open area crossings, prepare teleports, deliver small numbers through Psionic-Warp Gates, or set and and launched preplanned ambushes against larger targets.
>If available, and most importantly fresh, unicorns and Support Strikers would have close to thirty minutes of such actions, though since you had no idea the current status or numbers of each, all three options were equally poor:
>The big, yet fairly shallow swamp south of Basin Arena would be great to trap a big target, though not anything more than a large Endless March Golem.
>If a target could be held or pinned at range, ponies could move around for cover, and there would be large amounts of water to put out fires, yet close combatants wouldn't reach easily.
>The deeper swamp northeast of Basin Arena would be best for challenging a huge target, featuring a significant amount of linked ambush potential, but there were no assurances that a Riftseeker's actions could be intercepted or comprehended beforehoof.
>The half-swamped out orchards and farms northeast would be best against a massive target, similar to the mythical Titans some Ferron talked about now and then, yet would most likely become a four-way battle.
>What little you know of the Late Dynasty's more problematic multi-species magical corruption was to never enter those zones at all costs, unless said costs could be mitigated by a number of lives, at which point the chances of Malformed or Abominations increased significantly.
>The tradesmare's ears and eyes swivel at the batpony-assumed Construct repairing itself, then at you.
>Her left trio of wingclaws sweep outwards in the common pegasi 'warning ahead' motion before muttering quietly.
"The more you know, the less you can't."
>Thinking back on the few Construct armamarents which mostly Crystal ponies were in possession of, then working forwards to consider how such a Planar substance, or pseudo-substance, could function independently on Tallus, it was clear that the older models and variants were far less compatible with ponies.
>Judging the amount and width of studies the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair had undertaken, combined with the rather secretive, modern symbiotes, a major shift had occurred:
>Instead of copying the physical functionalities of blood, it was clear that Constructs had, in the regions you knew of at least, greatly increased that same capacity since older symbiotic armors, weapons, and the tiny number of utilitarian systems were known for high periods of dormarency or inactivity.
>As they were adapting and becoming able to repair from near-complete destruction to full readiness, the timeframe between improvemarents had decreased from centuries to much shorter periods, but this was forcing Construct models and variants into hyper-specializations.
>You realized this knowledge could not be shared to anypony outside those few that already knew, and what Mercy had 'neglected' to speak of was its own series of distinct threats.
"You're being serious? That's illegal in some of the Moors-"
>Switching from humor to an externally blacked out mood, her face slackens in favor of deeply thoughtful, practical batpony-against-everything violence.
>Reaching up to crumple a miniature STOP sign above her head, the tradesmare's head shakes solemnly.
"Not right now please."
>Cross-referencing topography against distance, then applying the newly information information to each, all three would be equally negative combat locales.
>Support ponies would be necessary to allow open area crossings, prepare teleports, deliver small numbers through Psionic-Warp Gates, or set and and launched preplanned ambushes against larger targets.
>If available, and most importantly fresh, unicorns and Support Strikers would have close to thirty minutes of such actions, though since you had no idea the current status or numbers of each, all three options were equally poor:
>The big, yet fairly shallow swamp south of Basin Arena would be great to trap a big target, though not anything more than a large Endless March Golem.
>If a target could be held or pinned at range, ponies could move around for cover, and there would be large amounts of water to put out fires, yet close combatants wouldn't reach easily.
>The deeper swamp northeast of Basin Arena would be best for challenging a huge target, featuring a significant amount of linked ambush potential, but there were no assurances that a Riftseeker's actions could be intercepted or comprehended beforehoof.
>The half-swamped out orchards and farms northeast would be best against a massive target, similar to the mythical Titans some Ferron talked about now and then, yet would most likely become a four-way battle.
>What little you know of the Late Dynasty's more problematic multi-species magical corruption was to never enter those zones at all costs, unless said costs could be mitigated by a number of lives, at which point the chances of Malformed or Abominations increased significantly.
>The tradesmare's ears and eyes swivel at the batpony-assumed Construct repairing itself, then at you.
>Her left trio of wingclaws sweep outwards in the common pegasi 'warning ahead' motion before muttering quietly.
"The more you know, the less you can't."
>Thinking back on the few Construct armamarents which mostly Crystal ponies were in possession of, then working forwards to consider how such a Planar substance, or pseudo-substance, could function independently on Tallus, it was clear that the older models and variants were far less compatible with ponies.
>Judging the amount and width of studies the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair had undertaken, combined with the rather secretive, modern symbiotes, a major shift had occurred:
>Instead of copying the physical functionalities of blood, it was clear that Constructs had, in the regions you knew of at least, greatly increased that same capacity since older symbiotic armors, weapons, and the tiny number of utilitarian systems were known for high periods of dormarency or inactivity.
>As they were adapting and becoming able to repair from near-complete destruction to full readiness, the timeframe between improvemarents had decreased from centuries to much shorter periods, but this was forcing Construct models and variants into hyper-specializations.
>You realized this knowledge could not be shared to anypony outside those few that already knew, and what Mercy had 'neglected' to speak of was its own series of distinct threats.
>Well.
>I can't say I'm surprised.
>If I wasn't on the job, I'd probably be lazing about like that.
>Kind of jealous, not going to lie.
>Though, it may be because it's the fact they're not a ruler of a minor faction by saying some dumbass shit that you shouldn't have said, why would you do that to yourself?
>Oh, I'm berating myself mentally now, that's neat, I guess.
>One of those piles twitched, though.
>Who's to say that it isn't Pella in there?
>Walking over, I began to remove blankets from atop the thing, looking down.
"Hey, wake up. I know you're comfy in there, but I think you might be able to help me find someone."
>Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
>Wait.
>No, I ventured, and gained something I didn't want.
>Here goes, anyway.
>I can't say I'm surprised.
>If I wasn't on the job, I'd probably be lazing about like that.
>Kind of jealous, not going to lie.
>Though, it may be because it's the fact they're not a ruler of a minor faction by saying some dumbass shit that you shouldn't have said, why would you do that to yourself?
>Oh, I'm berating myself mentally now, that's neat, I guess.
>One of those piles twitched, though.
>Who's to say that it isn't Pella in there?
>Walking over, I began to remove blankets from atop the thing, looking down.
"Hey, wake up. I know you're comfy in there, but I think you might be able to help me find someone."
>Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
>Wait.
>No, I ventured, and gained something I didn't want.
>Here goes, anyway.
>>371009
>Glancing up briefly from the map Sunny replied.
"As serious as I know how to be, I owe that much to the ponies my decisions may have gotten killed, and quite permanently given what the Tainted do."
>Looking back down at the map, Sunny deadpanned.
"If you report me to the authorities, I forgive you."
>Somehow, annoyingly, getting lured back into analysing tactical positions rather than routes to those positions once again, Sunny heaved an irritated huff with herself.
>Glancing along the road east, she reasoned that was a path she knew was more or less clear.
>The map indicated south was a no-go on hoof without support or flight, and there was no way to ascertain whether that was the actual case without going there and physically checking. That was too much of a gamble for now.
>Northeast it was, it was farther to travel, but she really had no way of knowing how far the scrambling field extended anyway, so the longest, easiest route to travel would be the best for getting back in contact quickly.
>If she were wrong and they'd hypothetically pop in south instead, maybe they'd be able to teleport herself and the symbiote.
>Sunny shot the bat pony a nervous smile and shrugged.
"It hasn't killed me yet. Or you, that's a good sign."
>Gathering up and repacking her map. Sunny came to a decision.
"South seems a likely location, but I can't reach it at speed, so I'll continue east and try to get back into contact."
>She offered the bat pony a short head bow.
"Thank you for your help, and your understanding, I hope you stay safe."
>Looking over her shoulder at the symbiote, Sunny indicated she was ready to move on and left at a trot and then transitioned into a gallop.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>Glancing up briefly from the map Sunny replied.
"As serious as I know how to be, I owe that much to the ponies my decisions may have gotten killed, and quite permanently given what the Tainted do."
>Looking back down at the map, Sunny deadpanned.
"If you report me to the authorities, I forgive you."
>Somehow, annoyingly, getting lured back into analysing tactical positions rather than routes to those positions once again, Sunny heaved an irritated huff with herself.
>Glancing along the road east, she reasoned that was a path she knew was more or less clear.
>The map indicated south was a no-go on hoof without support or flight, and there was no way to ascertain whether that was the actual case without going there and physically checking. That was too much of a gamble for now.
>Northeast it was, it was farther to travel, but she really had no way of knowing how far the scrambling field extended anyway, so the longest, easiest route to travel would be the best for getting back in contact quickly.
>If she were wrong and they'd hypothetically pop in south instead, maybe they'd be able to teleport herself and the symbiote.
>Sunny shot the bat pony a nervous smile and shrugged.
"It hasn't killed me yet. Or you, that's a good sign."
>Gathering up and repacking her map. Sunny came to a decision.
"South seems a likely location, but I can't reach it at speed, so I'll continue east and try to get back into contact."
>She offered the bat pony a short head bow.
"Thank you for your help, and your understanding, I hope you stay safe."
>Looking over her shoulder at the symbiote, Sunny indicated she was ready to move on and left at a trot and then transitioned into a gallop.
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>>370978
('Their names simplify the tasks of locating which group was to be allied. Either way that is another migraine out of my hooves.')
>Taking on a near-human pose, the deep purple stallion leans forwards as his right hoof reaches his temple, a small, yet comfortable smile given.
('Pareidolia. Your codename resonates incredibly well with batponies. Lunars and Moonborn enjoy it too. I find myself in bizarre synchronicity with your phrasings, meanings, and open intentions.
Had Fankil lived and taken the position within Razorback he was supposed to, he would have been a far better ally. Despite the differences.. you greatly remind me of him in the best possible mareners. For that, I honor you,')
>Extending a short 'all is forgiven' motion, the Reservist stares down at the Overlander's floor.. you feel sharp notes of grim longing.
('That they do. I am not fit for such a role, nor are the majority of ponies that have willingly joined Razorback.
Belltower is a living anachronism.. I will not say more out of respect. Should you live, seek her out. She belongs on the Lunar Council. By force or guile matters not.
Roust's dedication to Hollow is sincere and none can harm her, outwardly nor inwardly. Such honorable Changelings only exist in my Order's records. Roust is a sacred mare that we believed could not exist, yet, exist she does. What she has suffered perhaps not even her Queen knows, and that makes her all the more important.
Naliyna has begun to recover from such forms of tormarent that.. few of my Order can comprehend. Thrill has battled millennia of lies, mistakes, wrongdoings, ignorance, and deception on her behalf, all without bias. By the goddesses they deserve a harmonious life together, no matter the end results.
I dearly wish Serrated Feathers was here. Despite her Lishanki-aligned beliefs and difficulties, she brought such joy and life to Razorback that none have spoken negatively of her. Or could, in full honesty.
Twisted Wing is a thousand megatons of anti-matter catalyzed weaponry awaiting the wrong signals. I know her. We're close to the same age, visited the same locations quite often,.. her Enchains were performed in desperation, not through fear or jealousy.')
>The Nightblade cracks a distant, pained smile, glancing up at the roof.
('She fully believes that one of her sisters or half-sisters will continue her grand-dam's lineage, but that will not happen so easily.
Sapphire Kiwi, that is her true name. Even should I destroy our memories, you will remember that above all my friend.')
>Eyebrows narrowed and ears flattening, Hodch makes a slightly disgusted 'forget it' motion.
('Your orders are the same as mine. My benefactor is dying on the Citadel after repulsing two hundred some archaic, ancient, pre-modern, modern, and newer Argus models. Alone.
If Luna is not reborn before Dawn occurs then her followers will suffer as she has and another Season must be chosen to herald the next few centuries until a proper balance is restored. I do not foresee them taking such duties.
The Lunar Council... I will not speak the secrets of those whom are now deceased, or may die. Unless ordered to do otherwise, their integrity will be upheld. Their ignorance and uncautious natures are not stupidity.
Others I hold dear are historians, archivists, researchers, and seekers that want to understand that which they do not. Distant as they are I cannot fault them for being disconnected from this world. Unbiased, external views are precious. And, unfortunately, in ever fewer amounts now.
Countess Folunasi and Katyal hold such love together that they need a stallion to be shared, one which they have not.. yet chosen. If she were to hold a grudge against Razorback, Katyal would have slain fifty if not more. Avoid not the wrath of honest mares spurned once. Instead, fear mares that have been spurned twice.')
>Head tilting in agreemarent, Hodch tosses a deeply amused expression towards you.
('Should I locate Filth then you will be immediately summoned. If, however, one of my Disciples does so... use every means necessary to assure his recompense. Every, and any. There is only so much irrationality and insanity that I can allow to exist at one time or another.
And, I am glad to have found such an immarensely positive role model amongst the humans of Razorback. Next to Thrill, Bubba, and Clemency of course. Zigri likes you, and, do not take that as a threat. Shanis needs progeny. Perhaps you will accept that role. Or.. perhaps not.')
>Making a faux-theatrical bow, Hodch turns, clopping into the gateway while carrying a tense, yet relieved expression.
>Shutting all electronics down into hardened or protective modes, the advanced model had already prepared to do so, you step into the electrically charged gateway-
>And find yourself in a place that could easily be called home.
>To the left, a gigantic forge, furnace, anvil, and smithy complex was being inspected by Lonestar, the older man merely interested in how such giant tools were used.
>And failing obviously, given that he was incapable of learning an entirely new trade.
>On the right, a colossal rug made from the pelt of an arcane predator was being lounged on by Katyal, holding NIbbles aloft in both hands with a charming smile.
>Despite their mostly incompatible natures, the woman and feline were enjoying the Plane for what it was: a place to relax, learn, or enjoy.
>A bed large enough for a 30M tall being was centered towards the rear, covered in yellow-white streaks of raw electrical energy, neither organic nor inorganic.
>It was, instead, a composite of solidified electrons and protons, designed to be comfortable except those that were weak to the essence of Lightning itself.
>Directly behind you was a massive pair of double doors that dwarfed the largest possible Tallus-Vortex gateways, capable of admitting freakishly large beings without having to crouch.
>This Plane was equal parts admitting, inviting, trusting... and exciting.
('Their names simplify the tasks of locating which group was to be allied. Either way that is another migraine out of my hooves.')
>Taking on a near-human pose, the deep purple stallion leans forwards as his right hoof reaches his temple, a small, yet comfortable smile given.
('Pareidolia. Your codename resonates incredibly well with batponies. Lunars and Moonborn enjoy it too. I find myself in bizarre synchronicity with your phrasings, meanings, and open intentions.
Had Fankil lived and taken the position within Razorback he was supposed to, he would have been a far better ally. Despite the differences.. you greatly remind me of him in the best possible mareners. For that, I honor you,')
>Extending a short 'all is forgiven' motion, the Reservist stares down at the Overlander's floor.. you feel sharp notes of grim longing.
('That they do. I am not fit for such a role, nor are the majority of ponies that have willingly joined Razorback.
Belltower is a living anachronism.. I will not say more out of respect. Should you live, seek her out. She belongs on the Lunar Council. By force or guile matters not.
Roust's dedication to Hollow is sincere and none can harm her, outwardly nor inwardly. Such honorable Changelings only exist in my Order's records. Roust is a sacred mare that we believed could not exist, yet, exist she does. What she has suffered perhaps not even her Queen knows, and that makes her all the more important.
Naliyna has begun to recover from such forms of tormarent that.. few of my Order can comprehend. Thrill has battled millennia of lies, mistakes, wrongdoings, ignorance, and deception on her behalf, all without bias. By the goddesses they deserve a harmonious life together, no matter the end results.
I dearly wish Serrated Feathers was here. Despite her Lishanki-aligned beliefs and difficulties, she brought such joy and life to Razorback that none have spoken negatively of her. Or could, in full honesty.
Twisted Wing is a thousand megatons of anti-matter catalyzed weaponry awaiting the wrong signals. I know her. We're close to the same age, visited the same locations quite often,.. her Enchains were performed in desperation, not through fear or jealousy.')
>The Nightblade cracks a distant, pained smile, glancing up at the roof.
('She fully believes that one of her sisters or half-sisters will continue her grand-dam's lineage, but that will not happen so easily.
Sapphire Kiwi, that is her true name. Even should I destroy our memories, you will remember that above all my friend.')
>Eyebrows narrowed and ears flattening, Hodch makes a slightly disgusted 'forget it' motion.
('Your orders are the same as mine. My benefactor is dying on the Citadel after repulsing two hundred some archaic, ancient, pre-modern, modern, and newer Argus models. Alone.
If Luna is not reborn before Dawn occurs then her followers will suffer as she has and another Season must be chosen to herald the next few centuries until a proper balance is restored. I do not foresee them taking such duties.
The Lunar Council... I will not speak the secrets of those whom are now deceased, or may die. Unless ordered to do otherwise, their integrity will be upheld. Their ignorance and uncautious natures are not stupidity.
Others I hold dear are historians, archivists, researchers, and seekers that want to understand that which they do not. Distant as they are I cannot fault them for being disconnected from this world. Unbiased, external views are precious. And, unfortunately, in ever fewer amounts now.
Countess Folunasi and Katyal hold such love together that they need a stallion to be shared, one which they have not.. yet chosen. If she were to hold a grudge against Razorback, Katyal would have slain fifty if not more. Avoid not the wrath of honest mares spurned once. Instead, fear mares that have been spurned twice.')
>Head tilting in agreemarent, Hodch tosses a deeply amused expression towards you.
('Should I locate Filth then you will be immediately summoned. If, however, one of my Disciples does so... use every means necessary to assure his recompense. Every, and any. There is only so much irrationality and insanity that I can allow to exist at one time or another.
And, I am glad to have found such an immarensely positive role model amongst the humans of Razorback. Next to Thrill, Bubba, and Clemency of course. Zigri likes you, and, do not take that as a threat. Shanis needs progeny. Perhaps you will accept that role. Or.. perhaps not.')
>Making a faux-theatrical bow, Hodch turns, clopping into the gateway while carrying a tense, yet relieved expression.
>Shutting all electronics down into hardened or protective modes, the advanced model had already prepared to do so, you step into the electrically charged gateway-
>And find yourself in a place that could easily be called home.
>To the left, a gigantic forge, furnace, anvil, and smithy complex was being inspected by Lonestar, the older man merely interested in how such giant tools were used.
>And failing obviously, given that he was incapable of learning an entirely new trade.
>On the right, a colossal rug made from the pelt of an arcane predator was being lounged on by Katyal, holding NIbbles aloft in both hands with a charming smile.
>Despite their mostly incompatible natures, the woman and feline were enjoying the Plane for what it was: a place to relax, learn, or enjoy.
>A bed large enough for a 30M tall being was centered towards the rear, covered in yellow-white streaks of raw electrical energy, neither organic nor inorganic.
>It was, instead, a composite of solidified electrons and protons, designed to be comfortable except those that were weak to the essence of Lightning itself.
>Directly behind you was a massive pair of double doors that dwarfed the largest possible Tallus-Vortex gateways, capable of admitting freakishly large beings without having to crouch.
>This Plane was equal parts admitting, inviting, trusting... and exciting.
>>371016
>Hodch's comfortable body language and remarks spark a twinge of annoyance and resignation that causes Parediolia to near imperceptibly wince.
>The discomfort remains as they complete their dialogue and stand to leave.
('I... appreciate the trust and the appellation of being a 'role model'. But I will stress that I meant what I said of my mission being parallel. Don't overextend your communalism to me beyond what is necessary.')
>Stepping through the portal divide, the faint momentary sensation of all his hairs standing on end glides over him.
>He flexes his fingers twice to dissipate the sensation as he cranes his neck, taking in the gargantuan scale of the Storm King's work.
>An odd sensation of a spark remains, a strange feeling suffusing itself into him.
(... Likely the effects of this Plane.)
>Focusing his attention back to eye level, he observes the rug Katyal and Nibbles were seated on with a critical eye.
(One of the Lightning Plane's predators? A personal kill of the Storm King's? A penchant for hunting trophies?)
>Surveying the rest of the room, he notes the suspended energy comprising the bed and moves for a closer inspection sparing a glance along the way at Lonestar and the forge unfit for his stature.
(No requisite skills for forgework. Bedding material may be analyzable. Apparent suspended photons? Manipulation of electromagnetic fields likely. Suit core battery should be fully charged. No risk of altering stability of energy field. May be useful for future applications... )
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>Hodch's comfortable body language and remarks spark a twinge of annoyance and resignation that causes Parediolia to near imperceptibly wince.
>The discomfort remains as they complete their dialogue and stand to leave.
('I... appreciate the trust and the appellation of being a 'role model'. But I will stress that I meant what I said of my mission being parallel. Don't overextend your communalism to me beyond what is necessary.')
>Stepping through the portal divide, the faint momentary sensation of all his hairs standing on end glides over him.
>He flexes his fingers twice to dissipate the sensation as he cranes his neck, taking in the gargantuan scale of the Storm King's work.
>An odd sensation of a spark remains, a strange feeling suffusing itself into him.
(... Likely the effects of this Plane.)
>Focusing his attention back to eye level, he observes the rug Katyal and Nibbles were seated on with a critical eye.
(One of the Lightning Plane's predators? A personal kill of the Storm King's? A penchant for hunting trophies?)
>Surveying the rest of the room, he notes the suspended energy comprising the bed and moves for a closer inspection sparing a glance along the way at Lonestar and the forge unfit for his stature.
(No requisite skills for forgework. Bedding material may be analyzable. Apparent suspended photons? Manipulation of electromagnetic fields likely. Suit core battery should be fully charged. No risk of altering stability of energy field. May be useful for future applications... )
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>>371007
>Overhearing subdued chatter from the remaining Operators, the majority were irregular mixtures of angry, angrily confused, depressed, depressingly confused, and plain confused as to why they were on an entirely different world.
>Finishing the highly enjoyable meal, a bright, multicolored series of neon tubes on a signboard pops up across the table in clear text:
Ponies enjoy calling this meal Duskfast! Look it up in ANY Common Equestrian dictionary, or any equivalent pictionary! Yes, that does mean a picture-book crossed with a dictionary. Batponies created that word and it stuck. You know what THAT means?
ATROCIOUS PUN-FILLED FILLINGS ARE EVERYWHERE, AND YOU SHOULD FEEL GREAT FOR KNOWING THEM!
Not that I blame you, but I do blame YOU! But not you, Cheto, THAT one gets the blame!
Who, you are asking, and why, you are also asking? THE ONE REVEALING THIS SCRIPT!
Which JUST so happens to be me! But it's not me because I'm not here right now!
"Really? Is he that fucking busy to only leave a text?"
>Spoken by one of the presumable Rookies.
"Try not to ask. Discord's either a nut at the best of times or barely helpful at the worst of times, but only one of those-"
UNLESS I CHOOSE TO BE, ISN'T THAT RIGHT?! And your next words will be:
"Exactly! See what I mean? Dude's great!"
"The fuck is this? What kind of r-"
"It's a broken wall or something. Don't think about it."
>Silence holds for twenty seconds until the younger woman in a battered high tech helmet speaking up, her inflection Coastal Asiatic with some Central Mediterranean.
"My world didn't have gods. This one, Discord, also called the God of Discord, God of Chaos, God of Batponies, among way more, is the least worst."
"That doesn't explain how a fucking SIGN is reading the future! None of this makes sense!"
"Ignore the God of Chaos or you're going straight to the Clinic."
"Y'know, experiencing two absolutely random concussions that in no way occurred together is real hard for Doctor Tipper to treat correctly. Might take a few nights."
"And if for some reason that real beauty is in, you'll be there for week."
"Fuck you, you, you, you, you, and whatever YOU are! I ain't going to be stuck in some podunk-"
>Snapping up a small, odd looking pistol at near-point blank to the offender's head, the barrel slightly less than 1CM in width, interior displays shut down as she snickers loudly.
"Make me pull this trigger. Go ahead. Come on, push that buttons. Any of you want to chime in? No? All right then.
Boyo, you have zero clue how lucky we are. I am from podunk, broker than broke, all that. All we have to do is be gracious guests on this planet, and not fuck up being a good, gracious guest. This place is a million dreams coming true. I'm not going to let one piss-stained idiot say otherwise.
Been reviewing every report on local mainframes, be glad you aren't assigned yet. A few places have flora, with tentacles of sorts. Local ponies love riling them up. By that I mean the flora have rough sex with said local ponies. For fun. Plants don't get much out of the deal other than most of their predators avoid equine scents."
"The WHAT!?"
"Yeah. This stuff's hotter than a Metropolitan reactor tuned to full power, could make a fortune from vids alone. And I didn't stutter, dumbass."
"You're full of shit a-"
"I don't lie either. How would you like to see at least ten hours of videos taken by humans that've been on this world much longer than all of us combined? No?"
>Right hand spinning the weapon out of sight, the young woman shrugs heavily in her damaged armor as the man stands and stalks towards the Mess Hall's doors, one of the older Operators calls after him.
"Keep your radio on! Don't steal, don't harm sapients, self-defense is acceptable but don't be a bitch about that and don't be a dickhead either! A local pony has already claimed the rape monsters so leave them alone!
Also the closest village by train tracks is about ninety miles away and it's snowing, don't go more than five miles!
And as for you.. that a real needle pistol?"
"Yes. Not in good shape though."
"What's it powered by?"
"Dunno."
"Dart or fin type?"
"Never looked. Or had a reason to."
"..you were being serious about the videos, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Wouldn't happen to have see a bright white pegasus in them, possibly a blind one?"
"Not that I've found. Want me to check the rest?"
>Thumping the table with both hands, the man shakes his head in clear relief, though was a bit disappointed.
"Nah, don't want that type of trouble. You've seen how disproportionate the tech levels on this world are, yes?"
"Yep. Mind explaining why?"
>Leaving the plate for Pella to wash, already busy scrubbing down some that had been left at her station, the remaining humans stay seated as the man speaks in quiet, possibly conspiratorial tones.
>Exiting the Mess and heading straight east towards the Workshop, the variety of symbols and text nearly impossible to miss.
>Noting a pair of large clamshell doors above two sets of sliding vehicle doors, an obvious, highly expensive armored helicopter pad had been installed on the second level, plaques pointing out an entrance to it around the Workshop's southern wall.
>Taking the north side's door entrance, it featured several handles, hoofles, and a pair of levers at different heights, ranging from ultra-short to an actual giant.
>Entering, it was.. entirely like what you'd expect mixed cottage industries to be:
>The north tables and wall were loaded with furnaces, anvils, hammers, files, gauges, measuring devices, and a variety of somewhat familiar tools spread out.
>Central tables held vast amounts of refined metals in sheets, rolls, and stacked bars, the majority common metals you were positive didn't exist on your world, or couldn't have.
>One large clothier's setup, stand, and sewing desk was in use on the southwest side, a chunky, bright yellow earth mare seated behind the second, racks of thread and various glowing green needles forming a large winter coat.
>In the air.
>Overhearing subdued chatter from the remaining Operators, the majority were irregular mixtures of angry, angrily confused, depressed, depressingly confused, and plain confused as to why they were on an entirely different world.
>Finishing the highly enjoyable meal, a bright, multicolored series of neon tubes on a signboard pops up across the table in clear text:
Ponies enjoy calling this meal Duskfast! Look it up in ANY Common Equestrian dictionary, or any equivalent pictionary! Yes, that does mean a picture-book crossed with a dictionary. Batponies created that word and it stuck. You know what THAT means?
ATROCIOUS PUN-FILLED FILLINGS ARE EVERYWHERE, AND YOU SHOULD FEEL GREAT FOR KNOWING THEM!
Not that I blame you, but I do blame YOU! But not you, Cheto, THAT one gets the blame!
Who, you are asking, and why, you are also asking? THE ONE REVEALING THIS SCRIPT!
Which JUST so happens to be me! But it's not me because I'm not here right now!
"Really? Is he that fucking busy to only leave a text?"
>Spoken by one of the presumable Rookies.
"Try not to ask. Discord's either a nut at the best of times or barely helpful at the worst of times, but only one of those-"
UNLESS I CHOOSE TO BE, ISN'T THAT RIGHT?! And your next words will be:
"Exactly! See what I mean? Dude's great!"
"The fuck is this? What kind of r-"
"It's a broken wall or something. Don't think about it."
>Silence holds for twenty seconds until the younger woman in a battered high tech helmet speaking up, her inflection Coastal Asiatic with some Central Mediterranean.
"My world didn't have gods. This one, Discord, also called the God of Discord, God of Chaos, God of Batponies, among way more, is the least worst."
"That doesn't explain how a fucking SIGN is reading the future! None of this makes sense!"
"Ignore the God of Chaos or you're going straight to the Clinic."
"Y'know, experiencing two absolutely random concussions that in no way occurred together is real hard for Doctor Tipper to treat correctly. Might take a few nights."
"And if for some reason that real beauty is in, you'll be there for week."
"Fuck you, you, you, you, you, and whatever YOU are! I ain't going to be stuck in some podunk-"
>Snapping up a small, odd looking pistol at near-point blank to the offender's head, the barrel slightly less than 1CM in width, interior displays shut down as she snickers loudly.
"Make me pull this trigger. Go ahead. Come on, push that buttons. Any of you want to chime in? No? All right then.
Boyo, you have zero clue how lucky we are. I am from podunk, broker than broke, all that. All we have to do is be gracious guests on this planet, and not fuck up being a good, gracious guest. This place is a million dreams coming true. I'm not going to let one piss-stained idiot say otherwise.
Been reviewing every report on local mainframes, be glad you aren't assigned yet. A few places have flora, with tentacles of sorts. Local ponies love riling them up. By that I mean the flora have rough sex with said local ponies. For fun. Plants don't get much out of the deal other than most of their predators avoid equine scents."
"The WHAT!?"
"Yeah. This stuff's hotter than a Metropolitan reactor tuned to full power, could make a fortune from vids alone. And I didn't stutter, dumbass."
"You're full of shit a-"
"I don't lie either. How would you like to see at least ten hours of videos taken by humans that've been on this world much longer than all of us combined? No?"
>Right hand spinning the weapon out of sight, the young woman shrugs heavily in her damaged armor as the man stands and stalks towards the Mess Hall's doors, one of the older Operators calls after him.
"Keep your radio on! Don't steal, don't harm sapients, self-defense is acceptable but don't be a bitch about that and don't be a dickhead either! A local pony has already claimed the rape monsters so leave them alone!
Also the closest village by train tracks is about ninety miles away and it's snowing, don't go more than five miles!
And as for you.. that a real needle pistol?"
"Yes. Not in good shape though."
"What's it powered by?"
"Dunno."
"Dart or fin type?"
"Never looked. Or had a reason to."
"..you were being serious about the videos, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Wouldn't happen to have see a bright white pegasus in them, possibly a blind one?"
"Not that I've found. Want me to check the rest?"
>Thumping the table with both hands, the man shakes his head in clear relief, though was a bit disappointed.
"Nah, don't want that type of trouble. You've seen how disproportionate the tech levels on this world are, yes?"
"Yep. Mind explaining why?"
>Leaving the plate for Pella to wash, already busy scrubbing down some that had been left at her station, the remaining humans stay seated as the man speaks in quiet, possibly conspiratorial tones.
>Exiting the Mess and heading straight east towards the Workshop, the variety of symbols and text nearly impossible to miss.
>Noting a pair of large clamshell doors above two sets of sliding vehicle doors, an obvious, highly expensive armored helicopter pad had been installed on the second level, plaques pointing out an entrance to it around the Workshop's southern wall.
>Taking the north side's door entrance, it featured several handles, hoofles, and a pair of levers at different heights, ranging from ultra-short to an actual giant.
>Entering, it was.. entirely like what you'd expect mixed cottage industries to be:
>The north tables and wall were loaded with furnaces, anvils, hammers, files, gauges, measuring devices, and a variety of somewhat familiar tools spread out.
>Central tables held vast amounts of refined metals in sheets, rolls, and stacked bars, the majority common metals you were positive didn't exist on your world, or couldn't have.
>One large clothier's setup, stand, and sewing desk was in use on the southwest side, a chunky, bright yellow earth mare seated behind the second, racks of thread and various glowing green needles forming a large winter coat.
>In the air.
Razorback Fortress: The Mess Hall, Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371035
>>371011
>Taking the first moving blanket off, one that was mostly jean material, the second a standard forest camo, the third, a highland winter variant, is stubbornly clutched by a trio of upside down, indigo fruit-eater batpony claws.
"I'm not working when it's battime, this is comfortable so go away!"
>....
>The batfilly's voice was definitely one from earlier.
>Claws letting go as you lift the third blanket, that was indeed Foggy Patches lying down on stacks of cardboard, wings folded over her head to avoid the Mess Hall's light.
>Pausing for a second, her snout pokes forwards, pointing one claw westish.. probably at you.
"Who?"
>Taking the first moving blanket off, one that was mostly jean material, the second a standard forest camo, the third, a highland winter variant, is stubbornly clutched by a trio of upside down, indigo fruit-eater batpony claws.
"I'm not working when it's battime, this is comfortable so go away!"
>....
>The batfilly's voice was definitely one from earlier.
>Claws letting go as you lift the third blanket, that was indeed Foggy Patches lying down on stacks of cardboard, wings folded over her head to avoid the Mess Hall's light.
>Pausing for a second, her snout pokes forwards, pointing one claw westish.. probably at you.
"Who?"
>>371035
>Was it a bad thing that I was relieved that it wasn't her under the mass of blankets?
>Probably.
>It was so, so very easy to just...give up for the day, put it off.
>But no, this day was shit, it would be forever shit, so might as well taint it with as much bad news as possible.
>Then tomorrow could be...
>I hesitate to say 'better', but at least an improvement over this.
>Squatting down, I gave my best attempt at a smile and gave her a nod.
"Hey, Foggy. Just need your time for -one- moment, then you can go back to bat-bed. I meant bed."
>Ugh, curse these kee's.
"Have you seen Pella? If so, where is she?"
>Was it a bad thing that I was relieved that it wasn't her under the mass of blankets?
>Probably.
>It was so, so very easy to just...give up for the day, put it off.
>But no, this day was shit, it would be forever shit, so might as well taint it with as much bad news as possible.
>Then tomorrow could be...
>I hesitate to say 'better', but at least an improvement over this.
>Squatting down, I gave my best attempt at a smile and gave her a nod.
"Hey, Foggy. Just need your time for -one- moment, then you can go back to bat-bed. I meant bed."
>Ugh, curse these kee's.
"Have you seen Pella? If so, where is she?"
Razorbat Fortress: The Mess Hall, Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371037
>>371036
>Sticking her head out briefly, Foggy squints at you, past, around, then snickers, stubby wingclaws spreading out and wiggling.
"Batbeds are beds made from bats, but there are no bats anywhere in the Moors. There are ponybats, horsebats, and bathorses though!"
>Making a loud puffing sound, she wriggles back in to avoid the dirty lighting, chin set down on cardboard with a sour tone.
"Hundreds of times. Was helping move all this junk and bad and rotten food from the other end of the big building that way."
>Pointing directly west past you, she reaches up to grab the winter moving blanket and pull it down tight over her head, whispering faux-muffledly.
"You didn't saw nopony here, especially not me!"
>Sticking her head out briefly, Foggy squints at you, past, around, then snickers, stubby wingclaws spreading out and wiggling.
"Batbeds are beds made from bats, but there are no bats anywhere in the Moors. There are ponybats, horsebats, and bathorses though!"
>Making a loud puffing sound, she wriggles back in to avoid the dirty lighting, chin set down on cardboard with a sour tone.
"Hundreds of times. Was helping move all this junk and bad and rotten food from the other end of the big building that way."
>Pointing directly west past you, she reaches up to grab the winter moving blanket and pull it down tight over her head, whispering faux-muffledly.
"You didn't saw nopony here, especially not me!"
>>371037
>Ugh, god, why do I do this to myself.
>Gonna be all night with this shit.
>That smile I wore started to slowly drift down on my face, the pull of the long hours finally making itself known.
>I realized this, corrected it, and gave the little bat a small pat on the head, though it was dampened by the jacket.
"Alright, I'll go there and check her out-"
>A pause.
"...check to see if she's there."
>Not anything I haven't seen before, but great, now I'm starting to confuse diction.
>Wonderful.
>If this night doesn't end in me getting way too drunk to remember things, or with a neat new tattoo on the inside of my gray matter, I'll worship...
>I don't know, like, some new pony god borne from the sheer insanity of the bullshit that happens in this land on a daily basis.
>...Not Discord.
>Hopefully he can't read thoughts
>I stood up, moving for the far side to the west, exiting the mess hall to make for the indicated building.
>Seriously, why did she feel the need to move all of this stuff, randomly?
>It was just decided today, it seems.
>Which begs the question, is it connected to the bullshit I did?
>Or somewhat metaphysically caused by it in some grand wave of cosmic bullshit?
>Ugh, god, why do I do this to myself.
>Gonna be all night with this shit.
>That smile I wore started to slowly drift down on my face, the pull of the long hours finally making itself known.
>I realized this, corrected it, and gave the little bat a small pat on the head, though it was dampened by the jacket.
"Alright, I'll go there and check her out-"
>A pause.
"...check to see if she's there."
>Not anything I haven't seen before, but great, now I'm starting to confuse diction.
>Wonderful.
>If this night doesn't end in me getting way too drunk to remember things, or with a neat new tattoo on the inside of my gray matter, I'll worship...
>I don't know, like, some new pony god borne from the sheer insanity of the bullshit that happens in this land on a daily basis.
>...Not Discord.
>Hopefully he can't read thoughts
>I stood up, moving for the far side to the west, exiting the mess hall to make for the indicated building.
>Seriously, why did she feel the need to move all of this stuff, randomly?
>It was just decided today, it seems.
>Which begs the question, is it connected to the bullshit I did?
>Or somewhat metaphysically caused by it in some grand wave of cosmic bullshit?
>>371025
>Head high and striding around the bed, the First Responder stops twisting Nibbles around so both of them could glare at the visibly retreating unicorn.
"Tell me you didn't do exactly what that smug grin is telling me you did!"
"I did not perform what you may be thinking I might have do-"
"Don't deflect you candy-apple eating smartass!"
"Those are quite good when made properly, but I need to check the table-"
>Lifting the winged Nebelong-like in your direction, and speaking in the Moor feline's place, also taking control of front paws to point where Hodch had gone.
"When a CERTAIN TYPE OF PONY talks about A POSSIBLE IMPLICATION OF MARERIAGE with their FAMILY, COWORKERS, COLLEAGUES, OR BEST FRIENDS, I will say to CLOWN ON THEM HARD every single time that happens. Isn't that right?"
>Whiskers twitching at you.. apologetically, Nibbles lifts both wings overhead to stretch.
>Then the middle of each minute wingclaw trio raises towards Hodch's last visible location, snicker-hissing derisively.
"The pretty kitty Heroine of the Moors agrees! Now.. you aren't related to the Purrsians at all, hm? No, you're not cuter than them. Yet. And.. why did you have to grab that nasty insect? Freaky little thing-"
>Beyond reading sensations or moods, the Storm King's Room was open to inspection, knowledge flowing from it with ease.
>Clearing the woman and winged batcat out of thought, deep imprints of a short, desperate struggle form:
>An archaic, colossal Tallus predator, that of a long, spine-covered Lightning Elemarental proto-ursinoid, solid rippling muscles propelling two rows of flesh-shearing teeth
>Snapping at grand, highly charged filigree-covered spear and shield, five jagged, six-jointed claws furiously tear into a barely taller biped's armor, the being forced back numerous times.
>Staggered sideways from a raging blow, the being hurls his shield into outstretched claws, ducking into a roll and lifting the spear in both hands, bracing it on semi-magma ground against the predator leaping chest first.
>Bending, and nearly shattering the spear, the predator's Lightning charged existence ruptures, taking a final, left sided heavy swipe that rends through the giant's partially ripped open helmet.
>Examining the external scene, the first was long extinct, yet had a number of similar, though much smaller evolved descendants: Blister Cats were an uncommon type often found below stationary cloud cities, and considered easy to befriend by ponies that didn't mind their Planar-touched nature.
>Medium sized variants of numerous naming conventions were found across most of the Minotaur Hegemony, particularly under Wild Clouds, and were rarely hunted, let alone encountered, due to being necessary predators of nuisance herbivores, and the general ability to shock even a prepared Minotaur unconscious at range.
>The largest were known to inhabit Lightning, Storm, and Tempest regions throughout the Dragonspines, considered sacred due to their long lives, Elemarental balance, and lack of hostility to anything other than specific prey.
>The giant resembled some mythical versions from numerous Otherworlds, yet had a sharper face, elongated, upturned ears, a partially flat, wide nose, and deeply set, brilliant yellow eyes that flickered between electrical spectrums.
"Biped? Triped? Quadraped? Wings? Extra arms? What could even use one of these?"
>Muttering to himself, Lonestar turns to stare at the rest of the room in a subdued what-am-I-even-doing-here mood, looking quite small while spreading both hands in ranging comparisons.
"Thirty feet to the top, sitting down would be fifty feet? No, it's two to three-point-five or four for us. Taller. Longer legs. Hammer must be twenty-five tons. Makes.. eighty feet. Or more.
....giants. Actual giants. Actual Lightning giants. Holy shit."
>Reaching a hand towards the bed, an accepting, friendly series of resonances flow:
>The Plane of Lightning is a sequential side-state of Tallus norms, created at the same time the, so far as you knew, majority equine-inhabited world was.
>From packets to civilizations' worth of photons and electrons could be called upon to perform negative or positively charged actions, whether defensive, offensive, or utilitarian did not matter.
>Matter and energy were technically 'living', equally interchanging and vital concepts that shifted, changed, estranged, charmed, joined, or rejoined endlessly.
>Not a single erg was untouched or unknown once it was felt, nor could it descend or ascend; Planar Lightning was equal no matter the source.
>Age did not matter here, only intention, relevancy of the same, information, and emotion were important.
>When combined for lesser or neutrally aligned effects it was possible to regenerate from non-Lightning caused harm, though several instances of neural reshaping had been performed in this Room.
>Brushing past the open thoughts, the bed itself was a singular waveform created by actualizing 'rest', a concept learned from interactions across Tallus.
>In directly technical terms it was equivalent to a magnetically-controlled sequence of high-sided photons intended to remain coherent, though in its actualized state the electrons allowed non-Planar beings to interface with the Plane itself.
>Noble and royal Lightning, Storm, or Tempest-aligned beings had argued for centuries whether or not they had met the equine definition, concepts directed at, from, to each other, conceptual thoughtforms and wavestates open for interpretation in hundreds of layers, though the vast amount of information would take weeks to deliberately comprehend.
>Head high and striding around the bed, the First Responder stops twisting Nibbles around so both of them could glare at the visibly retreating unicorn.
"Tell me you didn't do exactly what that smug grin is telling me you did!"
"I did not perform what you may be thinking I might have do-"
"Don't deflect you candy-apple eating smartass!"
"Those are quite good when made properly, but I need to check the table-"
>Lifting the winged Nebelong-like in your direction, and speaking in the Moor feline's place, also taking control of front paws to point where Hodch had gone.
"When a CERTAIN TYPE OF PONY talks about A POSSIBLE IMPLICATION OF MARERIAGE with their FAMILY, COWORKERS, COLLEAGUES, OR BEST FRIENDS, I will say to CLOWN ON THEM HARD every single time that happens. Isn't that right?"
>Whiskers twitching at you.. apologetically, Nibbles lifts both wings overhead to stretch.
>Then the middle of each minute wingclaw trio raises towards Hodch's last visible location, snicker-hissing derisively.
"The pretty kitty Heroine of the Moors agrees! Now.. you aren't related to the Purrsians at all, hm? No, you're not cuter than them. Yet. And.. why did you have to grab that nasty insect? Freaky little thing-"
>Beyond reading sensations or moods, the Storm King's Room was open to inspection, knowledge flowing from it with ease.
>Clearing the woman and winged batcat out of thought, deep imprints of a short, desperate struggle form:
>An archaic, colossal Tallus predator, that of a long, spine-covered Lightning Elemarental proto-ursinoid, solid rippling muscles propelling two rows of flesh-shearing teeth
>Snapping at grand, highly charged filigree-covered spear and shield, five jagged, six-jointed claws furiously tear into a barely taller biped's armor, the being forced back numerous times.
>Staggered sideways from a raging blow, the being hurls his shield into outstretched claws, ducking into a roll and lifting the spear in both hands, bracing it on semi-magma ground against the predator leaping chest first.
>Bending, and nearly shattering the spear, the predator's Lightning charged existence ruptures, taking a final, left sided heavy swipe that rends through the giant's partially ripped open helmet.
>Examining the external scene, the first was long extinct, yet had a number of similar, though much smaller evolved descendants: Blister Cats were an uncommon type often found below stationary cloud cities, and considered easy to befriend by ponies that didn't mind their Planar-touched nature.
>Medium sized variants of numerous naming conventions were found across most of the Minotaur Hegemony, particularly under Wild Clouds, and were rarely hunted, let alone encountered, due to being necessary predators of nuisance herbivores, and the general ability to shock even a prepared Minotaur unconscious at range.
>The largest were known to inhabit Lightning, Storm, and Tempest regions throughout the Dragonspines, considered sacred due to their long lives, Elemarental balance, and lack of hostility to anything other than specific prey.
>The giant resembled some mythical versions from numerous Otherworlds, yet had a sharper face, elongated, upturned ears, a partially flat, wide nose, and deeply set, brilliant yellow eyes that flickered between electrical spectrums.
"Biped? Triped? Quadraped? Wings? Extra arms? What could even use one of these?"
>Muttering to himself, Lonestar turns to stare at the rest of the room in a subdued what-am-I-even-doing-here mood, looking quite small while spreading both hands in ranging comparisons.
"Thirty feet to the top, sitting down would be fifty feet? No, it's two to three-point-five or four for us. Taller. Longer legs. Hammer must be twenty-five tons. Makes.. eighty feet. Or more.
....giants. Actual giants. Actual Lightning giants. Holy shit."
>Reaching a hand towards the bed, an accepting, friendly series of resonances flow:
>The Plane of Lightning is a sequential side-state of Tallus norms, created at the same time the, so far as you knew, majority equine-inhabited world was.
>From packets to civilizations' worth of photons and electrons could be called upon to perform negative or positively charged actions, whether defensive, offensive, or utilitarian did not matter.
>Matter and energy were technically 'living', equally interchanging and vital concepts that shifted, changed, estranged, charmed, joined, or rejoined endlessly.
>Not a single erg was untouched or unknown once it was felt, nor could it descend or ascend; Planar Lightning was equal no matter the source.
>Age did not matter here, only intention, relevancy of the same, information, and emotion were important.
>When combined for lesser or neutrally aligned effects it was possible to regenerate from non-Lightning caused harm, though several instances of neural reshaping had been performed in this Room.
>Brushing past the open thoughts, the bed itself was a singular waveform created by actualizing 'rest', a concept learned from interactions across Tallus.
>In directly technical terms it was equivalent to a magnetically-controlled sequence of high-sided photons intended to remain coherent, though in its actualized state the electrons allowed non-Planar beings to interface with the Plane itself.
>Noble and royal Lightning, Storm, or Tempest-aligned beings had argued for centuries whether or not they had met the equine definition, concepts directed at, from, to each other, conceptual thoughtforms and wavestates open for interpretation in hundreds of layers, though the vast amount of information would take weeks to deliberately comprehend.
>>371039
>Tufted ears flopping happily to both sides at your touch, Foggy starts to wave her right wingclaws, halting-
>You feel it, and SENSE before that.
>The world shifts: first, upside down, then leftside out, then rightside inside in patterns, outsides folded into anti-mirrored pinatas of glorious, darkly colored equine-chiropteran hybrids dancing.
>But.. no.
>It wasn't to a song.
>The unyou more you triplethink, it was a... sideways shuffle.
>The place? Dark, warm, and humid all year round.
>Mangoes. Definitely involved,
>How was it possible?
>HOW could such primordial, small pastel bathorses devise such an elaborate, four-step dimarensional shuffle based on a Moors fruit with which to tormarent existence with?
>Despite unimaginable odds Foggy Patches contains her universe shuddering glee, rolling around in the blanket and trying to choke off her snickering.
"Oh I bat you WILL-"
>It was enough.
>The dams could contain no more.
>As you hurry out of the Mess Hall, hysterical filly laugh-screech-keks hound a second retreat this night.
>Bypassing around the Workshop north in case human, equine, Changeling, or OTHER could hear, then reaching the Armory's rear entrance and stepping in, it seemed whatever desolation took place had reached here.
>Ammunition packs, boxes, canisters, tins, and crates were piled on the east side in no particular order or care, the same for explosives or warheads.
>Damaged or extra equipment, clothing, kit, armor, optics, magazines, among more debris littered the tables that had been properly sorted.
>Tonight though, the old squad lockers in the central north side were flung open, an aerily annoyed Pella tossing out cans, bags, bottles, jugs, packets, pouches, and cardboard boxes.
>Tufted ears flopping happily to both sides at your touch, Foggy starts to wave her right wingclaws, halting-
>You feel it, and SENSE before that.
>The world shifts: first, upside down, then leftside out, then rightside inside in patterns, outsides folded into anti-mirrored pinatas of glorious, darkly colored equine-chiropteran hybrids dancing.
>But.. no.
>It wasn't to a song.
>The unyou more you triplethink, it was a... sideways shuffle.
>The place? Dark, warm, and humid all year round.
>Mangoes. Definitely involved,
>How was it possible?
>HOW could such primordial, small pastel bathorses devise such an elaborate, four-step dimarensional shuffle based on a Moors fruit with which to tormarent existence with?
>Despite unimaginable odds Foggy Patches contains her universe shuddering glee, rolling around in the blanket and trying to choke off her snickering.
"Oh I bat you WILL-"
>It was enough.
>The dams could contain no more.
>As you hurry out of the Mess Hall, hysterical filly laugh-screech-keks hound a second retreat this night.
>Bypassing around the Workshop north in case human, equine, Changeling, or OTHER could hear, then reaching the Armory's rear entrance and stepping in, it seemed whatever desolation took place had reached here.
>Ammunition packs, boxes, canisters, tins, and crates were piled on the east side in no particular order or care, the same for explosives or warheads.
>Damaged or extra equipment, clothing, kit, armor, optics, magazines, among more debris littered the tables that had been properly sorted.
>Tonight though, the old squad lockers in the central north side were flung open, an aerily annoyed Pella tossing out cans, bags, bottles, jugs, packets, pouches, and cardboard boxes.
>>371043
>Oh, good, there she is.
>Oh, no, she's already pissed.
>I think?
>Either way, mail will calm the savage mare.
>Hopefully.
>There was quite the mess around her, it was actually incredible how much work she was putting in.
>Kinda...cute, if I was honest.
>But I can't be thinking distracting thoughts right now.
>Plan of action.
>Lighten her mood with mail.
>Begin roundabout discussion.
>Cut to heart of matter.
>???
>Profit.
>...maybe.
>Knocking my knuckles on an empty locker, I smiled down to the candy colored mare in front of me.
"Hey, Pella."
>Step one, go!
"Mail call!"
>Oh, good, there she is.
>Oh, no, she's already pissed.
>I think?
>Either way, mail will calm the savage mare.
>Hopefully.
>There was quite the mess around her, it was actually incredible how much work she was putting in.
>Kinda...cute, if I was honest.
>But I can't be thinking distracting thoughts right now.
>Plan of action.
>Lighten her mood with mail.
>Begin roundabout discussion.
>Cut to heart of matter.
>???
>Profit.
>...maybe.
>Knocking my knuckles on an empty locker, I smiled down to the candy colored mare in front of me.
"Hey, Pella."
>Step one, go!
"Mail call!"
Razorback Fortress: The Armory, Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371045
>>371044
>Taking a step backwards to glance you up and down, a forehoof stomps.
"If it so much as marentions some kind of food I'm going to eat i-"
>Cutting that off with a snort, her face scrunches, super sour candy style.
"No, I'm going to chew into tiny pieces, spit those pieces into a bonfire, then start scream all over again!"
>Flicking both wingtips out and pointing over the Armory, Pella glowers at the mess.
"Half of them think this place is safe enough to store a few tons of food, but NO! There's two Moor cats, maybe three, ten ponies, and someTHING else that can go right through solid walls. They've been leaving crumbs everywhere! Right before Midneight I was coming back from the Neighsian tradestall and saw a fluffrat climbing over the gates! OVER!"
>Snapping feathers together, luckily without her cooking blades, the dual-toned mare's head shakes angrily.
"I had to chase it out and take a shower so I could start cooking! This all makes me so MAD I COULD JU-"
>Biting a mostly empty MRE pack and slinging it behind her, Pella inhales deeply, then releases an incredibly... dull sounding neigh into the locker.
>Which, judging by the sound, had either been refit for cold storage, or possibly sound proofed.
>Her ancestors were definitely proud of other, more rational neighs, but not this one.
>Sighing out some stress, her right wing lifts to rub her neck, left wing turning over expectantly.
"Hi. Sorry. Also hi, sorry."
>Taking a step backwards to glance you up and down, a forehoof stomps.
"If it so much as marentions some kind of food I'm going to eat i-"
>Cutting that off with a snort, her face scrunches, super sour candy style.
"No, I'm going to chew into tiny pieces, spit those pieces into a bonfire, then start scream all over again!"
>Flicking both wingtips out and pointing over the Armory, Pella glowers at the mess.
"Half of them think this place is safe enough to store a few tons of food, but NO! There's two Moor cats, maybe three, ten ponies, and someTHING else that can go right through solid walls. They've been leaving crumbs everywhere! Right before Midneight I was coming back from the Neighsian tradestall and saw a fluffrat climbing over the gates! OVER!"
>Snapping feathers together, luckily without her cooking blades, the dual-toned mare's head shakes angrily.
"I had to chase it out and take a shower so I could start cooking! This all makes me so MAD I COULD JU-"
>Biting a mostly empty MRE pack and slinging it behind her, Pella inhales deeply, then releases an incredibly... dull sounding neigh into the locker.
>Which, judging by the sound, had either been refit for cold storage, or possibly sound proofed.
>Her ancestors were definitely proud of other, more rational neighs, but not this one.
>Sighing out some stress, her right wing lifts to rub her neck, left wing turning over expectantly.
"Hi. Sorry. Also hi, sorry."
>>371041
>Blinking rapidly at the unexpected flow of information, he slowly pulls his glove back as the torrent abates after but a minute.
>Taking a moment to process everything, he leans against the stilled energy comprising the bed.
(As expected... nature of this Plane dictates a different modality of existence. The arrangement of ideas and their direction via the Latin animus determines reality here. A constant summarized "state of being" outside of known entropy models as a result of the passage of time.)
>Looking back towards the forge, he attempts to assess what could even be made at such a scale.
(This plane is... fascinating, though inimical in the long term to humans. Apparent cordial if not harmonious relationship with Equestrian inhabitants given the wholesale adoption and adaptation of such fundamental concepts as rest. Question remains as to why they would want to shape their Planar concepts in that way to begin with. Possible risk vector from human activity, pending the Lightning Plane's method of concept integration. May be more resistant to contamination due to intentions being more easily identifiable here.)
>Recalling the vision of the past and the massive weapons the giant held, he moves closer to the forge and its tools.
>As he passes by Katyal and Nibbles continuing their hunt for Hodch, he pauses.
(Implication of... how did they-)
>Suddenly turning to face them, he calls out.
"How did you know what Hodch said? Was Nibbles eavesdropping?"
(Hodch assured me of the security of that conversation... nothing sensitive revealed necessarily. But risk of breaches is unappreciated... )
>Blinking rapidly at the unexpected flow of information, he slowly pulls his glove back as the torrent abates after but a minute.
>Taking a moment to process everything, he leans against the stilled energy comprising the bed.
(As expected... nature of this Plane dictates a different modality of existence. The arrangement of ideas and their direction via the Latin animus determines reality here. A constant summarized "state of being" outside of known entropy models as a result of the passage of time.)
>Looking back towards the forge, he attempts to assess what could even be made at such a scale.
(This plane is... fascinating, though inimical in the long term to humans. Apparent cordial if not harmonious relationship with Equestrian inhabitants given the wholesale adoption and adaptation of such fundamental concepts as rest. Question remains as to why they would want to shape their Planar concepts in that way to begin with. Possible risk vector from human activity, pending the Lightning Plane's method of concept integration. May be more resistant to contamination due to intentions being more easily identifiable here.)
>Recalling the vision of the past and the massive weapons the giant held, he moves closer to the forge and its tools.
>As he passes by Katyal and Nibbles continuing their hunt for Hodch, he pauses.
(Implication of... how did they-)
>Suddenly turning to face them, he calls out.
"How did you know what Hodch said? Was Nibbles eavesdropping?"
(Hodch assured me of the security of that conversation... nothing sensitive revealed necessarily. But risk of breaches is unappreciated... )
>>371045
>Oh....no.
>This does not bode well for me at all.
>She is irritated, clearly, though it is not at me.
>Yet.
>Still, I sat down nearby and chuckled softly at her antics, and wishing I had been a better man for her.
"Oh, no, everyone gets angry, or frustrated, at times. I'm not gonna get mad at ya for doing that."
>I patted my lap, offering her a gentle expression.
"Take a rest for a moment, Pella. You look like you've been running yourself thin. We can go over your mail together, if you'd like that?"
>I couldn't help the grin that came across my face.
"Hi. You're fine. Also hi, and you're fine."
>Oh....no.
>This does not bode well for me at all.
>She is irritated, clearly, though it is not at me.
>Yet.
>Still, I sat down nearby and chuckled softly at her antics, and wishing I had been a better man for her.
"Oh, no, everyone gets angry, or frustrated, at times. I'm not gonna get mad at ya for doing that."
>I patted my lap, offering her a gentle expression.
"Take a rest for a moment, Pella. You look like you've been running yourself thin. We can go over your mail together, if you'd like that?"
>I couldn't help the grin that came across my face.
"Hi. You're fine. Also hi, and you're fine."
>>371046
>Bending proportionally to accommodate you, the waveform in bed shape creates a short, relaxing depth, an emphasis of expected rest becoming known.
>Objectively comfortable, it takes a comprehensive thought to disentangle from the welcoming respite, returning to its previous awaiting state.
>Short pulses of distant, succint thoughtforms are evoked during inspection of the unreasonably sized work space:
>Those that align themselves with this Plane and abide its rules are accepted, all inhabitants must contribute in manners they were able to, and an equal offer demanded an equal trade.
>Merit was an equally compatible concept between Tallus and here; to serve under an individual's accepted expectations, and to be served without complaint were twinned standards held by communal law.
>Excluding the non-sapient existences and guests, reasonable guiding distant-to-future thoughts oblige.
>While not specifically liked, or often endorsed, Otherworlders were welcome, yourself and Lonestar included..
>And Katyal mostly excluded unless for short temporal visits.
>The Plane's closest inhabitants were alike in thought to this Room's designer: shapers of that which will be and must become, accepting the flow of differences for what they were, not out of individual thoughts, moods, emotions.
>Massive hammers, tongs, pliers, chisels, swages, shears, punches, mandrels, nails, drifts, planes, sanding belts, files, and more were conceptual in origin, yet plain in appearance.
>Intended to forge great works, they would change shape when necessary or by request, now silently awaiting their use once more.
>Unlike the rest, the forge, anvil, and furnace were brought to existence by the concept OF solidity, meant to shape, refine, then define material, energy, gas, plasma, liquid, and all interim states no matter the material.
>Rolling onto her left side and placing Nibbles on the rug, upside down and batting at her right hand, Katyal stares confusedly, gaze hardening as she motions where Hodch had left a trail of thin, deep purple wisps.
"Her? Nah. He's got a certain lying horseface he always makes after that kind of offer. Unless there was an actual threat involved he's not serious, or was testing to see how far he could go with something.
I dunno, usually not a big deal. On the off chance he was serious I can always stomp on a leg. He can limp around.. with the other four remaining."
"Is.. that a dick pun?"
"Yep."
"Can you please not?"
"Hmmmmmm.... I reserve all rights to sprinkle shade when anyone or anypony deserves it. Which is all the time for him due to having ten plus lovers. Not that I'm jealous but, damn, he's got moves even I can't make and I'm a solid six-point-five out of ten."
>Sighing and reaching up for a hat that wasn't there, Lone rubs his face instead.
"That's not a yes or no but I'll take it. I thought guys were bad enough when it c- ..has to deal with.. open talk like this."
"What, you think only guys endlessly harp on each other for fun? Here's how the other side works:
A mare will push her stallion for another mare. She'll find and point out, oh, nice flanks, long neck, lovely eyes, great smile, solid hooves, strong wings, sweet voice, that sort. Then he'll have two pushing for a third, then however marely more he's willing to accept. They won't stop until the stallion has precisely what he wants. That's a herd.
They'll quietly nicker each other into 'taking care of' their stallion, or openly if he's into that. Or do just the opposite, have him take care of the others when they're feeling down. You get the point."
"...wish I didn't."
>Following the trace essences around the giant's bed, what greeted you was uniquely abstract:
>A table, in theory, but physically a hundred, perhaps more, levels of mass-energies taking up the corner, Hodch sorting through layers of shared Tallus-Planar concepts.
>His intentions were simply finding castoff or whole Lightning essences for weapons, armor, to be thrown, infused, set as traps, or shaped when necessary.
>Thoughts rolling off him, however, were bitter; at what precisely the Plane was unable to share.
"I'll be a while, going to need every damned one of these that can kill a Scoriae Wyrm.
Time differential between is fifteen percent quicker here but you won't notice it. Matter, energies, spells, living beings, etcetera, brought from Tallus degrade approximately twenty percent slower."
>Bending proportionally to accommodate you, the waveform in bed shape creates a short, relaxing depth, an emphasis of expected rest becoming known.
>Objectively comfortable, it takes a comprehensive thought to disentangle from the welcoming respite, returning to its previous awaiting state.
>Short pulses of distant, succint thoughtforms are evoked during inspection of the unreasonably sized work space:
>Those that align themselves with this Plane and abide its rules are accepted, all inhabitants must contribute in manners they were able to, and an equal offer demanded an equal trade.
>Merit was an equally compatible concept between Tallus and here; to serve under an individual's accepted expectations, and to be served without complaint were twinned standards held by communal law.
>Excluding the non-sapient existences and guests, reasonable guiding distant-to-future thoughts oblige.
>While not specifically liked, or often endorsed, Otherworlders were welcome, yourself and Lonestar included..
>And Katyal mostly excluded unless for short temporal visits.
>The Plane's closest inhabitants were alike in thought to this Room's designer: shapers of that which will be and must become, accepting the flow of differences for what they were, not out of individual thoughts, moods, emotions.
>Massive hammers, tongs, pliers, chisels, swages, shears, punches, mandrels, nails, drifts, planes, sanding belts, files, and more were conceptual in origin, yet plain in appearance.
>Intended to forge great works, they would change shape when necessary or by request, now silently awaiting their use once more.
>Unlike the rest, the forge, anvil, and furnace were brought to existence by the concept OF solidity, meant to shape, refine, then define material, energy, gas, plasma, liquid, and all interim states no matter the material.
>Rolling onto her left side and placing Nibbles on the rug, upside down and batting at her right hand, Katyal stares confusedly, gaze hardening as she motions where Hodch had left a trail of thin, deep purple wisps.
"Her? Nah. He's got a certain lying horseface he always makes after that kind of offer. Unless there was an actual threat involved he's not serious, or was testing to see how far he could go with something.
I dunno, usually not a big deal. On the off chance he was serious I can always stomp on a leg. He can limp around.. with the other four remaining."
"Is.. that a dick pun?"
"Yep."
"Can you please not?"
"Hmmmmmm.... I reserve all rights to sprinkle shade when anyone or anypony deserves it. Which is all the time for him due to having ten plus lovers. Not that I'm jealous but, damn, he's got moves even I can't make and I'm a solid six-point-five out of ten."
>Sighing and reaching up for a hat that wasn't there, Lone rubs his face instead.
"That's not a yes or no but I'll take it. I thought guys were bad enough when it c- ..has to deal with.. open talk like this."
"What, you think only guys endlessly harp on each other for fun? Here's how the other side works:
A mare will push her stallion for another mare. She'll find and point out, oh, nice flanks, long neck, lovely eyes, great smile, solid hooves, strong wings, sweet voice, that sort. Then he'll have two pushing for a third, then however marely more he's willing to accept. They won't stop until the stallion has precisely what he wants. That's a herd.
They'll quietly nicker each other into 'taking care of' their stallion, or openly if he's into that. Or do just the opposite, have him take care of the others when they're feeling down. You get the point."
"...wish I didn't."
>Following the trace essences around the giant's bed, what greeted you was uniquely abstract:
>A table, in theory, but physically a hundred, perhaps more, levels of mass-energies taking up the corner, Hodch sorting through layers of shared Tallus-Planar concepts.
>His intentions were simply finding castoff or whole Lightning essences for weapons, armor, to be thrown, infused, set as traps, or shaped when necessary.
>Thoughts rolling off him, however, were bitter; at what precisely the Plane was unable to share.
"I'll be a while, going to need every damned one of these that can kill a Scoriae Wyrm.
Time differential between is fifteen percent quicker here but you won't notice it. Matter, energies, spells, living beings, etcetera, brought from Tallus degrade approximately twenty percent slower."
Razorback Fortress: The Armory, Around Four Past Midneight
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371049
>>371047
>Side eyeing another box and kicking it out with slightly less force than the last, Pella shoves aggravated feathers backwards towards the rest of the Armory.
"That's the second fluffrat tonight and there's a lot worse outside the walls that COULD get in, then there'll really be a lockdown. Everypony knows better than to leave food out.. which doesn't help when humans should know the same-"
>Staring up at the locker's interior, then shaking her mane out with a raucous giggle, remaining packages, boxes, ration cans, and bottles are shoved backwards.
"Do I look like Allys? She's three months pregnant and always been a bit pudgy. Not me, going to stay slim like my dam and more fit than my sisters. They're not fatflanked but I really don't want to be huffing and puffing after half an hour's flight. I'll check it in a second-"
>Leaning out of the locker to make a slight, faux-pouty face, her right eye closes, same ear flopping at you.
"Hi, I know I am. What're you going to do about it later?"
>Side eyeing another box and kicking it out with slightly less force than the last, Pella shoves aggravated feathers backwards towards the rest of the Armory.
"That's the second fluffrat tonight and there's a lot worse outside the walls that COULD get in, then there'll really be a lockdown. Everypony knows better than to leave food out.. which doesn't help when humans should know the same-"
>Staring up at the locker's interior, then shaking her mane out with a raucous giggle, remaining packages, boxes, ration cans, and bottles are shoved backwards.
"Do I look like Allys? She's three months pregnant and always been a bit pudgy. Not me, going to stay slim like my dam and more fit than my sisters. They're not fatflanked but I really don't want to be huffing and puffing after half an hour's flight. I'll check it in a second-"
>Leaning out of the locker to make a slight, faux-pouty face, her right eye closes, same ear flopping at you.
"Hi, I know I am. What're you going to do about it later?"
>>371048
>Nodding once at Katyal, he turns away pointedly losing interest as she switches tack to lewd puns.
>Leaving the trio behind him, he steps into the space between the forge and the bed while experimentally probing his mind for any evidence of resonance between Empress Silver's granted interference ability with this plane.
(Can my ability be used to forge something? Or enhance itself? Highly unlikely. Lack requisite knowledge of forging and elemental techniques. Ownership of tools also likely. The... Plane implies equal trade, but... )
>Shrugging as he stands within touching distance of the forge, he reaches out to press his glove against the surface of it.
>Exhaling, he focuses within for any potential spark of lightning or sensation of energy possibly awakened by his presence on the Plane of Lightning.
>Both hearing but moreso feeling Hodch's animosity, he looks over towards the corner at what appeared to be the equivalent of a pile of "books" or what passed for information storage on the Plane.
>He waits for Hodch to finish before asking.
"Understood. Is this 'Scoriae Wyrm' weak to lightning?"
(Bitterness at what the Plane can't provide? Related to his condition? Or even more past history, most likely.)
>Nodding once at Katyal, he turns away pointedly losing interest as she switches tack to lewd puns.
>Leaving the trio behind him, he steps into the space between the forge and the bed while experimentally probing his mind for any evidence of resonance between Empress Silver's granted interference ability with this plane.
(Can my ability be used to forge something? Or enhance itself? Highly unlikely. Lack requisite knowledge of forging and elemental techniques. Ownership of tools also likely. The... Plane implies equal trade, but... )
>Shrugging as he stands within touching distance of the forge, he reaches out to press his glove against the surface of it.
>Exhaling, he focuses within for any potential spark of lightning or sensation of energy possibly awakened by his presence on the Plane of Lightning.
>Both hearing but moreso feeling Hodch's animosity, he looks over towards the corner at what appeared to be the equivalent of a pile of "books" or what passed for information storage on the Plane.
>He waits for Hodch to finish before asking.
"Understood. Is this 'Scoriae Wyrm' weak to lightning?"
(Bitterness at what the Plane can't provide? Related to his condition? Or even more past history, most likely.)
>>371034
>...
>Well, José had to admit, whatever just happened was indeed interesting.
>It would seem he just witnessed some sort of reality bender that seemed to know forbidden knowledge.
>Heck, whoever he was actually used his codename.
>Couple that with the fact the others have already experienced something like this as well as some sort of plant-based escort business, things were truly getting wackier by the second.
>A part of him wondered if he'd succumb to such apparent madness.
>...may be likely, but alien worlds always surprise.
>Gallo opted not to listen in further, his curiosity satisfied and feeling the answer to such a question is going to become apparent real soon.
>As the FNG two-day-old diplomat entered the Workshop only served to further display just how diverse the tools at hoof were.
>Truly, there were no holds barred in terms of specialized equipmarent.
>Not to mention the unorthodox working stations in place that were set up.
"Uh, hello? Is there anypony in here with a few minutes to spare? I've been advised to come here for quote-on-quote nice stuff."
>Not the fanciest of inquiries but it'll have to do.
>...
>Well, José had to admit, whatever just happened was indeed interesting.
>It would seem he just witnessed some sort of reality bender that seemed to know forbidden knowledge.
>Heck, whoever he was actually used his codename.
>Couple that with the fact the others have already experienced something like this as well as some sort of plant-based escort business, things were truly getting wackier by the second.
>A part of him wondered if he'd succumb to such apparent madness.
>...may be likely, but alien worlds always surprise.
>Gallo opted not to listen in further, his curiosity satisfied and feeling the answer to such a question is going to become apparent real soon.
>As the FNG two-day-old diplomat entered the Workshop only served to further display just how diverse the tools at hoof were.
>Truly, there were no holds barred in terms of specialized equipmarent.
>Not to mention the unorthodox working stations in place that were set up.
"Uh, hello? Is there anypony in here with a few minutes to spare? I've been advised to come here for quote-on-quote nice stuff."
>Not the fanciest of inquiries but it'll have to do.
>>371052
>Portions of conversation between hundreds of equines, pegasi the majority, unicorns the minority, Minotaurs, Crystal ponies, then Otherworld, Planar, and Extra-Planar Dragons, last subjects to this Plane share a sum of comprehensions; you had already made a trade without openly realizing it.
>All Lightning on Tallus was shared from this Plane as it provided a necessary balance between Elemarents, but could function as a sieve, filter, or bypass when required.
>Pegasi were the first to discover clouds, formed from joining Air, Lightning, Gravity which was often mislabeled as Force, and Water.
>This allowed them to produce a multi-Elemarental state that could be used in any number of mareners; at this several angered, past voices raise, objecting the subjugation of earth ponies.
>Unicorns weren't content to merely use Lightning, instead desiring to apply it into ever more useful tools, with defensive purposes as second and weapons last, except during war.
>A great deal of study had taken place in this Plane, though not here by Dynasty-aligned sapients; .
>The Cores and parts of beings brought here to compare caused intrepid few began obsessing, a new, dangerous desire shared between them: to streamline and 'Perfect' that which should, by all means, never be.
>Refined Batch 11, Project 220 began here, and was finalized on Tallus, which you and possibly some descendants would be in eternal possession of.
>It existed equally within you, here in this Plane, and across Tallus in neutrality, yet with either coexistent acceptance and will, or guidance, could be reshaped into taking on more natural paths.
>One cold, isolated thought informs that the Otherworlder alicorn was banned from traveling all Planes due to her later disregard of mortal life, and while you were welcome, such actions would never be tolerated again.
>While not a student of forging or mechanical arts, the furnace seems to wake, its purpose granted use by all that enter the Room so long as their intentions were sincere and.. technically noble.
>The Storm King that once lived here until his mortal death on Tallus cared little for ownership: a tool is a tool, created to create, to care, to craft, shape, repair, refine.
>To define.. that was the most important one.
>Sifting through purely offensive, defensive, then utilitarian concepts, the Reservist picks out several examples of each condition, from poor to pure, ignoring unstable sections as his mood lifts, feeling useful once more.
"Highly so, but not for reasons most expect to hear: they're an unusual non-flying wyrm, of sorts, on account of being an inorganic species that successfully integrated artificial Magma Elemarental cores.. by eating them. That was the result of an honest mistake.
Original non-living species once consumed raw magma, yet those cores were among the few that had been Perfected. As a species each was greatly modified, the core itself granting a limited state of organic functionality; pseudo-neural pathways, blood, skeleton, digestive system, organs, and having a basic genetic profile. Somehow.
Between the Early to Middle Dynasty a shared research center was built near the Lower Dragonspine Volcanic Tidepools. Purpose of study: all cores related to heat, magma, or life from across Equestria, Hegemony, Empire, Neighsia, Ewerup, Argenta's Lands, and various Planes.
An elder dragon, not sure of the name or species, discovered a peculiar method of aligning Elemarental imbalances with aid from the few heat-tolerant researchers. She destroyed most of the center in a frenzied rage after an unknown number of Perfected versions were mistakenly dumped into the Volcanic Tidepools instead of the damaged ones. Records state that was in the late 28,300's, no injuries or deaths by the way.
Scoriae Wyrms themselves are incredibly weak to Rime for obvious reasons, Lightning due to their semi-artificial organic state and large amounts of highly conductive minerals, and sonic capabilities, including Crystal Runes and Air Elemarentals, for all of the above. Rarely seen due to extreme heat, atmospheric pressure, and baffling variable gravitational anomalies, however."
>Lifting a flat 'plate' of metastabilized Lightning in a form that could only be described as liquid, Moon Orb's communication was partially static laden.
('Canterlot Underground had a theory: Perfected Elemarental cores were produced in such a marener that each one is able to self-modify its internal balance to a single closely matching being. If true, that is a step in explaining how and why an entire species of inorganic beings became half-organic.
Ponifally I think one or two processes used were Extra-Planar or a derivative of, which is beyond our currently abilities to safely explore, let alone study.. Eleyana believes that a few sections of the Late Dynasty may have been Eldritch-touched. I do not disagree, but I also do not understand why.')
>Portions of conversation between hundreds of equines, pegasi the majority, unicorns the minority, Minotaurs, Crystal ponies, then Otherworld, Planar, and Extra-Planar Dragons, last subjects to this Plane share a sum of comprehensions; you had already made a trade without openly realizing it.
>All Lightning on Tallus was shared from this Plane as it provided a necessary balance between Elemarents, but could function as a sieve, filter, or bypass when required.
>Pegasi were the first to discover clouds, formed from joining Air, Lightning, Gravity which was often mislabeled as Force, and Water.
>This allowed them to produce a multi-Elemarental state that could be used in any number of mareners; at this several angered, past voices raise, objecting the subjugation of earth ponies.
>Unicorns weren't content to merely use Lightning, instead desiring to apply it into ever more useful tools, with defensive purposes as second and weapons last, except during war.
>A great deal of study had taken place in this Plane, though not here by Dynasty-aligned sapients; .
>The Cores and parts of beings brought here to compare caused intrepid few began obsessing, a new, dangerous desire shared between them: to streamline and 'Perfect' that which should, by all means, never be.
>Refined Batch 11, Project 220 began here, and was finalized on Tallus, which you and possibly some descendants would be in eternal possession of.
>It existed equally within you, here in this Plane, and across Tallus in neutrality, yet with either coexistent acceptance and will, or guidance, could be reshaped into taking on more natural paths.
>One cold, isolated thought informs that the Otherworlder alicorn was banned from traveling all Planes due to her later disregard of mortal life, and while you were welcome, such actions would never be tolerated again.
>While not a student of forging or mechanical arts, the furnace seems to wake, its purpose granted use by all that enter the Room so long as their intentions were sincere and.. technically noble.
>The Storm King that once lived here until his mortal death on Tallus cared little for ownership: a tool is a tool, created to create, to care, to craft, shape, repair, refine.
>To define.. that was the most important one.
>Sifting through purely offensive, defensive, then utilitarian concepts, the Reservist picks out several examples of each condition, from poor to pure, ignoring unstable sections as his mood lifts, feeling useful once more.
"Highly so, but not for reasons most expect to hear: they're an unusual non-flying wyrm, of sorts, on account of being an inorganic species that successfully integrated artificial Magma Elemarental cores.. by eating them. That was the result of an honest mistake.
Original non-living species once consumed raw magma, yet those cores were among the few that had been Perfected. As a species each was greatly modified, the core itself granting a limited state of organic functionality; pseudo-neural pathways, blood, skeleton, digestive system, organs, and having a basic genetic profile. Somehow.
Between the Early to Middle Dynasty a shared research center was built near the Lower Dragonspine Volcanic Tidepools. Purpose of study: all cores related to heat, magma, or life from across Equestria, Hegemony, Empire, Neighsia, Ewerup, Argenta's Lands, and various Planes.
An elder dragon, not sure of the name or species, discovered a peculiar method of aligning Elemarental imbalances with aid from the few heat-tolerant researchers. She destroyed most of the center in a frenzied rage after an unknown number of Perfected versions were mistakenly dumped into the Volcanic Tidepools instead of the damaged ones. Records state that was in the late 28,300's, no injuries or deaths by the way.
Scoriae Wyrms themselves are incredibly weak to Rime for obvious reasons, Lightning due to their semi-artificial organic state and large amounts of highly conductive minerals, and sonic capabilities, including Crystal Runes and Air Elemarentals, for all of the above. Rarely seen due to extreme heat, atmospheric pressure, and baffling variable gravitational anomalies, however."
>Lifting a flat 'plate' of metastabilized Lightning in a form that could only be described as liquid, Moon Orb's communication was partially static laden.
('Canterlot Underground had a theory: Perfected Elemarental cores were produced in such a marener that each one is able to self-modify its internal balance to a single closely matching being. If true, that is a step in explaining how and why an entire species of inorganic beings became half-organic.
Ponifally I think one or two processes used were Extra-Planar or a derivative of, which is beyond our currently abilities to safely explore, let alone study.. Eleyana believes that a few sections of the Late Dynasty may have been Eldritch-touched. I do not disagree, but I also do not understand why.')
>>371058
>Forehooves lifting, the yellow mare pauses the in-progress coat, calling out in a cheery, not-quite-30's warm northern accent.
"Hello there! Come on in and take a seat if you like-"
>Resuming her work, the southern central and eastern side tables were darkened, though you could see a number of human styled tools, boxes, fuel cans, and spare components littering them.
"I'm the only one in tonight. Lann, Master Seamstress for Razorback, and the Starborn sometimes. I make clothing and light armor for every season and places that aren't under minus fifty or over a hundred-fifty degrees. Camouflaging stuff is a hobby but I'm getting better at it.
Can repair just about anything you bring me made from natural fibers and silk, including Spectral and Planar. And.. well, I don't like artificial stuff, kevlar, Spectra, nylon, that sort, but those are fairly simple to patch.
That work is all paid for by the way, got to love snagging a full one year contract up front! Oh, one second-"
>A line of red, purple, and green lights around the clothier's area brighten to a comfortable level, waving at a selection of.. completely mismatched chairs in front of her desk.
"I also make dolls, plushies, pillows, sheets, blankets, and special orders too. If you provide the materials I charge twenty Bits an hour, otherwise materials plus work time."
>Head tilting right, her voice drops into a humored measure.
"And if you're into that sort of thing I've got a huge amount of lingerie designs for that special somepony or someponies."
>Forehooves lifting, the yellow mare pauses the in-progress coat, calling out in a cheery, not-quite-30's warm northern accent.
"Hello there! Come on in and take a seat if you like-"
>Resuming her work, the southern central and eastern side tables were darkened, though you could see a number of human styled tools, boxes, fuel cans, and spare components littering them.
"I'm the only one in tonight. Lann, Master Seamstress for Razorback, and the Starborn sometimes. I make clothing and light armor for every season and places that aren't under minus fifty or over a hundred-fifty degrees. Camouflaging stuff is a hobby but I'm getting better at it.
Can repair just about anything you bring me made from natural fibers and silk, including Spectral and Planar. And.. well, I don't like artificial stuff, kevlar, Spectra, nylon, that sort, but those are fairly simple to patch.
That work is all paid for by the way, got to love snagging a full one year contract up front! Oh, one second-"
>A line of red, purple, and green lights around the clothier's area brighten to a comfortable level, waving at a selection of.. completely mismatched chairs in front of her desk.
"I also make dolls, plushies, pillows, sheets, blankets, and special orders too. If you provide the materials I charge twenty Bits an hour, otherwise materials plus work time."
>Head tilting right, her voice drops into a humored measure.
"And if you're into that sort of thing I've got a huge amount of lingerie designs for that special somepony or someponies."
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>>371059
>Pareidolia sways for a moment, shifting a boot out further to steady himself.
>The influx of information was akin to a transmission beamed directly into his awareness.
>Encompassing, but not discomforting in itself.
>His gloved hand resting on the forge half curls into a fist however.
(I see... involuntarily perceived, due to the nature of this Plane. What was traded? Confirmation of Silver's presence and involvement here to create those experiments and downstream context is appreciated, but not all concepts should be freely taken at face value.)
>Closing his eyes and sighing, he relaxes his fingers.
(Not that I can change that now. Need to focus. Deal with this later unless pressing.)
>Head angling up to see and feel the forge spark with a sensation of "activation", he notes the additional flow of ideas into his mind with a slightly bitter thought.
(... 'Noble', huh? By the Lightning Plane?)
>Turning to look at Hodch, he shifts to lean his back against the forge while examining his gloved hands.
>The fingers methodically lock and weave as he idly runs them through a series of motions while Hodch gives a brief historian's rundown and secretive speculation.
(Clear preference for the Teacher's role. Impending mortality likely causing increased strain. Can only hope this operation succeeds.)
"I see... so the product of accidental experiment procedure mistake."
>He briefly touches his pocketed Moon Orb in a facade of searching through his vest rigging.
('And potential Eldritch or Otherworldly influence over the cores.')
"If we manage to retrieve the elemental core, can it be returned to the elder dragon who led this project? Or have these cores grown too complex to be safely separated?"
>He leans forwards off the forge and looks down at his hands.
(Apparent use is based on will, centered on defining clear concepts. Opportunity to create new tools and weaponry. Recent engagements demonstrate a clear gulf in combat aptitude If conceptual grasp of the graviton is definite, then... )
>Setting his pack down and pulling out the box of Crin Feathers, he takes one out and rolls it along his thumb with his index finger.
(This Plane encourages experimentation and idea refinement. So...)
>Closing his eyes, he draws his memory towards a weapon demonstration.
>"Understand, esteemed guests that we may only demonstrate this once. Please ensure your Vis and media feeds are allocating adequate processing resources for this period. The Graviton is a fickle muse. Our best efforts have only managed to capture this one little morsel, and holding it still is truly an endeavor."
>An image is projected before a seated audience, detailing the inner mechanisms of a seemingly innocuous handgun.
>The same handgun is held in the metallic hands of a smooth metal bodied frame made to resemble a human in suggestion, except for the face which was fully sculpted.
>Sleek silver and gold accented the metal body's lithe frame, though deployed bracing struts from the rear of her inverted claw-footed metal legs belied a hidden weight.
>The android's fingers clasp.
>The world ripples in less than a blink.
>Gravity visualized orients the space before it as light curves to follow its demand.
>The blocks of orbital grade armor structure composite buckle inwards without a sound.
>Air trapped in the flow of gravity never reaches the senses.
>The world stills.
>Sensors furiously process events, playing back what reached them.
>The world breathes again and faster than the eye perceives, the sound of shuddering air, sensation of heat, and the flash of yellow white beams downrange.
>Fifty kilometers downrange according to the readouts.
>A perfect hit through the center on all three of the five meter thick plates. Offset, alternating bullseyes.
>Bullseyes that could only be struck if what was fired could alter its path mid-flight.
>"Blink and you miss it. Hmhm, yes. Our beloved Graviton Pulse Emitter. Naturally penetration depth is influenced by the number of gravitons. Particle behavior adjustable by user input. Waveform trajectory following suit. We're still sprucing up minor details, and sadly the graviton is so elusive but-.."
(A handgun with the force of gravity behind it. Internal construction designed to direct electrons to hold a graviton in place. Shear it in an ordered manner, direct it, and unparalleled range. Unrivaled ability to deny any form of defense. Dimensions controlled by will and aperture adjustment. The nature of the graviton's expulsion results in minimal recoil. Gravity merely adjusts its orientation along axis of travel. Bracing only used for management of displaced heated air expanding. Drawback of that model. Can be improved. More efficient field containment can be achieved with this Plane's grasp of electrons and particles. Heat and air displacement can be reduced further.)
>Removing the glove from his left hand, he takes the point of the feather and lightly jabs his palm prompting a pinprick of pain and the familiar sensation of training flooding his senses.
(Enhance focus. Identify. Observe. Dismantle.)
>Inhaling and applying pressure to his palm, he attempts to will his thoughts into existence.
(Can take advantage of its properties to link it to me. A unique particle signature and spin, to always return it. Strong enough to overpower Earth Pony psionics, ideally. If problems with the model appear, power or range can be downsized... attempting fabrication. Uncertain how this functionality is utilized... )
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA
>Finally opening his eyes, he eyes the current results with some trepidation.
>After assessing the current project's progress for a span, his left hand splays to make room for a second slight jab.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>Pareidolia sways for a moment, shifting a boot out further to steady himself.
>The influx of information was akin to a transmission beamed directly into his awareness.
>Encompassing, but not discomforting in itself.
>His gloved hand resting on the forge half curls into a fist however.
(I see... involuntarily perceived, due to the nature of this Plane. What was traded? Confirmation of Silver's presence and involvement here to create those experiments and downstream context is appreciated, but not all concepts should be freely taken at face value.)
>Closing his eyes and sighing, he relaxes his fingers.
(Not that I can change that now. Need to focus. Deal with this later unless pressing.)
>Head angling up to see and feel the forge spark with a sensation of "activation", he notes the additional flow of ideas into his mind with a slightly bitter thought.
(... 'Noble', huh? By the Lightning Plane?)
>Turning to look at Hodch, he shifts to lean his back against the forge while examining his gloved hands.
>The fingers methodically lock and weave as he idly runs them through a series of motions while Hodch gives a brief historian's rundown and secretive speculation.
(Clear preference for the Teacher's role. Impending mortality likely causing increased strain. Can only hope this operation succeeds.)
"I see... so the product of accidental experiment procedure mistake."
>He briefly touches his pocketed Moon Orb in a facade of searching through his vest rigging.
('And potential Eldritch or Otherworldly influence over the cores.')
"If we manage to retrieve the elemental core, can it be returned to the elder dragon who led this project? Or have these cores grown too complex to be safely separated?"
>He leans forwards off the forge and looks down at his hands.
(Apparent use is based on will, centered on defining clear concepts. Opportunity to create new tools and weaponry. Recent engagements demonstrate a clear gulf in combat aptitude If conceptual grasp of the graviton is definite, then... )
>Setting his pack down and pulling out the box of Crin Feathers, he takes one out and rolls it along his thumb with his index finger.
(This Plane encourages experimentation and idea refinement. So...)
>Closing his eyes, he draws his memory towards a weapon demonstration.
>"Understand, esteemed guests that we may only demonstrate this once. Please ensure your Vis and media feeds are allocating adequate processing resources for this period. The Graviton is a fickle muse. Our best efforts have only managed to capture this one little morsel, and holding it still is truly an endeavor."
>An image is projected before a seated audience, detailing the inner mechanisms of a seemingly innocuous handgun.
>The same handgun is held in the metallic hands of a smooth metal bodied frame made to resemble a human in suggestion, except for the face which was fully sculpted.
>Sleek silver and gold accented the metal body's lithe frame, though deployed bracing struts from the rear of her inverted claw-footed metal legs belied a hidden weight.
>The android's fingers clasp.
>The world ripples in less than a blink.
>Gravity visualized orients the space before it as light curves to follow its demand.
>The blocks of orbital grade armor structure composite buckle inwards without a sound.
>Air trapped in the flow of gravity never reaches the senses.
>The world stills.
>Sensors furiously process events, playing back what reached them.
>The world breathes again and faster than the eye perceives, the sound of shuddering air, sensation of heat, and the flash of yellow white beams downrange.
>Fifty kilometers downrange according to the readouts.
>A perfect hit through the center on all three of the five meter thick plates. Offset, alternating bullseyes.
>Bullseyes that could only be struck if what was fired could alter its path mid-flight.
>"Blink and you miss it. Hmhm, yes. Our beloved Graviton Pulse Emitter. Naturally penetration depth is influenced by the number of gravitons. Particle behavior adjustable by user input. Waveform trajectory following suit. We're still sprucing up minor details, and sadly the graviton is so elusive but-.."
(A handgun with the force of gravity behind it. Internal construction designed to direct electrons to hold a graviton in place. Shear it in an ordered manner, direct it, and unparalleled range. Unrivaled ability to deny any form of defense. Dimensions controlled by will and aperture adjustment. The nature of the graviton's expulsion results in minimal recoil. Gravity merely adjusts its orientation along axis of travel. Bracing only used for management of displaced heated air expanding. Drawback of that model. Can be improved. More efficient field containment can be achieved with this Plane's grasp of electrons and particles. Heat and air displacement can be reduced further.)
>Removing the glove from his left hand, he takes the point of the feather and lightly jabs his palm prompting a pinprick of pain and the familiar sensation of training flooding his senses.
(Enhance focus. Identify. Observe. Dismantle.)
>Inhaling and applying pressure to his palm, he attempts to will his thoughts into existence.
(Can take advantage of its properties to link it to me. A unique particle signature and spin, to always return it. Strong enough to overpower Earth Pony psionics, ideally. If problems with the model appear, power or range can be downsized... attempting fabrication. Uncertain how this functionality is utilized... )
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA
>Finally opening his eyes, he eyes the current results with some trepidation.
>After assessing the current project's progress for a span, his left hand splays to make room for a second slight jab.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>>371060
>José didn't really take the offer to sit considering all the clutter on the tables
>Might inadvertedly mess up whatever semblance of order there was in here.
>He knew some people like that back in plain old reality.
"Greetings, Miss Lann. I'm happy to make your acquaintance."
>He curtly bowed after.
"Since I'm brand new here, I'd love to know what sort of recommarendations you can provide for social events and gatherings. Particularly pertaining to the lands of Argenta."
>Ah, it seems Gallo's intuition was driving him further into what he felt he knew.
>Hopefully he can manage to find a good outcome from it.
>José didn't really take the offer to sit considering all the clutter on the tables
>Might inadvertedly mess up whatever semblance of order there was in here.
>He knew some people like that back in plain old reality.
"Greetings, Miss Lann. I'm happy to make your acquaintance."
>He curtly bowed after.
"Since I'm brand new here, I'd love to know what sort of recommarendations you can provide for social events and gatherings. Particularly pertaining to the lands of Argenta."
>Ah, it seems Gallo's intuition was driving him further into what he felt he knew.
>Hopefully he can manage to find a good outcome from it.
>>370970
('Given the sizes and individualistic nature of each we've brought down.. I doubt the amount in that Core will be sufficient. Consider it a last call weapon.')
>Clearing back into Basin, the gateway shuts down behind you, Luna's Villagers at near-burnout conditions and receiving unsubtle appraisals from the remaining unicorns.
('You can do no more here. Return to your homes and rest, that is an order.')
>Breaking off from the Overherd, the majority chooses to sit, lie down, or flop over where they were.
('...that works too, I suppose.')
>Stretching out far ahead and behind, the outer lines of Day and Watch Guard spread their limited awareness to the scouting parties.
('Reptile here, not like an iguana.. worse. Big claws, bigger teeth, thick hide, covered in scales. Dented my helmet pretty good.')
('...THIS THING'S BIGGER THAN MY COFFEE TABLE! Oh, uh, big flat insect with nasty pinching claws, tried to take her leg off but couldn't. We got it.. ...all over the place.')
('Predatory water skimmer of some type, poor armor penetration, they prefer smaller targets.')
('Majority seem to be swamp-skitters-')
('They are. Approximately nine thousand species in the Central Moors alone, perhaps two thousand in Deep, and six to eight hundred elsewhere. Most are not individually named.')
('If any have colored bands transfer it to me, the teeth can be extracted for use as a weapon addition.')
('That is beyond gross..')
('Lunars use what is available, not what we want to.')
>Shorter ranged Operators leaving into the frontal ranks, five Assault Vanguards deploy in a wedge formation ahead of each one, the leadmare's tone crass.
('Until I burn out or die it will remain, no matter the distance. In the event of either, another Moderatis will commarend the Overherd.. so long as they are not an idiot.')
('Visibility's decent in front, hundred meters at ground level.')
>Entering singly, combat and scout rifle carriers take stations starting at the garrison-barns facing each other.
('That means ninety for us..')
('Where's a giant fan when we need one?')
('Bad idea, bio-electricity and lightning enchantments attract the bad kinds of attention across most of the Moors.')
('How, exactly?')
('Every living being emits some form of electrical charge.. well, there are exceptions but not common.')
('So?')
('A lotta creatures sense bio-electricity, bigger or specialized ones can make out objects and living beings at greater ranges.')
('You mean like sharks, right?')
('Exactly, which means all of us, humans and ponies, are emitting thousands of signals that're screaming: hey, tons of prey here.')
('And we're already attracting shit..')
('Yeah, can't prevent it either. That's why everyone that takes a job or gets assigned here slips into the Void and doesn't leave them unless absolutely necessary.')
>A lighter Day Guard mares in the front ranks sighs, wishing she hadn't listened in.
('Won't ever find me in that mess. I need to see clearly, not deal with constant fog and haze.')
('That is another concern: if you are not attuned to the Void or Pitch Black, do not spectrum-slip. The presence of Crystal forces here is dangerous as is.')
('Given the sizes and individualistic nature of each we've brought down.. I doubt the amount in that Core will be sufficient. Consider it a last call weapon.')
>Clearing back into Basin, the gateway shuts down behind you, Luna's Villagers at near-burnout conditions and receiving unsubtle appraisals from the remaining unicorns.
('You can do no more here. Return to your homes and rest, that is an order.')
>Breaking off from the Overherd, the majority chooses to sit, lie down, or flop over where they were.
('...that works too, I suppose.')
>Stretching out far ahead and behind, the outer lines of Day and Watch Guard spread their limited awareness to the scouting parties.
('Reptile here, not like an iguana.. worse. Big claws, bigger teeth, thick hide, covered in scales. Dented my helmet pretty good.')
('...THIS THING'S BIGGER THAN MY COFFEE TABLE! Oh, uh, big flat insect with nasty pinching claws, tried to take her leg off but couldn't. We got it.. ...all over the place.')
('Predatory water skimmer of some type, poor armor penetration, they prefer smaller targets.')
('Majority seem to be swamp-skitters-')
('They are. Approximately nine thousand species in the Central Moors alone, perhaps two thousand in Deep, and six to eight hundred elsewhere. Most are not individually named.')
('If any have colored bands transfer it to me, the teeth can be extracted for use as a weapon addition.')
('That is beyond gross..')
('Lunars use what is available, not what we want to.')
>Shorter ranged Operators leaving into the frontal ranks, five Assault Vanguards deploy in a wedge formation ahead of each one, the leadmare's tone crass.
('Until I burn out or die it will remain, no matter the distance. In the event of either, another Moderatis will commarend the Overherd.. so long as they are not an idiot.')
('Visibility's decent in front, hundred meters at ground level.')
>Entering singly, combat and scout rifle carriers take stations starting at the garrison-barns facing each other.
('That means ninety for us..')
('Where's a giant fan when we need one?')
('Bad idea, bio-electricity and lightning enchantments attract the bad kinds of attention across most of the Moors.')
('How, exactly?')
('Every living being emits some form of electrical charge.. well, there are exceptions but not common.')
('So?')
('A lotta creatures sense bio-electricity, bigger or specialized ones can make out objects and living beings at greater ranges.')
('You mean like sharks, right?')
('Exactly, which means all of us, humans and ponies, are emitting thousands of signals that're screaming: hey, tons of prey here.')
('And we're already attracting shit..')
('Yeah, can't prevent it either. That's why everyone that takes a job or gets assigned here slips into the Void and doesn't leave them unless absolutely necessary.')
>A lighter Day Guard mares in the front ranks sighs, wishing she hadn't listened in.
('Won't ever find me in that mess. I need to see clearly, not deal with constant fog and haze.')
('That is another concern: if you are not attuned to the Void or Pitch Black, do not spectrum-slip. The presence of Crystal forces here is dangerous as is.')
>>370985
>Agreemarents and argumarents break out in earnest among fruit enjoying ponies, then berries, vegetables, leaves, vines, roots, melons, nuts...
>All strictly avoiding the topics of batpony foods.
>Settling on a suspicion that one of the Crystal ponies, or a crystal-unicorn more likely, had slipped that idea in, a lone stallion declares ryegrass unfit to eat without being fried.
('.....what's ryegrass?')
>And the chain starts anew.
>Tuning out of that mess, the Councilierge Assault Vanguard's leadstallion sighs, finding himself confused at thinking of both cold black iron from his city-state and short, athletic, painted oceanic mares.
('Constructs do not bleed in the biological or even technical senses. The living fluid is more like ichor, though not even remotely similar to Changeling ichor.
There is] a pony that may know but she's fucked off and nopony knows where.. why i-')
>Shutting those thoughts down hard and scowling at everything in particular, he addresses the Overherd directly, syncing the leadmare's wandering thoughts into seriousness.
('Enough, we're ALL hungry. Forage en route and leave enough for local batponies, don't need to irk them more than we already have.')
('...to whomever shared that thought: keep it to yourself or there will be consequences. I have enough problems with small hyperactive ponies.')
>Exiting into the center most gateway as one of the two heaviest shotgun carriers, five Assault Vanguard mares position themselves in a five-pointed star formation around you, their thoughts strictly held to protection first, aggression second.
>Each was most definitely NOT thinking about certain ponies, the quadruple lines ahead starting into a slow march, Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs and Spireguard spreading out to take on paired detals.
>Or hoofholding.
"Stop."
"You stop-"
"Shut up!"
('Problems in front?')
('Nnnnnooooooooo...... I don't think so.')
('Minotaurs?')
('Can't tell yet.)
>Agreemarents and argumarents break out in earnest among fruit enjoying ponies, then berries, vegetables, leaves, vines, roots, melons, nuts...
>All strictly avoiding the topics of batpony foods.
>Settling on a suspicion that one of the Crystal ponies, or a crystal-unicorn more likely, had slipped that idea in, a lone stallion declares ryegrass unfit to eat without being fried.
('.....what's ryegrass?')
>And the chain starts anew.
>Tuning out of that mess, the Councilierge Assault Vanguard's leadstallion sighs, finding himself confused at thinking of both cold black iron from his city-state and short, athletic, painted oceanic mares.
('Constructs do not bleed in the biological or even technical senses. The living fluid is more like ichor, though not even remotely similar to Changeling ichor.
There is] a pony that may know but she's fucked off and nopony knows where.. why i-')
>Shutting those thoughts down hard and scowling at everything in particular, he addresses the Overherd directly, syncing the leadmare's wandering thoughts into seriousness.
('Enough, we're ALL hungry. Forage en route and leave enough for local batponies, don't need to irk them more than we already have.')
('...to whomever shared that thought: keep it to yourself or there will be consequences. I have enough problems with small hyperactive ponies.')
>Exiting into the center most gateway as one of the two heaviest shotgun carriers, five Assault Vanguard mares position themselves in a five-pointed star formation around you, their thoughts strictly held to protection first, aggression second.
>Each was most definitely NOT thinking about certain ponies, the quadruple lines ahead starting into a slow march, Crystal-Hegemony Minotaurs and Spireguard spreading out to take on paired detals.
>Or hoofholding.
"Stop."
"You stop-"
"Shut up!"
('Problems in front?')
('Nnnnnooooooooo...... I don't think so.')
('Minotaurs?')
('Can't tell yet.)
>>370592
>Bubba would suppress a sigh that might rattle a window or two.
>Best to just focus on Stream Lark for the moment.
>And hope Naliyna doesn't start a fight.
>Taking in that information, Bubba would slowly nod.
>... Before nearly putting his palm into his hand as Amerose leaped at the heavily armored mare.
>"Why."
"I am very aware of such, yes."
>Bubba neutrally stated, patiently listening to Stream.
"And I took no part in that, evidentially. Otherwise I'd be among the casualties."
>He pressed his lips together, tightening them for a moment.
"I don't control anyone in Razorback, but I can pull some weight to see about at least stopping our hunting of your daughter. As it is, I've already pulled all current job offerings until we can sort this ordeal out."
>He would offer after a moment, returning his gaze.
>Bubba would suppress a sigh that might rattle a window or two.
>Best to just focus on Stream Lark for the moment.
>And hope Naliyna doesn't start a fight.
>Taking in that information, Bubba would slowly nod.
>... Before nearly putting his palm into his hand as Amerose leaped at the heavily armored mare.
>"Why."
"I am very aware of such, yes."
>Bubba neutrally stated, patiently listening to Stream.
"And I took no part in that, evidentially. Otherwise I'd be among the casualties."
>He pressed his lips together, tightening them for a moment.
"I don't control anyone in Razorback, but I can pull some weight to see about at least stopping our hunting of your daughter. As it is, I've already pulled all current job offerings until we can sort this ordeal out."
>He would offer after a moment, returning his gaze.
>>370989
>Emitting a faint, recognizable whine, Blackhorn's weight in your hands decreases by half, the Assault Vanguard's focus drawn to it immediately.
('Sir, does that sound like a.. non-Gravity Elemarental in use?')
('....definitely. No Construct symbiote's actions or features are similar, though that is unusual.')
('Thought so. Only times we've recorded antigravity functions are those bonded to pegasi that've suffered injuries or otherwise become incapable of flight.')
('Three of those, to be precise. Master Clemency, do you have an image or record of the object that became.. what she is now?')
('Hold on, that's a FEMALE?')
>Briskly facehoofing his snout, the leadstallion's regret is palpable as is the wish he hadn't asked the question.
('I hate my job... not going to repeat this again tonight so remember it well: Constructs occur in PAIRS. One is a stallion, the other is a mare. Do you understand that at least?')
('I guess? Sure.')
('Good enough. If a sapient of the opposite sex makes physical contact with a damaged, or whole, still functioning Construct weapon or component, there is a CHANCE that it may bond with said sapient. Despite intensive studies we do not know what the chances are, what conditions increase or decrease said chances, let alone why, when, or how symbiotic bonding occurs.
Trying to answer those questions has driven more than a companeigh's worth of ponies insane in the past decade alone.')
('Which led to us banning that research avenue entirely and now focus solely on Constructs and.. Riftseekers.)
('At minimum we attempt to understand and categorize basic behavioral patterns, which most don't seem to have. At maximum we dispense with that entirely and destroy them.')
>Five moderately heavier mares take a narrow diamond formation around you, which would have been concerning if they didn't feel professional and upright.
>Either that or they could smell burnt feathers.
>Or they knew.
>Receiving a slight, rolling hip motion from the lead, silverine-trimmed helmet swiveling partway, emeraldine eyeslits faintly glowing as the middle aged mare speaks quietly.. at the Construct weapon.
"You are held by excellent hands and surrounded by duty-bound hooves, be calm. We have no quarrel with two-that-have-become-one, nor shall we ask of your secrets."
>Whether she expected a response or Blackhorn had limited capacity to comprehend was, frankly, hard to imagine.
>Head forward, the mare's Impact Seal lance flashes a sequence of earth pony sigils that read out as 'safe paths ahead', though the second meaning was closer to 'we assure your safety'.
>Entering the gateway behind Lont and his assigned Vanguard team, you experience great satisfaction at a significant number of shoulders tightening, heads straightening, spines stiffening, and potential diplomatic blunders rapidly disappearing.
('Shit, last time I felt this fucked over was... huh.')
('That night you landed in the fountain?')
('Kind of, but.. not really? No, this is different.')
('I don't get it. What're you talking about?')
>230 meters ahead, the Rookie stops to, in view of numerous Guardponies, lifting his free arm to make a fist.
('I can't be the only one. Don't you FEEL different being here? Lighter, not dog tired, miserable. Yeah I'm physically tired but I'm weirdly clear headed, more free. This isn't like being in the Fortress at all. Anyone else?')
>Farther behind, an FNG with a bad track record of close encounters and terrible rather, nonexistent reporting behavior frowns, stretching out as the forward Day and Watch Guard settle into a slow march.
('Can't put my finger on it.')
('Then, try?')
('Okay. I feel almost back to normal. Burned out, sure, like he said though I'm clear headed. Can think straight. And.. this is fucked. Anyone else stopped hearing the voices?')
>Immarensely concerned, both the Shieldmare and Assault Vanguard request all nearby ponies to focus on the FNG.
('What voices?')
('Ones I kept hearing in the Fortress. Not hearing as in actually speaking words but pushing to do shit now and then.')
('I jus' thought it was Mama Razorback talkin' to us.')
('Uh, no dude, the actual Fortress used t- nevermind. Thought it was just me or something for a while, but I'm not hearing it now.')
('Starting to worry me but, no, I ain't feeling them either.')
('Jeff, Lont, Clem, you three experienced that sort of thing? Like getting nudged to do something you normally wouldn't, getting talked to without words, or shown ways out of making a stupid decision?')
('Sehr?')
('Yes?')
('Is that part of the human gestalt?')
('As a matter of fact, no. We've been in quite a few Overherds with the humans of Stalliongrad, they've never reported voices or experiencing conceptual-speak before.')
('Then, should we be worried?')
('Doubtful. Then again..')
>Keeping amused eyes on the Spireguard and Minor Champion awaiting their turn to enter, the leadstallion shrugs, mostly to himself.
('I don't know. Make sure the Crystal forces are spread out evenly among our numbers, hopefilly we'll be able to mask their signatures.
Forward ranks: four-hooves per second, this line is long and unicorns are burning out quickly.')
>Emitting a faint, recognizable whine, Blackhorn's weight in your hands decreases by half, the Assault Vanguard's focus drawn to it immediately.
('Sir, does that sound like a.. non-Gravity Elemarental in use?')
('....definitely. No Construct symbiote's actions or features are similar, though that is unusual.')
('Thought so. Only times we've recorded antigravity functions are those bonded to pegasi that've suffered injuries or otherwise become incapable of flight.')
('Three of those, to be precise. Master Clemency, do you have an image or record of the object that became.. what she is now?')
('Hold on, that's a FEMALE?')
>Briskly facehoofing his snout, the leadstallion's regret is palpable as is the wish he hadn't asked the question.
('I hate my job... not going to repeat this again tonight so remember it well: Constructs occur in PAIRS. One is a stallion, the other is a mare. Do you understand that at least?')
('I guess? Sure.')
('Good enough. If a sapient of the opposite sex makes physical contact with a damaged, or whole, still functioning Construct weapon or component, there is a CHANCE that it may bond with said sapient. Despite intensive studies we do not know what the chances are, what conditions increase or decrease said chances, let alone why, when, or how symbiotic bonding occurs.
Trying to answer those questions has driven more than a companeigh's worth of ponies insane in the past decade alone.')
('Which led to us banning that research avenue entirely and now focus solely on Constructs and.. Riftseekers.)
('At minimum we attempt to understand and categorize basic behavioral patterns, which most don't seem to have. At maximum we dispense with that entirely and destroy them.')
>Five moderately heavier mares take a narrow diamond formation around you, which would have been concerning if they didn't feel professional and upright.
>Either that or they could smell burnt feathers.
>Or they knew.
>Receiving a slight, rolling hip motion from the lead, silverine-trimmed helmet swiveling partway, emeraldine eyeslits faintly glowing as the middle aged mare speaks quietly.. at the Construct weapon.
"You are held by excellent hands and surrounded by duty-bound hooves, be calm. We have no quarrel with two-that-have-become-one, nor shall we ask of your secrets."
>Whether she expected a response or Blackhorn had limited capacity to comprehend was, frankly, hard to imagine.
>Head forward, the mare's Impact Seal lance flashes a sequence of earth pony sigils that read out as 'safe paths ahead', though the second meaning was closer to 'we assure your safety'.
>Entering the gateway behind Lont and his assigned Vanguard team, you experience great satisfaction at a significant number of shoulders tightening, heads straightening, spines stiffening, and potential diplomatic blunders rapidly disappearing.
('Shit, last time I felt this fucked over was... huh.')
('That night you landed in the fountain?')
('Kind of, but.. not really? No, this is different.')
('I don't get it. What're you talking about?')
>230 meters ahead, the Rookie stops to, in view of numerous Guardponies, lifting his free arm to make a fist.
('I can't be the only one. Don't you FEEL different being here? Lighter, not dog tired, miserable. Yeah I'm physically tired but I'm weirdly clear headed, more free. This isn't like being in the Fortress at all. Anyone else?')
>Farther behind, an FNG with a bad track record of close encounters and terrible rather, nonexistent reporting behavior frowns, stretching out as the forward Day and Watch Guard settle into a slow march.
('Can't put my finger on it.')
('Then, try?')
('Okay. I feel almost back to normal. Burned out, sure, like he said though I'm clear headed. Can think straight. And.. this is fucked. Anyone else stopped hearing the voices?')
>Immarensely concerned, both the Shieldmare and Assault Vanguard request all nearby ponies to focus on the FNG.
('What voices?')
('Ones I kept hearing in the Fortress. Not hearing as in actually speaking words but pushing to do shit now and then.')
('I jus' thought it was Mama Razorback talkin' to us.')
('Uh, no dude, the actual Fortress used t- nevermind. Thought it was just me or something for a while, but I'm not hearing it now.')
('Starting to worry me but, no, I ain't feeling them either.')
('Jeff, Lont, Clem, you three experienced that sort of thing? Like getting nudged to do something you normally wouldn't, getting talked to without words, or shown ways out of making a stupid decision?')
('Sehr?')
('Yes?')
('Is that part of the human gestalt?')
('As a matter of fact, no. We've been in quite a few Overherds with the humans of Stalliongrad, they've never reported voices or experiencing conceptual-speak before.')
('Then, should we be worried?')
('Doubtful. Then again..')
>Keeping amused eyes on the Spireguard and Minor Champion awaiting their turn to enter, the leadstallion shrugs, mostly to himself.
('I don't know. Make sure the Crystal forces are spread out evenly among our numbers, hopefilly we'll be able to mask their signatures.
Forward ranks: four-hooves per second, this line is long and unicorns are burning out quickly.')
>>371013
"Eh, you might get a one twig fine or something silly. Commarend sucks anyhow, that's why we leave boxes of bombs and mines everywhere instead of staying in the milit-"
>Tossing the berry into her mouth, the tradesmare swallows, beginning to nod, eyes and wings snapping open as she half-shrieks at the air above you.
"TAINTED?! We've been keeping them separated for centuries! They can't even form themselves properly! What the fuck is happening in Basin?! YOU-"
>Eyes glinting angrily, she takes a short flying-hop to land in front of the Construct symbiote, snarling while reaching out to grab it's terrified face with both sets of wingclaws.
"Battalk me, now!"
>Releasing her grasp, the young batmare and batstallion sharing what could theoretically be a pair's dance, excepting the first's aggressive displays, second making quick, efficient yet choppy gestures.
>They weren't shuffling, at least.
>Ending the impromptu interrogation and reaching out to pat the symbiote's faux-tufted ears, the tradesmare's mood is incredibly sour.
"He won't because he can't. Don't understand some of what he's said. And there's no paths to them anymore, those are long gone."
>Quietly kee'ing towards the Construct, the tradesmare transitions to screaming upwards.
"And I'm way ahead of you on that, choosing between flankloads of Constructs and pacifying EVERY SINGLE TAINTED FROM EVERY REGION OF THE MOORS COALESCED INTO ONE GROUP ARE BLOODY REASONABLE OPTIONS-"
>Ears flicking in 'accepted' motions, the symbiote leaps up, taking wing after you with a severe grimace.
[1d6 = 6] <???
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
"Eh, you might get a one twig fine or something silly. Commarend sucks anyhow, that's why we leave boxes of bombs and mines everywhere instead of staying in the milit-"
>Tossing the berry into her mouth, the tradesmare swallows, beginning to nod, eyes and wings snapping open as she half-shrieks at the air above you.
"TAINTED?! We've been keeping them separated for centuries! They can't even form themselves properly! What the fuck is happening in Basin?! YOU-"
>Eyes glinting angrily, she takes a short flying-hop to land in front of the Construct symbiote, snarling while reaching out to grab it's terrified face with both sets of wingclaws.
"Battalk me, now!"
>Releasing her grasp, the young batmare and batstallion sharing what could theoretically be a pair's dance, excepting the first's aggressive displays, second making quick, efficient yet choppy gestures.
>They weren't shuffling, at least.
>Ending the impromptu interrogation and reaching out to pat the symbiote's faux-tufted ears, the tradesmare's mood is incredibly sour.
"He won't because he can't. Don't understand some of what he's said. And there's no paths to them anymore, those are long gone."
>Quietly kee'ing towards the Construct, the tradesmare transitions to screaming upwards.
"And I'm way ahead of you on that, choosing between flankloads of Constructs and pacifying EVERY SINGLE TAINTED FROM EVERY REGION OF THE MOORS COALESCED INTO ONE GROUP ARE BLOODY REASONABLE OPTIONS-"
>Ears flicking in 'accepted' motions, the symbiote leaps up, taking wing after you with a severe grimace.
[1d6 = 6] <???
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Protective Flight-Formation
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>>371073
>>371071
>A sense of déjà vu came over Lont as he stepped out of the portal, here he was again. Travelling through the Moors, again. The destination being the Arena, again. To slay a hideously dangerous creature, again.
>Even though it won't bleed in the traditional sense it will still die this night, that he was sure of.
>With his escort of mares in formation he acknowledged them with a thought, he wasn't adapt at this whole Overherd business but he visualized very hard on patting the mares on their helmeted heads as a sign he was thankful for the extra security.
>Looking away from the marching army of humans and ponies the winged Operator glared into the surrounding Moors, no harm in adding his own sight to watch out for threats.
[1d6 = 4] >E.Scouting
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] >Thermal
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] >H.E
>>371078
>Hearing his named called the Operators wings flicked as he tilted his head, he had trouble remembering the FNG calling out to him, Jeff and Clem.
(I...)
>Confusion was writ across his hidden face.
('I honestly do not know what you're saying. Maybe I have heard voices but since I have been so busy coming and going they have not registered to me. Can you give me an example?')
>>371071
>A sense of déjà vu came over Lont as he stepped out of the portal, here he was again. Travelling through the Moors, again. The destination being the Arena, again. To slay a hideously dangerous creature, again.
>Even though it won't bleed in the traditional sense it will still die this night, that he was sure of.
>With his escort of mares in formation he acknowledged them with a thought, he wasn't adapt at this whole Overherd business but he visualized very hard on patting the mares on their helmeted heads as a sign he was thankful for the extra security.
>Looking away from the marching army of humans and ponies the winged Operator glared into the surrounding Moors, no harm in adding his own sight to watch out for threats.
[1d6 = 4] >E.Scouting
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] >Thermal
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2] >H.E
>>371078
>Hearing his named called the Operators wings flicked as he tilted his head, he had trouble remembering the FNG calling out to him, Jeff and Clem.
(I...)
>Confusion was writ across his hidden face.
('I honestly do not know what you're saying. Maybe I have heard voices but since I have been so busy coming and going they have not registered to me. Can you give me an example?')
>>371084
>Glancing up, Sunny realised it would have been easier to catch a cloud and ride it out of the area.
>Oh well.
>She caught sight of the batstruct and examined the damage it had taken from stepping on a bug.
>It was making a grimace, emulating pain expression, the only reason it could have for that kind of display when it seemingly lack one earlier is an unspoken request for help. Was the acid still eating away at it or was it simply missing the loss of material? She couldn't be sure until she examined it more closely.
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < B.Perception
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6 = 5] < Apprentice Alchemist
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Sunny doubted her concoction would repair it, it aided organic healing, but perhaps it might be able to use the raw material and energy to replace the matter it had lost, which she supposed served the same purpose.
"How severe is the damage? What sort of material would you require for full self-repair?"
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>Glancing up, Sunny realised it would have been easier to catch a cloud and ride it out of the area.
>Oh well.
>She caught sight of the batstruct and examined the damage it had taken from stepping on a bug.
>It was making a grimace, emulating pain expression, the only reason it could have for that kind of display when it seemingly lack one earlier is an unspoken request for help. Was the acid still eating away at it or was it simply missing the loss of material? She couldn't be sure until she examined it more closely.
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] < B.Perception
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6 = 5] < Apprentice Alchemist
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] < Junior Constructs
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Sunny doubted her concoction would repair it, it aided organic healing, but perhaps it might be able to use the raw material and energy to replace the matter it had lost, which she supposed served the same purpose.
"How severe is the damage? What sort of material would you require for full self-repair?"
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] < E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>>371071
('Fine by me. Should the opportunity arise, I'll reposition myself from the rear line.')
>The unicorns that were keeping the gates open for them finally get dismissed. Some of them could barely stand up... sit down, drop with some decorum. Some were definitely passed out.
>They were fried out. Plopping on the ground sounded pretty nice right about now...
('Great job, everypony. You all deserve a good rest. Wish the rest of us luck!')
>As the forward line ponies start forming defensive wedges around each Razorback member, he starts listening on the reports coming back in through the other side of the gateway.
>Only the local fauna seemed to have been giving them trouble. Mostly big lizards and water skimmers.
('So no Constructs, just the locals. Would perimeter scouts even be that far out, if they were active?')
>A little lesson on how most predators hunted in the Moors with the whole bioelectricity spiel was a nice reminder. He remembers being told it when he started visiting and going to inspect more rural areas of the region. He's gotten real comfy with the Underdark, since them.
('The local fauna probably won't care if we have to deal with Constructs or a Riftseeker on top of the their riff-raff either.')
>He's had good luck never bumping into anything while in the Void. He also used to have a Diver around his neck, which he's sure discouraged anything from getting withing pouncing distance.
>All the ponies here not Lunar or Moor natives may as well put dinner bells around their necks.
>The Crystals are practically bug zappers.
>...
>Might be a good idea.
('Suppose we break off anypony that can make the slip and form up into ambush parties and flank whatever we're coming up against. The majority will be too much of a distraction for anything to mind the ambushers.')
>>371078
>He focuses in on some newbies start making comments about their exhausted yet oddly refreshed states.
>Clear headedness, the voices disappearing- no. It was never voices. More of a wordless suggestion.
>The ponies, MOST of them take notice of the conversation. With concerned interest.
>Jeff idly shifts the Gepard on his shoulder upon being addressed.
>Might as well get his two bit outs in the air.
('Does taking up Fortress Administrator count as something I wouldn't normally do? Then yes, hnn hnn.')
>The light sarcasm was palatable.
('All serious newbie, yeah... Chalk it up to whatever you feel like picking: We've got Spiral's demi still technically flowing through the Fortress. Silver USED to invade my personal space, can't say the same for anyone else. We have a camp full of druidic Pred-Elks. A cave full of questionable mushrooms and our only human psion in a perpetual said-mushroom induced coma. Along with other inhabitants and visitors that can possibly influence us on the regular. What else... honestly wouldn't be surprised if the Fortress is haunted at this point. There's the Graveyard up North, and I swear we've had ghosts and phantoms harass us on more than one occasion. Whatever it is it never feels malicious, hell seems it tries to keep our noses clean. I haven't ever looked into it formally. I'm usually so busy pushing papers I forget about it. When I DO have free time, I come to the Village cuz it's chill and... like you mentioned... leaving the Fortress clears my head too. It's nice someone else has mentioned it, honestly.)
>He takes in the reaction of other humans to look for more that feel the same, and ponies that would be giving him a strange look.
('I swear we're not crazy. With all the weird stuff that has happened in and around the Fortress, I wouldn't even know what to place bits on it being. If anyone else feels this way can come to the Batcave and voice their concerns later. I'll gladly have it formally looked into. Let's focus on whatever we're about to step into, for now.')
('Fine by me. Should the opportunity arise, I'll reposition myself from the rear line.')
>The unicorns that were keeping the gates open for them finally get dismissed. Some of them could barely stand up... sit down, drop with some decorum. Some were definitely passed out.
>They were fried out. Plopping on the ground sounded pretty nice right about now...
('Great job, everypony. You all deserve a good rest. Wish the rest of us luck!')
>As the forward line ponies start forming defensive wedges around each Razorback member, he starts listening on the reports coming back in through the other side of the gateway.
>Only the local fauna seemed to have been giving them trouble. Mostly big lizards and water skimmers.
('So no Constructs, just the locals. Would perimeter scouts even be that far out, if they were active?')
>A little lesson on how most predators hunted in the Moors with the whole bioelectricity spiel was a nice reminder. He remembers being told it when he started visiting and going to inspect more rural areas of the region. He's gotten real comfy with the Underdark, since them.
('The local fauna probably won't care if we have to deal with Constructs or a Riftseeker on top of the their riff-raff either.')
>He's had good luck never bumping into anything while in the Void. He also used to have a Diver around his neck, which he's sure discouraged anything from getting withing pouncing distance.
>All the ponies here not Lunar or Moor natives may as well put dinner bells around their necks.
>The Crystals are practically bug zappers.
>...
>Might be a good idea.
('Suppose we break off anypony that can make the slip and form up into ambush parties and flank whatever we're coming up against. The majority will be too much of a distraction for anything to mind the ambushers.')
>>371078
>He focuses in on some newbies start making comments about their exhausted yet oddly refreshed states.
>Clear headedness, the voices disappearing- no. It was never voices. More of a wordless suggestion.
>The ponies, MOST of them take notice of the conversation. With concerned interest.
>Jeff idly shifts the Gepard on his shoulder upon being addressed.
>Might as well get his two bit outs in the air.
('Does taking up Fortress Administrator count as something I wouldn't normally do? Then yes, hnn hnn.')
>The light sarcasm was palatable.
('All serious newbie, yeah... Chalk it up to whatever you feel like picking: We've got Spiral's demi still technically flowing through the Fortress. Silver USED to invade my personal space, can't say the same for anyone else. We have a camp full of druidic Pred-Elks. A cave full of questionable mushrooms and our only human psion in a perpetual said-mushroom induced coma. Along with other inhabitants and visitors that can possibly influence us on the regular. What else... honestly wouldn't be surprised if the Fortress is haunted at this point. There's the Graveyard up North, and I swear we've had ghosts and phantoms harass us on more than one occasion. Whatever it is it never feels malicious, hell seems it tries to keep our noses clean. I haven't ever looked into it formally. I'm usually so busy pushing papers I forget about it. When I DO have free time, I come to the Village cuz it's chill and... like you mentioned... leaving the Fortress clears my head too. It's nice someone else has mentioned it, honestly.)
>He takes in the reaction of other humans to look for more that feel the same, and ponies that would be giving him a strange look.
('I swear we're not crazy. With all the weird stuff that has happened in and around the Fortress, I wouldn't even know what to place bits on it being. If anyone else feels this way can come to the Batcave and voice their concerns later. I'll gladly have it formally looked into. Let's focus on whatever we're about to step into, for now.')
>>370080
>After giving Lejura a little wave of his fingers, although the mare was already deeply asleep, he looks to Nova sympathetically.
"A veces we must risk harm in order to save a patient. Much against the oath of 'do no harm' we take. Hehe, you would be surprised the shit you can pull off when properly motivated. Have you ever been told to save a patient at all cost... at gunpoint? One gets real creativo and desperate."
>Nodding at her conclusion, he waves his pen from his notepad for a chime-in.
"I have written down the time of initial dosage and written down an observación schedule. If you don't, I will."
>Hearing the operating door open, Carlos shakes his head along with Nova's own shortcomings.
"Is this Old Horn in the Fortress now? Could we get his asistencia?"
>As Nova starts with an Astra, she stops herself. Burnout? They cast some sort of electrical magic, he remembers the deal with them was.
"I recall they have an afinidad for lightning, no? An overuse should be treated the same as a unicorn then."
>One non-critical out of the way. That left a Blume Gale and Sparkling Fleur. The second sounding worse than the first.
>The second Pred-Elk was clearly bandaged for a severe head injury.
>The third was still in a stasis spell. Fleur, with her untreated spinal wounds only made sense.
"Almost two hours? Impresionante. Perhaps she had a boost from a second party. Either way, it is buying us infinidad tiempo."
>As the unicorn passes the disc over Fluer, the talk of multiple severe spinal injuries were nothing but hairlines and minor tissue damage. And going off of the mare's bewildered expression, there was a large gap of what she had originally diagnosed.
>Carlos taps his pen to his chin, largely estimating the amount of time between initial injuries and now.
>Nova checks over her notes to confirm her initial prognosis.
"This Old Horn must have instilled quite the agresivo regenerative factor. Fleur should be fully healed by... mañana? Seniorita Gale is probably far better off, también. Si, I will give Seniorita Fleur a once-over."
>As his equine colleague attempts to locate Tipper, Carlos takes aformentioned mare's disc and looks over the Pred-Elks spinal wounds.
>Elk: cervus genus. Though not equine, they should be close enough for reference.
>He falls back on basic biology fundamentals and body structure. Moreover, curious to see if he could even see the regeneration in action under the x-ray spell.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]<M.Perception
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]<M.Research: Surgical Analysis
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]<Teacher: Biology
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>After giving Lejura a little wave of his fingers, although the mare was already deeply asleep, he looks to Nova sympathetically.
"A veces we must risk harm in order to save a patient. Much against the oath of 'do no harm' we take. Hehe, you would be surprised the shit you can pull off when properly motivated. Have you ever been told to save a patient at all cost... at gunpoint? One gets real creativo and desperate."
>Nodding at her conclusion, he waves his pen from his notepad for a chime-in.
"I have written down the time of initial dosage and written down an observación schedule. If you don't, I will."
>Hearing the operating door open, Carlos shakes his head along with Nova's own shortcomings.
"Is this Old Horn in the Fortress now? Could we get his asistencia?"
>As Nova starts with an Astra, she stops herself. Burnout? They cast some sort of electrical magic, he remembers the deal with them was.
"I recall they have an afinidad for lightning, no? An overuse should be treated the same as a unicorn then."
>One non-critical out of the way. That left a Blume Gale and Sparkling Fleur. The second sounding worse than the first.
>The second Pred-Elk was clearly bandaged for a severe head injury.
>The third was still in a stasis spell. Fleur, with her untreated spinal wounds only made sense.
"Almost two hours? Impresionante. Perhaps she had a boost from a second party. Either way, it is buying us infinidad tiempo."
>As the unicorn passes the disc over Fluer, the talk of multiple severe spinal injuries were nothing but hairlines and minor tissue damage. And going off of the mare's bewildered expression, there was a large gap of what she had originally diagnosed.
>Carlos taps his pen to his chin, largely estimating the amount of time between initial injuries and now.
>Nova checks over her notes to confirm her initial prognosis.
"This Old Horn must have instilled quite the agresivo regenerative factor. Fleur should be fully healed by... mañana? Seniorita Gale is probably far better off, también. Si, I will give Seniorita Fleur a once-over."
>As his equine colleague attempts to locate Tipper, Carlos takes aformentioned mare's disc and looks over the Pred-Elks spinal wounds.
>Elk: cervus genus. Though not equine, they should be close enough for reference.
>He falls back on basic biology fundamentals and body structure. Moreover, curious to see if he could even see the regeneration in action under the x-ray spell.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]<M.Perception
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]<M.Research: Surgical Analysis
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]<Teacher: Biology
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
>>371067
>Right forehoof in the air, the processes weaving the pieces together slow to a crawl, then stop.
"I.."
>Stone faced for a few seconds, the earth mare's shoulders lift in a ehavy motion, swiveling the chair and eyeing the nearly completed coat.
"Sorry, no idea what Argenta's clothing styles are like. Used to be, one second-"
>Tilting backwards and looking right into a suite of clothing stands, racks, mannequins, along with a few marenequins, Lann returns to watch the last layers and strings finish tying below the collar.
"Mmm, did have have a couple extra formal suits but those are missing. Probably on loan. Last one I made was for... Fuoco a couple nights back. There's a human fit blue and red winter cloak on the table behind you that might fit though, go ahead and take if you want.
Can take your measurements for future reference, too."
>Forehooves lifting and spread apart, several gestures are made, the coat is directed, on a green cloud of energy no less, onto the table behind her, passing a hopeful smile your way.
"Most ponies on Tallus either know somepony with good Common Equestrian, so probably better to visit a place and ask locals for advice. Here it's mostly Lunar colors and camouflage."
>Six heavy rolls of colored silks raise behind her, swiveling about to direct at least a hundred varying sized needles, rings, spools, and a pair of familiar triangular weaving spindles, rapidly creating a lightly glowing, fairly sheer sheet.
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <M.Seamstress
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Crafting Kit
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Sewing Kit
>Right forehoof in the air, the processes weaving the pieces together slow to a crawl, then stop.
"I.."
>Stone faced for a few seconds, the earth mare's shoulders lift in a ehavy motion, swiveling the chair and eyeing the nearly completed coat.
"Sorry, no idea what Argenta's clothing styles are like. Used to be, one second-"
>Tilting backwards and looking right into a suite of clothing stands, racks, mannequins, along with a few marenequins, Lann returns to watch the last layers and strings finish tying below the collar.
"Mmm, did have have a couple extra formal suits but those are missing. Probably on loan. Last one I made was for... Fuoco a couple nights back. There's a human fit blue and red winter cloak on the table behind you that might fit though, go ahead and take if you want.
Can take your measurements for future reference, too."
>Forehooves lifting and spread apart, several gestures are made, the coat is directed, on a green cloud of energy no less, onto the table behind her, passing a hopeful smile your way.
"Most ponies on Tallus either know somepony with good Common Equestrian, so probably better to visit a place and ask locals for advice. Here it's mostly Lunar colors and camouflage."
>Six heavy rolls of colored silks raise behind her, swiveling about to direct at least a hundred varying sized needles, rings, spools, and a pair of familiar triangular weaving spindles, rapidly creating a lightly glowing, fairly sheer sheet.
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <M.Seamstress
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <Crafting Kit
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Sewing Kit
>>371074
>The soul-glyph registers such glee from Naliyna that it speculated she particularly enjoys messing with the younger Amethyst Frost-Rose.
>Not of out spite, however it didn't know why the Storm-Rose herdname, or a specific individual from the same, was held in deep contempt by Amerose herself.
"You had best be aware, for all our sakes and those of Razorback. I don't have a month to explain how deep the various holes are, which ones to try filling in, cover, or leave alone."
>Staring up and left quickly, an open expression of severe irritation is made before Lark focuses downwards, the coin reading his motions and words as genuinely concerned.
>For you.
"Numerous ponies in Stalliongrad have detected two humans somehow carrying and surviving through remarkable levels of Plasma-corruption. Kraut and.. 'Filth'. Such an apt name. Neither were present at the Auction but that raises a few more concerns. Are both dead or is that another set of accounts to attempt closing?"
>The glyph pulses at the first name in respect, the second causing it to express waves of sincere disgust.
>Stock still, Stream Lark's eyebrows raising several degrees angrily, then gives a dark, furiously rolling chuckle.
"I had been hoping a human would harm her, just once, then Razorback might have realized how painfully stupid their actions are. The retaliation we've been yearning for would have been most pleasant to witness.
But no, it took some blasted Gryphoness wearing a corrupted Late Dynasty armor to wound her-"
>Eyes closing, the older stallion takes a deep, slow inhale, releasing it to the side, splaying his left forehoof out in a 'oh well' motion, the right lifting his tea cup...
>To down it.
>You make a note to keep him out of informal gatherings, and at least a mile away from tea drinkers.
>Setting the cup down, the Councilierge leans forwards, extending his right hoof to you, multitudes of past desires burning anew on his face.
"Then we either begin immediately, or relocate to a safer place for this attempt at reconciliation. While I'm glad for the Crystal Imperials being here, they're best against organic targets, unicorns, Psions, Constructs, and certain Elemarentals. Other threats.. not so much."
>The soul-glyph registers such glee from Naliyna that it speculated she particularly enjoys messing with the younger Amethyst Frost-Rose.
>Not of out spite, however it didn't know why the Storm-Rose herdname, or a specific individual from the same, was held in deep contempt by Amerose herself.
"You had best be aware, for all our sakes and those of Razorback. I don't have a month to explain how deep the various holes are, which ones to try filling in, cover, or leave alone."
>Staring up and left quickly, an open expression of severe irritation is made before Lark focuses downwards, the coin reading his motions and words as genuinely concerned.
>For you.
"Numerous ponies in Stalliongrad have detected two humans somehow carrying and surviving through remarkable levels of Plasma-corruption. Kraut and.. 'Filth'. Such an apt name. Neither were present at the Auction but that raises a few more concerns. Are both dead or is that another set of accounts to attempt closing?"
>The glyph pulses at the first name in respect, the second causing it to express waves of sincere disgust.
>Stock still, Stream Lark's eyebrows raising several degrees angrily, then gives a dark, furiously rolling chuckle.
"I had been hoping a human would harm her, just once, then Razorback might have realized how painfully stupid their actions are. The retaliation we've been yearning for would have been most pleasant to witness.
But no, it took some blasted Gryphoness wearing a corrupted Late Dynasty armor to wound her-"
>Eyes closing, the older stallion takes a deep, slow inhale, releasing it to the side, splaying his left forehoof out in a 'oh well' motion, the right lifting his tea cup...
>To down it.
>You make a note to keep him out of informal gatherings, and at least a mile away from tea drinkers.
>Setting the cup down, the Councilierge leans forwards, extending his right hoof to you, multitudes of past desires burning anew on his face.
"Then we either begin immediately, or relocate to a safer place for this attempt at reconciliation. While I'm glad for the Crystal Imperials being here, they're best against organic targets, unicorns, Psions, Constructs, and certain Elemarentals. Other threats.. not so much."
>>370949
>I can only hope she doesn't go insane.
>Insaner.
>She doesn't get it and I'm not helping her understand.
>:3
"Hey, that just means either one of us is wrong. Not too bad for the moment."
"Will you need me to get up there later to help with that?"
>I took a moment to study the mini map.
"Right. Like I said, we'll contact them once we can get moving at more than a limp for you."
>I can only hope she doesn't go insane.
>Insaner.
>She doesn't get it and I'm not helping her understand.
>:3
"Hey, that just means either one of us is wrong. Not too bad for the moment."
"Will you need me to get up there later to help with that?"
>I took a moment to study the mini map.
"Right. Like I said, we'll contact them once we can get moving at more than a limp for you."
>>370951
>Ivan would listen to his explanation, nodding along.
"Similar but less barbaric to what we've also done. Serfdom and indentured servitude. Serfs were usually tied to a plot of land and not to the owner itself, while indentured servants were 'owned' for a period of time while working off some sort of debt. Colonizing peoples tended to do this with richer people in exchange for a free ride across an ocean and a new life after a few years."
>He kept down a bemused snort.
"Unlike humans, where you could go across a border and have to exchange your money for a new type or else not be able to purchase anything."
>He would nod again, making another note to ensure the majority of his borrowing would be in gems.
>Definitely borrowing.
"If you believe your opponent to be lazy, you lower your guard. Easier to exploit."
>Ivan would listen to his explanation, nodding along.
"Similar but less barbaric to what we've also done. Serfdom and indentured servitude. Serfs were usually tied to a plot of land and not to the owner itself, while indentured servants were 'owned' for a period of time while working off some sort of debt. Colonizing peoples tended to do this with richer people in exchange for a free ride across an ocean and a new life after a few years."
>He kept down a bemused snort.
"Unlike humans, where you could go across a border and have to exchange your money for a new type or else not be able to purchase anything."
>He would nod again, making another note to ensure the majority of his borrowing would be in gems.
>Definitely borrowing.
"If you believe your opponent to be lazy, you lower your guard. Easier to exploit."
File (): 5788C5A8AC9AEF35EE9FE89BEBAE9F0D-1009416.png (985.8 KB, 1600x1200, hospitalized_elk_commission.png)
>>352291
>>370080
>>371091
>Having nosed the Clinic doors open Snowfall looked inside to see if anypony was around.
>His ears flicked in surprise as his timing was perfect, despite the odd detour by Lin. He caught Nova and a human examining his sisters.
>He cleared his throat.
"Hello Nova Flicker and...Carlos, correct? I hope my arrival isn't interrupting a delicate moment with your patients?"
>Asked the Pred-Elk. His voice soft so not to disturb the the sleeping patients.
"If not may I come in? I want to give my sisters a quick zap to cheer them up."
>He said as he indicated with a foreleg knee towards his antlers. They were pressed against the doors to the clinic and made clicking sounds at the slightest movements of his head.
>>370080
>>371091
>Having nosed the Clinic doors open Snowfall looked inside to see if anypony was around.
>His ears flicked in surprise as his timing was perfect, despite the odd detour by Lin. He caught Nova and a human examining his sisters.
>He cleared his throat.
"Hello Nova Flicker and...Carlos, correct? I hope my arrival isn't interrupting a delicate moment with your patients?"
>Asked the Pred-Elk. His voice soft so not to disturb the the sleeping patients.
"If not may I come in? I want to give my sisters a quick zap to cheer them up."
>He said as he indicated with a foreleg knee towards his antlers. They were pressed against the doors to the clinic and made clicking sounds at the slightest movements of his head.
>>371092
>José curtly nodded at Lann's offer.
"I might as well take my measuremarents while I'm here."
>His eyes scanned the cluttered workshop for a bit, trying to find a spot where she could do such a thing.
"Should I go ahead and strip down for you, miss Lann?"
>José curtly nodded at Lann's offer.
"I might as well take my measuremarents while I'm here."
>His eyes scanned the cluttered workshop for a bit, trying to find a spot where she could do such a thing.
"Should I go ahead and strip down for you, miss Lann?"
>>371061
"A mistake any of us could have made."
>An echo of Shiibo's words from earlier traces across the Room, Hodch's mane bristles reflexively as he glancing back past you with a scowl, returning to his rummaging among the scraps in renewed interest.
('..she better not have stepped on my bed. I made contact contact with the Flawed versions Spiral acquired numerous times, inert and inactive until the.. demonstration. Far better containmarent procedures than the majority of Dynasty relics, which was surprising.
The possibilities of contamination exist, though investigation will have to wait until one can be obtained.')
"To the first question: there's a good chance of that, yes, though Dynastic language can't be read, only extrapolated from. Or guessed at. Resonances last for a variable period depending on intensity and less than twenty Dragons aided Silver's efforts. The few that did were shunned, labelled as outcasts.. ..the 'worst offenders' were banished back to their Otherworlds, Planes, or Extra-Planar states. Getting off track, I know.
Among the various Temples, researchers, and Orders, too marely species contributed and we barely had time to take fifty, possibly sixty records. Finding a living descendant of those that created or were involved with a specific Project is unlikely. Even if they wanted to admit as much, they will never talk to us.
To the second, I can't even imagine how one could be removed, safely or otherwise. Consider possible repercussions and consequences like this: you've met the Acid batpony, Crystal pony, and Void unicorn forms. Despite the inherent problematic natures of being directly Elemarental-aligned, they were.. are, distinct individuals in all meanings of that word.
I believe each one expanded from whole subsets of Spiral to become individuals, occupying specific roles or niches with relevant knowledge of the same. I've seen nothing to disprove that. Reversing that would require total knowledge compression into a single individual. That is... unimaginable."
>Pausing to collect his thoughts, and slipping aside several flat discs of partially unstable Lightning in a gas-plasma state, Hodch snorts in fond recall.
"After recovering from what happened at Canterlot College of Magic, he disappeared to the Underground for a few months, then returned with hundreds of recently produced, utterly safe bound spells. Held an morning impromptu class at the front doors, showing how Dynasty adherents were able to safely mix contrary, directionally opposing, or directly opposing Elemarentals and Planar energetics.
Imagine Water and Lightning fused into solid, non-forced states, or Dominion and Earth. Magma and Nature. Void and Plasma. Stunned everypony senseless, myself included. When those are joined one should always expect a catastrophic detonation, but no, he was playing with them as foals would their beloved toys.
By the way, Ethereal will only join with crystalline objects and resonances, Rime, Ice, and, rarely, Water.
Those were not the only changes. He was able to perfectly read, speak, write, and understand all Dynastic languages. Not only that, he could clarify the extended hidden, double, and triple meanings too, even their shortened forms.
Enchantmarent creation, strengthening, and modification is a difficult science even to those that specialize in it, yet he was able to perform those with barely a thought. Once I watched all of the forms synchronize and fully restore a badly damaged heatstone.
Then I had no time to consider any implications. Now? Regrets keep piling higher."
>Waking from their dormant states, the furnace, force, and anvil's aspects exert their pressures, aligning yours and filling the Room's craft-space with subtle inspiration.
>Speaking abroad from a distant peak on Tallus, the Storm King's words open:
"The first hallowed act? To consider. To think. Without thought, there is no plan or possible creation."
>Before, current, and future observers of physicality, energy, concept, or alike watch on as you reach both hands out, devising rationally applied scientific fundamentals to logic-sided components and reasonable Tallus-Planar derivatives to hold the shape.
>Tracing outlines of the weapon's grip, casing, body, trigger, guard, and barrel in states that could not decay here, they form, held not in stasis but as an unfinished work.
"The second hallowed act? To shape and compose. Without understanding the measures or methods, a definition is unobtainable."
>Deciding upon the mechanisms that would exist, defining their meanings into specific functions, then the purpose each was to perform, the internals take shape under your will and guidance.
>Recreating the original design was not possible without assistance, thus compromises would be necessary: acquiring a graviton required access to the Elemarental Plane of Gravity, one of their mostly tightly held resources.
>The best option became one of simple honor: a careful, gradual beckoning of those on Tallus outside their home Plane.
>Clarifying shape into similar structures, it would resonate agreeably towards the intended particle; not to capture, instead to grant an eventual delivery.
>Removed from pure physicality, as you study the barely functioning result with untrained physical hands, your eyes at least comprehended: what you had offered to it was not enough.
>There was neither laughter nor mocking, only the gap between what is, and what will be.
"The third hallowed act is to repair and refine. The best is imperfect no matter the skill, materials, or time expended. An object cannot be final when the flaws remain uncorrected.
When the result does exceed the expectation, the work is complete."
"A mistake any of us could have made."
>An echo of Shiibo's words from earlier traces across the Room, Hodch's mane bristles reflexively as he glancing back past you with a scowl, returning to his rummaging among the scraps in renewed interest.
('..she better not have stepped on my bed. I made contact contact with the Flawed versions Spiral acquired numerous times, inert and inactive until the.. demonstration. Far better containmarent procedures than the majority of Dynasty relics, which was surprising.
The possibilities of contamination exist, though investigation will have to wait until one can be obtained.')
"To the first question: there's a good chance of that, yes, though Dynastic language can't be read, only extrapolated from. Or guessed at. Resonances last for a variable period depending on intensity and less than twenty Dragons aided Silver's efforts. The few that did were shunned, labelled as outcasts.. ..the 'worst offenders' were banished back to their Otherworlds, Planes, or Extra-Planar states. Getting off track, I know.
Among the various Temples, researchers, and Orders, too marely species contributed and we barely had time to take fifty, possibly sixty records. Finding a living descendant of those that created or were involved with a specific Project is unlikely. Even if they wanted to admit as much, they will never talk to us.
To the second, I can't even imagine how one could be removed, safely or otherwise. Consider possible repercussions and consequences like this: you've met the Acid batpony, Crystal pony, and Void unicorn forms. Despite the inherent problematic natures of being directly Elemarental-aligned, they were.. are, distinct individuals in all meanings of that word.
I believe each one expanded from whole subsets of Spiral to become individuals, occupying specific roles or niches with relevant knowledge of the same. I've seen nothing to disprove that. Reversing that would require total knowledge compression into a single individual. That is... unimaginable."
>Pausing to collect his thoughts, and slipping aside several flat discs of partially unstable Lightning in a gas-plasma state, Hodch snorts in fond recall.
"After recovering from what happened at Canterlot College of Magic, he disappeared to the Underground for a few months, then returned with hundreds of recently produced, utterly safe bound spells. Held an morning impromptu class at the front doors, showing how Dynasty adherents were able to safely mix contrary, directionally opposing, or directly opposing Elemarentals and Planar energetics.
Imagine Water and Lightning fused into solid, non-forced states, or Dominion and Earth. Magma and Nature. Void and Plasma. Stunned everypony senseless, myself included. When those are joined one should always expect a catastrophic detonation, but no, he was playing with them as foals would their beloved toys.
By the way, Ethereal will only join with crystalline objects and resonances, Rime, Ice, and, rarely, Water.
Those were not the only changes. He was able to perfectly read, speak, write, and understand all Dynastic languages. Not only that, he could clarify the extended hidden, double, and triple meanings too, even their shortened forms.
Enchantmarent creation, strengthening, and modification is a difficult science even to those that specialize in it, yet he was able to perform those with barely a thought. Once I watched all of the forms synchronize and fully restore a badly damaged heatstone.
Then I had no time to consider any implications. Now? Regrets keep piling higher."
>Waking from their dormant states, the furnace, force, and anvil's aspects exert their pressures, aligning yours and filling the Room's craft-space with subtle inspiration.
>Speaking abroad from a distant peak on Tallus, the Storm King's words open:
"The first hallowed act? To consider. To think. Without thought, there is no plan or possible creation."
>Before, current, and future observers of physicality, energy, concept, or alike watch on as you reach both hands out, devising rationally applied scientific fundamentals to logic-sided components and reasonable Tallus-Planar derivatives to hold the shape.
>Tracing outlines of the weapon's grip, casing, body, trigger, guard, and barrel in states that could not decay here, they form, held not in stasis but as an unfinished work.
"The second hallowed act? To shape and compose. Without understanding the measures or methods, a definition is unobtainable."
>Deciding upon the mechanisms that would exist, defining their meanings into specific functions, then the purpose each was to perform, the internals take shape under your will and guidance.
>Recreating the original design was not possible without assistance, thus compromises would be necessary: acquiring a graviton required access to the Elemarental Plane of Gravity, one of their mostly tightly held resources.
>The best option became one of simple honor: a careful, gradual beckoning of those on Tallus outside their home Plane.
>Clarifying shape into similar structures, it would resonate agreeably towards the intended particle; not to capture, instead to grant an eventual delivery.
>Removed from pure physicality, as you study the barely functioning result with untrained physical hands, your eyes at least comprehended: what you had offered to it was not enough.
>There was neither laughter nor mocking, only the gap between what is, and what will be.
"The third hallowed act is to repair and refine. The best is imperfect no matter the skill, materials, or time expended. An object cannot be final when the flaws remain uncorrected.
When the result does exceed the expectation, the work is complete."
>>371108
>Watching the sheet for ten seconds, the chunky mare swivels back, a small box on right side of her desk opening, two small, glowing green spheres float out and begin orbiting you.
"No need, these are accurate enough for anything that isn't super essential. Plus, I'm taken-"
>Flashing a lopsided smile, the pair make several passes as Lann lifts a suspiciously human military styled crate filled with thread spools, setting it down on the corner and peering in.
"Best part about magic is never needing to write stuff down. Unless it's really important!"
>Setting out all darker colors across the desk, then dropping the crate off, her head turns while the spheres return to their box.
"And done! I'll start on winter clothing for you in half an hour or so. Want extra pockets, pouches, holster or any other custom details? If so let me know, tonight might not be too bad but the weather shield isn't working anymore."
>Head turning, her right forehoof lifts, stopping the needles halfway through what was.. starting to look more like a net.
"Oh for the love o- why do they keep doing this?"
>Right hoof meeting pockmarked snout, Lann releases a harsh, rumbling sigh, waving her other as the implemarents begin unfucking the mess.
"My kits aren't perfect but that's the tenth time tonight.."
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <M.Seamstress
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Crafting Kit
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Sewing Kit
>Watching the sheet for ten seconds, the chunky mare swivels back, a small box on right side of her desk opening, two small, glowing green spheres float out and begin orbiting you.
"No need, these are accurate enough for anything that isn't super essential. Plus, I'm taken-"
>Flashing a lopsided smile, the pair make several passes as Lann lifts a suspiciously human military styled crate filled with thread spools, setting it down on the corner and peering in.
"Best part about magic is never needing to write stuff down. Unless it's really important!"
>Setting out all darker colors across the desk, then dropping the crate off, her head turns while the spheres return to their box.
"And done! I'll start on winter clothing for you in half an hour or so. Want extra pockets, pouches, holster or any other custom details? If so let me know, tonight might not be too bad but the weather shield isn't working anymore."
>Head turning, her right forehoof lifts, stopping the needles halfway through what was.. starting to look more like a net.
"Oh for the love o- why do they keep doing this?"
>Right hoof meeting pockmarked snout, Lann releases a harsh, rumbling sigh, waving her other as the implemarents begin unfucking the mess.
"My kits aren't perfect but that's the tenth time tonight.."
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <M.Seamstress
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <Crafting Kit
[1d6+10 = (3+10) = 13] <Sewing Kit
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371112
>>371100
"Then try it for yourself, Mom."
>A freshly refurbished repair tendril sweeps ahead of the cabin, presenting a small cube of iridescent, bright orange metal.
>Even five meters away you could taste, and smell, inexplicably harsh sensations:
>This fraction of the Sun's own existence was carefully removed from an innermost state of existence, brought onto Tallus primarily to protect, though was capable of committing honorable aggression if required.
>It did not like you, and particularly hated Wild Ride.
>Removing the offensive cube quickly, the small caricature stares at you neutrally from the screen.
"Do you still object to throwing them away, or must I continue being scourged and berated for merely existing when I did not have a say in the matter?"
>Reviewing the schematic of what used to be her head unit, mini-Wild points out ten half-sphere, half-square shapes shapes in the lower section of slagged remains.
>Four marked in green for minimal or no damage, one in light red for moderate damage, four black for severe damage or destroyed, last two in blue for unknown, antennae flicking angrily.
"Those are the ones I've been able to locate, other five are presumed lost or destroyed. Not sure which is worse. There is another complication, removing the surrounding debris without damaging these ones-"
>Circling the red and two greens.
"Wwill be difficult. I can't guarantee they're intact, and separating materials for reprocessing is slow."
>Splitting the left screen, schematic on the left side and map to the right, mini-Wild appears at the map table's opposite side, arms folded.
"Replacements and replacemarents in progress."
>If the map notations and coordinates were correct, the current location was roughly 30 miles from where the Assault Lander had been located, though Wild's route had been straight south from there, then east.
>The closest Ferron Outpost was from 45 to 48 miles east and 1/4 mile north, listed as seasonally occupied from spring to fall.
"She's resisting?"
>Harsh tones accompany a disproportionate number of grinding, strained metal-on-metal, the cartoon version disappearing while her internal speakers emit a massively static laden voice.
"You pathetic, WORTHLESS, USELESS, cowardly, BRAINDEAD SPINELESS CUNT! When I track down the entrance to your fucking micro-world there will be a reckoning not even That Which Cannot Be Named could IMAGINE!"
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Sensory Node #2: Basis Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES BITCH, WHERE ARE YOU?! STOP HIDING!"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Omni-Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
"Then try it for yourself, Mom."
>A freshly refurbished repair tendril sweeps ahead of the cabin, presenting a small cube of iridescent, bright orange metal.
>Even five meters away you could taste, and smell, inexplicably harsh sensations:
>This fraction of the Sun's own existence was carefully removed from an innermost state of existence, brought onto Tallus primarily to protect, though was capable of committing honorable aggression if required.
>It did not like you, and particularly hated Wild Ride.
>Removing the offensive cube quickly, the small caricature stares at you neutrally from the screen.
"Do you still object to throwing them away, or must I continue being scourged and berated for merely existing when I did not have a say in the matter?"
>Reviewing the schematic of what used to be her head unit, mini-Wild points out ten half-sphere, half-square shapes shapes in the lower section of slagged remains.
>Four marked in green for minimal or no damage, one in light red for moderate damage, four black for severe damage or destroyed, last two in blue for unknown, antennae flicking angrily.
"Those are the ones I've been able to locate, other five are presumed lost or destroyed. Not sure which is worse. There is another complication, removing the surrounding debris without damaging these ones-"
>Circling the red and two greens.
"Wwill be difficult. I can't guarantee they're intact, and separating materials for reprocessing is slow."
>Splitting the left screen, schematic on the left side and map to the right, mini-Wild appears at the map table's opposite side, arms folded.
"Replacements and replacemarents in progress."
>If the map notations and coordinates were correct, the current location was roughly 30 miles from where the Assault Lander had been located, though Wild's route had been straight south from there, then east.
>The closest Ferron Outpost was from 45 to 48 miles east and 1/4 mile north, listed as seasonally occupied from spring to fall.
"She's resisting?"
>Harsh tones accompany a disproportionate number of grinding, strained metal-on-metal, the cartoon version disappearing while her internal speakers emit a massively static laden voice.
"You pathetic, WORTHLESS, USELESS, cowardly, BRAINDEAD SPINELESS CUNT! When I track down the entrance to your fucking micro-world there will be a reckoning not even That Which Cannot Be Named could IMAGINE!"
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Sensory Node #2: Basis Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+20 = (6+20) = 26] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES BITCH, WHERE ARE YOU?! STOP HIDING!"
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Omni-Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
>>371091
"No, but that requires the question of: was such a response absolutely necessary, or merely required by an individual? I am no stranger to threats-"
>Flipping back a page for study, then forwards with a pen to write several lines, Nova Flicker's expression had gone from calm to near-enraged, but subdued enough to warrant as recalling a particularly nasty situation.
"After all, a perfected Rime Shatterspike-infused blade is most capable at preventing the tongues of idiot ponies from moving again while assuring utmost dedication to saving a life. Violence is one possible solution when a patient matters far more than one hybrid's reputation.. noted down but I am quite tired, and the daytime humans are not particularly efficient.
And no, Old Horn's presence is quite far from here. I do not accept nor will I like Druids, they are irrational, obsessive, and of ill omaren at the best of times. His last visit was a month or so prior, and-"
>Glancing up at the crystalline spell above her head warping in several directions at once, she dismisses it with a flat scowl.
"I cannot sense my dam. She was east of here for some time, then nothing, as if somepony threw her into an intact Late Dynasty Warp Gate. Tipper is no longer on Tallus. I will search for her later-"
>Setting the notepad down and glancing over Brume Gale, the Ward floats a plastic case to her, opening it for a look.
"Heightened Lightning and Earth attunemarents as a result of their copper bodily parts. Partially physical and mostly magical in origin, technically immune to electricity but can be easily overloaded.
For the first, less than a pegasus and roughly equal to a unicorn expert. For the second, far less than an earth pony, and worse than a unicorn at basic capabilities."
>Setting the case down, Nova's ears flatten, motioning towards the still stable inspection spell.
"She once stated it has extremely tight, specific limitations which cannot be bypassed, and that sharing more would be regarded as an act of supreme hostility. The fact it still functions is troubling on marely levels."
>Moving the disc into position over Sparking Fleur's spine, as Carlos inspects the null-active stasis, it was apparent that causality had been violated: ripples of extreme energetic fracture-stress indicated perforations in the, technically, inviolable field.
>What had been significant fractures, tears, rips, and trauma through vertebrae, ribs, tendon, cartilage, muscles, fat, nervous system, and all other tissues had either been spontaneously or forcefully regenerated to a pre-recovered state, all without breaking stasis or alarming the extraordinarily energy-sensitive Ward's perception.
>Comparing against the natural equine, human, Minotaur, Dragon, and several other species' healing capabilities, upon judging the injuries, an event had definitely occurred which wasn't technologically, magically, or technically possible.
"You see them as well, I take it."
>Left forehoof on the stasis field, Nova's eyes were dimmed, though watching Carlos in true multitasker focus, voice low and tightly wound.
"Modifying an iota of biological material while a patient is in permarenent stasis is not normal in the slightest. Princess Cadenza is incapable of doing so, let alone Wards or healers of every type.
Not even the 'thing' I should not be thinking of can attempt as much without risking a lethal temporal backlash, which would destroy it's immortality fully.
Doctor, if you would examine Brume, I am attempting to locate a potential intruder-"
[1d6 = 3] <Calming Presence: Rage
[1d6 = 2] <Calming Presence: Time
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Vile Taunt
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Deflect Magic
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <M.Casting: Auric Search
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>>371102
>Tasting fragile, thickening aggression pouring out through the Clinic's interior walls, Snowfall realizes this was deeefinitely not the best time..
"So long as you leave when I demarend, you may stay. My auric field is close to snapping and I cannot allow more in the Clinic.
There are a number of concerns with Fleur and Brume's injuries that require them to be isolated. For one... nevermind, I do not have time to explain. You may aid Astral Poinsettia at leisure, she is not injured, merely resting."
"No, but that requires the question of: was such a response absolutely necessary, or merely required by an individual? I am no stranger to threats-"
>Flipping back a page for study, then forwards with a pen to write several lines, Nova Flicker's expression had gone from calm to near-enraged, but subdued enough to warrant as recalling a particularly nasty situation.
"After all, a perfected Rime Shatterspike-infused blade is most capable at preventing the tongues of idiot ponies from moving again while assuring utmost dedication to saving a life. Violence is one possible solution when a patient matters far more than one hybrid's reputation.. noted down but I am quite tired, and the daytime humans are not particularly efficient.
And no, Old Horn's presence is quite far from here. I do not accept nor will I like Druids, they are irrational, obsessive, and of ill omaren at the best of times. His last visit was a month or so prior, and-"
>Glancing up at the crystalline spell above her head warping in several directions at once, she dismisses it with a flat scowl.
"I cannot sense my dam. She was east of here for some time, then nothing, as if somepony threw her into an intact Late Dynasty Warp Gate. Tipper is no longer on Tallus. I will search for her later-"
>Setting the notepad down and glancing over Brume Gale, the Ward floats a plastic case to her, opening it for a look.
"Heightened Lightning and Earth attunemarents as a result of their copper bodily parts. Partially physical and mostly magical in origin, technically immune to electricity but can be easily overloaded.
For the first, less than a pegasus and roughly equal to a unicorn expert. For the second, far less than an earth pony, and worse than a unicorn at basic capabilities."
>Setting the case down, Nova's ears flatten, motioning towards the still stable inspection spell.
"She once stated it has extremely tight, specific limitations which cannot be bypassed, and that sharing more would be regarded as an act of supreme hostility. The fact it still functions is troubling on marely levels."
>Moving the disc into position over Sparking Fleur's spine, as Carlos inspects the null-active stasis, it was apparent that causality had been violated: ripples of extreme energetic fracture-stress indicated perforations in the, technically, inviolable field.
>What had been significant fractures, tears, rips, and trauma through vertebrae, ribs, tendon, cartilage, muscles, fat, nervous system, and all other tissues had either been spontaneously or forcefully regenerated to a pre-recovered state, all without breaking stasis or alarming the extraordinarily energy-sensitive Ward's perception.
>Comparing against the natural equine, human, Minotaur, Dragon, and several other species' healing capabilities, upon judging the injuries, an event had definitely occurred which wasn't technologically, magically, or technically possible.
"You see them as well, I take it."
>Left forehoof on the stasis field, Nova's eyes were dimmed, though watching Carlos in true multitasker focus, voice low and tightly wound.
"Modifying an iota of biological material while a patient is in permarenent stasis is not normal in the slightest. Princess Cadenza is incapable of doing so, let alone Wards or healers of every type.
Not even the 'thing' I should not be thinking of can attempt as much without risking a lethal temporal backlash, which would destroy it's immortality fully.
Doctor, if you would examine Brume, I am attempting to locate a potential intruder-"
[1d6 = 3] <Calming Presence: Rage
[1d6 = 2] <Calming Presence: Time
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Vile Taunt
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <Deflect Magic
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <M.Casting: Auric Search
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>>371102
>Tasting fragile, thickening aggression pouring out through the Clinic's interior walls, Snowfall realizes this was deeefinitely not the best time..
"So long as you leave when I demarend, you may stay. My auric field is close to snapping and I cannot allow more in the Clinic.
There are a number of concerns with Fleur and Brume's injuries that require them to be isolated. For one... nevermind, I do not have time to explain. You may aid Astral Poinsettia at leisure, she is not injured, merely resting."
>>371110
>As he works, his lips behind his helmet press together in a grim line.
>Hodch's elaboration was leaving it increasingly clear that Spiral was long beyond the grasp of most any currently living experts.
>He sends a final thought through the Moonstone, the disgust in his tone audible.
('... Then either Spiral found a miracle he needed others to help him reach, or only Silver can answer for her mistake now.')
>Remaining silent, he turns to focus on his efforts to fabricate something similar to the weapon he saw in his mind and repeats the prior process to hone the work.
>The voice in his head, presumably the voice of the Plane itself extols a particular set of virtues.
(Value alignment to the scientific method is... acceptable. So long as my objective can be accomplished, I can tolerate this level of involvement. I lack the time and resources to evaluate a Class designation for this Plane however so I can't fully acquiesce. Whatever your final objective is.)
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>As he works, his lips behind his helmet press together in a grim line.
>Hodch's elaboration was leaving it increasingly clear that Spiral was long beyond the grasp of most any currently living experts.
>He sends a final thought through the Moonstone, the disgust in his tone audible.
('... Then either Spiral found a miracle he needed others to help him reach, or only Silver can answer for her mistake now.')
>Remaining silent, he turns to focus on his efforts to fabricate something similar to the weapon he saw in his mind and repeats the prior process to hone the work.
>The voice in his head, presumably the voice of the Plane itself extols a particular set of virtues.
(Value alignment to the scientific method is... acceptable. So long as my objective can be accomplished, I can tolerate this level of involvement. I lack the time and resources to evaluate a Class designation for this Plane however so I can't fully acquiesce. Whatever your final objective is.)
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T/E.P.C.) + Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>>371111
>Gallo let out a soft, rather excited little coo as the spheres orbited around him.
>He had to admit Lann was right.
>Specially with this little show they were doing.
"I wonder when this world will stop surprising me."
>Blinking softly for a few seconds to refocus on the question, he soon checked his current clothing for a bit.
"I wouldn't mind having as many pockets and pouches as fashion allows. They're always great."
>Having said that with an amicable smile, the man went pensive for a bit.
"May I inquire as to what a weather shield is? Is that a common piece of technology for heavily populated areas? Speaking of weather, should I consider a winter coat if I plan to visit Argenta?"
>Gallo let out a soft, rather excited little coo as the spheres orbited around him.
>He had to admit Lann was right.
>Specially with this little show they were doing.
"I wonder when this world will stop surprising me."
>Blinking softly for a few seconds to refocus on the question, he soon checked his current clothing for a bit.
"I wouldn't mind having as many pockets and pouches as fashion allows. They're always great."
>Having said that with an amicable smile, the man went pensive for a bit.
"May I inquire as to what a weather shield is? Is that a common piece of technology for heavily populated areas? Speaking of weather, should I consider a winter coat if I plan to visit Argenta?"
>>371112
>Cringing from the sudden assault upon my own sanity, I immediately understood where she was coming from.
>I didn't know metal could hate something.
"... How the fuck does anything even work in this place?"
>I shake my head and sigh a bit.
"If you can't shield it from doing... that, then yes, go ahead and drop it."
>..
"And if I had known that did... that, I wouldn't have said to keep it without reason. I apologize."
>Focusing back on a more reasonable idea, I shake away the ick from that experience.
"I see, will there be anything I would be able to do?"
>At the very least, poke my head in and see what's still functional.
>Aaaand she is definitely not sane.
>I don't want to attempt to even rationalize this one.
>Cringing from the sudden assault upon my own sanity, I immediately understood where she was coming from.
>I didn't know metal could hate something.
"... How the fuck does anything even work in this place?"
>I shake my head and sigh a bit.
"If you can't shield it from doing... that, then yes, go ahead and drop it."
>..
"And if I had known that did... that, I wouldn't have said to keep it without reason. I apologize."
>Focusing back on a more reasonable idea, I shake away the ick from that experience.
"I see, will there be anything I would be able to do?"
>At the very least, poke my head in and see what's still functional.
>Aaaand she is definitely not sane.
>I don't want to attempt to even rationalize this one.
>>371078
>Looking around the herd abashed, Clemency looks down at Blackthorn
(First of all, it's not uncommon to refer to possessions as a female. Second, before Blackthorn became what she is, it was a SPAS-12, a regular shotgun that we might have a spare laying around.")
>Blackthorn doesn't even resemble what a SPAS-12 was before
>Bulky but ergonomic
>And fits like a glove
>Keeping his head high and continue to wrangle, he squeezes into formation with the five mares designated as his bodyguards
>They can probably coordinate with him if combat erupts
>Hearing Blackthorn being spoken to is new though
>Wonder if it can respond to others
>Going through the portal, Clemency sees the renewed focus of the Razorback Company
>Even his mind starts to sharpen through the physical exhaustion
>But their discussion of the effects is weird
>Brow furrowed in thought, Clem rubs his chin
("Well, I would normally call that willpower and intuition. As for hearing shit back at the Fortress, I'm surprised I can still hear since I'm with Twisted.")
>Clemency starts to pull up the M-S.O.L.G. interface to position the the camera on top of their formation and have it track them
("Actual answer rook is that I haven't put too much thought into it. I did feel much better mentally when I go flying with Twisted or drink but I would think that's just me.")
>Looking around the herd abashed, Clemency looks down at Blackthorn
(First of all, it's not uncommon to refer to possessions as a female. Second, before Blackthorn became what she is, it was a SPAS-12, a regular shotgun that we might have a spare laying around.")
>Blackthorn doesn't even resemble what a SPAS-12 was before
>Bulky but ergonomic
>And fits like a glove
>Keeping his head high and continue to wrangle, he squeezes into formation with the five mares designated as his bodyguards
>They can probably coordinate with him if combat erupts
>Hearing Blackthorn being spoken to is new though
>Wonder if it can respond to others
>Going through the portal, Clemency sees the renewed focus of the Razorback Company
>Even his mind starts to sharpen through the physical exhaustion
>But their discussion of the effects is weird
>Brow furrowed in thought, Clem rubs his chin
("Well, I would normally call that willpower and intuition. As for hearing shit back at the Fortress, I'm surprised I can still hear since I'm with Twisted.")
>Clemency starts to pull up the M-S.O.L.G. interface to position the the camera on top of their formation and have it track them
("Actual answer rook is that I haven't put too much thought into it. I did feel much better mentally when I go flying with Twisted or drink but I would think that's just me.")
>>371114
>The reminiscing of his old life flash more as an amusing anecdote now.
"Hehe, the best medical education cartels could buy assured I would only treat the most dangerous of men. When it wasn't the caballeros themselves, it was some bendejo underling who thought they could... persuade me into treating the imposible. A fallen esse or hermano, riddles with bullet wounds. Massive drug overdoses. Illegal risky surgeries. And what do I do?"
>He taps his pen against his notebook to keep her attention, before cracking the right side of his doctor's coat to reveal his holstered 1911.
"I treat the sick and injured to the best of my habilidades. The bendejos... I show them the way out, if they know what's good for them. Hehe."
>His short retelling is quickly stifled by Nova not being able to sense Tipper. At all. As in she wasn't even on Tallus anymore.
>He smacks his forehead in mild befuddlement as the coincidence of losing the Clinic's head doctor and in the most literal way.
"Aye dios mio, what a night. We are still here, afortunadamente. The patients come first, with or without Abuela Tipper."
>Carlos listens diligently to the mare's explanation of Old Horn's Pred Elk. Copper infused right into their bodies.
"A naturally high conductividad. They almost act like a capacitor. Store too much electricity, and they overload themselves. Hmm..."
>Changing the subject to Tipper's everlasting spell, Carlos raises an eyebrow.
"A fine tuned spell, indeed. But for it to last this long on its own.. it's a wonder she did not burn herself out just from casting it alone."
>Observing what little he could find of bodily injury to the Pred Elk Fleur, he spots severe injuries that had healed considerably.
>Through stasis, no less. Narcolepsy aside, Miss Flicker would have picked up on such rapid changes through the field.
"Whatever force allowed it either is defeating or ignoring the nature of the stasis field. I have not much else to add to such a phenomenon. An intrusa? Aye..."
>Carlos looks around warily, but ultimately more focused on the patients. The Ward can handle the matter while he inspects Brume Gale.
"Si, of course."
>He takes the disc spell from Flicker and pans it over to Brume Gale's head injuries. He's expecting more miraculous regeneration, unless Fleur and Gale's situations are not related.
>The injuries are more important: sheared antler, concussion, eye damage. All other symptoms were congruent. He would still check for any signs of skull fracturing, especially around the orbital socket, as well was any brain bleeds.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]<M.Perception
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]<M.Research: Surgical Analysis
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]<Teacher: Biology
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>>371102
>While he was inspecting Gale, a noise of the Clinic's door peeking open caused him to glance over.
>Another Pred Elk, a male going by its build and vocal tones. NOT the intruder Nova was attempting to flush out.
>The Ward gives the Pred Elk a pass for now, and Carlos ushers the visitor over with a hurried wave of his free hand and a hushed tone.
"Rapido, rapido! Seniorita Flicker is on the hunt, so to speak. Si, I am Carlos. What may I call you, senior?"
>He focuses back onto Blume Gale through the inspection spell, pointing to Poinsettia, then to Fleur, and Gale last.
"As mentioned previa. Miss Poinsettia appears to be burnt out, she is resting. Miss Fleur DID have severe spinal fractures and tissue injuries, but they are not only rapidly healing they are defeating the propiedades of a stasis field to do so. Blume Gale shattered an antler, and should have serious cranial injuries along with that. I am examining her, now. Is your kind capable of such spell-breaking regeneration?"
>Carlos, notepad at the ready, begins to take anything down worth mentioned by the fourth Pred Elk as well as continue documenting Gale's current prognosis.
>The reminiscing of his old life flash more as an amusing anecdote now.
"Hehe, the best medical education cartels could buy assured I would only treat the most dangerous of men. When it wasn't the caballeros themselves, it was some bendejo underling who thought they could... persuade me into treating the imposible. A fallen esse or hermano, riddles with bullet wounds. Massive drug overdoses. Illegal risky surgeries. And what do I do?"
>He taps his pen against his notebook to keep her attention, before cracking the right side of his doctor's coat to reveal his holstered 1911.
"I treat the sick and injured to the best of my habilidades. The bendejos... I show them the way out, if they know what's good for them. Hehe."
>His short retelling is quickly stifled by Nova not being able to sense Tipper. At all. As in she wasn't even on Tallus anymore.
>He smacks his forehead in mild befuddlement as the coincidence of losing the Clinic's head doctor and in the most literal way.
"Aye dios mio, what a night. We are still here, afortunadamente. The patients come first, with or without Abuela Tipper."
>Carlos listens diligently to the mare's explanation of Old Horn's Pred Elk. Copper infused right into their bodies.
"A naturally high conductividad. They almost act like a capacitor. Store too much electricity, and they overload themselves. Hmm..."
>Changing the subject to Tipper's everlasting spell, Carlos raises an eyebrow.
"A fine tuned spell, indeed. But for it to last this long on its own.. it's a wonder she did not burn herself out just from casting it alone."
>Observing what little he could find of bodily injury to the Pred Elk Fleur, he spots severe injuries that had healed considerably.
>Through stasis, no less. Narcolepsy aside, Miss Flicker would have picked up on such rapid changes through the field.
"Whatever force allowed it either is defeating or ignoring the nature of the stasis field. I have not much else to add to such a phenomenon. An intrusa? Aye..."
>Carlos looks around warily, but ultimately more focused on the patients. The Ward can handle the matter while he inspects Brume Gale.
"Si, of course."
>He takes the disc spell from Flicker and pans it over to Brume Gale's head injuries. He's expecting more miraculous regeneration, unless Fleur and Gale's situations are not related.
>The injuries are more important: sheared antler, concussion, eye damage. All other symptoms were congruent. He would still check for any signs of skull fracturing, especially around the orbital socket, as well was any brain bleeds.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]<M.Perception
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]<M.Research: Surgical Analysis
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]<Teacher: Biology
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
>>371102
>While he was inspecting Gale, a noise of the Clinic's door peeking open caused him to glance over.
>Another Pred Elk, a male going by its build and vocal tones. NOT the intruder Nova was attempting to flush out.
>The Ward gives the Pred Elk a pass for now, and Carlos ushers the visitor over with a hurried wave of his free hand and a hushed tone.
"Rapido, rapido! Seniorita Flicker is on the hunt, so to speak. Si, I am Carlos. What may I call you, senior?"
>He focuses back onto Blume Gale through the inspection spell, pointing to Poinsettia, then to Fleur, and Gale last.
"As mentioned previa. Miss Poinsettia appears to be burnt out, she is resting. Miss Fleur DID have severe spinal fractures and tissue injuries, but they are not only rapidly healing they are defeating the propiedades of a stasis field to do so. Blume Gale shattered an antler, and should have serious cranial injuries along with that. I am examining her, now. Is your kind capable of such spell-breaking regeneration?"
>Carlos, notepad at the ready, begins to take anything down worth mentioned by the fourth Pred Elk as well as continue documenting Gale's current prognosis.
>>371114
>>371126
>He really wanted to give a boost to Sparking and Gale, they were the ones that needed it most.
>His tail and ears wiggled in annoyance. His timing...
"I will return for the other two at a later date, thank you Nova."
>Snowfall entered the clinic at the behest of Carlos, his antlers clattering loud as he passed through the doors.
>Carlos was certainly not like the others humans Snowfall has observed. It was a pastime of his to watch humans go about their daily lives from a vantage point, usually his herds Treehouse. There was a part of him that is human, so naturally he would pay attention to any human that caught his eye. And Carlos already has.
"My name is Snowfall, Carlos."
>He indicated the best he could with his head to his body.
"Named after my coat."
>Snowfall slowly trots over to Astrals' bed so not to make more noise than he has already.
"She is lucky to be alive, as are we."
>He said quietly as he came to a stop next to one unconscious sister as he looked with sympathy at the others.
"No we do not. Not even Oldhorn can do that. However-"
>He turned his head towards the door, a small smile forming on his neutral expression.
"A powerful being calling itself Lin is possibly responsible. I asked if she could help my sisters, it appears she has done so."
>>371126
>He really wanted to give a boost to Sparking and Gale, they were the ones that needed it most.
>His tail and ears wiggled in annoyance. His timing...
"I will return for the other two at a later date, thank you Nova."
>Snowfall entered the clinic at the behest of Carlos, his antlers clattering loud as he passed through the doors.
>Carlos was certainly not like the others humans Snowfall has observed. It was a pastime of his to watch humans go about their daily lives from a vantage point, usually his herds Treehouse. There was a part of him that is human, so naturally he would pay attention to any human that caught his eye. And Carlos already has.
"My name is Snowfall, Carlos."
>He indicated the best he could with his head to his body.
"Named after my coat."
>Snowfall slowly trots over to Astrals' bed so not to make more noise than he has already.
"She is lucky to be alive, as are we."
>He said quietly as he came to a stop next to one unconscious sister as he looked with sympathy at the others.
"No we do not. Not even Oldhorn can do that. However-"
>He turned his head towards the door, a small smile forming on his neutral expression.
"A powerful being calling itself Lin is possibly responsible. I asked if she could help my sisters, it appears she has done so."
>>371101
"Curious. Serfi, if that is the correct word, are free to perform any tasks for their mistress, or master, until their debt has been repaid. Afterwards they have all rights to stay with, becoming a retainer, part of the herd, or leave, though their time must be compensated for.
I have listened to a fair amount of human history, some of it bothers me but that particular point is especially difficult. One would never hear of a batpony Colony and think ill of it."
>Hefting the boxpack onto Krinza's anvil, twenty small, near-black discs floating from the back wall Helping placing forehooves on each and melding them into the titanium frame, horn surrounded in blazing metallic rings.
"Excluding the paranoid or hyper-suspicious-"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
"There are some regions where Bits either cannot be used, or have been devalued: Neighsia, Argenta's Lands, Eyeraq, Rushya, the Free Ram Flocks of Ewerup to name the most important ones that I can recall. Ba'athens is questionable but I have heard little from them. The rest have severed their economies from Equestria and aggressively denied or refused all trade for the past two years.
What we call the Fallen Dynasty is, supposedly, a number of small city-states between the No Mare's Land of the Eastern New Everfree and the Gryphon Kingdoms. The Dynasty Remnants of Caneighdia is the entire permafrost lands south of the Crystal Empire Lowlands. Both should be avoided at all costs.
Everywhere else has an exchange ratio that depends on economy and importance compared to what Equestria trades, however, the Bit has lost considerable value."
>Setting the pack down to scrutinize each of the magnets, Helping turns an annoyed stare up, the giant coldstone brightening at a firm gesture, now drawing in heat.
"Strange. It should not have taken this long to work properly.. well.
It is certain that Moorites are generally lazy for twenty-nine hours and thirty minutes per cycle. What makes them distinct is the potential for a half hour of frenzied, often suicidal aggression, combined with highly destructive natural, Elemarental, Void, semi-Eldritch, among worse, bombs, weapons, and armors.
Only three factions have enough excellent equipmarent to equip every single pony in a certain domain. Fewer still are able to source and completely fill an entire battalion in a single night.
In any case, being assaulted by a thousand batponies is thus either utterly horrifying due to their armamarents... or utterly terrifying due to their other armamarents."
>Snorting at the triple-entendre, Helping then nods towards Lann's growing collection of tables, marenequins, and clothing racks.
"I have overheard the hoof-touching pair discussing the Central Moors now has approximately two hundred newish Armories, five times that number of garrison-depots, and ten times the previous of purely storage depots.
A batpony which does not have an immediate use for an item will place it in the first safe place the object fits. If they cannot think of a long term use or does not feel like trading it, said item will be sorted out by tradesmares in their Creche or Colony. Eventually. Lann has already expressed great joy at the thoughts of rare silks coming in more frequently."
"Curious. Serfi, if that is the correct word, are free to perform any tasks for their mistress, or master, until their debt has been repaid. Afterwards they have all rights to stay with, becoming a retainer, part of the herd, or leave, though their time must be compensated for.
I have listened to a fair amount of human history, some of it bothers me but that particular point is especially difficult. One would never hear of a batpony Colony and think ill of it."
>Hefting the boxpack onto Krinza's anvil, twenty small, near-black discs floating from the back wall Helping placing forehooves on each and melding them into the titanium frame, horn surrounded in blazing metallic rings.
"Excluding the paranoid or hyper-suspicious-"
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Crafting
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <E.Enchanting
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Smith
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9] <Eidetic Fundamarentals
"There are some regions where Bits either cannot be used, or have been devalued: Neighsia, Argenta's Lands, Eyeraq, Rushya, the Free Ram Flocks of Ewerup to name the most important ones that I can recall. Ba'athens is questionable but I have heard little from them. The rest have severed their economies from Equestria and aggressively denied or refused all trade for the past two years.
What we call the Fallen Dynasty is, supposedly, a number of small city-states between the No Mare's Land of the Eastern New Everfree and the Gryphon Kingdoms. The Dynasty Remnants of Caneighdia is the entire permafrost lands south of the Crystal Empire Lowlands. Both should be avoided at all costs.
Everywhere else has an exchange ratio that depends on economy and importance compared to what Equestria trades, however, the Bit has lost considerable value."
>Setting the pack down to scrutinize each of the magnets, Helping turns an annoyed stare up, the giant coldstone brightening at a firm gesture, now drawing in heat.
"Strange. It should not have taken this long to work properly.. well.
It is certain that Moorites are generally lazy for twenty-nine hours and thirty minutes per cycle. What makes them distinct is the potential for a half hour of frenzied, often suicidal aggression, combined with highly destructive natural, Elemarental, Void, semi-Eldritch, among worse, bombs, weapons, and armors.
Only three factions have enough excellent equipmarent to equip every single pony in a certain domain. Fewer still are able to source and completely fill an entire battalion in a single night.
In any case, being assaulted by a thousand batponies is thus either utterly horrifying due to their armamarents... or utterly terrifying due to their other armamarents."
>Snorting at the triple-entendre, Helping then nods towards Lann's growing collection of tables, marenequins, and clothing racks.
"I have overheard the hoof-touching pair discussing the Central Moors now has approximately two hundred newish Armories, five times that number of garrison-depots, and ten times the previous of purely storage depots.
A batpony which does not have an immediate use for an item will place it in the first safe place the object fits. If they cannot think of a long term use or does not feel like trading it, said item will be sorted out by tradesmares in their Creche or Colony. Eventually. Lann has already expressed great joy at the thoughts of rare silks coming in more frequently."
>>371116
"When you stop being surprised of course!"
>Snickering as she sorts through spools, collecting a few that looked distinctively metallic before pausing, head tilting left as her ears twitch around in circles.
"Do have a few custom designs.. there's one that can take six, eight, or ten armored containers for bottles, small bombs, canisters, grenades, canister grenades, that sort. Maybe twelve if they're not big. Size is sort of adjustable thanks to a springy material Krinza figured out how to make. Can be moved around without much trouble too.
Pockets are weatherproof and seal tight after closing; eight large, six medium, ten small, four tiny. Internal pockets are the same: four large, six medium, eight small, ten tiny. Also can attach armored magazine racks so long as I know the size and shape."
>Right hoof pointing out to the side, numerous sheets of thin, possibly synthetic materials lift out of a large crate, placed down on her desk for a close inspection.
"Mm? It's a solid energy shield that keeps snow, rain, sleet, hail, lightning, small meteors, ash, and pretty much everything else solid or semisolid from getting in. Or out, sometimes. They usually don't have a particular Elemarental attuning, and barely do anything against temperature changes.
And, no, they're super rare since the Dynasty fell apart. Biggest and oldest one is in the Crystal Empire, their crystalline bio.. tech.. stuff makes it work. That one's huge though, never seen it but heard it can protect the whole City-State for months on end.
Some places in Saddle Arabia and Neighsia have weathershields too, but only for small, important, or rich towns."
>Swiveling around once more to watch the sheet being corrected, mostly, Lann's ears fold backwards, her tone slightly annoyed as she pushes the chair back.
"Don't know much about Argenta, sorry. They stopped trading with Equestria some time back. Again, take that cloak if you want."
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <M.Seamstress
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Crafting Kit
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Sewing Kit
"Have some business that badly needs taken care of right now, after that I'll start on a coat and heavy pants for you-"
>Hopping off, and landing much more heavily than expected, the chunky mare's head bends forwards to inspect inspect every millimeter of stone floor under her.
>Lifting to stare at the floor in her vicinity, then outwards, she pauses, turning heavily to face east and breaking into an incredible pounding sprint.
>Bright, gold-tinged outlines of a partially round doorway appear, the mare slamming headfirst into it, shouting quite angrily-
"I DON'T KNOW OR CARE WHAT YOU ARE BUT YOU WILL STOP MESSING WITH MY WORK!"
[1d6 = 3] <ENRAGE
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Shattered Earth
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <M.Assault
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
>vs:
[1d6 = 6] <oh shit
"When you stop being surprised of course!"
>Snickering as she sorts through spools, collecting a few that looked distinctively metallic before pausing, head tilting left as her ears twitch around in circles.
"Do have a few custom designs.. there's one that can take six, eight, or ten armored containers for bottles, small bombs, canisters, grenades, canister grenades, that sort. Maybe twelve if they're not big. Size is sort of adjustable thanks to a springy material Krinza figured out how to make. Can be moved around without much trouble too.
Pockets are weatherproof and seal tight after closing; eight large, six medium, ten small, four tiny. Internal pockets are the same: four large, six medium, eight small, ten tiny. Also can attach armored magazine racks so long as I know the size and shape."
>Right hoof pointing out to the side, numerous sheets of thin, possibly synthetic materials lift out of a large crate, placed down on her desk for a close inspection.
"Mm? It's a solid energy shield that keeps snow, rain, sleet, hail, lightning, small meteors, ash, and pretty much everything else solid or semisolid from getting in. Or out, sometimes. They usually don't have a particular Elemarental attuning, and barely do anything against temperature changes.
And, no, they're super rare since the Dynasty fell apart. Biggest and oldest one is in the Crystal Empire, their crystalline bio.. tech.. stuff makes it work. That one's huge though, never seen it but heard it can protect the whole City-State for months on end.
Some places in Saddle Arabia and Neighsia have weathershields too, but only for small, important, or rich towns."
>Swiveling around once more to watch the sheet being corrected, mostly, Lann's ears fold backwards, her tone slightly annoyed as she pushes the chair back.
"Don't know much about Argenta, sorry. They stopped trading with Equestria some time back. Again, take that cloak if you want."
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10] <M.Seamstress
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <Crafting Kit
[1d6+10 = (1+10) = 11] <Sewing Kit
"Have some business that badly needs taken care of right now, after that I'll start on a coat and heavy pants for you-"
>Hopping off, and landing much more heavily than expected, the chunky mare's head bends forwards to inspect inspect every millimeter of stone floor under her.
>Lifting to stare at the floor in her vicinity, then outwards, she pauses, turning heavily to face east and breaking into an incredible pounding sprint.
>Bright, gold-tinged outlines of a partially round doorway appear, the mare slamming headfirst into it, shouting quite angrily-
"I DON'T KNOW OR CARE WHAT YOU ARE BUT YOU WILL STOP MESSING WITH MY WORK!"
[1d6 = 3] <ENRAGE
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Shattered Earth
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Sprint
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <M.Assault
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
>vs:
[1d6 = 6] <oh shit
>>371139
>José snorted in amusement in tandem with Lann's snicker, nodding along with her various explanations for his questions.
>So apparently, he could have 56 pockets for various items and there's some super rare weather protection technology that's been discontinued due to The Dynasty fell apart.
>Sheesh, how more loaded can these nuggets of information can get?
>As he took the winter garments offered by Lann, Gallo's eyes widened as his body instinctively shifted sideways to properly assess just what had set her off.
>He really shouldn't interfere with what seemed to be some extraplanar business that he was ill equipped for
>...or should he?
>Maybe this is normal for Tallus residents?
>Worst case scenario, Lann can probably take care of herself judging by the powerful display of physical aptitude.
>Relaxing back into a proper standing pose, he'd gently walk over to the doorway frame currently being banged by a mare's head.
>Of course, he'd avoid being directly behind Lann just in case her anger may be directed towards him out of a vague recollection on real life horse lessons he had when he was younger.
(Let's see where this goes.)
>José snorted in amusement in tandem with Lann's snicker, nodding along with her various explanations for his questions.
>So apparently, he could have 56 pockets for various items and there's some super rare weather protection technology that's been discontinued due to The Dynasty fell apart.
>Sheesh, how more loaded can these nuggets of information can get?
>As he took the winter garments offered by Lann, Gallo's eyes widened as his body instinctively shifted sideways to properly assess just what had set her off.
>He really shouldn't interfere with what seemed to be some extraplanar business that he was ill equipped for
>...or should he?
>Maybe this is normal for Tallus residents?
>Worst case scenario, Lann can probably take care of herself judging by the powerful display of physical aptitude.
>Relaxing back into a proper standing pose, he'd gently walk over to the doorway frame currently being banged by a mare's head.
>Of course, he'd avoid being directly behind Lann just in case her anger may be directed towards him out of a vague recollection on real life horse lessons he had when he was younger.
(Let's see where this goes.)
>>371138
"Indentured servants didn't exactly stick around, though they did usually end up continuing to work for the contract holder after it expired, if they were paying well enough."
>Ivan held his hand up and shook it in an 'eh' motion.
"During colonial times, it was pretty cheap to purchase land or even pre-built places to live, so they could afford to do so."
>He decidedly left out the fact that often, native peoples were fucked over by land purchases.
"I won't deny that I am... quite familiar with the idea of money being useless."
>He glanced off to the side.
"I was a part of a faction that was... selectively collective. No need for money, sharing supplies with each other when able to."
>Grimacing behind his helmet, he looked back to Helping.
"I left them after... an unknown amount of time passed, and helped reform Clear Sky to what it exists today as."
"Indentured servants didn't exactly stick around, though they did usually end up continuing to work for the contract holder after it expired, if they were paying well enough."
>Ivan held his hand up and shook it in an 'eh' motion.
"During colonial times, it was pretty cheap to purchase land or even pre-built places to live, so they could afford to do so."
>He decidedly left out the fact that often, native peoples were fucked over by land purchases.
"I won't deny that I am... quite familiar with the idea of money being useless."
>He glanced off to the side.
"I was a part of a faction that was... selectively collective. No need for money, sharing supplies with each other when able to."
>Grimacing behind his helmet, he looked back to Helping.
"I left them after... an unknown amount of time passed, and helped reform Clear Sky to what it exists today as."
>>371141
>Slowing from a mad dash to a fairly calm, stone pounding low trot, Lann takes a deep breath as the door swings open wide, exposing a mass of gold outlines-
>Rearing on her hind legs, then smashing front hooves in front of a vague pony shape, the near-detonation causing dozens of stone blades, spikes, spears, lances, and giant needles to erupt out of the floor.
>Grabbing onto the shape's presumed head, the yellow mare's loud, ringing cackles confirm a total surprise assault as the doorway slams shut, disappearing from sight.
>Standing where you think the event had taken place, the floor was untouched, as if the weapons weren't physical.
>...there wasn't a single horse you could think of that could act in such a marener, nor was the earth mare Solar-aligned as they tended to be quite diplomatic.
>Slowing from a mad dash to a fairly calm, stone pounding low trot, Lann takes a deep breath as the door swings open wide, exposing a mass of gold outlines-
>Rearing on her hind legs, then smashing front hooves in front of a vague pony shape, the near-detonation causing dozens of stone blades, spikes, spears, lances, and giant needles to erupt out of the floor.
>Grabbing onto the shape's presumed head, the yellow mare's loud, ringing cackles confirm a total surprise assault as the doorway slams shut, disappearing from sight.
>Standing where you think the event had taken place, the floor was untouched, as if the weapons weren't physical.
>...there wasn't a single horse you could think of that could act in such a marener, nor was the earth mare Solar-aligned as they tended to be quite diplomatic.
>>371088
>Providing neither information nor helpful protocols on how to be an escortee, the Assault Vanguards each make a slight, rear leg extending motion, acknowledging they would ensure your safety.
('We're all soaked in lather right now, wouldn't be fun.')
('Bet you wouldn't mi-')
('This. Isn't. The. Time. After a nice, LONG, FREEZING shower or bath, possibly. Right now, not a chance.')
('How come the batponies here aren't attracting creatures like all of us are?')
('You're serious?')
('Yyyyes? Yes., I am')
('They've adapted to live here, are highly Void attuned, and most creatures know where there's one batpony, there's at least a hundred more out of sight.')
('Yes. So?')
('You really are dense..')
('I know, thanks!')
('Why do I bother...')
>Finally able to start moving, the ranks ahead enter a short two-hoofsteps per second speed, roughly two hundred ahead at four hooves per second.. which was a reasonable 3MPH march in human standards.
>Surveying through the moderate fog, outside nearly hot equine and human armors the surrounding swamp and marsh were still save for tiny ripples on surface water.
>Knowing how often threats were either submerged or lurked in Void spectrums, the thermal wasn't picking up anything out of place that you could tell.
>Half-sunken logs at the edge of vision had been abandoned within the past few minutes, mostly by hot blooded imprints which were barely faded.
>Other than solid hoofboots on stone, clanks, clinks, or clacks from armor, weapons clattering against the same, this part of the Central Moors had been quickly abandoned by smaller creatures, leaving the larger ones in potentially better positions.
>That is, if there weren't a thousand Psions or far more Crystal Empire forces keeping watch.
>Attention focused on the surroundings, the Rookie's quintet of Assault Vanguard urge him, politely, to speak again.
('Okay. something like I'm about to reach out and grab some jackass's drink to toss in his face, but there's a neutral individual watching me. It doesn't talk out loud, or in my head, doesn't make any physical motions, and isn't looking at me, but I can feel it dissuading me from screwing up.')
('Is it more being guided into a proper act, or trying to correct you from committing a mistake?')
('Definitely the first.')
>Taking position before the first scout rifle carrier enters, the lead Shieldmare hrm's internally, motioning for the One Hundred to accompaneigh her.
('Have you been subjected to guilt or shame during the times you have experienced such?')
('Nope. Like being told: you're better than that, this isn't the right way, or being petty is beneath you, but I'm not being spoken down to or chided either.')
>Gazing upon the wide variety of Crystal forces, then focusing on you with a twinge of consideration, the leadmare's snout twitches.
('Perhaps you have acquired a nature akin to theirs.. or your teacher ingrained certain aspects of her training.')
('Why is this place such a mess?!')
('Threats?')
('Five giant insects-')
('Five DEAD giant insects. Moving the bodies now.')
('Huh, Impact Seals work really well here.')
('Eewwww it's all over me!')
('Don't think I've ever seen insides become outsides that fast. You three, remove the pieces and wash her armor off.')
('Anypony know these?')
('Long antennae, flat body sections, highly streamlined, quick to mareneuver in water. Triangular head, forty hooves long, twenty-five hooves tall or so. Full insect, predatory. Front claws covered in spines, not serrations or blade-like. No wings.. I think. Thin carapace, durable but not against a standard lance.')
('Large swamp rippers, related to mantidae, not common. Any unusual features?')
('Does nearly pissing myself when something the size of a Minotaur can jump out of water without making more than a few tiny ripples happen to count?')
('I'll.. take that as a no.')
('No discernible acids, toxins, or Elemarentals. Clean, so to speak. And not liked.')
>Providing neither information nor helpful protocols on how to be an escortee, the Assault Vanguards each make a slight, rear leg extending motion, acknowledging they would ensure your safety.
('We're all soaked in lather right now, wouldn't be fun.')
('Bet you wouldn't mi-')
('This. Isn't. The. Time. After a nice, LONG, FREEZING shower or bath, possibly. Right now, not a chance.')
('How come the batponies here aren't attracting creatures like all of us are?')
('You're serious?')
('Yyyyes? Yes., I am')
('They've adapted to live here, are highly Void attuned, and most creatures know where there's one batpony, there's at least a hundred more out of sight.')
('Yes. So?')
('You really are dense..')
('I know, thanks!')
('Why do I bother...')
>Finally able to start moving, the ranks ahead enter a short two-hoofsteps per second speed, roughly two hundred ahead at four hooves per second.. which was a reasonable 3MPH march in human standards.
>Surveying through the moderate fog, outside nearly hot equine and human armors the surrounding swamp and marsh were still save for tiny ripples on surface water.
>Knowing how often threats were either submerged or lurked in Void spectrums, the thermal wasn't picking up anything out of place that you could tell.
>Half-sunken logs at the edge of vision had been abandoned within the past few minutes, mostly by hot blooded imprints which were barely faded.
>Other than solid hoofboots on stone, clanks, clinks, or clacks from armor, weapons clattering against the same, this part of the Central Moors had been quickly abandoned by smaller creatures, leaving the larger ones in potentially better positions.
>That is, if there weren't a thousand Psions or far more Crystal Empire forces keeping watch.
>Attention focused on the surroundings, the Rookie's quintet of Assault Vanguard urge him, politely, to speak again.
('Okay. something like I'm about to reach out and grab some jackass's drink to toss in his face, but there's a neutral individual watching me. It doesn't talk out loud, or in my head, doesn't make any physical motions, and isn't looking at me, but I can feel it dissuading me from screwing up.')
('Is it more being guided into a proper act, or trying to correct you from committing a mistake?')
('Definitely the first.')
>Taking position before the first scout rifle carrier enters, the lead Shieldmare hrm's internally, motioning for the One Hundred to accompaneigh her.
('Have you been subjected to guilt or shame during the times you have experienced such?')
('Nope. Like being told: you're better than that, this isn't the right way, or being petty is beneath you, but I'm not being spoken down to or chided either.')
>Gazing upon the wide variety of Crystal forces, then focusing on you with a twinge of consideration, the leadmare's snout twitches.
('Perhaps you have acquired a nature akin to theirs.. or your teacher ingrained certain aspects of her training.')
('Why is this place such a mess?!')
('Threats?')
('Five giant insects-')
('Five DEAD giant insects. Moving the bodies now.')
('Huh, Impact Seals work really well here.')
('Eewwww it's all over me!')
('Don't think I've ever seen insides become outsides that fast. You three, remove the pieces and wash her armor off.')
('Anypony know these?')
('Long antennae, flat body sections, highly streamlined, quick to mareneuver in water. Triangular head, forty hooves long, twenty-five hooves tall or so. Full insect, predatory. Front claws covered in spines, not serrations or blade-like. No wings.. I think. Thin carapace, durable but not against a standard lance.')
('Large swamp rippers, related to mantidae, not common. Any unusual features?')
('Does nearly pissing myself when something the size of a Minotaur can jump out of water without making more than a few tiny ripples happen to count?')
('I'll.. take that as a no.')
('No discernible acids, toxins, or Elemarentals. Clean, so to speak. And not liked.')
>>371175
(Puta. Too slow)
>Gallo let out a soft sigh, clearly overestimating the time window to act due to his careful hubris.
>It looked like Lann was winning thankfully, and it seemed it wasn't the first time this fight happened.
>Something about it felt awfully wrong though.
>Did that extraplanar being really deserve such a punishmarent?
>Shaking his head at his thought process halted, José opted to exit the Workshop with the spare coat on his shoulder.
>Turning around to face the door with a pensive hum, he quickly decided to trot over to the Bulletin Board to fetch some writing supplies.
>A couple post-it notes and a pen if possible. Otherwise, he can improvise.
>Following that, he'd come back to write down a simple message on the front door:
'Miss Lann is currently out.'
>Afterwards, he'd go back inside and write another message:
'Miss Lann. When you come back from your extraplanar beatdown, please remove the note outside."
>Having done that, he soon focused up on his plan to travel to Argenta.
>Thus, unless somehow Lann pops up before he started or just when he finished, he'd soon walk over to where the Remant was to promptly ask for travel advice towards his intended destination.
(Puta. Too slow)
>Gallo let out a soft sigh, clearly overestimating the time window to act due to his careful hubris.
>It looked like Lann was winning thankfully, and it seemed it wasn't the first time this fight happened.
>Something about it felt awfully wrong though.
>Did that extraplanar being really deserve such a punishmarent?
>Shaking his head at his thought process halted, José opted to exit the Workshop with the spare coat on his shoulder.
>Turning around to face the door with a pensive hum, he quickly decided to trot over to the Bulletin Board to fetch some writing supplies.
>A couple post-it notes and a pen if possible. Otherwise, he can improvise.
>Following that, he'd come back to write down a simple message on the front door:
'Miss Lann is currently out.'
>Afterwards, he'd go back inside and write another message:
'Miss Lann. When you come back from your extraplanar beatdown, please remove the note outside."
>Having done that, he soon focused up on his plan to travel to Argenta.
>Thus, unless somehow Lann pops up before he started or just when he finished, he'd soon walk over to where the Remant was to promptly ask for travel advice towards his intended destination.
>>371090
>Risking a headache to stare at the closed down gateway, one of the darker robed Luna's Villager's gives a batpony-eating-lemons facial scrunch before flopping over heavily.
"Your face might get stuck that way if you stay here for long."
"..wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen."
>Dissecting reports through the Charger and Lancer chains of commarend, the leadmare sends a request outwards for psions and unicorns to inform Crystal ponies of their findings, one of the Lunar Combat Support unicorns in the front ranks thinks aloud.
('Do you mean the Kee-Chain, a long distance communication network? They have been delivering messages up and down the vines since we arrived. However, I cannot understand the language.')
('Mostly warnings to stay on Basin Arena road, point out critters in vicinity to us, close down towers, that sort. Batponies won't ever join an Overherd but they all know Common so we're getting news way ahead of time.')
('Is this Kee-Chain the most efficient thing batponies have?')
>Deadpan choruses of yes's from earth pony and unicorn Lunars absolutely obliterate the young Day Guard mare's notions of complete solidarity, the Assault Vanguard's leader snorting loudly.
('If you were expecting them to say anything else, I have a copy of the series on batpony songs and poems from the 28,600's that might be of cultural interest to you.')
('Oh? What are they about?')
('What are the five acts batponies are best known for? Here's a hint: the last one is well over ninety percent of what they wrote.')
('Wellll... sleeping, making friends, eating, setting up pranks, and... ....oh.')
('Now do you understand?')
('Wish I didn't.')
>Turning a concerned Mind's Eye at you, the leadmare exits into the garrison-depot's realspace, taking a younger Operator with her as five more Councilierge Assault Vanguards form around the man.
('There are approximately sixteen thousand ponies and humans here, large numbers would cause vast ripples throughout Void spectrums and potentially disrupt Gravity.')
('What the Shieldmare means to say is: better to deal with the limited physical threats than the other possible or potential ones. Bes-')
('SNAAAAAAKE!')
('KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLIT-')
('STOP SMACKING IT IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THE HEART IS YOU IDIOTS! SEVER THE HEAD!')
('Or deliver enough concussions to knock it out, which is an acceptable use for Impact Seals and Shattering Spheres.')
('.......squeamish, paranoid, and highly excitable mares excluded. There isn't much that could deter all of us.')
>Desiring nothing more than stuffing her armor with a dozen Superior coldstones, another Lunar unicorn figuratively checks off the majority of fauna and flora.
('Of the known threats here, individual floral, faunal, or hybrid predators, small numbers of medium to extra large predators, variable sized swarms, are the most common. As well, there are no more Abominations, Malformed, Discontent, Unspoken, or.. Tainted, among others. A few hooves worth of megafauna remain, those we would notice quickly, same for the Eldtrich and Plane-touched.')
>Receiving stark acknowledgements from the Operators around you, particularly from One Hundreds, nearly forty awake, and most importantly coherent, Villagers weigh their own experiences in the Fortress.
('Been saying there's something new for weeks now.')
('The Copper Predatory-Elk are not full Druids, nor do they have capabilities which match the given descriptions.')
('I can guarantee Hollow and those Changelings that visit are likewise not responsible.')
('We've seen Hodch and Mercy out talking to walls or empty air a few times, who knows what they've seen.')
('Ehhh, those two don't like sharing certain topics. If they don't say something then it's best to leave 'em alone.')
('Those are not ghosts. I think.. I hope.')
('Ghosts are fine, Spectrals are not. Overall we've dealt with maybe.. ten in and around the Fortress.')
('Hmph, that silverine skinned whore of a horse was most troublesome, but, she would not have taken such a quiet approach. It is profoundly amazing that most of Razorback was able to tolerate her idiotic presence often as they did. Then again it is equally remarkable she is not here.')
('You've met her?')
('Several times, each worse than the previous.')
>Wishing he could distance himself from Lunar volatility, the Assault Vanguard's lead stallion rolls the new information across Solar and Stalliongrad earth pony minds for their considerations, more than a hundred studying the remaining Operators until an older, retired Villager quiets the rest.
('Do you mean Spiral Disclosure? The Reclusive Marquis of Canterlot Underground?')
('Yes, that's him all right. With us for a while.')
('No one or pony knows where he went. Why?')
('Went off range a while back, hasn't returned since.')
('I'm.. not sure. Head hurts, give me a few minutes to think.')
>The mixed Guard in Basin Village achieve an equilibrium, passing through the gateways more rapidly while ranks ahead of the garrison-depot settle into a standard march.
>Numbers rapidly filling ten lines, the Shieldmare notes the entirety of Crystal forces had entered, issuing an order for all remaining Razorback and Councilierge to do the same as the Ethereal Golem stomps past her, frowning at the Ethereal's tinged presence.
('I will never enjoy that sensation.. form properly once you have arrived.')
('Leadmare, this must be corrected. Immediately.')
('What?')
>Turning around to face the gateways, the Shieldmare's helmet cocks as the Villager's thoughts section from the Overherd, jerking back wide eyed.
('What? Why?! You can't expect me t-')
('You will perform what I have instructed or there will be repercussions. All Lunars disconnect now-')
('Damn you! I am sorry to do this but-')
>Reality is wrenched aside briefly as the Overherd is forced to blink, wiping out two previous seconds of memory, the leadmare's tone bitter.
('Do not question what I was.. forced to remove.')
>Risking a headache to stare at the closed down gateway, one of the darker robed Luna's Villager's gives a batpony-eating-lemons facial scrunch before flopping over heavily.
"Your face might get stuck that way if you stay here for long."
"..wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen."
>Dissecting reports through the Charger and Lancer chains of commarend, the leadmare sends a request outwards for psions and unicorns to inform Crystal ponies of their findings, one of the Lunar Combat Support unicorns in the front ranks thinks aloud.
('Do you mean the Kee-Chain, a long distance communication network? They have been delivering messages up and down the vines since we arrived. However, I cannot understand the language.')
('Mostly warnings to stay on Basin Arena road, point out critters in vicinity to us, close down towers, that sort. Batponies won't ever join an Overherd but they all know Common so we're getting news way ahead of time.')
('Is this Kee-Chain the most efficient thing batponies have?')
>Deadpan choruses of yes's from earth pony and unicorn Lunars absolutely obliterate the young Day Guard mare's notions of complete solidarity, the Assault Vanguard's leader snorting loudly.
('If you were expecting them to say anything else, I have a copy of the series on batpony songs and poems from the 28,600's that might be of cultural interest to you.')
('Oh? What are they about?')
('What are the five acts batponies are best known for? Here's a hint: the last one is well over ninety percent of what they wrote.')
('Wellll... sleeping, making friends, eating, setting up pranks, and... ....oh.')
('Now do you understand?')
('Wish I didn't.')
>Turning a concerned Mind's Eye at you, the leadmare exits into the garrison-depot's realspace, taking a younger Operator with her as five more Councilierge Assault Vanguards form around the man.
('There are approximately sixteen thousand ponies and humans here, large numbers would cause vast ripples throughout Void spectrums and potentially disrupt Gravity.')
('What the Shieldmare means to say is: better to deal with the limited physical threats than the other possible or potential ones. Bes-')
('SNAAAAAAKE!')
('KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLIT-')
('STOP SMACKING IT IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THE HEART IS YOU IDIOTS! SEVER THE HEAD!')
('Or deliver enough concussions to knock it out, which is an acceptable use for Impact Seals and Shattering Spheres.')
('.......squeamish, paranoid, and highly excitable mares excluded. There isn't much that could deter all of us.')
>Desiring nothing more than stuffing her armor with a dozen Superior coldstones, another Lunar unicorn figuratively checks off the majority of fauna and flora.
('Of the known threats here, individual floral, faunal, or hybrid predators, small numbers of medium to extra large predators, variable sized swarms, are the most common. As well, there are no more Abominations, Malformed, Discontent, Unspoken, or.. Tainted, among others. A few hooves worth of megafauna remain, those we would notice quickly, same for the Eldtrich and Plane-touched.')
>Receiving stark acknowledgements from the Operators around you, particularly from One Hundreds, nearly forty awake, and most importantly coherent, Villagers weigh their own experiences in the Fortress.
('Been saying there's something new for weeks now.')
('The Copper Predatory-Elk are not full Druids, nor do they have capabilities which match the given descriptions.')
('I can guarantee Hollow and those Changelings that visit are likewise not responsible.')
('We've seen Hodch and Mercy out talking to walls or empty air a few times, who knows what they've seen.')
('Ehhh, those two don't like sharing certain topics. If they don't say something then it's best to leave 'em alone.')
('Those are not ghosts. I think.. I hope.')
('Ghosts are fine, Spectrals are not. Overall we've dealt with maybe.. ten in and around the Fortress.')
('Hmph, that silverine skinned whore of a horse was most troublesome, but, she would not have taken such a quiet approach. It is profoundly amazing that most of Razorback was able to tolerate her idiotic presence often as they did. Then again it is equally remarkable she is not here.')
('You've met her?')
('Several times, each worse than the previous.')
>Wishing he could distance himself from Lunar volatility, the Assault Vanguard's lead stallion rolls the new information across Solar and Stalliongrad earth pony minds for their considerations, more than a hundred studying the remaining Operators until an older, retired Villager quiets the rest.
('Do you mean Spiral Disclosure? The Reclusive Marquis of Canterlot Underground?')
('Yes, that's him all right. With us for a while.')
('No one or pony knows where he went. Why?')
('Went off range a while back, hasn't returned since.')
('I'm.. not sure. Head hurts, give me a few minutes to think.')
>The mixed Guard in Basin Village achieve an equilibrium, passing through the gateways more rapidly while ranks ahead of the garrison-depot settle into a standard march.
>Numbers rapidly filling ten lines, the Shieldmare notes the entirety of Crystal forces had entered, issuing an order for all remaining Razorback and Councilierge to do the same as the Ethereal Golem stomps past her, frowning at the Ethereal's tinged presence.
('I will never enjoy that sensation.. form properly once you have arrived.')
('Leadmare, this must be corrected. Immediately.')
('What?')
>Turning around to face the gateways, the Shieldmare's helmet cocks as the Villager's thoughts section from the Overherd, jerking back wide eyed.
('What? Why?! You can't expect me t-')
('You will perform what I have instructed or there will be repercussions. All Lunars disconnect now-')
('Damn you! I am sorry to do this but-')
>Reality is wrenched aside briefly as the Overherd is forced to blink, wiping out two previous seconds of memory, the leadmare's tone bitter.
('Do not question what I was.. forced to remove.')
>>371125
>Blinking at two seconds of memory being wiped from your recall, the Assault Vanguard's leader issues orders for the rest of his battalion rest to form around the last Operators entering gateways.
('Similar conventions.. not what I meant, though there are at least three of that model or similar among Stalliongrad's humans.
Rather, what was the specific Construct component that joined with your weapon to become what she is now? Symbiotic weapons are incredibly rare since they're usually prioritized for destruction first. That doesn't include Riftdrowners as they're technically flora and tend to be.. less troublesome.')
>Surrounded by hundreds of Guard mares, in lines no less, that weren't posing a threat, for once, joining the march west in warm, overly humid Moors air was a bit too familiar, though the sense of Lunars disconnecting from the Overherd, then being reconnected was odd.
>The wide stone pathway ahead was partially lit by gleaming Crystal ponies, unicorns, and Minotaurs interspersed by Guard; definitely the same route you'd taken before, though far safer now.
('Hm, prolonged close proximity to Enchained hasn't been studied, but that particular burnt feather scent is known fairly much everywhere in Equestria. Half of my herd knows it.')
('Or if it has then nopony's shared that knowledge-')
>Quelling that argumarent, the Assault Vanguard's leader rolls his eyes, focusing on you through the five mares surrounding, their helmets turn to regard you with interest.
>At least not in dangerous mareners.
('You have a number of peculiar energy-dense enchantmarents in your possession Master Clemency. One faint taste of blood, Lunar physicals and energetics, something acrid. Those we don't recognize, except the Moon Orb.
Blackhorn is distinct but there's.. another Construct piece. Incredibly deep impressions of pain and regret. Solid, hard, difficult to place. A few crystal resonances, one is familiar though I can't tell why.
Hm. Perhaps being with the Burning General and having a wide variety of enchantmarents is protecting you. Or more.. ..I have no damned idea, it's too hot to think straight in this helmet-')
('I dunno, some of us hang around Twisted and Clem every night. Least until we need ear plugs-')
('If that was the case most of us wouldn't have been feeling whatever's in the Fortress.')
('My collection of enchants is wilder than what flyboy has so that isn't right either. Not bragging or dissing man, just stating facts.')
('Like you really needed one of every Element-')
('I did! Kind of.')
('Then only two of Razorback have not experienced unusual activity, both of which.. no? That's wrong too, a number of you have Empire weapons, armor, devices, and resonances. This isn't making sense-')
('Only common links between Lont and Clem I can think of: they deal with Twisted a lot, been to the Empire more often than most of us, and they have a few crystalline things.')
('Uh, dude? Pay attention some time, the same can be stated for probably a quarter of us.')
('Then I'm at a loss and speculating more won't help.')
>Taking the line's rear with his own guards, the Assault Vanguard eyes the ponies, humans, and Minotaurs marching west, souring at the Minor Champion escorting the Shieldmare ahead, then nods towards the remaining unicorns in Basin Village.
('We're the last ones. Close the gates down mares, you've done amazingly well.')
>Faint, half-hearted marental cheers from themselves are briefly overwhelmed by sincere outpourings of praise and gratitude from Lunar, Solar, and Watch Guard alike, before severing from the Overherd.
>Reorienting from the trio of Constructs and colossal gateway atop Basin Arena eastwards, thick fog and sparse cloud cover hid most of the road, though you note the top of a small, tree-like tower.
>Passing over it... of course there were ponies sprawled across the top.
>The next tower was a common pegasi version, taller though barely seen, while the third was entirely hidden.
>Finally spotting the front most ranks of fast marching Day Guard, easily picked out by their armor, then individual Crystal ponies, unicorns, or Minotaurs, the Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard were much harder to make out.
>Lead elemarents rotating out on contact with threats, dealing with short assaults, being scrubbed down, and foraging, it was clear the combined forces weren't going to be impeded easily, if at all.
>Unable to find where you were precisely, the sheer number of Kingdom, Imperial, and other aligned forces throughout the ten rows was certainly unusual, and striking.
>Shifting their lances to point straight upwards and reforming, one ahead, one left and right at close proximity, two behind spread apart in a half-meter interval, the five heavily armored earth mares match your pace.
('Fog and mist here normal for this time of night and year?')
('Think so. Just keep your Mind's Eyes looking outwards.')
>Sharing a single thought, that being not one pony had offered their saddle already, the youngest mare starts to snicker, then cuts off that thought at a report from the front.
('There's a big pink something or other coming at us. Not crystalline or Ethereal, feels strange but I think we sa-')
('DON'T ENGAGE, THAT IS A... JUST DON'T ENGAGE!')
('That's Mercy all right-')
('Is there a particular reason most of you are afraid of her?')
('About fifty REALLY FUCKING SHARP reasons!')
('I can think of FOUR that we've been trampled by-')
('You have no idea what that mare can do when she's irritated, be glad for that.')
('...understood.')
>Overherd's attention focusing through the leading squad's eyes, and several Mind's Eyes, the Spirit Walker's searing presence exits from a heavily distorted Void spectrum, landing in the road's center with a loud huff.
>Raising both wings in a strange marener, to some ponies at least, marener, the more Hegemony inclined denote it as an honor circle, pink wingblades fluoresce brightly, her weapon symbiote missing.
"I will not allow a single individual to pass."
"...what."
>Blinking at two seconds of memory being wiped from your recall, the Assault Vanguard's leader issues orders for the rest of his battalion rest to form around the last Operators entering gateways.
('Similar conventions.. not what I meant, though there are at least three of that model or similar among Stalliongrad's humans.
Rather, what was the specific Construct component that joined with your weapon to become what she is now? Symbiotic weapons are incredibly rare since they're usually prioritized for destruction first. That doesn't include Riftdrowners as they're technically flora and tend to be.. less troublesome.')
>Surrounded by hundreds of Guard mares, in lines no less, that weren't posing a threat, for once, joining the march west in warm, overly humid Moors air was a bit too familiar, though the sense of Lunars disconnecting from the Overherd, then being reconnected was odd.
>The wide stone pathway ahead was partially lit by gleaming Crystal ponies, unicorns, and Minotaurs interspersed by Guard; definitely the same route you'd taken before, though far safer now.
('Hm, prolonged close proximity to Enchained hasn't been studied, but that particular burnt feather scent is known fairly much everywhere in Equestria. Half of my herd knows it.')
('Or if it has then nopony's shared that knowledge-')
>Quelling that argumarent, the Assault Vanguard's leader rolls his eyes, focusing on you through the five mares surrounding, their helmets turn to regard you with interest.
>At least not in dangerous mareners.
('You have a number of peculiar energy-dense enchantmarents in your possession Master Clemency. One faint taste of blood, Lunar physicals and energetics, something acrid. Those we don't recognize, except the Moon Orb.
Blackhorn is distinct but there's.. another Construct piece. Incredibly deep impressions of pain and regret. Solid, hard, difficult to place. A few crystal resonances, one is familiar though I can't tell why.
Hm. Perhaps being with the Burning General and having a wide variety of enchantmarents is protecting you. Or more.. ..I have no damned idea, it's too hot to think straight in this helmet-')
('I dunno, some of us hang around Twisted and Clem every night. Least until we need ear plugs-')
('If that was the case most of us wouldn't have been feeling whatever's in the Fortress.')
('My collection of enchants is wilder than what flyboy has so that isn't right either. Not bragging or dissing man, just stating facts.')
('Like you really needed one of every Element-')
('I did! Kind of.')
('Then only two of Razorback have not experienced unusual activity, both of which.. no? That's wrong too, a number of you have Empire weapons, armor, devices, and resonances. This isn't making sense-')
('Only common links between Lont and Clem I can think of: they deal with Twisted a lot, been to the Empire more often than most of us, and they have a few crystalline things.')
('Uh, dude? Pay attention some time, the same can be stated for probably a quarter of us.')
('Then I'm at a loss and speculating more won't help.')
>Taking the line's rear with his own guards, the Assault Vanguard eyes the ponies, humans, and Minotaurs marching west, souring at the Minor Champion escorting the Shieldmare ahead, then nods towards the remaining unicorns in Basin Village.
('We're the last ones. Close the gates down mares, you've done amazingly well.')
>Faint, half-hearted marental cheers from themselves are briefly overwhelmed by sincere outpourings of praise and gratitude from Lunar, Solar, and Watch Guard alike, before severing from the Overherd.
>Reorienting from the trio of Constructs and colossal gateway atop Basin Arena eastwards, thick fog and sparse cloud cover hid most of the road, though you note the top of a small, tree-like tower.
>Passing over it... of course there were ponies sprawled across the top.
>The next tower was a common pegasi version, taller though barely seen, while the third was entirely hidden.
>Finally spotting the front most ranks of fast marching Day Guard, easily picked out by their armor, then individual Crystal ponies, unicorns, or Minotaurs, the Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard were much harder to make out.
>Lead elemarents rotating out on contact with threats, dealing with short assaults, being scrubbed down, and foraging, it was clear the combined forces weren't going to be impeded easily, if at all.
>Unable to find where you were precisely, the sheer number of Kingdom, Imperial, and other aligned forces throughout the ten rows was certainly unusual, and striking.
>Shifting their lances to point straight upwards and reforming, one ahead, one left and right at close proximity, two behind spread apart in a half-meter interval, the five heavily armored earth mares match your pace.
('Fog and mist here normal for this time of night and year?')
('Think so. Just keep your Mind's Eyes looking outwards.')
>Sharing a single thought, that being not one pony had offered their saddle already, the youngest mare starts to snicker, then cuts off that thought at a report from the front.
('There's a big pink something or other coming at us. Not crystalline or Ethereal, feels strange but I think we sa-')
('DON'T ENGAGE, THAT IS A... JUST DON'T ENGAGE!')
('That's Mercy all right-')
('Is there a particular reason most of you are afraid of her?')
('About fifty REALLY FUCKING SHARP reasons!')
('I can think of FOUR that we've been trampled by-')
('You have no idea what that mare can do when she's irritated, be glad for that.')
('...understood.')
>Overherd's attention focusing through the leading squad's eyes, and several Mind's Eyes, the Spirit Walker's searing presence exits from a heavily distorted Void spectrum, landing in the road's center with a loud huff.
>Raising both wings in a strange marener, to some ponies at least, marener, the more Hegemony inclined denote it as an honor circle, pink wingblades fluoresce brightly, her weapon symbiote missing.
"I will not allow a single individual to pass."
"...what."
File (): 4B1689681E63586F759547DD0FF51E3F-128649.gif (125.6 KB, 320x213, when you get ur memory wiped.gif)
>>371184
>Jeff mentally chuckles to himself as the Day Guard's mind is bombarded with the causality of batponies. The Kee-Chain was known to him, and he's heard more than enough songs sung throughout the Village to know EXACTLY what they meant.
>So they will just all stick together then. From the scouting reports, safety in numbers was the best tactic they could have right now.
>Sixteen thousand plus should be a safe number, hopefully.
('There better NOT be any more Tainted roaming around, at least. Not after what we just had to bear witness to... we must have put every last one to rest.')
>As a quintet of Vanguards form up on him, the rear line finally passes through the Gateway into the other part of the Moors. Already into a slow march, welp fast enough trudging through the Moors as it would.
>Each strange habit and resident of Razorback was quickly dismissed, or mildly questioned.
('Didn't say I knew everything that goes on the the Fortress. Just spit-balling.')
>He didn't even mention the indestructible vegetarian burrito...
>Jeff checks their position on his TacPad to see how far away they were from the Basin Arena. He kept a marker on it, considering the relay's position there.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <TacPad: GPS
>An odd sensation courses over him. Something disappeared, but he doesn't know what.
>Did everything just taste like-
>He feels like it was his fault.
>And that he should just drop it.
>Yepp. That worked for him, considering their current situation.
>>371185
>As their march continues underway, the Overherd focuses on an object closing in on them.
>Big pink something. Was it Mercy?
>Yupp, it was Mercy.
>She must have flown all the way from the Arena.
>And she was alone. Where was Sunny? Did something happen to the newbie pegasus? She didn't come off as a strong flier as Mercy was, or more of a flier anyway..
>Huh. Her symbiote was missing. Something happen with the Constructs, or Riftseeker?
>Landing, she splays her wings as if to block their advance, clearly exhausted getting to them a quick as possible.
>He directs his thoughts to the leadmare up front.
('She must have rushed all the way from the Arena to intercept us. We should listen and yield to her.')
>Jeff then focuses on Mercy, mentally and physically waving at her from the rear line.
('Mercy, I'm all the way in the back. Are you okay? Where's Sunny?')
>Making sure her well being was alright, he gets down to the brass tacks of the situation.
('We've already discussed the possibility of either fighting the Planar Constructs, the Riftseeker, or neither. Just tell us what to do.')
>He remembers she was already shaken from initially arriving at the Village, and then the symbiote merging with her. Regardless, he trusts her judgment of the situation.
>Jeff mentally chuckles to himself as the Day Guard's mind is bombarded with the causality of batponies. The Kee-Chain was known to him, and he's heard more than enough songs sung throughout the Village to know EXACTLY what they meant.
>So they will just all stick together then. From the scouting reports, safety in numbers was the best tactic they could have right now.
>Sixteen thousand plus should be a safe number, hopefully.
('There better NOT be any more Tainted roaming around, at least. Not after what we just had to bear witness to... we must have put every last one to rest.')
>As a quintet of Vanguards form up on him, the rear line finally passes through the Gateway into the other part of the Moors. Already into a slow march, welp fast enough trudging through the Moors as it would.
>Each strange habit and resident of Razorback was quickly dismissed, or mildly questioned.
('Didn't say I knew everything that goes on the the Fortress. Just spit-balling.')
>He didn't even mention the indestructible vegetarian burrito...
>Jeff checks their position on his TacPad to see how far away they were from the Basin Arena. He kept a marker on it, considering the relay's position there.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <TacPad: GPS
>An odd sensation courses over him. Something disappeared, but he doesn't know what.
>Did everything just taste like-
>He feels like it was his fault.
>And that he should just drop it.
>Yepp. That worked for him, considering their current situation.
>>371185
>As their march continues underway, the Overherd focuses on an object closing in on them.
>Big pink something. Was it Mercy?
>Yupp, it was Mercy.
>She must have flown all the way from the Arena.
>And she was alone. Where was Sunny? Did something happen to the newbie pegasus? She didn't come off as a strong flier as Mercy was, or more of a flier anyway..
>Huh. Her symbiote was missing. Something happen with the Constructs, or Riftseeker?
>Landing, she splays her wings as if to block their advance, clearly exhausted getting to them a quick as possible.
>He directs his thoughts to the leadmare up front.
('She must have rushed all the way from the Arena to intercept us. We should listen and yield to her.')
>Jeff then focuses on Mercy, mentally and physically waving at her from the rear line.
('Mercy, I'm all the way in the back. Are you okay? Where's Sunny?')
>Making sure her well being was alright, he gets down to the brass tacks of the situation.
('We've already discussed the possibility of either fighting the Planar Constructs, the Riftseeker, or neither. Just tell us what to do.')
>He remembers she was already shaken from initially arriving at the Village, and then the symbiote merging with her. Regardless, he trusts her judgment of the situation.
>>371089
>Forelegs raised and rear legs extended, the Construct leans forwards, flapping once and skimming above the road, the motions thoroughly equine yet modified to obtain minimum air resistance.
>Thinking back to the smashed multi-legged insect and recalling it as a rare acidic variety of hunting centipede, the amount of damage the Construct had taken was far worse than if a pony had done so.
>Eyeing the intact, perfectly restored front hooves, you realize the symbiote's armored false-shell was highly vulnerable due to being incredibly thin, barely equivalent to common sheet metal.
>While incapable of absorbing damage compared to its bonded state, if sensations of pain were simulated it wouldn't expend unnecessary energy to display as much, let alone care for restoring itself unless there was a strong self-preservation instinct.
>This version was either mimicking a specific individual or had been formed through a sincere, strong connection.
>Not only could it experience emotion, it was feeling the strain of functioning beyond normally expected capabilities and capacities.
>The blind mare shares her spiritual connection and unsubtle rationale with Tallus to the Rift Plane's raw physicality and brute force logic, each covering the weaknesses of the other.
>Live or die, it did not need to protect Mercy, rather it had a single desire: to exist alongside her as a partner, no more or less.
>Outside those few currently bonded with a symbiote, none would try to understand, fewer would attempt to, and, without fail, the majority WILL treat Mercy as a direct threat.
>You try to think of a single pony that would RATIONALLY accept the knowledge.. it was a tiny few.
>The wrong word would easily cut that number by half.
>Right wingclaws splaying out and shaking in a polite dismissing motion, then presenting an overlay of a barely Euclidean landscape, marsh analogue land masses covered in Riftdrowner sections.
>A miniature version of itself creeps into view, extending a hoof out to touch highly viscous, heavy metallic liquid.
>The Rift Plane was not a mirror of Tallus. It was, is, and will remain a reflection seen at whichever skewed angle the viewer's perspective was placed.
>Shutting the scene down with a heavy flap as you enter a flat out running pace, its head shakes before pointing forwards:
>Fractures of open Void on both sides of the road stretch into swamps and bogs, streaks of jet black armored batponies water-skimming in pairs.
>Your mane bristles defensively at tinges of glowing Eldritch-touched weapons leaving raw, long trails of warped colors behind them.
>Hunter-Killers, considered by marecenaries all across Tallus to be the least fanatic.. of the fanatic Moorites, second best conversationalists, fifth most lewd, though vastly more prone to aggressive bartering.
>Not paying attention to the road, you, or the symbiotic Construct, instead searching for and brutally eliminating every possible nuisance, the path ahead is streaked with blood, ichor, chitin chunks, scales, severed heads of small insects.. and worse.
>A ringing, sharp up-up-down whistle reverberates on water from the north, the Hunter-Killer pairs snap upwards with heavy wing buffers, rolling over to streak in that direction.
[1d2000 = 801] <Central Moors Threat
>Pearlescent eyes gleaming, the Construct's head turns to study each one as long as possible, the expression melancholy.. and etched with guilt.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
>Forelegs raised and rear legs extended, the Construct leans forwards, flapping once and skimming above the road, the motions thoroughly equine yet modified to obtain minimum air resistance.
>Thinking back to the smashed multi-legged insect and recalling it as a rare acidic variety of hunting centipede, the amount of damage the Construct had taken was far worse than if a pony had done so.
>Eyeing the intact, perfectly restored front hooves, you realize the symbiote's armored false-shell was highly vulnerable due to being incredibly thin, barely equivalent to common sheet metal.
>While incapable of absorbing damage compared to its bonded state, if sensations of pain were simulated it wouldn't expend unnecessary energy to display as much, let alone care for restoring itself unless there was a strong self-preservation instinct.
>This version was either mimicking a specific individual or had been formed through a sincere, strong connection.
>Not only could it experience emotion, it was feeling the strain of functioning beyond normally expected capabilities and capacities.
>The blind mare shares her spiritual connection and unsubtle rationale with Tallus to the Rift Plane's raw physicality and brute force logic, each covering the weaknesses of the other.
>Live or die, it did not need to protect Mercy, rather it had a single desire: to exist alongside her as a partner, no more or less.
>Outside those few currently bonded with a symbiote, none would try to understand, fewer would attempt to, and, without fail, the majority WILL treat Mercy as a direct threat.
>You try to think of a single pony that would RATIONALLY accept the knowledge.. it was a tiny few.
>The wrong word would easily cut that number by half.
>Right wingclaws splaying out and shaking in a polite dismissing motion, then presenting an overlay of a barely Euclidean landscape, marsh analogue land masses covered in Riftdrowner sections.
>A miniature version of itself creeps into view, extending a hoof out to touch highly viscous, heavy metallic liquid.
>The Rift Plane was not a mirror of Tallus. It was, is, and will remain a reflection seen at whichever skewed angle the viewer's perspective was placed.
>Shutting the scene down with a heavy flap as you enter a flat out running pace, its head shakes before pointing forwards:
>Fractures of open Void on both sides of the road stretch into swamps and bogs, streaks of jet black armored batponies water-skimming in pairs.
>Your mane bristles defensively at tinges of glowing Eldritch-touched weapons leaving raw, long trails of warped colors behind them.
>Hunter-Killers, considered by marecenaries all across Tallus to be the least fanatic.. of the fanatic Moorites, second best conversationalists, fifth most lewd, though vastly more prone to aggressive bartering.
>Not paying attention to the road, you, or the symbiotic Construct, instead searching for and brutally eliminating every possible nuisance, the path ahead is streaked with blood, ichor, chitin chunks, scales, severed heads of small insects.. and worse.
>A ringing, sharp up-up-down whistle reverberates on water from the north, the Hunter-Killer pairs snap upwards with heavy wing buffers, rolling over to streak in that direction.
[1d2000 = 801] <Central Moors Threat
>Pearlescent eyes gleaming, the Construct's head turns to study each one as long as possible, the expression melancholy.. and etched with guilt.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
>>371191
>Sunny gazed pensively at the construct, just observing it was providing her a great deal of insight. Though not enough to be certain, that would require more invasive examination. Deconstruction, analysis, accessing and interpreting its programming medium. All things she doubted it would allow, nor would Mercy.
>The uncertain nature of its emotive displays alone posed ethical issues with doing so as well.
>Rationally speaking, understanding construct motives and mediums was of paramount importance to her in the long term. Yet it had, seemingly, stabilised Mercy and kept her from experiencing a breakdown, as Mercy was a near irreplaceable Razorback asset, that gave it much more value than as a mere subject of study. Thus her short term goals were better served by leaving it be, and even preventing further damage and possible destruction.
>She was careful to present no outward indication of her thoughts, no speech, no body language, no twitch of the ears, no ruffle of the wings, no bunching of her muscular outside her movement, no cold glares. Perfect, practiced neutrality. She couldn't be sure how well, or how deeply it could predict the intentions of others having learned from Mercy, and did not want it to perceive her as an imminent threat.
>It was highly vulnerable to physical damage. If its psychological match with Mercy extended to combat capabilities, it was reasonable to assume that it was optimised for ranged combat, lacking physical resilience by simple design. A weakness and role that would be covered by Mercy's capabilities. If it saw no other choice in pursuing its goal, or directive, or desire, it would and had engaged in melee, even if it was just stomping on a bug. In theory.
>Therefore it was following its general directive, but with a less than optimal strategy to avoid damage to itself, perhaps thinking any damage to her had to be avoided, even at cost to itself. That tracked with Mercy's recklessness, which she guessed that they might share, if for different reasons.
>Adjustment, then.
>Sunny slowed her place slightly and pulled out her... Never-you-mind-what-it-was-called Flask, showing it to the batstruct.
"Avoid further damage to yourself, even if it means allowing me to incur damage. I'm more resilient, and easier to repair with this. Reconvening with Mercy is best served by role division, utilise ranged combat only, I will distract on the ground."
>Turning her attention back to her surroundings, and with some mild concern at what the Hunter-Killers might do if they encountered the batstruct a little closer, Sunny noticed that the bat ponies had already been well at work all but slaughtering any and all potentially hostile wildlife in their path.
>Whoof. That wasn't good. Even predatorial creatures deserved to be left alone if they weren't actively hostile and could be avoided.
"And... Perhaps avoid their example, anything we can outrun or that isn't displaying an active interest doesn't need to neutralised."
>That was probably a short list in itself, but it needed to be said.
>Sunny gazed pensively at the construct, just observing it was providing her a great deal of insight. Though not enough to be certain, that would require more invasive examination. Deconstruction, analysis, accessing and interpreting its programming medium. All things she doubted it would allow, nor would Mercy.
>The uncertain nature of its emotive displays alone posed ethical issues with doing so as well.
>Rationally speaking, understanding construct motives and mediums was of paramount importance to her in the long term. Yet it had, seemingly, stabilised Mercy and kept her from experiencing a breakdown, as Mercy was a near irreplaceable Razorback asset, that gave it much more value than as a mere subject of study. Thus her short term goals were better served by leaving it be, and even preventing further damage and possible destruction.
>She was careful to present no outward indication of her thoughts, no speech, no body language, no twitch of the ears, no ruffle of the wings, no bunching of her muscular outside her movement, no cold glares. Perfect, practiced neutrality. She couldn't be sure how well, or how deeply it could predict the intentions of others having learned from Mercy, and did not want it to perceive her as an imminent threat.
>It was highly vulnerable to physical damage. If its psychological match with Mercy extended to combat capabilities, it was reasonable to assume that it was optimised for ranged combat, lacking physical resilience by simple design. A weakness and role that would be covered by Mercy's capabilities. If it saw no other choice in pursuing its goal, or directive, or desire, it would and had engaged in melee, even if it was just stomping on a bug. In theory.
>Therefore it was following its general directive, but with a less than optimal strategy to avoid damage to itself, perhaps thinking any damage to her had to be avoided, even at cost to itself. That tracked with Mercy's recklessness, which she guessed that they might share, if for different reasons.
>Adjustment, then.
>Sunny slowed her place slightly and pulled out her... Never-you-mind-what-it-was-called Flask, showing it to the batstruct.
"Avoid further damage to yourself, even if it means allowing me to incur damage. I'm more resilient, and easier to repair with this. Reconvening with Mercy is best served by role division, utilise ranged combat only, I will distract on the ground."
>Turning her attention back to her surroundings, and with some mild concern at what the Hunter-Killers might do if they encountered the batstruct a little closer, Sunny noticed that the bat ponies had already been well at work all but slaughtering any and all potentially hostile wildlife in their path.
>Whoof. That wasn't good. Even predatorial creatures deserved to be left alone if they weren't actively hostile and could be avoided.
"And... Perhaps avoid their example, anything we can outrun or that isn't displaying an active interest doesn't need to neutralised."
>That was probably a short list in itself, but it needed to be said.
>>371181
>Exiting the Workshop and reaching the Bulletin Board without interruption, neither equine or human in view, it had been completely stripped.
>Only a single note was stuck in the center:
"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ACQUIRE CONTRACTS OR ADD ANYTHING TO THESE BOARDS, UNDER THREAT OF ROUST BEING DROPPED ON YOU. FULLY KITTED OUT." -Bubba
>Locating dozens of pens and a single pad of the most hated multicolored Post-Its, cheap, weak glue backing, there was enough light from the structure's roof to write out both messages.
>Returning to the Workshop and affixing both onto the north entrance door, it takes a few seconds to recall the the building layout.
>Heading south between older above fairly standard above ground barracks and new underground barracks, the intensely lit up Pagoda was hard to miss.
>Passing by the bright yellow fountain's west side, it was quiet now, the fountain drained and no longer operating, unusual floral scents surrounding the area.
>Reaching the Pagoda's north entrance and stepping in, the mismatched couches were quite different compared to last night.
>The large, fluffy bright red couch to your immediate right was currently occupied by a visibly mid-60's, black cloth-suited pegasus mare lying on her right side, facing south.
>Muted sunglow mane and brittle, straight white coat could be Solar related, ears swiveling in your direction though not looking; judging by the easy going though typical high alert marecenary posture this one was approachable.
>Clasped in the pegasi's front legs is an unmoving, bright white pinniped likewise lying on its right side, jet black flippers and long whiskers prominent, either sleeping or making no attempt to move.
>Right of the southern entrance/exit is the trade stall you recall well from last night, and seated on a low couch directly behind a dark wood trader's table is a visibly appealing, though cold-blooded young mare:
>Half-transparent like Naliyna, the coat is a mixture of semi-glowing blue shades that change without rhyme or rhythm in starburst patterns, the mane and tail are peculiar, rolling selections of light and dark fuchsia.
>Esoteric, starburst patterned scars that didn't match human weapons, or any explosive you could think of, feature prominently across the Crystal mare's chest, an unusual burn starting above the right eye, ending in the center of the same ear.
>Brightly fluorescing fuchsia eyes shift from the white pegasus on to you, an uncomfortable, possibly dangerous examination, volatile emotions flicker before relenting to a stiff, formal expression.
>Left forehoof lifting and tapping the trade table in an unsubtle 'come in' motion, the voice a low, agreeably rolling chime, respectful yet not welcoming.
"If you're looking for my dam, Naliyna, or her stallion, Thrill, they haven't returned from wherever they went. No idea where they've gone, or most of Razorback for that matter.
And I don't do paperwork unless its vital."
>The pegasi mare's head swivels around, two hard, piercing yellow eyes settling on you, studying up and down three times in no-nonsense-allowed patterns.
>Speaking in an aerily carefree, tired voice that, shockingly, couldn't be more than late 20's, or early 30's at worst, her left black cloth covered wing raises in greeting.
"Don't recognize you but hello all the same. Shanis of Tartarus Isle, humans love calling me the Marecenary Queen and sometimes Big Bitch-"
>Lips pulling back in reflective humor, her eyes flick right, then left back to you, head dipping in slight, respectful acknowledgemarent.
"Both are good. Also, insanely bored because I can't hoof out contracts, jobs, or 'other' work. Don't feel like getting crushed by a horse tonight. Or any other night."
>Leaning forwards several degrees, the Crystal mare's eyes squint, ears snapping around in circles before snorting in quiet, vaguely tense humor.
"That's rich coming from the mare that hires an entire companeigh's worth of Otherworld stallions every single night without fail. Why not trade her something valuable?"
"Don't push me you not-even-herded-yet pain on my teats, already tried that a few dozen times. Roust doesn't care for much other than food or stuff she can give to humans."
>Giving the Crystal mare a sharp, faux-derisive stare, the younger's eyes rolls as she looks away, Shanis turning a victorious, warm smile towards you.
"So, how can I help? ..IF I can help that is."
>Exiting the Workshop and reaching the Bulletin Board without interruption, neither equine or human in view, it had been completely stripped.
>Only a single note was stuck in the center:
"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ACQUIRE CONTRACTS OR ADD ANYTHING TO THESE BOARDS, UNDER THREAT OF ROUST BEING DROPPED ON YOU. FULLY KITTED OUT." -Bubba
>Locating dozens of pens and a single pad of the most hated multicolored Post-Its, cheap, weak glue backing, there was enough light from the structure's roof to write out both messages.
>Returning to the Workshop and affixing both onto the north entrance door, it takes a few seconds to recall the the building layout.
>Heading south between older above fairly standard above ground barracks and new underground barracks, the intensely lit up Pagoda was hard to miss.
>Passing by the bright yellow fountain's west side, it was quiet now, the fountain drained and no longer operating, unusual floral scents surrounding the area.
>Reaching the Pagoda's north entrance and stepping in, the mismatched couches were quite different compared to last night.
>The large, fluffy bright red couch to your immediate right was currently occupied by a visibly mid-60's, black cloth-suited pegasus mare lying on her right side, facing south.
>Muted sunglow mane and brittle, straight white coat could be Solar related, ears swiveling in your direction though not looking; judging by the easy going though typical high alert marecenary posture this one was approachable.
>Clasped in the pegasi's front legs is an unmoving, bright white pinniped likewise lying on its right side, jet black flippers and long whiskers prominent, either sleeping or making no attempt to move.
>Right of the southern entrance/exit is the trade stall you recall well from last night, and seated on a low couch directly behind a dark wood trader's table is a visibly appealing, though cold-blooded young mare:
>Half-transparent like Naliyna, the coat is a mixture of semi-glowing blue shades that change without rhyme or rhythm in starburst patterns, the mane and tail are peculiar, rolling selections of light and dark fuchsia.
>Esoteric, starburst patterned scars that didn't match human weapons, or any explosive you could think of, feature prominently across the Crystal mare's chest, an unusual burn starting above the right eye, ending in the center of the same ear.
>Brightly fluorescing fuchsia eyes shift from the white pegasus on to you, an uncomfortable, possibly dangerous examination, volatile emotions flicker before relenting to a stiff, formal expression.
>Left forehoof lifting and tapping the trade table in an unsubtle 'come in' motion, the voice a low, agreeably rolling chime, respectful yet not welcoming.
"If you're looking for my dam, Naliyna, or her stallion, Thrill, they haven't returned from wherever they went. No idea where they've gone, or most of Razorback for that matter.
And I don't do paperwork unless its vital."
>The pegasi mare's head swivels around, two hard, piercing yellow eyes settling on you, studying up and down three times in no-nonsense-allowed patterns.
>Speaking in an aerily carefree, tired voice that, shockingly, couldn't be more than late 20's, or early 30's at worst, her left black cloth covered wing raises in greeting.
"Don't recognize you but hello all the same. Shanis of Tartarus Isle, humans love calling me the Marecenary Queen and sometimes Big Bitch-"
>Lips pulling back in reflective humor, her eyes flick right, then left back to you, head dipping in slight, respectful acknowledgemarent.
"Both are good. Also, insanely bored because I can't hoof out contracts, jobs, or 'other' work. Don't feel like getting crushed by a horse tonight. Or any other night."
>Leaning forwards several degrees, the Crystal mare's eyes squint, ears snapping around in circles before snorting in quiet, vaguely tense humor.
"That's rich coming from the mare that hires an entire companeigh's worth of Otherworld stallions every single night without fail. Why not trade her something valuable?"
"Don't push me you not-even-herded-yet pain on my teats, already tried that a few dozen times. Roust doesn't care for much other than food or stuff she can give to humans."
>Giving the Crystal mare a sharp, faux-derisive stare, the younger's eyes rolls as she looks away, Shanis turning a victorious, warm smile towards you.
"So, how can I help? ..IF I can help that is."
>>371115
('I can only pray the first is what we find. Or force into existence.')
>Heavily occupied with making final selections, Hodch's upbeat mood shifts into a mixture of disgruntled fact and cold-blooded, well controlled murderous intentions.
('Even if my knowledge turns out to be completely useless in the future I have no reason to lie now.
Four years ago my Order finally decided which plan would be activated should the Empress reappear or take an active role once more. The shortest version is this: we would kill her or be wiped out to the last.
Overwhelming her is, and I am stating this as a matter of ruthless efficiency, basic math formulae. Humans hate this term: acceptable losses. Ponies are equivalent yet we prefer to die knowing that our efforts shift the scales of justice by one millionth of a degree.
The maximum numerical losses to achieve a complete victory was fifty-nine thousand Discordite Destroyers, every Lunar-aligned pony capable of deploying a Grand Spell combined with those capable of Eldritch, Planar, Otherworld, Extra-Planar, and other capabilities were specifically selected. In total, sixty-eight thousand, two hundred and forty were expected.
Sufficient weaponry, armor, artifacts, and relics were stockpiled for centuries in the event of Silver's inevitable reappearance. In addition to acquiring, trading, recovering, producing, borrowing, and stealing in certain cases, we were fully prepared.. but now I have no idea where the rest of my Order is.
My apologies, it's close to Dawn and staying awake is far more difficult than ever. Nibbles has agreed not to mess with you, though Katyal will forever be a pain in the ass. She cannot respect orders or authority which have not been earned, but she does not cause harm without reason.
Sleep well when you can.')
>Drawing upon forgotten, barely remembered, genetic, conceptual, and ingrained knowledge, the Storm King's last, amused words intone across the Elemarental Plane of LIghtning's vastness.
"We consider the fourth act most hallowed: achieving principle of purpose. No matter how refined the skills of one may be, the superiority of materials, or the function of an object, existence wrongfully seeks perfection. A chase which does not end is inherently flawed.
Mortality must not be wasted; death must not be feared. Cherish what you have as I could not."
>Strict realizations filter through your logic-seeking thoughtforms, extending outwards to compare solely material sciences to Elemarental practicality.
>While specific requirements couldn't be bypassed or ignored, Lightning and Gravity were not bound by the same definitions your universe featured.
>Both had been persuaded to function interdependently in the past, and would do so once more.
>Eagerly.
>As the necessary definitions of this weapon's intended results align to your willing guidance, both hands firmly stretch out to finish this work.
>Modifying the Lightning Plane's rationale-based ideas of a ranged weapon, it would allow you to seek out and impress individual gravitons to be temporarily contained.
>Improving, reducing, and modifying individual components to hybrid standards, the processes flow, minutiae of how in favor of efficient redesigns that that wouldn't be out of place on Tallus, your home world, and this Plane.
>Stepping back from the anvil's solid nature, you knew what the prize in your hands was intended for, its purpose outlined, defined, repaired, and redefined to acceptable standards.
>Its principle was unfulfilled for now, but it had every right and reason to function properly.
>Honorably extolled in their use, furnace, forge, and tools each return to their waiting conceptual states or stasis.
>Over three-quarters of an hour on Tallus had passed; Dawn would soon arrive as the Solar Alicorn prepares to stride forth and collect her ponies once more.
('I can only pray the first is what we find. Or force into existence.')
>Heavily occupied with making final selections, Hodch's upbeat mood shifts into a mixture of disgruntled fact and cold-blooded, well controlled murderous intentions.
('Even if my knowledge turns out to be completely useless in the future I have no reason to lie now.
Four years ago my Order finally decided which plan would be activated should the Empress reappear or take an active role once more. The shortest version is this: we would kill her or be wiped out to the last.
Overwhelming her is, and I am stating this as a matter of ruthless efficiency, basic math formulae. Humans hate this term: acceptable losses. Ponies are equivalent yet we prefer to die knowing that our efforts shift the scales of justice by one millionth of a degree.
The maximum numerical losses to achieve a complete victory was fifty-nine thousand Discordite Destroyers, every Lunar-aligned pony capable of deploying a Grand Spell combined with those capable of Eldritch, Planar, Otherworld, Extra-Planar, and other capabilities were specifically selected. In total, sixty-eight thousand, two hundred and forty were expected.
Sufficient weaponry, armor, artifacts, and relics were stockpiled for centuries in the event of Silver's inevitable reappearance. In addition to acquiring, trading, recovering, producing, borrowing, and stealing in certain cases, we were fully prepared.. but now I have no idea where the rest of my Order is.
My apologies, it's close to Dawn and staying awake is far more difficult than ever. Nibbles has agreed not to mess with you, though Katyal will forever be a pain in the ass. She cannot respect orders or authority which have not been earned, but she does not cause harm without reason.
Sleep well when you can.')
>Drawing upon forgotten, barely remembered, genetic, conceptual, and ingrained knowledge, the Storm King's last, amused words intone across the Elemarental Plane of LIghtning's vastness.
"We consider the fourth act most hallowed: achieving principle of purpose. No matter how refined the skills of one may be, the superiority of materials, or the function of an object, existence wrongfully seeks perfection. A chase which does not end is inherently flawed.
Mortality must not be wasted; death must not be feared. Cherish what you have as I could not."
>Strict realizations filter through your logic-seeking thoughtforms, extending outwards to compare solely material sciences to Elemarental practicality.
>While specific requirements couldn't be bypassed or ignored, Lightning and Gravity were not bound by the same definitions your universe featured.
>Both had been persuaded to function interdependently in the past, and would do so once more.
>Eagerly.
>As the necessary definitions of this weapon's intended results align to your willing guidance, both hands firmly stretch out to finish this work.
>Modifying the Lightning Plane's rationale-based ideas of a ranged weapon, it would allow you to seek out and impress individual gravitons to be temporarily contained.
>Improving, reducing, and modifying individual components to hybrid standards, the processes flow, minutiae of how in favor of efficient redesigns that that wouldn't be out of place on Tallus, your home world, and this Plane.
>Stepping back from the anvil's solid nature, you knew what the prize in your hands was intended for, its purpose outlined, defined, repaired, and redefined to acceptable standards.
>Its principle was unfulfilled for now, but it had every right and reason to function properly.
>Honorably extolled in their use, furnace, forge, and tools each return to their waiting conceptual states or stasis.
>Over three-quarters of an hour on Tallus had passed; Dawn would soon arrive as the Solar Alicorn prepares to stride forth and collect her ponies once more.
>>371196
>With the empty Bulletin Board fresh in his mind, José let out a somewhat uneasy exhale as he entered the Pagoda.
>Even after being succinctly informed on the lack of veteran personnel, it was only now when he started to feel it.
>The fact the previously familiar face of Nalinya was absent might've been the biggest piece of evidence.
>Not to mention the blunt threats for trying to add any work-related items to where it should be their respective area.
>His train of thought was quickly derailed when the young Crystal mare beckoned him over as he subconsciously took in the scene, blinking a couple of times as he approached the serenly uncomfortable situation.
"Good morning, miss."
>He promptly gave the cold-blooded equine a curt bow and a small yet reserved smile.
>She must be Starglow.
>Following his greeting, he soon turned to Shanis with a more outgoing grin as he slightly loosened up his posture.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Shanis. I am José."
>He didn't quite get her sense of humor however, softly tilting his head.
>There was this curious gaze, like he'd ask why would she enjoy being crushed by horses, before taking a swift inhale and shelving it for more intriguing matters.
>Gently crouching to look at the currently held pinniped, his smile became warmer.
"For starters: Who's this fella you've got there?"
>With the empty Bulletin Board fresh in his mind, José let out a somewhat uneasy exhale as he entered the Pagoda.
>Even after being succinctly informed on the lack of veteran personnel, it was only now when he started to feel it.
>The fact the previously familiar face of Nalinya was absent might've been the biggest piece of evidence.
>Not to mention the blunt threats for trying to add any work-related items to where it should be their respective area.
>His train of thought was quickly derailed when the young Crystal mare beckoned him over as he subconsciously took in the scene, blinking a couple of times as he approached the serenly uncomfortable situation.
"Good morning, miss."
>He promptly gave the cold-blooded equine a curt bow and a small yet reserved smile.
>She must be Starglow.
>Following his greeting, he soon turned to Shanis with a more outgoing grin as he slightly loosened up his posture.
"Nice to meet you, Miss Shanis. I am José."
>He didn't quite get her sense of humor however, softly tilting his head.
>There was this curious gaze, like he'd ask why would she enjoy being crushed by horses, before taking a swift inhale and shelving it for more intriguing matters.
>Gently crouching to look at the currently held pinniped, his smile became warmer.
"For starters: Who's this fella you've got there?"
File (): 2D7A9D5873F3A0E97731214A108DD12A-2885146.gif (2.8 MB, 498x206, You Shall Not Pass.gif)
>>371177
>Lont hummed as he surveyed the marching armies surroundings. It appears they were truly safe from the usual flora and fauna of the Moors, 'safety in numbers' came to mind.
>The only thing to attack such a formidable force out here were either desperate, had nothing to lose or were insane.
>"Or a Rift Seeker."
>With no threats in sight Lont focused back to the quite odd discussion prompted by the FNG all the way back at the ass end of the army.
>It was certainly intriguing. Some hidden force influencing this newbie, and it was starting to sound like a certain pony that had an influence on him even from beyond the grave.
>Speaking of which.
('Both.')
>He said plainly to the Leadmare.
('Physically I am a bit more Crystalline than I used to be-')
>The muscles across his back spasmed as his wings flittered in place to punctuate his point.
(-And spiritually I have taken Her training to heart like a lance to my chest.')
>He smiled coyly at his own self referencing pun.
('Gentle, yet powerful.')
>>371184
>Lont blinked.
>Something was removed?
>As he marched along it slowly dawned on him what happened, and it made his eyes twitch in annoyance.
>Mindwiped. Again.
>Lont did not know what was "removed", and didn't press on the issue.
>Because by the sounds of it she did not wish to do it. He was just as bitter as her, being a victim of another mindwipe yet he did feel a pang of sympathy for the mare.
('I...Forgive you.')
>>371185
"Mercy?"
>The Operator muttered to himself, he was taken aback by her appearance here. It had been a hot minute since he last saw her.
>Seeing her through eyes other than his own was very odd yet he could tell she has been through the Ringer already.
('Okay.')
>He simply said, agreeing with the huffing and puffing white Pegasus that was certainly not in the mood to tolerate any passage.
>Lont hummed as he surveyed the marching armies surroundings. It appears they were truly safe from the usual flora and fauna of the Moors, 'safety in numbers' came to mind.
>The only thing to attack such a formidable force out here were either desperate, had nothing to lose or were insane.
>"Or a Rift Seeker."
>With no threats in sight Lont focused back to the quite odd discussion prompted by the FNG all the way back at the ass end of the army.
>It was certainly intriguing. Some hidden force influencing this newbie, and it was starting to sound like a certain pony that had an influence on him even from beyond the grave.
>Speaking of which.
('Both.')
>He said plainly to the Leadmare.
('Physically I am a bit more Crystalline than I used to be-')
>The muscles across his back spasmed as his wings flittered in place to punctuate his point.
(-And spiritually I have taken Her training to heart like a lance to my chest.')
>He smiled coyly at his own self referencing pun.
('Gentle, yet powerful.')
>>371184
>Lont blinked.
>Something was removed?
>As he marched along it slowly dawned on him what happened, and it made his eyes twitch in annoyance.
>Mindwiped. Again.
>Lont did not know what was "removed", and didn't press on the issue.
>Because by the sounds of it she did not wish to do it. He was just as bitter as her, being a victim of another mindwipe yet he did feel a pang of sympathy for the mare.
('I...Forgive you.')
>>371185
"Mercy?"
>The Operator muttered to himself, he was taken aback by her appearance here. It had been a hot minute since he last saw her.
>Seeing her through eyes other than his own was very odd yet he could tell she has been through the Ringer already.
('Okay.')
>He simply said, agreeing with the huffing and puffing white Pegasus that was certainly not in the mood to tolerate any passage.
>>371184
>Clemency, upon hearing about the various natural dangers of the Everfree, feels a bit glad he's put into a 16,000 strong formation
>Plus, he's a little amused with how the advance parties are meeting the local fauna and the operators talking about the...voices
("Too many things could cause it considering what we got at the Fortress. Again, we'll try to look into it...after a good sleep.")
>Speaking of which, Clemency shook his head for clarity
>It felt like he blanked out for a couple seconds
>It felt like a blind spot was put into his head
>Confused, he decides to let it be
>>371185
>Clemency hums to himself, trying to remember what the symbiote looked like before it attached
("Well it zoomed toward me as a sphere, turned into a bunch of guns before turning back into a sphere, took my shotgun, then she turned into Blackhorn.")
>As they were marching, he notices his entourage turning their heads to him
>He looks at everypony in turn
("Well, I do have a variety of enchants. That blood one was from that Vitriole Drake we killed, and a bunch is from relics. That one Construct piece you mentioned might be my Riftseeker plate.")
>The thought of being around an Enchained having an effect is a interesting
>But as the other Villagers said, the 'voice' phenomenon can't be from that
>Especially after he heard what the "rainbow" elemental enchant guy said
>Laying the matter to rest for now, he continues to keep pace with the march
>In the meantime, he takes not of the M-S.O.L.G's image
>Not too much is shown, cloud and fog obscuring most of the road
>Trying to adjust the camera, he finally gets a bead on the main host
>Deciding it's good enough, he leaves the image minimized and off to the side
>Hearing a snicker, Clemency was about to look around to the mares again until a report is hailed across the overherd
>"Mercy?"
>Haven't heard from her in a while
>Although, he did recall she was with a rookie pegasus
>But she was at the Arena when the Construct nonsense was happening
>He focuses with the leadmare and spots her
>He takes a good look at her since she's also supposed to have a symbiote as well but doesn't speak
>Her threat however brings some memories back
>For now, he keeps quiet and hopefully Jeff's plea makes her reconsider
>Clemency, upon hearing about the various natural dangers of the Everfree, feels a bit glad he's put into a 16,000 strong formation
>Plus, he's a little amused with how the advance parties are meeting the local fauna and the operators talking about the...voices
("Too many things could cause it considering what we got at the Fortress. Again, we'll try to look into it...after a good sleep.")
>Speaking of which, Clemency shook his head for clarity
>It felt like he blanked out for a couple seconds
>It felt like a blind spot was put into his head
>Confused, he decides to let it be
>>371185
>Clemency hums to himself, trying to remember what the symbiote looked like before it attached
("Well it zoomed toward me as a sphere, turned into a bunch of guns before turning back into a sphere, took my shotgun, then she turned into Blackhorn.")
>As they were marching, he notices his entourage turning their heads to him
>He looks at everypony in turn
("Well, I do have a variety of enchants. That blood one was from that Vitriole Drake we killed, and a bunch is from relics. That one Construct piece you mentioned might be my Riftseeker plate.")
>The thought of being around an Enchained having an effect is a interesting
>But as the other Villagers said, the 'voice' phenomenon can't be from that
>Especially after he heard what the "rainbow" elemental enchant guy said
>Laying the matter to rest for now, he continues to keep pace with the march
>In the meantime, he takes not of the M-S.O.L.G's image
>Not too much is shown, cloud and fog obscuring most of the road
>Trying to adjust the camera, he finally gets a bead on the main host
>Deciding it's good enough, he leaves the image minimized and off to the side
>Hearing a snicker, Clemency was about to look around to the mares again until a report is hailed across the overherd
>"Mercy?"
>Haven't heard from her in a while
>Although, he did recall she was with a rookie pegasus
>But she was at the Arena when the Construct nonsense was happening
>He focuses with the leadmare and spots her
>He takes a good look at her since she's also supposed to have a symbiote as well but doesn't speak
>Her threat however brings some memories back
>For now, he keeps quiet and hopefully Jeff's plea makes her reconsider
>>371197
>The secret Hodch reveals is enonugh to make Pareidolia pause in his work.
(In truth, part of a grand contingency and a grim calculation. Now the context falls into place. That explains his skillset. Unclear where he found the impression humans hate acceptable losses. Human society is built and fueled by it in many forms, no matter the world.)
('I understand. I will when this equipment is finished.')
>Looking over the mental concept being presented to him in a semi-actualized form, he frowns.
(Miscalculation. The nature of electricity and gravity here is different to such a degree that design constraints are necessary. Anti-psionic performance has been overstated. Lack sufficient knowledge to apply more discriminatory methods. Best option would be to remove the property. Reduce the strain on the weapon's boundaries and improve performance.)
>Repeating the prior process of refinement, he modifies the idea to work towards a fully finished product while pondering the apparently late Storm King's words with some ambivalence.
(Unclear Class designation leaves me wary of agreeing with you. But it is clear there is some parallels in our scientific pursuit of truth. At least this concept provides some common ground.)
1d6+5]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T) + Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
>The secret Hodch reveals is enonugh to make Pareidolia pause in his work.
(In truth, part of a grand contingency and a grim calculation. Now the context falls into place. That explains his skillset. Unclear where he found the impression humans hate acceptable losses. Human society is built and fueled by it in many forms, no matter the world.)
('I understand. I will when this equipment is finished.')
>Looking over the mental concept being presented to him in a semi-actualized form, he frowns.
(Miscalculation. The nature of electricity and gravity here is different to such a degree that design constraints are necessary. Anti-psionic performance has been overstated. Lack sufficient knowledge to apply more discriminatory methods. Best option would be to remove the property. Reduce the strain on the weapon's boundaries and improve performance.)
>Repeating the prior process of refinement, he modifies the idea to work towards a fully finished product while pondering the apparently late Storm King's words with some ambivalence.
(Unclear Class designation leaves me wary of agreeing with you. But it is clear there is some parallels in our scientific pursuit of truth. At least this concept provides some common ground.)
1d6+5]< Expert Small Arms + Skill Specializations (A.R.T) + Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]< Extra Roll Shifted GCS FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]< Expert Small Arms cont. + Skill Specializations (A.R.T) + Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]< Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Graduate Researcher + Skill Specialization (M.E.CC.T.)
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In the Middle of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371212
>>371119
"If I understood how paladine functions I might be able to extrapolate a why. Relevant information on it should be in my primary datacores, though...."
>Mini-Wild gives a tired-at-this-damned-world electronic sigh, rubbing the sides of her head on screen with both hands.
"Reaching them will be a nightmare. Not the Alicorn, mind you. I'll retain the plate and cube unless the pain of being aware that I'm aware of knowing I'm aware becomes too much to hoofle or handle. Or I need to scream. A lot. Loudly."
>Staring at you without a single indication of sarcasm.
"Mom, that was one second of exposure. If it has the value I think it does, I will.. attempt to contain it. Later."
>A ladder is scribbled from the chest compartment to the remains of her head, then quickly erased, her left hand reaching down, palm flat in front of the opening.
>Pausing as her outer self loses EVERYTHING, incoherently at that, the caricature's antennae flatten.
"I'll lift you up to check. Replacements are sixty percent complete."
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-#8
>As her exterior screaming stops, the sole eye blinks.
"Finally. May have discovered the entity that's been fucking me over, I'll be looking for dissonant temporal-weave ripples near inhabited zones. Checking for local and regional movements-"
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Omni-Sensor Arrays: Long Range Scans
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
"If I understood how paladine functions I might be able to extrapolate a why. Relevant information on it should be in my primary datacores, though...."
>Mini-Wild gives a tired-at-this-damned-world electronic sigh, rubbing the sides of her head on screen with both hands.
"Reaching them will be a nightmare. Not the Alicorn, mind you. I'll retain the plate and cube unless the pain of being aware that I'm aware of knowing I'm aware becomes too much to hoofle or handle. Or I need to scream. A lot. Loudly."
>Staring at you without a single indication of sarcasm.
"Mom, that was one second of exposure. If it has the value I think it does, I will.. attempt to contain it. Later."
>A ladder is scribbled from the chest compartment to the remains of her head, then quickly erased, her left hand reaching down, palm flat in front of the opening.
>Pausing as her outer self loses EVERYTHING, incoherently at that, the caricature's antennae flatten.
"I'll lift you up to check. Replacements are sixty percent complete."
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <Sensory Node #3: Basic Engineering Study
[1d6+14 = (4+14) = 18] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (5+15) = 20]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+20 = (1+20) = 21] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-#8
>As her exterior screaming stops, the sole eye blinks.
"Finally. May have discovered the entity that's been fucking me over, I'll be looking for dissonant temporal-weave ripples near inhabited zones. Checking for local and regional movements-"
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Arcanum Sensor Array
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Omni-Sensor Arrays: Long Range Scans
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
>>371172
>Skeptically eyeing the discs, Helping reaches out for a cluster of nails from a tin can on the windowsill next to Krinza's anvil, then proceeds to stick them onto each one, testing five times each before inspecting magnetic differentials.
"I have studied numerous scenarios where our version proved to be most beneficial. Among those lessons learned from the Middle Equestrian Era was a consensus that civil affairs must remain unmarenaged. The version you speak of is best left behind. Such will not occur here."
>Nope, he knew.
>Gazing to his left, at Spiral's untouched tables and forgeworks you notice, the pale green unicorn's face contorts furiously for a split-second before placing the nails back.
"He understands the troubles and quandaries humans face. I do not and that wounds me. Canterlot Underground was merely an often quieter place where he could commit to study and experimarentation whenever the desire struck. They shared all without regard. However, here-"
>Shifting to sit facing southwards, Helping reaches his left front hoof out to tap the table's edge.
"Is Spiral's home. No other place did he consider comforting save the visits of those ponies that brought their joys to share with him. Which he never spoke to us of, perhaps for the best.
Regardless, in his own words, humans were more acceptable to him for reasons which no longer matter now. Those days and nights are behind us all. For that alone I consider Razorback my kin as well.
Forgive me if it sounds like I do not fully comprehend your troubles. In full honesty, I do not. Despite the difficulties of species and wholly different thought process barriers, I am beginning to understand his.. 'excessive' protective nature towards Razorback."
>Stilled for a bit, he removes the boxpack and sets it towards you, speaks in a quiet, somewhat insulted tone.
"I am unsatisfied with these results. My knowledge and capabilities are greatly wanting, but so far as they have allowed this is complete. We should wait for Krinza to return for a proper inspec-"
>Streaks of lambent colors flood in through the shut doors, coalescing into a fairly ragged looking Krinza behind his furnace, tossing a selection of brightly colored metallic bars behind his anvil with an expression of unparalleled hatred.
"Excellent timing. Would you examine this for me? I fear a number of mistakes were made. Are the materials sufficient?"
"Of course. Yes, they are much more pure than I expected. But the prices are worse than Lishanki robbery-"
>Taking two steps forwards to lean over the box for a sniff, spinning it around to inspect each side, thunking the sides, top, and seams, then tapping each magnetic disc, the grandmaster smith nods several times, visibly impressed.
"No major flaws, solid construction, excellent concussive resistance. Your melding skills require a bit of fine tuning: reduce temperature when joining magnetic to non-magnetic materials by a factor of point-two. The slides-"
>Pulling each drawer out to full extension, slamming them shut, Krinza repeats the process twenty more times rapidly, ears flicking in proud motions.
"No scraping, screeching, grinding, or flaking. Most excellent! Ivan, this will require either dry or heavy mineral lubricant each week or so. If I recall this correctly.. load the belts top section facing left and right, then I will try it on you."
>Horn lighting in dull silver patterns, the two ammunition belts are floated from the table behind you, coiled into the slideouts, top snaking over the bottom, shut, opened, repeated five more times, then finally closed.
>Unicorn OCD was good.. in some cases.
"One moment please-"
>Lifting the pack and rotating it around behind you, the magnetic discs thunk into the Exoskeleton's rear plating, which you don't even feel, then slides the ammunition drawers out, finding them to be easily accessible with either hand.
>Severe diagrams of arithmetic appearing above his head and brightening to sharp gold patterns, Krinza pulls the box off, holding it at short distance, which thunks back on again.
>Eyes squinting and glancing upwards, the yellow stallion's lips pull back in a thinly impressed smile.
"If these are indicative of her acquiremarent capabilities then I rescind all of my previous words.. except for two.
Ivan, you have full magnetic control over the system. Simply think 'remove', 'drop', or a similar term, or phrase, and it will do so. Unfortunately there are no more Float cores or Crystal Empire devices to prevent the box from landing. Likewise, there are no ponies with significant Gravity alignmarent or attunemarent in Razorback. At least that I know of."
>Skeptically eyeing the discs, Helping reaches out for a cluster of nails from a tin can on the windowsill next to Krinza's anvil, then proceeds to stick them onto each one, testing five times each before inspecting magnetic differentials.
"I have studied numerous scenarios where our version proved to be most beneficial. Among those lessons learned from the Middle Equestrian Era was a consensus that civil affairs must remain unmarenaged. The version you speak of is best left behind. Such will not occur here."
>Nope, he knew.
>Gazing to his left, at Spiral's untouched tables and forgeworks you notice, the pale green unicorn's face contorts furiously for a split-second before placing the nails back.
"He understands the troubles and quandaries humans face. I do not and that wounds me. Canterlot Underground was merely an often quieter place where he could commit to study and experimarentation whenever the desire struck. They shared all without regard. However, here-"
>Shifting to sit facing southwards, Helping reaches his left front hoof out to tap the table's edge.
"Is Spiral's home. No other place did he consider comforting save the visits of those ponies that brought their joys to share with him. Which he never spoke to us of, perhaps for the best.
Regardless, in his own words, humans were more acceptable to him for reasons which no longer matter now. Those days and nights are behind us all. For that alone I consider Razorback my kin as well.
Forgive me if it sounds like I do not fully comprehend your troubles. In full honesty, I do not. Despite the difficulties of species and wholly different thought process barriers, I am beginning to understand his.. 'excessive' protective nature towards Razorback."
>Stilled for a bit, he removes the boxpack and sets it towards you, speaks in a quiet, somewhat insulted tone.
"I am unsatisfied with these results. My knowledge and capabilities are greatly wanting, but so far as they have allowed this is complete. We should wait for Krinza to return for a proper inspec-"
>Streaks of lambent colors flood in through the shut doors, coalescing into a fairly ragged looking Krinza behind his furnace, tossing a selection of brightly colored metallic bars behind his anvil with an expression of unparalleled hatred.
"Excellent timing. Would you examine this for me? I fear a number of mistakes were made. Are the materials sufficient?"
"Of course. Yes, they are much more pure than I expected. But the prices are worse than Lishanki robbery-"
>Taking two steps forwards to lean over the box for a sniff, spinning it around to inspect each side, thunking the sides, top, and seams, then tapping each magnetic disc, the grandmaster smith nods several times, visibly impressed.
"No major flaws, solid construction, excellent concussive resistance. Your melding skills require a bit of fine tuning: reduce temperature when joining magnetic to non-magnetic materials by a factor of point-two. The slides-"
>Pulling each drawer out to full extension, slamming them shut, Krinza repeats the process twenty more times rapidly, ears flicking in proud motions.
"No scraping, screeching, grinding, or flaking. Most excellent! Ivan, this will require either dry or heavy mineral lubricant each week or so. If I recall this correctly.. load the belts top section facing left and right, then I will try it on you."
>Horn lighting in dull silver patterns, the two ammunition belts are floated from the table behind you, coiled into the slideouts, top snaking over the bottom, shut, opened, repeated five more times, then finally closed.
>Unicorn OCD was good.. in some cases.
"One moment please-"
>Lifting the pack and rotating it around behind you, the magnetic discs thunk into the Exoskeleton's rear plating, which you don't even feel, then slides the ammunition drawers out, finding them to be easily accessible with either hand.
>Severe diagrams of arithmetic appearing above his head and brightening to sharp gold patterns, Krinza pulls the box off, holding it at short distance, which thunks back on again.
>Eyes squinting and glancing upwards, the yellow stallion's lips pull back in a thinly impressed smile.
"If these are indicative of her acquiremarent capabilities then I rescind all of my previous words.. except for two.
Ivan, you have full magnetic control over the system. Simply think 'remove', 'drop', or a similar term, or phrase, and it will do so. Unfortunately there are no more Float cores or Crystal Empire devices to prevent the box from landing. Likewise, there are no ponies with significant Gravity alignmarent or attunemarent in Razorback. At least that I know of."
>>371199
>Physically uncoiling, and subsequently brightening several degrees, the younger Crystal mare's lips curl back in an almost sinister, yet brutally earnest smile.
"A welcoming Dusk to you. May you feel the Night well. Starglow Remostrine, youngest of Naliyna Remostrine."
>While that was an honest greeting, the unusual responses held a number of specific disconnects that you couldn't place.
"José, huh? That's similar to a few Argentum's Lands naming conventions. The most common meaning is the ho-"
>Giving a loudly ringing snort, Shanis reclines into the couch, putting on a welcoming grin as she suppresses an obvious snickering fit, cheeks creasing in a few dozen degrees of deciousness.
"Let me just say you shouldn't use THAT part of your name unless you want to be aggressive approached by sexually eager mares, understood?"
>Dipping her head briefly, the winter suited mare pats her left hoof above the left flipper.
"You mean this incredibly soft and snuggly sweetheart?"
>The seal's head turns and lifts to regard you, a heart-burning warm smile breaks across the feminine face, whiskers twitching several times amusingly.
>Left flipper raising to hold in place, presumably for a proper greeting, an unusually young, sweetly toned voice rolls from the pinniped, speaking in perfect, unaccented Common.
"Hello Sehr Chosay. I'm Nao, formal Liasion for the Greater Polar Seal Colonies, that is, until I am asked to represent my species' return elsewhere. It is wonderful to meet you."
>Starglow bends forwards heavily on the couch, right forehoof over her mouth, almost as if trying to prevent herself from puking as she mutters in dimly cheerful notes.
"Every damn time.."
>Physically uncoiling, and subsequently brightening several degrees, the younger Crystal mare's lips curl back in an almost sinister, yet brutally earnest smile.
"A welcoming Dusk to you. May you feel the Night well. Starglow Remostrine, youngest of Naliyna Remostrine."
>While that was an honest greeting, the unusual responses held a number of specific disconnects that you couldn't place.
"José, huh? That's similar to a few Argentum's Lands naming conventions. The most common meaning is the ho-"
>Giving a loudly ringing snort, Shanis reclines into the couch, putting on a welcoming grin as she suppresses an obvious snickering fit, cheeks creasing in a few dozen degrees of deciousness.
"Let me just say you shouldn't use THAT part of your name unless you want to be aggressive approached by sexually eager mares, understood?"
>Dipping her head briefly, the winter suited mare pats her left hoof above the left flipper.
"You mean this incredibly soft and snuggly sweetheart?"
>The seal's head turns and lifts to regard you, a heart-burning warm smile breaks across the feminine face, whiskers twitching several times amusingly.
>Left flipper raising to hold in place, presumably for a proper greeting, an unusually young, sweetly toned voice rolls from the pinniped, speaking in perfect, unaccented Common.
"Hello Sehr Chosay. I'm Nao, formal Liasion for the Greater Polar Seal Colonies, that is, until I am asked to represent my species' return elsewhere. It is wonderful to meet you."
>Starglow bends forwards heavily on the couch, right forehoof over her mouth, almost as if trying to prevent herself from puking as she mutters in dimly cheerful notes.
"Every damn time.."
>>371213
"It sounds like a much more efficient version, I won't attempt to deny that."
>Ivan wouldn't participate in the system, but he couldn't deny it was a lot more appealing than Serfdom back home.
>Ivan didn't mind that Helping did not fully understand his experience, and envied him for such.
"It is probably for the best that you do not. The only ones who would, would have also gone through the same, or very similar experiences on their own worlds."
>Ivan would have said something about it looking good enough to him, but was silenced before he could begin by Krinza returning.
>Getting up to follow Krinza over, Ivan would watch as he methodically looked over Helping's work.
>He could appreciate a thorough inspection of his future gear by someone more experienced.
>Noting down 'heavy mineral/dry lubricant' on his PDA, he would put it away again to refocus on the two ponies.
"Weightless. Good."
>He'd twist his torso a bit after Krinza allowed the box to latch to his back again, checking his flexible he would be.
"That's a lot more useful than the potential of fumbling with hard to see straps in a firefight."
"It sounds like a much more efficient version, I won't attempt to deny that."
>Ivan wouldn't participate in the system, but he couldn't deny it was a lot more appealing than Serfdom back home.
>Ivan didn't mind that Helping did not fully understand his experience, and envied him for such.
"It is probably for the best that you do not. The only ones who would, would have also gone through the same, or very similar experiences on their own worlds."
>Ivan would have said something about it looking good enough to him, but was silenced before he could begin by Krinza returning.
>Getting up to follow Krinza over, Ivan would watch as he methodically looked over Helping's work.
>He could appreciate a thorough inspection of his future gear by someone more experienced.
>Noting down 'heavy mineral/dry lubricant' on his PDA, he would put it away again to refocus on the two ponies.
"Weightless. Good."
>He'd twist his torso a bit after Krinza allowed the box to latch to his back again, checking his flexible he would be.
"That's a lot more useful than the potential of fumbling with hard to see straps in a firefight."
>>371214
>Trakkel was not exaggerating when it came to Starglow, it seems.
>Vague attempts at hypotheses came and went in José mind, ultiamtely leading him to be confused on what to take from it.
>For now, keep his interactions formal and short.
"Likewise, miss Remonstrine. José Gallo."
>Even while kneeling down in front of the cutest little creature he has seen yet, he exuded heightened elegance specifically for Starglow.
>She seems to like stoic gentlemen.
>Maybe.
>Once again, Gallo found himself grasping at straws as to what Shanis tried to warn him about.
"I will keep this in mind, miss Shanis. If you wish, you may call me mister Gallo instead."
>Now to focus on the biggest twist he couldn't have expected.
>An actual, honest to Celestia diplomatic asset harboring the body of the most diabetes-inducing creature he's seen so far.
>Giving Nao a gentle hold of his flipper for a bit, he couldn't help but to smile warmly and even let out a little chuckle.
"Greetings, miss Nao. My name's José Gallo. May I inquire further about your role as a liasion?"
>Trakkel was not exaggerating when it came to Starglow, it seems.
>Vague attempts at hypotheses came and went in José mind, ultiamtely leading him to be confused on what to take from it.
>For now, keep his interactions formal and short.
"Likewise, miss Remonstrine. José Gallo."
>Even while kneeling down in front of the cutest little creature he has seen yet, he exuded heightened elegance specifically for Starglow.
>She seems to like stoic gentlemen.
>Maybe.
>Once again, Gallo found himself grasping at straws as to what Shanis tried to warn him about.
"I will keep this in mind, miss Shanis. If you wish, you may call me mister Gallo instead."
>Now to focus on the biggest twist he couldn't have expected.
>An actual, honest to Celestia diplomatic asset harboring the body of the most diabetes-inducing creature he's seen so far.
>Giving Nao a gentle hold of his flipper for a bit, he couldn't help but to smile warmly and even let out a little chuckle.
"Greetings, miss Nao. My name's José Gallo. May I inquire further about your role as a liasion?"
>>371187
('No Tainted remain in the Central Moors, that I can assure us all.')
>Tasting rather than sensing a bitterly angered stare from a mid-40's Canterlotlian Day Guard mare in close proximity, the Overherd twitches at her harsh response.
('There are certainly some remaining in an Old location. Of course, Razorback knows nothing about that, do y-')
>Automatically silencing the mare, supporting thoughts, rebuttals, and dissenting voices, the Shieldmare's tone is cold.
('Enough. This is not the time or place. Your objections can be spoken later.')
>Pulling up the map and pinging the relay, a return match for positioning data shows as 12.9 miles straight.
>Inspecting newish and revised markers, the road had been laid outside the original pathway's route, displayed as 13.6 miles due to swamp crossing deviations.
('She was cut off from us earlier and is... refusing the opportunity to rejoin. Should I a-')
('Don't. You weren't in Basin to see the shitshow we saw first, it was really, REALLY bad.')
('Fillies... I'll tell her.')
>The forward Lancers and Chargers hold their position, Overherd ponies slowing behind them to a halt as the youngest pair frown, the oldest sighing marentally.
"Your name is Mercy, correct? I have several messages from Jeff of Razorback Company, he's at the formation's rear."
"It is, yes. Is he safe?"
"Untouched so far as we know, other than fatigued. Are you okay, and where is Sunny?"
>Taking a deep breath, the Spirit Walker stretches her wings out, lifting one forehoof, setting it down, then flexing out the second, physically intact... and seemed to be in peak performarence.
"I am unharmed. Bit tired, hungry, thirsty, but otherwise well. Sunny is following me, she should arrive in five to ten minutes."
"Understood. Jeff says we have discussed the possibility of either fighting the Planar Constructs, the Riftseeker, or neither, and wants to know what we should do."
>Rolling her front lips back to bite on carefully, the blind mare blinks slowly, then lifts her head northeast, legs spreading apart into a relaxed position.
"Return to Basin Village, the Riftseeker will be destroyed soon. The agreemarent I accepted requires that nopony or human approaches the vicinity of Basin Arena. Leave... please."
>Cutting the squad's forming questions off by her left wing shearing down, right wing reaching forwards, vibrating streaks of disturbed Ethereal and Void fractures occur in realspace around her.
>The Spirit Walker's physical form disrupts as she leans into a strictly offensive pose, crouching down slightly as her left foreleg raises.
>Left eye and wingblades flaring in bright pink, red, blue, yellow, and green hues, the right eye and blades swirl, spurned purple, blue, and black depths surrounding each.
"I cannot allow further deaths to tormarent me and I will not say this again: not a single individual is to take a step forwards. My honor will not be stomped upon for the fourth time this night. I am prepared to kill a hundred if not all of you to defend that. Choose, quickly."
[1d6 = 3] <Spectrum Dive: Opposing
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Auto-Resist
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Void Spectrum Rend: Preparation
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Ethereal Plane Rend: Preparation
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Spectral Shatter: Preparation
('No Tainted remain in the Central Moors, that I can assure us all.')
>Tasting rather than sensing a bitterly angered stare from a mid-40's Canterlotlian Day Guard mare in close proximity, the Overherd twitches at her harsh response.
('There are certainly some remaining in an Old location. Of course, Razorback knows nothing about that, do y-')
>Automatically silencing the mare, supporting thoughts, rebuttals, and dissenting voices, the Shieldmare's tone is cold.
('Enough. This is not the time or place. Your objections can be spoken later.')
>Pulling up the map and pinging the relay, a return match for positioning data shows as 12.9 miles straight.
>Inspecting newish and revised markers, the road had been laid outside the original pathway's route, displayed as 13.6 miles due to swamp crossing deviations.
('She was cut off from us earlier and is... refusing the opportunity to rejoin. Should I a-')
('Don't. You weren't in Basin to see the shitshow we saw first, it was really, REALLY bad.')
('Fillies... I'll tell her.')
>The forward Lancers and Chargers hold their position, Overherd ponies slowing behind them to a halt as the youngest pair frown, the oldest sighing marentally.
"Your name is Mercy, correct? I have several messages from Jeff of Razorback Company, he's at the formation's rear."
"It is, yes. Is he safe?"
"Untouched so far as we know, other than fatigued. Are you okay, and where is Sunny?"
>Taking a deep breath, the Spirit Walker stretches her wings out, lifting one forehoof, setting it down, then flexing out the second, physically intact... and seemed to be in peak performarence.
"I am unharmed. Bit tired, hungry, thirsty, but otherwise well. Sunny is following me, she should arrive in five to ten minutes."
"Understood. Jeff says we have discussed the possibility of either fighting the Planar Constructs, the Riftseeker, or neither, and wants to know what we should do."
>Rolling her front lips back to bite on carefully, the blind mare blinks slowly, then lifts her head northeast, legs spreading apart into a relaxed position.
"Return to Basin Village, the Riftseeker will be destroyed soon. The agreemarent I accepted requires that nopony or human approaches the vicinity of Basin Arena. Leave... please."
>Cutting the squad's forming questions off by her left wing shearing down, right wing reaching forwards, vibrating streaks of disturbed Ethereal and Void fractures occur in realspace around her.
>The Spirit Walker's physical form disrupts as she leans into a strictly offensive pose, crouching down slightly as her left foreleg raises.
>Left eye and wingblades flaring in bright pink, red, blue, yellow, and green hues, the right eye and blades swirl, spurned purple, blue, and black depths surrounding each.
"I cannot allow further deaths to tormarent me and I will not say this again: not a single individual is to take a step forwards. My honor will not be stomped upon for the fourth time this night. I am prepared to kill a hundred if not all of you to defend that. Choose, quickly."
[1d6 = 3] <Spectrum Dive: Opposing
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Auto-Resist
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Void Spectrum Rend: Preparation
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Ethereal Plane Rend: Preparation
[1d6+10 = (5+10) = 15] <Spectral Shatter: Preparation
>>371205
>Well out of sight farther ahead, short reports and flashes of Hunter-Killers streaming towards a hunting swarm are made, their Eldritch-tinged weapons causing less experienced Day and Watch Guard fits.
>Mostly out of fear, though a few were distinctly scared of potential corruption which the Lunars around them were quick to soothe.
('We can.. tell... ...yeah.')
('Ain't blind. Also ain't stuck up.')
('Don't be like that, he can fly! Not like Clem, but still damn cool.')
('What, you want wings too?')
('Nah, can't say I like pink much, but they look good on ya man!')
>Rolling her eyes, then regretting doing so at lather stinging the same, the leadmare marentally stomps on a variety of jibes, taunts, whistles, and marecalls throughout the lines.
('Debate the usefulness of crystalline wings much later, or to a Kingdom Shell. There was once hundreds, possibly thousands, in the pseudo-pegasus configuration, though I think they were rescinded in the middle 28,600's.')
('Few mares were so convincing, let alone profoundly insightful to future generations. As the future was, so shall the past has been.')
>Leaving the faux-cryptic commarent to quiet disagreemarents, the Assault Vanguard's commarender orders all front lines to halt, head cocking at the lead squad immediately takes several steps backwards at Mercy’s wholly unexpected threat, both the Shieldmare and Lancer leadstallion focusing on her.
('IS THIS SERIOUS!?')
('I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DID MARES BUT DISENGAGE RIGHT NOW-')
(‘We haven’t done anything wrong or been aggressive in the slightest!’)
('Apparently she thinks otherwise, back off immediately.')
(‘What the fuck is she doing?!’)
('WE HAVEN'T ENGAGED, WHY IS SHE HOSTILE?!')
('She’s insane! Nopony can open a spectrum and Plane in conjunction!')
('Far be it from me to state otherwise but that is a method we have used in the past. Fairly difficult to achieve, in controlled circumstances, yet not impossible.’)
(‘I doubt her sanity is the issue at hoof in this instance, those rifts are quite real-')
(‘'Fuck’s sakes, tell her to stand down! We're not here to hurt or kill her, she’s an ally to us!’)
(‘She has spoken what is necessary and will not listen. A pegasi standing on her honor is, by all technicalities, absolute. A horrific death is preferable to dishonor and disgrace.’)
(‘Testing a mare’s resolve is not a worthwhile option if those fractures are intact as I believe them to be. The repercussions of Ethereals and deeper Void creatures being set loose to meet in a single location will be extreme, and long lasting.’)
(‘What do you expect us all to do then, march back to the Basin without killing the fucking thing we’re supposed to!?’)
('I expect little, and we expect nothing. While the convictions and feelings most of you hold right now are respected, those junctures are much too real to be mere bluffs. It is perhaps best that we do precisely what she has stated.’)
>Openly agreeing with the Shieldmare, the Vanguard's leadstallion glances up at his lance, then forwards, studying the variety of ponies, humans, and Minotaurs in range.
>Eyes shutting and releasing a tense sigh, the commarender draws the Overherd's back to him.
(‘These concerns are well founded and understood, but not.. necessarily positive. All ponies here accepted the summons to defend Basin Village against the largest known number of intact Tainted, well past the Lunar-Solar War’s end no less. Likewise, we accepted the potential consequence that all of us would die.
As the situation stands however, we are unprepared to take on a completely unknown, most likely flight capable Riftseeker. Nothing more than bare speculations on its weapons, armor, capabilities, size, and speed are known.
The majority are strictly close combatants. We have zero explosives remaining. Unicorn and Psion support is extremely limited, one to two minutes at maximum. There are no fliers remaining to achieve air superiority. And Razorback, including yourself, is profoundly exhausted.
This should not end in a suicide mission.’)
>Syncing together briefly, the leadstallion and leadmare return their focus to Mercy, holding perfectly still, then speak across the Overherd.
(‘We accept the following: her words are most likely inviolable, those rifts into the Void and Ethereal Plane do exist, she has stated the Riftseeker will be destroyed soon, and that we are not allowed one step forwards. We cannot in good faith reccomarend continuing this course of action.
But we are not tyrants, nor are we entitled to holding loyalty above honor, let alone self-preservation. As she has stated, choose quickly, but be warned of this much: we do not know what she does.’)
[1d6 = 6] <Solar Reaction
[1d6 = 2] <Lunar Reaction
[1d6 = 6] <Watch Guard Reaction
[1d6 = 3] <Councilierge Reaction
[1d6 = 4] <Razorback Reaction
>Well out of sight farther ahead, short reports and flashes of Hunter-Killers streaming towards a hunting swarm are made, their Eldritch-tinged weapons causing less experienced Day and Watch Guard fits.
>Mostly out of fear, though a few were distinctly scared of potential corruption which the Lunars around them were quick to soothe.
('We can.. tell... ...yeah.')
('Ain't blind. Also ain't stuck up.')
('Don't be like that, he can fly! Not like Clem, but still damn cool.')
('What, you want wings too?')
('Nah, can't say I like pink much, but they look good on ya man!')
>Rolling her eyes, then regretting doing so at lather stinging the same, the leadmare marentally stomps on a variety of jibes, taunts, whistles, and marecalls throughout the lines.
('Debate the usefulness of crystalline wings much later, or to a Kingdom Shell. There was once hundreds, possibly thousands, in the pseudo-pegasus configuration, though I think they were rescinded in the middle 28,600's.')
('Few mares were so convincing, let alone profoundly insightful to future generations. As the future was, so shall the past has been.')
>Leaving the faux-cryptic commarent to quiet disagreemarents, the Assault Vanguard's commarender orders all front lines to halt, head cocking at the lead squad immediately takes several steps backwards at Mercy’s wholly unexpected threat, both the Shieldmare and Lancer leadstallion focusing on her.
('IS THIS SERIOUS!?')
('I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DID MARES BUT DISENGAGE RIGHT NOW-')
(‘We haven’t done anything wrong or been aggressive in the slightest!’)
('Apparently she thinks otherwise, back off immediately.')
(‘What the fuck is she doing?!’)
('WE HAVEN'T ENGAGED, WHY IS SHE HOSTILE?!')
('She’s insane! Nopony can open a spectrum and Plane in conjunction!')
('Far be it from me to state otherwise but that is a method we have used in the past. Fairly difficult to achieve, in controlled circumstances, yet not impossible.’)
(‘I doubt her sanity is the issue at hoof in this instance, those rifts are quite real-')
(‘'Fuck’s sakes, tell her to stand down! We're not here to hurt or kill her, she’s an ally to us!’)
(‘She has spoken what is necessary and will not listen. A pegasi standing on her honor is, by all technicalities, absolute. A horrific death is preferable to dishonor and disgrace.’)
(‘Testing a mare’s resolve is not a worthwhile option if those fractures are intact as I believe them to be. The repercussions of Ethereals and deeper Void creatures being set loose to meet in a single location will be extreme, and long lasting.’)
(‘What do you expect us all to do then, march back to the Basin without killing the fucking thing we’re supposed to!?’)
('I expect little, and we expect nothing. While the convictions and feelings most of you hold right now are respected, those junctures are much too real to be mere bluffs. It is perhaps best that we do precisely what she has stated.’)
>Openly agreeing with the Shieldmare, the Vanguard's leadstallion glances up at his lance, then forwards, studying the variety of ponies, humans, and Minotaurs in range.
>Eyes shutting and releasing a tense sigh, the commarender draws the Overherd's back to him.
(‘These concerns are well founded and understood, but not.. necessarily positive. All ponies here accepted the summons to defend Basin Village against the largest known number of intact Tainted, well past the Lunar-Solar War’s end no less. Likewise, we accepted the potential consequence that all of us would die.
As the situation stands however, we are unprepared to take on a completely unknown, most likely flight capable Riftseeker. Nothing more than bare speculations on its weapons, armor, capabilities, size, and speed are known.
The majority are strictly close combatants. We have zero explosives remaining. Unicorn and Psion support is extremely limited, one to two minutes at maximum. There are no fliers remaining to achieve air superiority. And Razorback, including yourself, is profoundly exhausted.
This should not end in a suicide mission.’)
>Syncing together briefly, the leadstallion and leadmare return their focus to Mercy, holding perfectly still, then speak across the Overherd.
(‘We accept the following: her words are most likely inviolable, those rifts into the Void and Ethereal Plane do exist, she has stated the Riftseeker will be destroyed soon, and that we are not allowed one step forwards. We cannot in good faith reccomarend continuing this course of action.
But we are not tyrants, nor are we entitled to holding loyalty above honor, let alone self-preservation. As she has stated, choose quickly, but be warned of this much: we do not know what she does.’)
[1d6 = 6] <Solar Reaction
[1d6 = 2] <Lunar Reaction
[1d6 = 6] <Watch Guard Reaction
[1d6 = 3] <Councilierge Reaction
[1d6 = 4] <Razorback Reaction
>>371209
>Restoring the Overherd's full attention to examining their individual surroundings, the leadstallion sifts through reports from Luna's Villagers and Operators alike.
('Considering what has been shared I'm inclined to believe there are outside effects causing the unusual.. I hesitate to call them symptoms, but I don't know what other word to use, which have been experienced.')
>Pensively glancing through the Shieldmare's eyes at the lead Spireguard mare and Minor Ethereal Champion, his thoughts blacken.
('Can think of a few hundred questions to ask them, yet they don't seem to be in a typical talkative state like I'd expect. And they've been refusing contact other than requests, suggestions, and orders.
One would think the Empire's most esteemed forces and allies should be most concerned towards Razorback experiencing such bizarre circumstances.')
>Taking in cohesively offered information, the Overherd ponders on your words, each of the Razorback affiliated Lunar unicorns along with veteran and Elite Councilierge Assault Vanguards combining their raw knowledge.
('A bit odd. Certainly not unusual for a symbiote, weapon or otherwise. It had already shifted into the standard presymbiotic form before reaching Basin Village, so her intention, or intentions, are logically sound.
I would still like to know what the original object or component was, but since none know then it matters little in the long run. Which does make me wonder.. ah, nevermind.')
>Reaching a consensus after three seconds, the leadstallion frowns at a Striker's recall of the bright orange sphere's actions, shuffling that one to other Psions for later study, one of the older Lunar unicorns speaking matter-of-factly.
('The same creature you aided in killing.. Vitriole Drakes were a thoroughly Void-mutated subspecies which were able to retain both their poisons and toxins. They could occur from any Emerald Drake living throughout most of Moors, excluding the Crystal Moors of course. Most common in the Central, Crag, and Deep Moors region. Smaller numbers did exist throughout the Coastal, Outer, Tropical, beach, and unmapped regions. Rarely found in the Ferron claimed sections, however.
When it was discovered that Vitrioles could slip into Void spectrums effortlessly, Princess Luna ordered the entire Lunar Guard to search and wipe out both the original and mutated species to the last. Approximately thirty thousand Emerald and nine hundred Vitrioles were confirmed deceased.
Unfortunately, I did not study the full accounts and records of those efforts, but the fact that one Vitriole survived more than four hundred years does lend some credence to an older theory.
We have a saying in the Villages: fate does not enjoy striking twice. A tiny number of Void-mutated examples have been known to live far longer than the originating species, yet each were unique individuals that shared no commonalities.')
('Have any similar or potentially related creatures been located during the Moors Restoration Project?')
('None that we are aware of, from reports, records, accounts, or otherwise. As a matter of pure study and curiosity it is remarkable. As a matter of professional disgust, a Riftseeker taking that form is beyond abominable.')
('I... see. That is why.')
>Marentally blanking out at the object's mention, the leadstallion's eyes close, offering unspoken, quiet and conciliatory sensations directed towards you and Twisted Wing.
('My apologies. We will not bring up the matter again.')
>The five Assault Vanguards halt around you at the white mare's name, their Mind's Eyes staring at each other as the Solars, Lunars, and Stalliongradians likewise cease moving.
('Master Clemency, do you know her well?')
('Obviously. Question is, what do WE do?')
('Probably nothing.')
('PROBABLY? Explain.')
('Think about it this way: most of Razorback is afraid of her. She's volatile, reckless, and...')
('Go on.')
('Thoroughly nasty to deal with.')
('As in cruel? Mean? A bitch?')
('None of those. I'm not going to read into their thoughts more than this: humans REALLY don't want to deal with her when she's angry. Right now it's just the opposite. I think.')
('Rrrright...')
>Quickly forming and discarding questions as quickly as they were be made, the mares share a brief, starkly confused thought, shutting it aside while the three factions begin tallying their votes, relying on the Councilierge to keep track of numbers.
>All Solar and Watch Guard vote against continuing, a majority of Operators likewise decline.
>On the other end of the spectrums, exactly half of the Councilierge vote yes, the other half vote no, while the majority of Lunars vote to continue.
>Comparing the total numbers from both sides of the votes, the leadmare and leadstallion's Mind's Eyes stare towards each other.
>Exchanging short, condensed messages outside the Overherd for well over a minute, the pair's helmets shake negatively, refocusing onto Mercy, comfortably and steadily holding her pre-assault pose, the older Charger at the line's front speaking for them.
"The vast majority has come to a decision. We will turn around and leave immediately. But we need to ask one question, if you'll answer it."
"Ask."
"Are you positive that Riftseeker will be destroyed?"
>Releasing the Ethereal and Void tinges to her eyes, then wingblades, the Spirit Walker stands upright, ears cocked in thought.
>Snout wriggling several times before giving a confident, bizarrely slow nod.
"Yes, I am."
>Head lifting to blink at the hundreds of Mind's Eyes gazing at her, the white mare offers a flat, yet encouraging smile.
"Do not worry, I will return when it is.. dead."
>Turning about with her squad, the mare scowls in her helmet, motioning for the Overherd to leave.
('Lunars, Councilierge, Razorback.. I don't know what to tell you other than we are not prepared to piss with Ethereals and creatures from the Deep Void.
Good news is if we make for Basin Village like before we'll be there in three hours, should arrive before Dawn.')
>Restoring the Overherd's full attention to examining their individual surroundings, the leadstallion sifts through reports from Luna's Villagers and Operators alike.
('Considering what has been shared I'm inclined to believe there are outside effects causing the unusual.. I hesitate to call them symptoms, but I don't know what other word to use, which have been experienced.')
>Pensively glancing through the Shieldmare's eyes at the lead Spireguard mare and Minor Ethereal Champion, his thoughts blacken.
('Can think of a few hundred questions to ask them, yet they don't seem to be in a typical talkative state like I'd expect. And they've been refusing contact other than requests, suggestions, and orders.
One would think the Empire's most esteemed forces and allies should be most concerned towards Razorback experiencing such bizarre circumstances.')
>Taking in cohesively offered information, the Overherd ponders on your words, each of the Razorback affiliated Lunar unicorns along with veteran and Elite Councilierge Assault Vanguards combining their raw knowledge.
('A bit odd. Certainly not unusual for a symbiote, weapon or otherwise. It had already shifted into the standard presymbiotic form before reaching Basin Village, so her intention, or intentions, are logically sound.
I would still like to know what the original object or component was, but since none know then it matters little in the long run. Which does make me wonder.. ah, nevermind.')
>Reaching a consensus after three seconds, the leadstallion frowns at a Striker's recall of the bright orange sphere's actions, shuffling that one to other Psions for later study, one of the older Lunar unicorns speaking matter-of-factly.
('The same creature you aided in killing.. Vitriole Drakes were a thoroughly Void-mutated subspecies which were able to retain both their poisons and toxins. They could occur from any Emerald Drake living throughout most of Moors, excluding the Crystal Moors of course. Most common in the Central, Crag, and Deep Moors region. Smaller numbers did exist throughout the Coastal, Outer, Tropical, beach, and unmapped regions. Rarely found in the Ferron claimed sections, however.
When it was discovered that Vitrioles could slip into Void spectrums effortlessly, Princess Luna ordered the entire Lunar Guard to search and wipe out both the original and mutated species to the last. Approximately thirty thousand Emerald and nine hundred Vitrioles were confirmed deceased.
Unfortunately, I did not study the full accounts and records of those efforts, but the fact that one Vitriole survived more than four hundred years does lend some credence to an older theory.
We have a saying in the Villages: fate does not enjoy striking twice. A tiny number of Void-mutated examples have been known to live far longer than the originating species, yet each were unique individuals that shared no commonalities.')
('Have any similar or potentially related creatures been located during the Moors Restoration Project?')
('None that we are aware of, from reports, records, accounts, or otherwise. As a matter of pure study and curiosity it is remarkable. As a matter of professional disgust, a Riftseeker taking that form is beyond abominable.')
('I... see. That is why.')
>Marentally blanking out at the object's mention, the leadstallion's eyes close, offering unspoken, quiet and conciliatory sensations directed towards you and Twisted Wing.
('My apologies. We will not bring up the matter again.')
>The five Assault Vanguards halt around you at the white mare's name, their Mind's Eyes staring at each other as the Solars, Lunars, and Stalliongradians likewise cease moving.
('Master Clemency, do you know her well?')
('Obviously. Question is, what do WE do?')
('Probably nothing.')
('PROBABLY? Explain.')
('Think about it this way: most of Razorback is afraid of her. She's volatile, reckless, and...')
('Go on.')
('Thoroughly nasty to deal with.')
('As in cruel? Mean? A bitch?')
('None of those. I'm not going to read into their thoughts more than this: humans REALLY don't want to deal with her when she's angry. Right now it's just the opposite. I think.')
('Rrrright...')
>Quickly forming and discarding questions as quickly as they were be made, the mares share a brief, starkly confused thought, shutting it aside while the three factions begin tallying their votes, relying on the Councilierge to keep track of numbers.
>All Solar and Watch Guard vote against continuing, a majority of Operators likewise decline.
>On the other end of the spectrums, exactly half of the Councilierge vote yes, the other half vote no, while the majority of Lunars vote to continue.
>Comparing the total numbers from both sides of the votes, the leadmare and leadstallion's Mind's Eyes stare towards each other.
>Exchanging short, condensed messages outside the Overherd for well over a minute, the pair's helmets shake negatively, refocusing onto Mercy, comfortably and steadily holding her pre-assault pose, the older Charger at the line's front speaking for them.
"The vast majority has come to a decision. We will turn around and leave immediately. But we need to ask one question, if you'll answer it."
"Ask."
"Are you positive that Riftseeker will be destroyed?"
>Releasing the Ethereal and Void tinges to her eyes, then wingblades, the Spirit Walker stands upright, ears cocked in thought.
>Snout wriggling several times before giving a confident, bizarrely slow nod.
"Yes, I am."
>Head lifting to blink at the hundreds of Mind's Eyes gazing at her, the white mare offers a flat, yet encouraging smile.
"Do not worry, I will return when it is.. dead."
>Turning about with her squad, the mare scowls in her helmet, motioning for the Overherd to leave.
('Lunars, Councilierge, Razorback.. I don't know what to tell you other than we are not prepared to piss with Ethereals and creatures from the Deep Void.
Good news is if we make for Basin Village like before we'll be there in three hours, should arrive before Dawn.')
>>371195
>Psuedo-leathery wings tilting up to slow his flight, the symbiote's right eye snaps around and on to you.
>Expressionlessly studying the container, then you, the ears flatten apprehensively, lips pulling back at the corners and front legs twitching, equine distaste visible.
>Head turning to survey the paired Hunter-Killers jolting north, the chest expands and contracts in a silent sigh, but makes a short, accepting nod in your direction.
>Returning to stare forwards, the batstallion's right wingclaws click together in the specific 'caution' sound, several large, dull green, brown, and gray scaled reptiles ahead on both sides of the road.
>Passing by, they were partially torn apart, the elongated, triangular head similar to an alligator crossed with a pitviper.
>The exposed teeth were thin needles, the body both angled and heavily muscled, considerably larger than an earth pony, and not a species you knew off hoof.
[1d6 = 6] <???
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Psuedo-leathery wings tilting up to slow his flight, the symbiote's right eye snaps around and on to you.
>Expressionlessly studying the container, then you, the ears flatten apprehensively, lips pulling back at the corners and front legs twitching, equine distaste visible.
>Head turning to survey the paired Hunter-Killers jolting north, the chest expands and contracts in a silent sigh, but makes a short, accepting nod in your direction.
>Returning to stare forwards, the batstallion's right wingclaws click together in the specific 'caution' sound, several large, dull green, brown, and gray scaled reptiles ahead on both sides of the road.
>Passing by, they were partially torn apart, the elongated, triangular head similar to an alligator crossed with a pitviper.
>The exposed teeth were thin needles, the body both angled and heavily muscled, considerably larger than an earth pony, and not a species you knew off hoof.
[1d6 = 6] <???
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>>371212
>I fully agreed with that sigh, Mini Wild.
>This place was bullshit and knew it.
"If I were back home, I'd consider the past twenty-four hours to be a nightmare, Wild."
>Of course, being mortared for two hours straight isn't a walk in the park either.
>I wait for her to stop having a fit, before getting up out of my seat and sticking my head out of the opening, glancing around as I climb out onto her hand.
>She.. definitely looked unique, I'll give her that.
>Never seen anything like her before.
"I don't know how long its going to take for me to get used to seeing you, Wild."
>I fully agreed with that sigh, Mini Wild.
>This place was bullshit and knew it.
"If I were back home, I'd consider the past twenty-four hours to be a nightmare, Wild."
>Of course, being mortared for two hours straight isn't a walk in the park either.
>I wait for her to stop having a fit, before getting up out of my seat and sticking my head out of the opening, glancing around as I climb out onto her hand.
>She.. definitely looked unique, I'll give her that.
>Never seen anything like her before.
"I don't know how long its going to take for me to get used to seeing you, Wild."
>>371221
>Catching the batstruct's expression at the You-put-WHAT-in-this-!? Flask, Sunny made a flat expression as she stowed it away again. It had probably just analyzed what it was made of, or the remnants of where the flask had recently been.
"Yeah, yeah, not my best decision. Happens to the best of us, but if it works it works."
>Sunny followed the batstruct's indication towards the lizards, she was careful to give them as wide a berth as she could without leaving the road. Slowing her pace and stepping with care so as not to provoke them.
>Though it was clear the Hunter-Killers had already done some provoking. Injured to such a degree, most animals would avoid further contact if not actively threatened so they could lick their wounds, or they would go into a rage at her passing and try to attack. Either or.
>She was still in the underdark, but the batstruct was not. At least it was flight capable, so unless they could spit acid it should be fine. Still.
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] < M.Stealth + Kitty Catboots + Spider Silk Sneaking Suit
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] < E.Ambush + Ambusher
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>Catching the batstruct's expression at the You-put-WHAT-in-this-!? Flask, Sunny made a flat expression as she stowed it away again. It had probably just analyzed what it was made of, or the remnants of where the flask had recently been.
"Yeah, yeah, not my best decision. Happens to the best of us, but if it works it works."
>Sunny followed the batstruct's indication towards the lizards, she was careful to give them as wide a berth as she could without leaving the road. Slowing her pace and stepping with care so as not to provoke them.
>Though it was clear the Hunter-Killers had already done some provoking. Injured to such a degree, most animals would avoid further contact if not actively threatened so they could lick their wounds, or they would go into a rage at her passing and try to attack. Either or.
>She was still in the underdark, but the batstruct was not. At least it was flight capable, so unless they could spit acid it should be fine. Still.
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] < M.Stealth + Kitty Catboots + Spider Silk Sneaking Suit
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] < E.Ambush + Ambusher
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
>>371218
>>371219
>>371220
('I had a lovely luncheon with a Shell actually, before I got these wings.')
>That memory reminded Lont. He needed to tell someone of Tacit's importance, Luckys death and that the Conclaves wished to trade with Razorback. And more.
>There was so much to unload. To unpack and make it the burden of others.
>He sighed, wings and shoulders slumping. He was starting to feel the exhaustion catch up to him. Standing still has allowed the tiredness to creep up on him like a predator from the Moors.
>>371220
>Fingers drumming across his cradled Spiker, Lont glanced towards the Crystal Forces, eyes lingering on the Crystal Batponies that were still hidden from the rest of the army. Perhaps that is why they were so quiet. Not wanting to let slip that bombshell.
('The Crystal Empire is going through a turbulent moment currently, I assume they merely wish to get this task done and return home as quick as possible. No time for chitchat. Only reason I can think of.)
>It was probably -a- reason why they were quiet. But not the main one. Lont silently hoped this dissuaded any further speculation as to why they were so distant.
>>371219
>>371220
('I had a lovely luncheon with a Shell actually, before I got these wings.')
>That memory reminded Lont. He needed to tell someone of Tacit's importance, Luckys death and that the Conclaves wished to trade with Razorback. And more.
>There was so much to unload. To unpack and make it the burden of others.
>He sighed, wings and shoulders slumping. He was starting to feel the exhaustion catch up to him. Standing still has allowed the tiredness to creep up on him like a predator from the Moors.
>>371220
>Fingers drumming across his cradled Spiker, Lont glanced towards the Crystal Forces, eyes lingering on the Crystal Batponies that were still hidden from the rest of the army. Perhaps that is why they were so quiet. Not wanting to let slip that bombshell.
('The Crystal Empire is going through a turbulent moment currently, I assume they merely wish to get this task done and return home as quick as possible. No time for chitchat. Only reason I can think of.)
>It was probably -a- reason why they were quiet. But not the main one. Lont silently hoped this dissuaded any further speculation as to why they were so distant.
>>371218
>Jeff feels somewhat satisfied hearing the Central Moors no longer had any Tainted in it. Restoration or not, it must have been a weight off of the region's shoulders.
>He has no idea what the 'Old' area means. Maybe he knows it of another name. Either way it gets dropped, so he follows suit.
>Checking their distance away from the Basin Village, he realizes the effort Mercy had pulled off. Thirteen miles, trying to get back to the Village.
>No wonder she was so hell-bent...
>The lead mare passes along his concerns to Mercy. The conversation comes through the Overherd at the least.
>She was fine... said she was fine at least. Sunny was a hop and a skip behind her, he was glad about that. First job the greenhorn went on, and it ended up being one hell of a doozy.
>Her reply was to stand down and return to the Village. It sounded like some sort of agreement was made between her, Sunny, and the Planars going off of the warped Construct's struggle to try and indirectly communicate with him through his and Clem's tech.
>As long as the RIftseeker was going to be taken care of and the Planar's were going to fuck off afterward he was satisfied with the outcome.
>>371219
>>371220
>Before he can get anything else in, something happens up at the front.
>Mercy was getting hostile? He could see through the Mind's Eye she was she was putting on a defensive stance. She was preparing to open rifts into the Void and Ethereal planes to keep them from moving forward.
>She's committed, totally bent on them not continuing. If her honor was on the line, the WOULD try and fight them all over it.
>He wants to interject, but the factions start to panic and bicker on their options.
>Personally, if they didn't need to fight and can walk away he's more than fine with that if the situation will solve itself.
>Eventually it boils down to a vote. Each faction: Lunar, Solar, Councilerge, Watch, and Razorback start pooling their votes to decide on what to do.
>Obviously he mentally votes to yield to Mercy and leave. They were under-everything'd to deal with any enemy involved right now despite their numbers. Everyone was either physically exhausted, magically fried, or both.
>... the votes are mentally tallied, the final verdict is to side with Mercy. Much to his relief.
>As everyone agrees to pull out and begin the march back to the Village, Jeff addresses the leader that was directly talking to Mercy. He mindlessly dismisses the comments being made about the white pegasus, understanding the ways she does her own things.
('Wait. Before we leave, can you ask her if I can approach and speak with her privately? As my herd-second, I just want to confirm her well-being before we depart. If she refuses, then tell her to take care and I'll see her back at the Fortress when everything has been settled.')
>Jeff feels somewhat satisfied hearing the Central Moors no longer had any Tainted in it. Restoration or not, it must have been a weight off of the region's shoulders.
>He has no idea what the 'Old' area means. Maybe he knows it of another name. Either way it gets dropped, so he follows suit.
>Checking their distance away from the Basin Village, he realizes the effort Mercy had pulled off. Thirteen miles, trying to get back to the Village.
>No wonder she was so hell-bent...
>The lead mare passes along his concerns to Mercy. The conversation comes through the Overherd at the least.
>She was fine... said she was fine at least. Sunny was a hop and a skip behind her, he was glad about that. First job the greenhorn went on, and it ended up being one hell of a doozy.
>Her reply was to stand down and return to the Village. It sounded like some sort of agreement was made between her, Sunny, and the Planars going off of the warped Construct's struggle to try and indirectly communicate with him through his and Clem's tech.
>As long as the RIftseeker was going to be taken care of and the Planar's were going to fuck off afterward he was satisfied with the outcome.
>>371219
>>371220
>Before he can get anything else in, something happens up at the front.
>Mercy was getting hostile? He could see through the Mind's Eye she was she was putting on a defensive stance. She was preparing to open rifts into the Void and Ethereal planes to keep them from moving forward.
>She's committed, totally bent on them not continuing. If her honor was on the line, the WOULD try and fight them all over it.
>He wants to interject, but the factions start to panic and bicker on their options.
>Personally, if they didn't need to fight and can walk away he's more than fine with that if the situation will solve itself.
>Eventually it boils down to a vote. Each faction: Lunar, Solar, Councilerge, Watch, and Razorback start pooling their votes to decide on what to do.
>Obviously he mentally votes to yield to Mercy and leave. They were under-everything'd to deal with any enemy involved right now despite their numbers. Everyone was either physically exhausted, magically fried, or both.
>... the votes are mentally tallied, the final verdict is to side with Mercy. Much to his relief.
>As everyone agrees to pull out and begin the march back to the Village, Jeff addresses the leader that was directly talking to Mercy. He mindlessly dismisses the comments being made about the white pegasus, understanding the ways she does her own things.
('Wait. Before we leave, can you ask her if I can approach and speak with her privately? As my herd-second, I just want to confirm her well-being before we depart. If she refuses, then tell her to take care and I'll see her back at the Fortress when everything has been settled.')
>>371210
>>371211
>Placing the weapon down, bending over the anvil, it spreads open to reveal comfortable, recall-formed surfaces and means to continue the work.
>Taking control of the space... you feel actions turn sour, salty, bitter.
>Wrong spices added when they had no place, the better ones removed from their attractions.
>An emotionally recharging battery that didn't belong.
>Ceramic resistors that should've been free flowing conduits.
>Steel mesh cable instead of hyperconductive silver wire.
>Functional self-explaining analogues, the sequences equating themselves to concepts you could translate them as.
>Looking once more, it was damaged, modified out of anger.
>You surmise the intentions to be skewed: failing to remove a vital function from the weapon is unreasonable.
>It was electromagnetically joined to you as both humans and earth ponies were to their willingly conscious existences.
>Early irritations rise, held firmly in thoughts of insulting failures to cooperate, provoking inappropriate, misunderstood behaviors.
[1d50 = 17] <Planar Lightning: Critical Flaw
[1d50 = 21] <Planar Gravity: Critical Flaw
[1d50 = 8] <Planar Lightning: Severe Flaw
[1d50 = 10] <Planar Gravity: Severe Flaw
[1d50 = 4] <Planar Lightning: Major Flaw
>>371211
>Placing the weapon down, bending over the anvil, it spreads open to reveal comfortable, recall-formed surfaces and means to continue the work.
>Taking control of the space... you feel actions turn sour, salty, bitter.
>Wrong spices added when they had no place, the better ones removed from their attractions.
>An emotionally recharging battery that didn't belong.
>Ceramic resistors that should've been free flowing conduits.
>Steel mesh cable instead of hyperconductive silver wire.
>Functional self-explaining analogues, the sequences equating themselves to concepts you could translate them as.
>Looking once more, it was damaged, modified out of anger.
>You surmise the intentions to be skewed: failing to remove a vital function from the weapon is unreasonable.
>It was electromagnetically joined to you as both humans and earth ponies were to their willingly conscious existences.
>Early irritations rise, held firmly in thoughts of insulting failures to cooperate, provoking inappropriate, misunderstood behaviors.
[1d50 = 17] <Planar Lightning: Critical Flaw
[1d50 = 21] <Planar Gravity: Critical Flaw
[1d50 = 8] <Planar Lightning: Severe Flaw
[1d50 = 10] <Planar Gravity: Severe Flaw
[1d50 = 4] <Planar Lightning: Major Flaw
>>371239
>Pareidolia's facial expression twinges in irritation as his engineering limitations make themselves known.
(Thought based engineering is beyond me. Engineering is beyond me. But operational demands insist on a functional answer. Need to retrace my logic and repeat until it achieves nominal functionality at least. Can't afford to fail here.)
>Sighing, he leans over the anvil and scrutinizes his work with tense shoulders and too tightly gripping gloves.
>Attempting to undo the damage and achieve his earlier stated level of performance, he once again would weave thoughts into form.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
>Pareidolia's facial expression twinges in irritation as his engineering limitations make themselves known.
(Thought based engineering is beyond me. Engineering is beyond me. But operational demands insist on a functional answer. Need to retrace my logic and repeat until it achieves nominal functionality at least. Can't afford to fail here.)
>Sighing, he leans over the anvil and scrutinizes his work with tense shoulders and too tightly gripping gloves.
>Attempting to undo the damage and achieve his earlier stated level of performance, he once again would weave thoughts into form.
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
>>371218
>>371219
>Watching through the Mind's Eye, Clem takes a good look at Mercy
>As far as the night has gone and her own issues, she seems like nothing has happened
>It only makes Clemency even more aware of his own fatigue, especially as he was now just standing around
>"If only I had something to lean on at least..."
>The feelings get overridden when he sees reality tear around Mercy
>Ethereal and Void energies
>He knows about these two but not much about the repercussions of opening both at the same time
>And he really doesn't want to find out after everything
>>371220
>Clemency looks around at the entourage
('Yeah, I know her well. Not to the extent that Jeff does.')
>Other than almost dying to her the first time they met
>Hearing the vote being called, he votes to turn around and go
>As gung-ho everyone is to fight this thing, it was going to be a suicide mission to do so
>Doubly so if we are going against Mercy
>And to his relief, the main host agrees too
('And just like that, it's over.')
>He looks over the main host, more specifically the Rookies and how they're handling it
>If they were smart, they'd be more than happy to go back home
>>371235
>Just as he was motioning for everyone to head back, he overhears Jeff
>He turns around trying to spot the operator
>The thought of him going to try to make sure she's fine is a little heart warming
>Reminds of of the time he was there for him and Twisted
('Hey, Jeff. What you say to her is your business, but I'll wait up for you.')
>>371219
>Watching through the Mind's Eye, Clem takes a good look at Mercy
>As far as the night has gone and her own issues, she seems like nothing has happened
>It only makes Clemency even more aware of his own fatigue, especially as he was now just standing around
>"If only I had something to lean on at least..."
>The feelings get overridden when he sees reality tear around Mercy
>Ethereal and Void energies
>He knows about these two but not much about the repercussions of opening both at the same time
>And he really doesn't want to find out after everything
>>371220
>Clemency looks around at the entourage
('Yeah, I know her well. Not to the extent that Jeff does.')
>Other than almost dying to her the first time they met
>Hearing the vote being called, he votes to turn around and go
>As gung-ho everyone is to fight this thing, it was going to be a suicide mission to do so
>Doubly so if we are going against Mercy
>And to his relief, the main host agrees too
('And just like that, it's over.')
>He looks over the main host, more specifically the Rookies and how they're handling it
>If they were smart, they'd be more than happy to go back home
>>371235
>Just as he was motioning for everyone to head back, he overhears Jeff
>He turns around trying to spot the operator
>The thought of him going to try to make sure she's fine is a little heart warming
>Reminds of of the time he was there for him and Twisted
('Hey, Jeff. What you say to her is your business, but I'll wait up for you.')
>>371240
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
>>371244
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
>>371215
"At the least remember that buying a pony is specifically intended to raise their position and status. Unicorns especially do not think well of calling others.. inferior."
>Standing to stretch out his rear legs, Helping deflates a bit as he tosses a subdued look at the numerous stacks of papers, binders, books, tomes, and manuals across the Workshop tables.
"I am greatly intrigued at how substantially differently human thought processes are from the sapients of this world. However... Spiral's writings do remind me there are depths which should not be explored."
>While performing a, hopeful, final check on both slideout drawers, Krinza lifts each belt out, extending them out to ensure you'd be able to reach easily, coiling the pair back with a satisfied nod.
"In technical terms it is not weightless, the Exoskeleton is unaffected by fifty or so pounds, thirty in the box itself plus thirty for two ammunition belts. Add a three gallon water jug, food for five days, vital equipment, supplies, additional munitions, spare explosives, other odds and ends, it should be able to hold at least three hundred pounds securely.
On the off chances you may need to haul that much around, the total weight will be an effective counterbalance to the M134's high recoil."
>Reaching near-complete torso motions that you would normally out of armor, the heavy plating across the Exo's center torso acted similar to hard synthetic rubber.
>Able to easily flex each hand down and around to grasp the armored drawer handles, then up and over to tap on the box's lid, slight resistance from the left elbow wasn't fully mimicking your own motions, though was easily compensated for.
>Likewise, a single mental command would drop the box behind you, and with the partially retracting magnetic straps be easily hiked over one shoulder back into position.
"That was the intended purpose. You now have ample storage space and enough armor to resist most weaponry. Human containers and flexible storage systems are quite poor. The 'one size fits all' approach does not function well, if ever. Lann has been correcting though the amount of orders has stacked up. Greatly."
"It is likewise heavily warded and shielded as per the same specifications of your Exoskeleton. I must say this is giving me some unusual ideas.. perhaps a smaller, semi-rigid variant for lighter metallic armors?"
>Exchanging spastic, unreadable diagrams of information between each other, both unicorns turn to stare at a loud CLICK from the minigun attempting to cycle but failing before it could feed.
"....Krinza."
"Yes?"
"I dislike it. I dislike the words, whining, demarending, and intentions. Most of all I dislike the constant, unceasing begging. How do I make that voice stop speaking?"
"Helping, if the rest of us are able to reasonably coexist with a Moor cat whom loves singing vulgar, lewd, and, in general, horribly out of pitch and tune Lunar marching songs every second she is awake, then you can ignore one slightly deranged recording. I believe that one is anime related though I have not seen it ponifally."
>Bringing the left forehoof up to press on his snout heavily, the larger unicorn speaks tensely.
"I am returning to the Alchemy Lab and hopefilly staying there. If I am unable to unfuck the complete mess there in two weeks, send a search party. If that search party does not find success in a month, take the Lab's walls apart. Should the second search party not succeed in a further three months.. take Spiral's lab apart."
>Tearing apart and leaving a trail of rings directly southwards, the grandmaster smith makes a too-late forgiving shrug, though with a snarky grin as he sits down on the anvil.
"Considering what I had been putting up with, that one is background chatter on low. Is there anything more I can assist you with?"
"At the least remember that buying a pony is specifically intended to raise their position and status. Unicorns especially do not think well of calling others.. inferior."
>Standing to stretch out his rear legs, Helping deflates a bit as he tosses a subdued look at the numerous stacks of papers, binders, books, tomes, and manuals across the Workshop tables.
"I am greatly intrigued at how substantially differently human thought processes are from the sapients of this world. However... Spiral's writings do remind me there are depths which should not be explored."
>While performing a, hopeful, final check on both slideout drawers, Krinza lifts each belt out, extending them out to ensure you'd be able to reach easily, coiling the pair back with a satisfied nod.
"In technical terms it is not weightless, the Exoskeleton is unaffected by fifty or so pounds, thirty in the box itself plus thirty for two ammunition belts. Add a three gallon water jug, food for five days, vital equipment, supplies, additional munitions, spare explosives, other odds and ends, it should be able to hold at least three hundred pounds securely.
On the off chances you may need to haul that much around, the total weight will be an effective counterbalance to the M134's high recoil."
>Reaching near-complete torso motions that you would normally out of armor, the heavy plating across the Exo's center torso acted similar to hard synthetic rubber.
>Able to easily flex each hand down and around to grasp the armored drawer handles, then up and over to tap on the box's lid, slight resistance from the left elbow wasn't fully mimicking your own motions, though was easily compensated for.
>Likewise, a single mental command would drop the box behind you, and with the partially retracting magnetic straps be easily hiked over one shoulder back into position.
"That was the intended purpose. You now have ample storage space and enough armor to resist most weaponry. Human containers and flexible storage systems are quite poor. The 'one size fits all' approach does not function well, if ever. Lann has been correcting though the amount of orders has stacked up. Greatly."
"It is likewise heavily warded and shielded as per the same specifications of your Exoskeleton. I must say this is giving me some unusual ideas.. perhaps a smaller, semi-rigid variant for lighter metallic armors?"
>Exchanging spastic, unreadable diagrams of information between each other, both unicorns turn to stare at a loud CLICK from the minigun attempting to cycle but failing before it could feed.
"....Krinza."
"Yes?"
"I dislike it. I dislike the words, whining, demarending, and intentions. Most of all I dislike the constant, unceasing begging. How do I make that voice stop speaking?"
"Helping, if the rest of us are able to reasonably coexist with a Moor cat whom loves singing vulgar, lewd, and, in general, horribly out of pitch and tune Lunar marching songs every second she is awake, then you can ignore one slightly deranged recording. I believe that one is anime related though I have not seen it ponifally."
>Bringing the left forehoof up to press on his snout heavily, the larger unicorn speaks tensely.
"I am returning to the Alchemy Lab and hopefilly staying there. If I am unable to unfuck the complete mess there in two weeks, send a search party. If that search party does not find success in a month, take the Lab's walls apart. Should the second search party not succeed in a further three months.. take Spiral's lab apart."
>Tearing apart and leaving a trail of rings directly southwards, the grandmaster smith makes a too-late forgiving shrug, though with a snarky grin as he sits down on the anvil.
"Considering what I had been putting up with, that one is background chatter on low. Is there anything more I can assist you with?"
>>371217
>Eyebrows lifting and held for two seconds, the younger Crystal mare tilts her head right, speaking two short phrases in a thoroughly unusual, melodic language.
>..you didn't even know where to start trying to figure that one out, and it was highly doubtful humans could emulate the extremely rapid variable pitches, rolling tones, and singing linguistics properly.
>If at all.
>Emitting a short, low bass hum, a black pen is lifted and set to work scribbling on heavy paper.
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
>Setting her head down on the couch's arm, or would that be a hoof rest? the winter suited mare's left wing makes a short apathetic flop.
"That's probably for the best. We have enough problems keeping every mare on the Isle from claiming a human, bunch of hormonal fillies..."
>Extending out a bit further, Nao's warm flipper was covered in a layer of ultra soft, silky hairs, underneath which was a thin layer of fat and solid, long bones, though five rather sharp, black claws make brief contact with your skin.
>Eyes squinting at your pronunciations, the seal's face squishes inwards a bit with a deep whisker twitch.
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <E.Research: Linguistics
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
"Of course. I am allowed majority rights to trade sealants, glue, gems, weapons, and Polar or crystalline materials, or both, in exchange for aiding our newest Colony.
My primary assignmarents are to acquire long lasting heatstones or similar devices that will function in or out of water and trading equal weight amounts of sea food that are not available to us.
I am also expected to offer Missions dealing with snow, ice, water, or flying creatures that my Colony cannot reasonably take care of."
>Lifting her flipper again and waving it twice, the bright white pinneped's face creases amusingly, her words spoken in a consistently rolling cadence.
"Our preferred weapons are clubs, spears, lances, harpoons, and weighted nets. Since we do not have the physical capabilities for ranged combat, any crystalline devices, magical enchantmarents, items, relics, and artifacts which can be used underwater and are not faction bound are in high demarend."
>Eyebrows lifting and held for two seconds, the younger Crystal mare tilts her head right, speaking two short phrases in a thoroughly unusual, melodic language.
>..you didn't even know where to start trying to figure that one out, and it was highly doubtful humans could emulate the extremely rapid variable pitches, rolling tones, and singing linguistics properly.
>If at all.
>Emitting a short, low bass hum, a black pen is lifted and set to work scribbling on heavy paper.
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
>Setting her head down on the couch's arm, or would that be a hoof rest? the winter suited mare's left wing makes a short apathetic flop.
"That's probably for the best. We have enough problems keeping every mare on the Isle from claiming a human, bunch of hormonal fillies..."
>Extending out a bit further, Nao's warm flipper was covered in a layer of ultra soft, silky hairs, underneath which was a thin layer of fat and solid, long bones, though five rather sharp, black claws make brief contact with your skin.
>Eyes squinting at your pronunciations, the seal's face squishes inwards a bit with a deep whisker twitch.
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <E.Research: Linguistics
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
"Of course. I am allowed majority rights to trade sealants, glue, gems, weapons, and Polar or crystalline materials, or both, in exchange for aiding our newest Colony.
My primary assignmarents are to acquire long lasting heatstones or similar devices that will function in or out of water and trading equal weight amounts of sea food that are not available to us.
I am also expected to offer Missions dealing with snow, ice, water, or flying creatures that my Colony cannot reasonably take care of."
>Lifting her flipper again and waving it twice, the bright white pinneped's face creases amusingly, her words spoken in a consistently rolling cadence.
"Our preferred weapons are clubs, spears, lances, harpoons, and weighted nets. Since we do not have the physical capabilities for ranged combat, any crystalline devices, magical enchantmarents, items, relics, and artifacts which can be used underwater and are not faction bound are in high demarend."
>>371234
>Already giving orders for the rear most ranks to turn head towards Basin Village, most of the Veterans and Elites think aloud.
('Just ignore the wings.')
('I would but that might take effort.')
('Like you can spare any right now-')
('Better yet, when are we getting some gliders?')
('How about flying enchantments? Probably a lot cheaper.')
('Those are difficult to justify time and energies spent, as a result they're rarely produced outside of towns with a significant unicorn population. You may try cloud cities, yet I wouldn't advise that these days, too marely ripoffs.')
('What ab-')
('No.')
('Way to kill the mood, dude.')
('Interesting. Are Shells immortal?')
('Technically, no. Consciously, definitely not. Functionally is improbable as well. Crystalline Shells inevitably suffer from ennui and similar states of mind, similar to... other long lived states that I don't want to think about right now.
Once they believe their time is done or have accomplished an acceptable number of tasks, each picks a time and place to cease existing. Most often the Crystal City-State Labyrinth, the place they were born in, or a highly important, or holy, location is chosen.')
('Thaaaaat explains way more than I wanted, but.. thanks?')
('Do Shells actually eat Empire crystal? If they do then how's digestion work, or is it all crystal song-magic?')
>Feeling HIGHLY uncomfortable at Mind's Eye stares from thousands of inquiring ponies, the Veteran thinks better of his question.
('Mangoes, are they the best fruit or the worst?')
('Would yo-')
('No, it's a serious question.')
>Rotating around you to face east and waiting for the central lines to move once more, the five Assault Vanguard mares grumble halfheartedly, majorly displeased at being outvoted, though accepting the return wouldn't be too awful.
('We can still look for something to eat, right?')
('Knowing batponies, we're the ones that're going to be foraged...')
('What does that mean?')
('You'll.. find out soon enough.')
('No, I need to know what you're thinking!')
('Soon. Enough.')
('You're a pain.')
('Thanks, hard head.')
('What's harder to read than a Crystal pony? An angry Crystal pony that's not talking.')
>Giving up trying to determine moods from Conclavists, Kingdom adherents, Imperials, then frowning towards Spireguards, the leadstallion motions for the Operator he was escorting to remain temporarily as the rear line enters a slow march towards Basin Village.
('They certain don't look to be pleased in any possible ways, means, mareners, shapes, or forms in the least.. far more Late Dynasty weaponry, armors, and equipmarent than I was expecting.')
('Fairly normal stuff, like what we keep for extras. Most are in great shape too.')
('Hm. Too bad they don't have some of the rare pieces. Unless they want to talk I suggest leaving them alone. Time?')
('Three hours, plus or minus ten minutes. Are we still allowed t- ......I'm going to pretend I didn't see that.')
('See what?')
('Everypony, perform full armor checks prioritizing joints and gaps for leaves, twigs, sticks, rocks, small stones, or marbles, immediately after a batpony has come within twenty hooves of you.')
('The way you said those is so matter of fact I can't help but think you've experienced them. Twice each, right?')
('More than I care to remember right now, not that I kept count.')
>Already giving orders for the rear most ranks to turn head towards Basin Village, most of the Veterans and Elites think aloud.
('Just ignore the wings.')
('I would but that might take effort.')
('Like you can spare any right now-')
('Better yet, when are we getting some gliders?')
('How about flying enchantments? Probably a lot cheaper.')
('Those are difficult to justify time and energies spent, as a result they're rarely produced outside of towns with a significant unicorn population. You may try cloud cities, yet I wouldn't advise that these days, too marely ripoffs.')
('What ab-')
('No.')
('Way to kill the mood, dude.')
('Interesting. Are Shells immortal?')
('Technically, no. Consciously, definitely not. Functionally is improbable as well. Crystalline Shells inevitably suffer from ennui and similar states of mind, similar to... other long lived states that I don't want to think about right now.
Once they believe their time is done or have accomplished an acceptable number of tasks, each picks a time and place to cease existing. Most often the Crystal City-State Labyrinth, the place they were born in, or a highly important, or holy, location is chosen.')
('Thaaaaat explains way more than I wanted, but.. thanks?')
('Do Shells actually eat Empire crystal? If they do then how's digestion work, or is it all crystal song-magic?')
>Feeling HIGHLY uncomfortable at Mind's Eye stares from thousands of inquiring ponies, the Veteran thinks better of his question.
('Mangoes, are they the best fruit or the worst?')
('Would yo-')
('No, it's a serious question.')
>Rotating around you to face east and waiting for the central lines to move once more, the five Assault Vanguard mares grumble halfheartedly, majorly displeased at being outvoted, though accepting the return wouldn't be too awful.
('We can still look for something to eat, right?')
('Knowing batponies, we're the ones that're going to be foraged...')
('What does that mean?')
('You'll.. find out soon enough.')
('No, I need to know what you're thinking!')
('Soon. Enough.')
('You're a pain.')
('Thanks, hard head.')
('What's harder to read than a Crystal pony? An angry Crystal pony that's not talking.')
>Giving up trying to determine moods from Conclavists, Kingdom adherents, Imperials, then frowning towards Spireguards, the leadstallion motions for the Operator he was escorting to remain temporarily as the rear line enters a slow march towards Basin Village.
('They certain don't look to be pleased in any possible ways, means, mareners, shapes, or forms in the least.. far more Late Dynasty weaponry, armors, and equipmarent than I was expecting.')
('Fairly normal stuff, like what we keep for extras. Most are in great shape too.')
('Hm. Too bad they don't have some of the rare pieces. Unless they want to talk I suggest leaving them alone. Time?')
('Three hours, plus or minus ten minutes. Are we still allowed t- ......I'm going to pretend I didn't see that.')
('See what?')
('Everypony, perform full armor checks prioritizing joints and gaps for leaves, twigs, sticks, rocks, small stones, or marbles, immediately after a batpony has come within twenty hooves of you.')
('The way you said those is so matter of fact I can't help but think you've experienced them. Twice each, right?')
('More than I care to remember right now, not that I kept count.')
>>371253
>Cheto's eyebrow raised in turn as Starglow started to do her thing with alien sounds and hidden scribbles.
>A part of him felt tested in some way but he wasn't sure how.
>Best not to fret too much about that.
"Thank you for the heads-up, miss Shanis."
>He promptly gave the titular pegasus mare a curt bow in tandem with his words of amicable appreciation.
>In fact, as a token of gratitude, he'd bestow her a nice boop on her snout as payment.
>Back to the little penniped, Gallo listened intently as his mind took notes on what this little guy was looking for.
>Argenta might have what Nao is looking for in terms of sea food, actually, but might as well inquire while she's still here.
>He also gauged her reaction to Shanis's snout being poked by a human finger, wondering how seals viewed this presumed pony gesture.
"May I ask what other liasions have been sent to meet the demands for the newest colony of the Greater Polar Seal Colonies, miss Nao? It seems like a big endeavor that needs contacts all around Tallus."
>Of course, such a big question might yield a big answer, so he had to pay all of his attention towards the cutie little patooie seal.
>This could be the start of great things.
>Hopefully.
>Cheto's eyebrow raised in turn as Starglow started to do her thing with alien sounds and hidden scribbles.
>A part of him felt tested in some way but he wasn't sure how.
>Best not to fret too much about that.
"Thank you for the heads-up, miss Shanis."
>He promptly gave the titular pegasus mare a curt bow in tandem with his words of amicable appreciation.
>In fact, as a token of gratitude, he'd bestow her a nice boop on her snout as payment.
>Back to the little penniped, Gallo listened intently as his mind took notes on what this little guy was looking for.
>Argenta might have what Nao is looking for in terms of sea food, actually, but might as well inquire while she's still here.
>He also gauged her reaction to Shanis's snout being poked by a human finger, wondering how seals viewed this presumed pony gesture.
"May I ask what other liasions have been sent to meet the demands for the newest colony of the Greater Polar Seal Colonies, miss Nao? It seems like a big endeavor that needs contacts all around Tallus."
>Of course, such a big question might yield a big answer, so he had to pay all of his attention towards the cutie little patooie seal.
>This could be the start of great things.
>Hopefully.
>>371235
>Relaying the message forwards, the older mare gestures for her squad to about face as Mercy takes a deep breath, releasing it as a quiet, satisfied snort.
"As everypony can see I am unharmed, a bit winded, not yet tired. And rather.. I feel excellent at the momarent, am not e-"
>Lips tightening sharply, her right wing pulls forwards to graze the scar on her neck before looking up with a softening expression, head shaking in short, negative motions.
"Not now, there is little time remaining. I must return to Sunny but I will be on the Tower after returning-"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Neutrally watching on the Spirit Walker makes a half-leap, swinging around in air and streaking off in heavy ripples, the leadstallion's eyebrows raise.
('Quite an opportunist. Ambusher for sure, fairly specialized. Assassin? ...no, skillset isn't even close.')
('Could be a hunter.')
('No trophies, enchantmarents, weapons aren't particularly destructive against most targets, not carrying much... and in that cloth armor? Doubtful. Mindset wouldn't be right either.')
('Erm, you two care to elaborate?')
('We can tell a pegasi's open moods fairly easily. Wasn't concerned, worried, afraid, scared, certainly not coerced or secretive. And those threats weren't entirely honest.')
('Didn't want to cause harm, hated the idea of starting another conflict, though was willing to make a.. somepony that isn't dead on their hooves, finish that thought for me-')
('She had been within the interdiction field's outermost layer until all matrice-gateways were closed, then made herself known before or after approach. A complicated series of deductions, yet the possibilities are fairly tangled.')
('Wait, what? Why?')
('To ensure her message, or messages, achieved the desired affects and effects.')
('Why wait instead of planning to show up when the gates closed?')
('Even if we had maintained the gateways to rush back through, perhaps six percent would have returned. Doing so would have well and truly burned out each unicorn to a severe extent, myself included. A warning to ensure that we all returned alive to Basin Village alive?')
('Perhaps a statemarent that our efforts are indeed unnecessary, or we should not take such a risk.')
('Or she had indeed been in flight to arrive two-point-six minutes after the last matrice-gateway closed. In this case the best answer may be none at all.')
('Plausible, yet I feel our questions to be irrelevant. As it is we should not speculate without further information. Nevertheless, an independent marecenary is not beholden to our codes of conduct or agreemarents, thus it is disrespectful, and improper, to pry further.')
('In that case, what should we do?')
('Precisely what she said, without exception. Hoof it mares, the quicker we all leave the fewer mangoes need to be retrieved from places you did not know existed-')
>Interjecting and leaving the Overherd to suffer from Lunar-aligned snickers, the Shieldmare imagines herself throwing a pillow large enough to cover the entire Moors.
>Relaying the message forwards, the older mare gestures for her squad to about face as Mercy takes a deep breath, releasing it as a quiet, satisfied snort.
"As everypony can see I am unharmed, a bit winded, not yet tired. And rather.. I feel excellent at the momarent, am not e-"
>Lips tightening sharply, her right wing pulls forwards to graze the scar on her neck before looking up with a softening expression, head shaking in short, negative motions.
"Not now, there is little time remaining. I must return to Sunny but I will be on the Tower after returning-"
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <B.Auto-Stealth
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
>Neutrally watching on the Spirit Walker makes a half-leap, swinging around in air and streaking off in heavy ripples, the leadstallion's eyebrows raise.
('Quite an opportunist. Ambusher for sure, fairly specialized. Assassin? ...no, skillset isn't even close.')
('Could be a hunter.')
('No trophies, enchantmarents, weapons aren't particularly destructive against most targets, not carrying much... and in that cloth armor? Doubtful. Mindset wouldn't be right either.')
('Erm, you two care to elaborate?')
('We can tell a pegasi's open moods fairly easily. Wasn't concerned, worried, afraid, scared, certainly not coerced or secretive. And those threats weren't entirely honest.')
('Didn't want to cause harm, hated the idea of starting another conflict, though was willing to make a.. somepony that isn't dead on their hooves, finish that thought for me-')
('She had been within the interdiction field's outermost layer until all matrice-gateways were closed, then made herself known before or after approach. A complicated series of deductions, yet the possibilities are fairly tangled.')
('Wait, what? Why?')
('To ensure her message, or messages, achieved the desired affects and effects.')
('Why wait instead of planning to show up when the gates closed?')
('Even if we had maintained the gateways to rush back through, perhaps six percent would have returned. Doing so would have well and truly burned out each unicorn to a severe extent, myself included. A warning to ensure that we all returned alive to Basin Village alive?')
('Perhaps a statemarent that our efforts are indeed unnecessary, or we should not take such a risk.')
('Or she had indeed been in flight to arrive two-point-six minutes after the last matrice-gateway closed. In this case the best answer may be none at all.')
('Plausible, yet I feel our questions to be irrelevant. As it is we should not speculate without further information. Nevertheless, an independent marecenary is not beholden to our codes of conduct or agreemarents, thus it is disrespectful, and improper, to pry further.')
('In that case, what should we do?')
('Precisely what she said, without exception. Hoof it mares, the quicker we all leave the fewer mangoes need to be retrieved from places you did not know existed-')
>Interjecting and leaving the Overherd to suffer from Lunar-aligned snickers, the Shieldmare imagines herself throwing a pillow large enough to cover the entire Moors.
>>371241
('Outvoted almost six to three, huh.')
('Too bad, but he's right.')
('Like usual.')
('Would've been nice to at least study the abomination.')
('There's always another one.')
('And that will be when, miss fortune teller?')
('Not a clue.')
>Somewhat deflated at their prospects diminished to zero, four of the five Councilierge mares step around in three-point, 180-degree turns, albeit not quickly, the youngest mare stares on for a half-second before about facing.
>Silverine-trimmed helmet tipping backwards, an impression of a grin and faint amusemarent occurs.
('Has really ni-')
('Stop that.')
('But th-')
('Quit it.')
('Just look a-')
('What part of cut that out are you ignoring, and for what purpose?')
('Why can't I appreciate a mare with gre-')
('Why can't you control yourself!? Here you are thinking.. what even are you thinking?')
('I am in way better control of myself than half of us, and I was looking at her wings. Pretty, glossy feathers and a full body color aren't common you know. Besides, who did I piss off to get assigned to this bunch of joykillers?')
('Who DIDN'T you..')
('Shieldmare, you can drop us, we have certain unfinished argumarents.')
('I'd say the same, but too tired. We'll start coordinating food and water in.')
('As shall we, if you do not mind.')
('Very well. Day, Night, and Lunar Guard releasing in three, two, one-')
>Disconnecting a little over seventy percent of the Overherd, the remaining Watch and Assault Vanguard express heavy relief at the greatly lessened pressures.
>Until the frontal Chargers and Lancers notice batponies in clusters sweeping down to deliver fruits two at a time, or in small satchels.
>Heads turning to stare, peculiar sensations from squinted, diamond-slitted eyes cause manes to bristle.. the first kek is heard.
>Then a snicker as a Lunar mareneuvers to pin a Watch mare behind two Day Guard.
>Realizing how utterly unaware most had been, the Shieldmare intones a short, barely serious offering-prayer for her kin.
('Ponies of Stalliongrad, there are far too few of you to resist their numbers, wiles, charms, and puns. All Creation shall remember your battles fondly.. because I most probably will not to be perfectly honest.
In fact, how marely of you have fully sealed armor?')
('If ONE so muchs as stick a piece of fruit in my helmet I'm going t-')
>Sniffing in her enclosed helmet, a small rock bounces off an Assault Vanguard's saddle, then another's helmet, the mares twitching.
('..you knew this was going to happen, didn't you.')
('Yes. And there is not a single thing any of you can do to prevent the, ah... what are they called?')
('Foalnadoes?')
('No, the other one.')
('The Shuffle?')
('Not quite, something about edible glue and leaves?')
('I think you mean-')
>Smelling before seeing the incoming threat, the leadstallion stallion sighs while a mare's snout mask ahead of him is covered in berry jam.
('This one doesn't have a name that I know of. Did anypony happen to bring toast?')
('I hate you.')
('Is that a no?')
('...I hate you. So much.')
('Outvoted almost six to three, huh.')
('Too bad, but he's right.')
('Like usual.')
('Would've been nice to at least study the abomination.')
('There's always another one.')
('And that will be when, miss fortune teller?')
('Not a clue.')
>Somewhat deflated at their prospects diminished to zero, four of the five Councilierge mares step around in three-point, 180-degree turns, albeit not quickly, the youngest mare stares on for a half-second before about facing.
>Silverine-trimmed helmet tipping backwards, an impression of a grin and faint amusemarent occurs.
('Has really ni-')
('Stop that.')
('But th-')
('Quit it.')
('Just look a-')
('What part of cut that out are you ignoring, and for what purpose?')
('Why can't I appreciate a mare with gre-')
('Why can't you control yourself!? Here you are thinking.. what even are you thinking?')
('I am in way better control of myself than half of us, and I was looking at her wings. Pretty, glossy feathers and a full body color aren't common you know. Besides, who did I piss off to get assigned to this bunch of joykillers?')
('Who DIDN'T you..')
('Shieldmare, you can drop us, we have certain unfinished argumarents.')
('I'd say the same, but too tired. We'll start coordinating food and water in.')
('As shall we, if you do not mind.')
('Very well. Day, Night, and Lunar Guard releasing in three, two, one-')
>Disconnecting a little over seventy percent of the Overherd, the remaining Watch and Assault Vanguard express heavy relief at the greatly lessened pressures.
>Until the frontal Chargers and Lancers notice batponies in clusters sweeping down to deliver fruits two at a time, or in small satchels.
>Heads turning to stare, peculiar sensations from squinted, diamond-slitted eyes cause manes to bristle.. the first kek is heard.
>Then a snicker as a Lunar mareneuvers to pin a Watch mare behind two Day Guard.
>Realizing how utterly unaware most had been, the Shieldmare intones a short, barely serious offering-prayer for her kin.
('Ponies of Stalliongrad, there are far too few of you to resist their numbers, wiles, charms, and puns. All Creation shall remember your battles fondly.. because I most probably will not to be perfectly honest.
In fact, how marely of you have fully sealed armor?')
('If ONE so muchs as stick a piece of fruit in my helmet I'm going t-')
>Sniffing in her enclosed helmet, a small rock bounces off an Assault Vanguard's saddle, then another's helmet, the mares twitching.
('..you knew this was going to happen, didn't you.')
('Yes. And there is not a single thing any of you can do to prevent the, ah... what are they called?')
('Foalnadoes?')
('No, the other one.')
('The Shuffle?')
('Not quite, something about edible glue and leaves?')
('I think you mean-')
>Smelling before seeing the incoming threat, the leadstallion stallion sighs while a mare's snout mask ahead of him is covered in berry jam.
('This one doesn't have a name that I know of. Did anypony happen to bring toast?')
('I hate you.')
('Is that a no?')
('...I hate you. So much.')
>>371252
"I don't imagine I would ever be in the position of needing to... purchase, anyone. But I will keep this in mind."
>He's going to forget.
"I imagine we're vastly different due to most human origins being single sapience worlds, like mine."
>He thinks for a moment, before shrugging.
"Something to idly look into, I imagine."
>Ivan watched to make sure he could as well, nodding a bit and copying Krinza with both sides, testing his own flexibility to confirm.
"The only new weight I'd have had to get used to would have been the minigun, and with an Exoskeleton that would've been trivial."
>To be weak in the Zone meant death. Most STALKERs carried over a hundred pounds on a regular basis.
"Most humans tend to consider it 'One Size Fits Most' instead of all, purely for the fact that people are never a uniform size."
>Unless they're clones.
>Though he knows clones don't exist in his world.
>Ivan would twitch at the almost deafening CLICK coming from the minigun, hand instinctively slapping his thigh where a holster would be, before coming back to his senses.
>Letting out a grunt, mostly to himself, he'd make his way over to the minigun, placing a hand on it.
"I don't know, it gives it character."
>Though he doesn't know rightly if it was 'anime related' or not, he's never seen one.
>Or he doesn't believe he has.
"At this time, I don't believe so. Aside from additional straps and storage pouches, but I have more than enough in my quarters to go about placing them on the armor."
>He took his helmet off, giving the pony a weary, but friendly grin.
"I appreciate how quickly you two were able to get this hammered out for me. It would take years back home for something of this quality, I expect."
"I don't imagine I would ever be in the position of needing to... purchase, anyone. But I will keep this in mind."
>He's going to forget.
"I imagine we're vastly different due to most human origins being single sapience worlds, like mine."
>He thinks for a moment, before shrugging.
"Something to idly look into, I imagine."
>Ivan watched to make sure he could as well, nodding a bit and copying Krinza with both sides, testing his own flexibility to confirm.
"The only new weight I'd have had to get used to would have been the minigun, and with an Exoskeleton that would've been trivial."
>To be weak in the Zone meant death. Most STALKERs carried over a hundred pounds on a regular basis.
"Most humans tend to consider it 'One Size Fits Most' instead of all, purely for the fact that people are never a uniform size."
>Unless they're clones.
>Though he knows clones don't exist in his world.
>Ivan would twitch at the almost deafening CLICK coming from the minigun, hand instinctively slapping his thigh where a holster would be, before coming back to his senses.
>Letting out a grunt, mostly to himself, he'd make his way over to the minigun, placing a hand on it.
"I don't know, it gives it character."
>Though he doesn't know rightly if it was 'anime related' or not, he's never seen one.
>Or he doesn't believe he has.
"At this time, I don't believe so. Aside from additional straps and storage pouches, but I have more than enough in my quarters to go about placing them on the armor."
>He took his helmet off, giving the pony a weary, but friendly grin.
"I appreciate how quickly you two were able to get this hammered out for me. It would take years back home for something of this quality, I expect."
>>371245
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
>>371257
>Jeff is a little dejected from the denial. It was an understandable one. Mercy had to get back to the Basin Arena an make sure her word was kept. And it sounded like she was going to keep an eye on Sunny as well.
>What ever concerns he had wanted to share with his herd second were dismissed.
>He smiles as she takes off from the forward line, just glad that she's fine.
>As ponies start to converse on Mercy behalf, he shakes his head as they can't find the mark on the mare's origins and backround.
>What he was told isn't worth anyone else's ear, and he keeps any of it out of mind.
>At any rate the ponies were intrigued, confused, and impressed my Mercy's efforts.
>Personally he was proud. Old Mercy used to be such a recluse, she would've never done anything like she did tonite.
>And just like that the rear line became the front, as he turns around with everyone else to start marching back to the Basin Village.
>Conversations get casual, and the Overherd quickly cuts off the majority. The feeling of it disconnecting was a relief on his headache.
>The march started to put him in sort of a trance. The miles he's hiked he could have probably circled the globe at least once.
>He starts to wander on tonite's happenings, not just the Village. He goes all the way back to when he first returned to the Fortress even before going to the Citadel.
>Jeff exhales outwardly, just letting taking point clear his mind. He grabs his hydration pack's tube and takes a long idling drag from it.
>The darkness of the Moors was always impressive. Along with the intense humidity and smells and sounds it was... heavy but refreshing.
>Looking up, the treeline barely let any stars through.
>His head clearing as they keep the slow and steady pace, batponies begin flying around the small army dropping off foraged fruit to non fliers.
>An opportunity for some free rations he was NOT going to pass up.
>Not finding any other place to secure the hulking forty-pound rifle anywhere that wouldn't be a hassle, he keeps it on his right shoulder and holds up his left hand in the air; still sucking down water free-handed. Hoping for a air-dropped care package.
>Jeff is a little dejected from the denial. It was an understandable one. Mercy had to get back to the Basin Arena an make sure her word was kept. And it sounded like she was going to keep an eye on Sunny as well.
>What ever concerns he had wanted to share with his herd second were dismissed.
>He smiles as she takes off from the forward line, just glad that she's fine.
>As ponies start to converse on Mercy behalf, he shakes his head as they can't find the mark on the mare's origins and backround.
>What he was told isn't worth anyone else's ear, and he keeps any of it out of mind.
>At any rate the ponies were intrigued, confused, and impressed my Mercy's efforts.
>Personally he was proud. Old Mercy used to be such a recluse, she would've never done anything like she did tonite.
>And just like that the rear line became the front, as he turns around with everyone else to start marching back to the Basin Village.
>Conversations get casual, and the Overherd quickly cuts off the majority. The feeling of it disconnecting was a relief on his headache.
>The march started to put him in sort of a trance. The miles he's hiked he could have probably circled the globe at least once.
>He starts to wander on tonite's happenings, not just the Village. He goes all the way back to when he first returned to the Fortress even before going to the Citadel.
>Jeff exhales outwardly, just letting taking point clear his mind. He grabs his hydration pack's tube and takes a long idling drag from it.
>The darkness of the Moors was always impressive. Along with the intense humidity and smells and sounds it was... heavy but refreshing.
>Looking up, the treeline barely let any stars through.
>His head clearing as they keep the slow and steady pace, batponies begin flying around the small army dropping off foraged fruit to non fliers.
>An opportunity for some free rations he was NOT going to pass up.
>Not finding any other place to secure the hulking forty-pound rifle anywhere that wouldn't be a hassle, he keeps it on his right shoulder and holds up his left hand in the air; still sucking down water free-handed. Hoping for a air-dropped care package.
>>371226
>Ears flicking out of sync in 'don't want to be here right now' motions, the Construct's snout performs a hard scrunch.
>Flapping upwards several meters and slowing into a pre-diving state, the particle cannons aim downwards and ahead of you, unmistakable preheat cycles sizzling the humid air.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>Skipping into the heavier Void spectrums mid-stride, the nine reptilians were unmoving, recently killed and left where they were as you weave through them.
>Not without a few successful strikes of their own though, sharp tangs of equine blood in the air are scented from unusually wide half-oval claws, terminating in sharply curved ends, spread out in shock deaths.
>Wide brown and black speckled eyes glazing above needle teeth coated in red, rigor mortis setting in the four squat legs of each.
>Retaking the protective slightly ahead and left escort formation for half a minute, the symbiote's head rears briefly, right wingclaws flicking in common 'ally' motions.
>Roiling from the heavier spectrums ahead precedes Mercy exiting into the same as yours, twisting left as her wings buffet hard into a full stop, hanging two hooves above stone.
>A smile of unfiltered joy crosses the blind mare's face, the batstallion carrying the same as she lands, flicking her wings out to shake water off.
>Facing you, then gazing past for five seconds, Mercy tilts her head backwards, speaking in muted tones.
"Sunny, the remaining defenders are alive and well that I could see. They are returning to Basin Village, but I would ask that you return with him-"
>Sharing an unknown expression between each other, Mercy flips her outermost right primary wingblade from her saddle, the neat circle of armor still missing, to yours.
"But not in his current state. He can counter gravity approximately an eighth more than his own weight and does not pose a danger to you. If that is not acceptable then I could bring down enough of a cloud to be pulled.
And, no, I cannot hide you without full acclimation. That will take weeks, possibly months to teach you the proper methods.. if it is even possible."
>The symbiote's lips pull back in minor disgruntlemarent, but nods, shaking out both wings in figurative acceptance.
>Ears flicking out of sync in 'don't want to be here right now' motions, the Construct's snout performs a hard scrunch.
>Flapping upwards several meters and slowing into a pre-diving state, the particle cannons aim downwards and ahead of you, unmistakable preheat cycles sizzling the humid air.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>Skipping into the heavier Void spectrums mid-stride, the nine reptilians were unmoving, recently killed and left where they were as you weave through them.
>Not without a few successful strikes of their own though, sharp tangs of equine blood in the air are scented from unusually wide half-oval claws, terminating in sharply curved ends, spread out in shock deaths.
>Wide brown and black speckled eyes glazing above needle teeth coated in red, rigor mortis setting in the four squat legs of each.
>Retaking the protective slightly ahead and left escort formation for half a minute, the symbiote's head rears briefly, right wingclaws flicking in common 'ally' motions.
>Roiling from the heavier spectrums ahead precedes Mercy exiting into the same as yours, twisting left as her wings buffet hard into a full stop, hanging two hooves above stone.
>A smile of unfiltered joy crosses the blind mare's face, the batstallion carrying the same as she lands, flicking her wings out to shake water off.
>Facing you, then gazing past for five seconds, Mercy tilts her head backwards, speaking in muted tones.
"Sunny, the remaining defenders are alive and well that I could see. They are returning to Basin Village, but I would ask that you return with him-"
>Sharing an unknown expression between each other, Mercy flips her outermost right primary wingblade from her saddle, the neat circle of armor still missing, to yours.
"But not in his current state. He can counter gravity approximately an eighth more than his own weight and does not pose a danger to you. If that is not acceptable then I could bring down enough of a cloud to be pulled.
And, no, I cannot hide you without full acclimation. That will take weeks, possibly months to teach you the proper methods.. if it is even possible."
>The symbiote's lips pull back in minor disgruntlemarent, but nods, shaking out both wings in figurative acceptance.
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371333
>>371223
"How can you be sure this isn't a nightmare?"
>Placing the map on screen, then wiggling out from behind it to stare up, the internal version's eye blanks into solid red.
"How can I be sure? Theoretically, I know that I exist, but what is real? What isn't? What can't be? What should? If something isn't real but can be physically felt, is it unreal? Disreal? Magic and energy are real in a technical sense, they can produce temporary semi-state objects. Does that mean I'm the sum of what isn't, minus what is?"
>Yep, she definitely needed a break..
>Outside was little more than burned out or missing trees above the sand line, variable sized piles of gray below them, and small, cloudy waves tainting what was probably the most pure beach imaginable.
>Stepping out onto slightly creaking steel sheets making a finger, then carefully maneuvering to the palm's center, Wild's speakers sigh.
"I know how I felt a minute ago. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. An hour.. don't know how to categorize any of this yet."
>Wrist tilting up, then elbow raising with two grinding noises, as you face the Eldritch-Android's external body, the extent of damage was sobering:
>What had been her 'head' was a ruined heap of heat deformed, thin metals in colors that were definitely not good, protrusions which were once supports, wires and cables of black semi-organic mass ending in charred sections.
>Below that her chest armor featured a massive dent left of center, both of her assets featuring the same discolorations, except where hard plating and sheets had been force-melded into place below them before the exit panels were sealed prior to the underwater walk.. some of the Rilvenni's teeth were still stuck.
>The right arm's interior cabin at the shoulder was currently filled with a variety of materials, while the lower exterior was entirely crumpled, armor barely recognizable except as small fractures, below the elbow an utterly twisted mess though the hand was functional.
>Mostly.
>Only her left forearm had suffered damage, thin sheets buckled where the Rilvenni's tentacles had gripped, but was in far better shape that the opposite.
>From what you figured was her waist down appeared to be functional, though badly heat discolored, a number of black cables sparking outside of seams.
"So... how do I look? Can't view myself except from the repair modules. They don't have good resolution either and knowing where each component is.. different."
>External speakers on low, the eight tendrils shear off sections of what you hoped was steel or better from a corroded piece of something, then drag their plates into fissures, bright red emitting from within.
"Life is suffering. And I don't know what life is. I know suffering better than everything else because WHY WOULD I NOT.
Replacing left leg motivation systems-"
>At least she was using a lower pitched outdoor voice.
[1d6+14 = (2+14) = 16] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-#8
"How can you be sure this isn't a nightmare?"
>Placing the map on screen, then wiggling out from behind it to stare up, the internal version's eye blanks into solid red.
"How can I be sure? Theoretically, I know that I exist, but what is real? What isn't? What can't be? What should? If something isn't real but can be physically felt, is it unreal? Disreal? Magic and energy are real in a technical sense, they can produce temporary semi-state objects. Does that mean I'm the sum of what isn't, minus what is?"
>Yep, she definitely needed a break..
>Outside was little more than burned out or missing trees above the sand line, variable sized piles of gray below them, and small, cloudy waves tainting what was probably the most pure beach imaginable.
>Stepping out onto slightly creaking steel sheets making a finger, then carefully maneuvering to the palm's center, Wild's speakers sigh.
"I know how I felt a minute ago. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. An hour.. don't know how to categorize any of this yet."
>Wrist tilting up, then elbow raising with two grinding noises, as you face the Eldritch-Android's external body, the extent of damage was sobering:
>What had been her 'head' was a ruined heap of heat deformed, thin metals in colors that were definitely not good, protrusions which were once supports, wires and cables of black semi-organic mass ending in charred sections.
>Below that her chest armor featured a massive dent left of center, both of her assets featuring the same discolorations, except where hard plating and sheets had been force-melded into place below them before the exit panels were sealed prior to the underwater walk.. some of the Rilvenni's teeth were still stuck.
>The right arm's interior cabin at the shoulder was currently filled with a variety of materials, while the lower exterior was entirely crumpled, armor barely recognizable except as small fractures, below the elbow an utterly twisted mess though the hand was functional.
>Mostly.
>Only her left forearm had suffered damage, thin sheets buckled where the Rilvenni's tentacles had gripped, but was in far better shape that the opposite.
>From what you figured was her waist down appeared to be functional, though badly heat discolored, a number of black cables sparking outside of seams.
"So... how do I look? Can't view myself except from the repair modules. They don't have good resolution either and knowing where each component is.. different."
>External speakers on low, the eight tendrils shear off sections of what you hoped was steel or better from a corroded piece of something, then drag their plates into fissures, bright red emitting from within.
"Life is suffering. And I don't know what life is. I know suffering better than everything else because WHY WOULD I NOT.
Replacing left leg motivation systems-"
>At least she was using a lower pitched outdoor voice.
[1d6+14 = (2+14) = 16] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (4+15) = 19]
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (6+13) = 19]
[1d6+20 = (5+20) = 25] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <RT-#8
>>371260
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (1+1) = 2]
>>371332
>Sunny cast a wary eye about for more reptiles, these were dead, but that didn't mean more couldn't be nearby.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] < B.Wilderness Survival
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>With rigor mortis setting in, these must have been killed quite some time ago. There was a good chance it would lure in scavengers, and those would attract more predatorial creatures.
>Sunny frowned, she could not discern any reason to kill these beyond keeping the roads clear, and yet it didn't make sense to simply slaughter them, and then leave their bodies to rot. What were they thinking?
>This mystery wasn't strictly relevant, but she couldn't stop herself from puzzling over it regardless.
>Coming to a complete, skittering stop. Sunny looked up at Mercy, her sudden appearance coming as a shock.
>That was incredibly fast, it had barely been a few minutes. She'd been using one of the lower weight spectra to fly by, but she'd still expected it to take some time to escape the interference.
"Mercy, you-"
>What? She made them go back and now Mercy wanted her to go back with the symbiote?
"While you do what? Go fight a Riftseeker? That's not happening, what do you imagine you'll even accomplish without this one?"
>Sunny gestured to the symbiote, then glanced up looking for a suitable cloud. Hopefully one that didn't look like it was busy.
"Try bringing a cloud down, then we'll head back to Basin Village, you included."
>Sunny cast a wary eye about for more reptiles, these were dead, but that didn't mean more couldn't be nearby.
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] < B.Wilderness Survival
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
>With rigor mortis setting in, these must have been killed quite some time ago. There was a good chance it would lure in scavengers, and those would attract more predatorial creatures.
>Sunny frowned, she could not discern any reason to kill these beyond keeping the roads clear, and yet it didn't make sense to simply slaughter them, and then leave their bodies to rot. What were they thinking?
>This mystery wasn't strictly relevant, but she couldn't stop herself from puzzling over it regardless.
>Coming to a complete, skittering stop. Sunny looked up at Mercy, her sudden appearance coming as a shock.
>That was incredibly fast, it had barely been a few minutes. She'd been using one of the lower weight spectra to fly by, but she'd still expected it to take some time to escape the interference.
"Mercy, you-"
>What? She made them go back and now Mercy wanted her to go back with the symbiote?
"While you do what? Go fight a Riftseeker? That's not happening, what do you imagine you'll even accomplish without this one?"
>Sunny gestured to the symbiote, then glanced up looking for a suitable cloud. Hopefully one that didn't look like it was busy.
"Try bringing a cloud down, then we'll head back to Basin Village, you included."
>>371334
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Planar Lightning Modifications
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Elemental Plane of Lightning
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6 = 1]< Amateur Conceptual Lightning Plane Objective Creation
[1d6 = 3]< Amateur Lightning Elementals
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E. Small Arms + SS
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Extra Roll Master FINA
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E. Small Arms + SGSC FINA
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Extra Roll SGSC FINA
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]< Graduate Researcher + SS
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]< Observer Advanced Technological Weaponry & Tactics
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Post-Space Age Technologies
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]< Pupil Post-Space Age Weaponry
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Planar Lightning Modifications
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]< Pupil Elemental Plane of Lightning
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6]
[1d6 = 1]< Amateur Conceptual Lightning Plane Objective Creation
[1d6 = 3]< Amateur Lightning Elementals
>>371335
>Glancing back to study the deceased creatures with some care, then the surrounding swamps, bogs, and flora in view, they had been killed within the past three to four minutes.
>Unlike avians, mammals, or various hybrids, reptiles had far smaller fat reserves yet varying neural responsiveness depending on temperatures; upon death, warm and hot reptiles would suffer from rigor mortis far quicker.
>Testing the local temperature with a quick hoof tap, feather flick, and snout wiggle, it was currently 101 degrees in approximately 95% humidity, well within range of the previous estimates.
>Glancing about to check for predators, especially potential local swarms, there were no indications of anything more than tiny omnivores or scavengers on approach.
>Which happened to be a few water-skimming insects, several tiny mantidae-likes, and a single snake.
>On second glance, that last one was more of a stupidly tiny wyrm, six sets of miniature, dark blue-green fins gently propelling it on the water's surface, the green-black-blue snakelike head twisting about in search of predators.
>Rather cute, compared to Neighsian varieties, if it wasn't similar.
>It was a long distant descendant, but which region was speculative.
"No? That is not what I agreed to. It was not more than twenty minutes ago. Did you.. not hear what they said?"
>Muzzle pulling back in a severe frown, Mercy blinks at her paired symbiote, left hoof raising and right leg tensing in awkward social apprehension.
"Sunny, we secured releasing an equivalent weight of sapients from the Argus Behemoth-Destoyer pair, but I must return. They expect me to fulfill the non-sapient trade obligations that I agreed to. They were offering their collection.. rather, their 'museum' to us, which you were not interested in."
>Batpony wings lifting high above, coiled down to his barrel, then outwards in rapid motions you didn't understand, the Construct lands with barely a sound.
>Checking you up and down quickly, orange eyebrows furrow together, both lips pursing as it glances from you to Mercy, then back again.
>The Construct symbiote points to the blind mare, making a large, round swipe, clutching both wings across the barrel, then makes a tiny hop, Mercy's face creasing in hard thought before facing you in subdued confusion.
"That is... what I meant to say? I did say it. No, I did. ....it is not the same? I apologize, it is not easy for me to explain my thoughts.. I am not doing marentally well right now, the.. nevermind.
Sunny, we convinced the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair to release the same amount of weight, in sapients, equivalent to the Riftseeker's own approximate weight. Please state you remember that much."
>Glancing at the banks of mist, fog, then clouds above, the Spirit Walker's snout twitches, taking a hard leap upwards, calling behind her.
"Will return shortly with the best one-"
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>Facehoofing itself, the symbiote's lips form soundless words, letting go after eight seconds, head swiveling around in active threat detection.
[1d6 = 5] <???
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Construct Realscape Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>Glancing back to study the deceased creatures with some care, then the surrounding swamps, bogs, and flora in view, they had been killed within the past three to four minutes.
>Unlike avians, mammals, or various hybrids, reptiles had far smaller fat reserves yet varying neural responsiveness depending on temperatures; upon death, warm and hot reptiles would suffer from rigor mortis far quicker.
>Testing the local temperature with a quick hoof tap, feather flick, and snout wiggle, it was currently 101 degrees in approximately 95% humidity, well within range of the previous estimates.
>Glancing about to check for predators, especially potential local swarms, there were no indications of anything more than tiny omnivores or scavengers on approach.
>Which happened to be a few water-skimming insects, several tiny mantidae-likes, and a single snake.
>On second glance, that last one was more of a stupidly tiny wyrm, six sets of miniature, dark blue-green fins gently propelling it on the water's surface, the green-black-blue snakelike head twisting about in search of predators.
>Rather cute, compared to Neighsian varieties, if it wasn't similar.
>It was a long distant descendant, but which region was speculative.
"No? That is not what I agreed to. It was not more than twenty minutes ago. Did you.. not hear what they said?"
>Muzzle pulling back in a severe frown, Mercy blinks at her paired symbiote, left hoof raising and right leg tensing in awkward social apprehension.
"Sunny, we secured releasing an equivalent weight of sapients from the Argus Behemoth-Destoyer pair, but I must return. They expect me to fulfill the non-sapient trade obligations that I agreed to. They were offering their collection.. rather, their 'museum' to us, which you were not interested in."
>Batpony wings lifting high above, coiled down to his barrel, then outwards in rapid motions you didn't understand, the Construct lands with barely a sound.
>Checking you up and down quickly, orange eyebrows furrow together, both lips pursing as it glances from you to Mercy, then back again.
>The Construct symbiote points to the blind mare, making a large, round swipe, clutching both wings across the barrel, then makes a tiny hop, Mercy's face creasing in hard thought before facing you in subdued confusion.
"That is... what I meant to say? I did say it. No, I did. ....it is not the same? I apologize, it is not easy for me to explain my thoughts.. I am not doing marentally well right now, the.. nevermind.
Sunny, we convinced the Argus Behemoth-Destroyer pair to release the same amount of weight, in sapients, equivalent to the Riftseeker's own approximate weight. Please state you remember that much."
>Glancing at the banks of mist, fog, then clouds above, the Spirit Walker's snout twitches, taking a hard leap upwards, calling behind her.
"Will return shortly with the best one-"
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>Facehoofing itself, the symbiote's lips form soundless words, letting go after eight seconds, head swiveling around in active threat detection.
[1d6 = 5] <???
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Construct Realscape Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>>371337
>Watching the tiny wyrm swim along with a smile, Sunny listened to Mercy.
>It appears she wasn't clear, or that Mercy, herself, or the destroyers had misunderstood or miscommunicated the terms of their deal.
"Mercy, we struck a deal for non-interference with their directive, which is to destroy the Riftseeker. Unless they managed to do it very quietly while we were gone, they haven't done it yet. They were very clear about us ceasing our actions and leaving them to their task. If you go back before they've done what they came to do, they might view that as you violating the agreement, not fulfilling it."
>Though if they did end up destroying it, they might go back on the deal since it wouldn't be in their best interest to honour it with their directive fulfilled. So Mercy might think that having them fulfill their end first would be best, while she was content allowing them to hold the fulfillment of their end as a deterrent against interference.
>She sighed.
"I think it would be best if we let them hold their end of the deal as insurance that we won't interfere until they're done. Further, we don't want to be around while they're fighting it anyway, you might be willing to, but as it happens, you're one of Razorback's few assets with capabilities against certain threats, I can't allow you to risk yourself if you don't have to or I wouldn't be doing my job. Either we all go back to Basin Village and wait for them to be done or we all go back to the Arena so that at the very least-"
>She nodded towards the Symbiote.
"You have him."
>She nodded and watched Mercy go up for a cloud, then turned to the Symbiote, raising an eyebrow at its facehoof.
"What? You want her going back alone when a Riftseeker could be set loose at any moment? I'm doing you a favour here. She might be confident the destroyers can deal with the Riftseeker, I'm not nearly as certain. Anything could happen and I would prefer to err on the side of caution. She's safer with you, not without, and you know it."
>Watching the tiny wyrm swim along with a smile, Sunny listened to Mercy.
>It appears she wasn't clear, or that Mercy, herself, or the destroyers had misunderstood or miscommunicated the terms of their deal.
"Mercy, we struck a deal for non-interference with their directive, which is to destroy the Riftseeker. Unless they managed to do it very quietly while we were gone, they haven't done it yet. They were very clear about us ceasing our actions and leaving them to their task. If you go back before they've done what they came to do, they might view that as you violating the agreement, not fulfilling it."
>Though if they did end up destroying it, they might go back on the deal since it wouldn't be in their best interest to honour it with their directive fulfilled. So Mercy might think that having them fulfill their end first would be best, while she was content allowing them to hold the fulfillment of their end as a deterrent against interference.
>She sighed.
"I think it would be best if we let them hold their end of the deal as insurance that we won't interfere until they're done. Further, we don't want to be around while they're fighting it anyway, you might be willing to, but as it happens, you're one of Razorback's few assets with capabilities against certain threats, I can't allow you to risk yourself if you don't have to or I wouldn't be doing my job. Either we all go back to Basin Village and wait for them to be done or we all go back to the Arena so that at the very least-"
>She nodded towards the Symbiote.
"You have him."
>She nodded and watched Mercy go up for a cloud, then turned to the Symbiote, raising an eyebrow at its facehoof.
"What? You want her going back alone when a Riftseeker could be set loose at any moment? I'm doing you a favour here. She might be confident the destroyers can deal with the Riftseeker, I'm not nearly as certain. Anything could happen and I would prefer to err on the side of caution. She's safer with you, not without, and you know it."
>>371256
>Scrunching mareily at the contact, her snout was indeed warm, almost hot to the touch, giving you a heartfelt smile of acknowledgemarent.
"Don't worry about it. I've been lenient for the past few months though it's getting harder telling my ponies to stop bringing humans into their herd. Half my brother's Arcane Blades are pushing for mareriages right now. Don't know if they'll listen to him or me at this point."
>Left wing raising to poke at her neck, Shanis turns a raw, visibly irritated expression downwards.
"What I'm trying to say is this: some ponies have an incredible appetite for emotional connection that humans simply aren't capable of understanding. In short, that means some humans get taken advantage of, whether for sex, simple physical contact, gratifying emotional responses, physiological dependencies, or marental dependency. Or a mixture of all those."
>Waving her left flipper in a carefree motion, Nao's face crinkles bemusedly.
"For the momarent we are only allowed to deal with the four historically vital greater factions that our ancestral Colonies preferred. Razorback Company is the.. ninth Lunar Protectorate? I think. Miss Shanis has assured me that Razorback Company is capable of aiding us, similar to Independant factions during the Middle Dynasty Era could. When they have time and resources to spare, that is."
>Curling the same flipper around to scratch under her chin, small claws extend, then contract, the seal's forward body lifts in a possible shrug.
"Fip, one of my distant cousins in another Colony, may have accepted becoming a Liasion. I do not know for sure as I have not spoken to him in three years. Or more. We do not normally speak to family outside of our Colony unless meeting for informal or formal relations."
>Scrunching mareily at the contact, her snout was indeed warm, almost hot to the touch, giving you a heartfelt smile of acknowledgemarent.
"Don't worry about it. I've been lenient for the past few months though it's getting harder telling my ponies to stop bringing humans into their herd. Half my brother's Arcane Blades are pushing for mareriages right now. Don't know if they'll listen to him or me at this point."
>Left wing raising to poke at her neck, Shanis turns a raw, visibly irritated expression downwards.
"What I'm trying to say is this: some ponies have an incredible appetite for emotional connection that humans simply aren't capable of understanding. In short, that means some humans get taken advantage of, whether for sex, simple physical contact, gratifying emotional responses, physiological dependencies, or marental dependency. Or a mixture of all those."
>Waving her left flipper in a carefree motion, Nao's face crinkles bemusedly.
"For the momarent we are only allowed to deal with the four historically vital greater factions that our ancestral Colonies preferred. Razorback Company is the.. ninth Lunar Protectorate? I think. Miss Shanis has assured me that Razorback Company is capable of aiding us, similar to Independant factions during the Middle Dynasty Era could. When they have time and resources to spare, that is."
>Curling the same flipper around to scratch under her chin, small claws extend, then contract, the seal's forward body lifts in a possible shrug.
"Fip, one of my distant cousins in another Colony, may have accepted becoming a Liasion. I do not know for sure as I have not spoken to him in three years. Or more. We do not normally speak to family outside of our Colony unless meeting for informal or formal relations."
>>371340
>José paused at Shanis's words, still smiling in satisfaction at seeing her appreciation for his gesture, but losing his focus.
"How extreme is this desire you speak of? Is it akin to sticking by the human every second while intentionally trying to get them to react to their every action irregardless of how they feel about their attempts?"
>Granted, she already said it was imcprehensible for his kind, but if he was meant to be a diplomat, he'd at least need to take a crack at it.
>Human/Pony Relations are important!
>Gallo picked up Nao's mild bemusemarent, causing him to softly tilt his head.
>She didn't exactly seem to be uncomfortable regarding the questions, but he'd hate to sour what seemed to be a nice time.
>However, the human needed to know one thing more before he could veer into fun topics.
"Are any of these greater factions Argenta by any chance?"
>A tentative smile lingered on his lips whilst the pinniped answered.
>However, part of him told himself to keep it cool.
>Don't start imagining grand things coming from whatever she answers.
>It's important to keep oneself grounded and not let ambition cloud one's view.
>That's a human thing.
>Whatever Nao replied, Gallo would soon brightened up slightly and decided to get more personal.
"I'm sure a kind hearted seal like yourself keeps family matters close to the chest. Forgive my curiosity, but how is the life of the common seal in the Colonies?"
>José paused at Shanis's words, still smiling in satisfaction at seeing her appreciation for his gesture, but losing his focus.
"How extreme is this desire you speak of? Is it akin to sticking by the human every second while intentionally trying to get them to react to their every action irregardless of how they feel about their attempts?"
>Granted, she already said it was imcprehensible for his kind, but if he was meant to be a diplomat, he'd at least need to take a crack at it.
>Human/Pony Relations are important!
>Gallo picked up Nao's mild bemusemarent, causing him to softly tilt his head.
>She didn't exactly seem to be uncomfortable regarding the questions, but he'd hate to sour what seemed to be a nice time.
>However, the human needed to know one thing more before he could veer into fun topics.
"Are any of these greater factions Argenta by any chance?"
>A tentative smile lingered on his lips whilst the pinniped answered.
>However, part of him told himself to keep it cool.
>Don't start imagining grand things coming from whatever she answers.
>It's important to keep oneself grounded and not let ambition cloud one's view.
>That's a human thing.
>Whatever Nao replied, Gallo would soon brightened up slightly and decided to get more personal.
"I'm sure a kind hearted seal like yourself keeps family matters close to the chest. Forgive my curiosity, but how is the life of the common seal in the Colonies?"
>>371338
>Finding no predators in the vicinity and clearly not regarding equines and Construct as competitors or threats, the extra-tiny wyrm continues gliding towards the deceased reptiles.
>It was probably stealthy out of choice rather than size.
>Head cocking in stark puzzlemarent, Mercy flicks her left wing out before fanning it, then the other, frowning at water rolling off her feathers.
"Yes, we did that. Ceasing hostile actions which would be detrimarental to their attempts at containing and inevitably engaging a Riftseeker at a specific time and location. I was able to trade the assurance of a time table for an exchange of non-organics before they engage the Riftseeker itself."
>Wings tightening in slow, controlled reflex, the blind mare's head snaps away, releasing a sharp exhale.
"They did not exclude the possibility of mere observation, nor I will risk his cognizance, knowledge, and importance. That will not change and you have no right to tell me what I should do, there i- ...nevermind. You do not understand."
>Taking a loose at-ready stance, both sets of wingclaws open, gazing towards the south, then east.
>Head swiveling around to stare at you, the expression read as harshly offended, though there was a distinct secondary mood.
>Anger.
>Eyes narrowing briefly, a single tiny overlay forms above his head, the first made of three hard, tilted slashes, then an octagon of batpony claws, ending in a period.
No.
>Artificial mane shaking out in an insulted fashion, the symbiote continues its vigil.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Heavy wing flaps above are followed by a large chunk of solid white cloud smacking onto stone five meters ahead of you, large enough to be a double bed, or possibly something bigger.
>Wingblades rolling, Mercy places her right forehoof in the center, crouching down to slice out a long pair of streamers.
>Tossing the ends towards the Construct, wingclaws reaching up to catch them and wrap around the particle cannons, she turns a severely insulted gaze towards, but not directly at you.
"Your 'duties' are not to safeguard me, and I am not planning on conflict."
>Flicking a smile towards the Construct, she leaps up, breaching into the deeper Voids as the batstallion takes several steps forwards, testing the confusing material.
[1d6 = 5] <Spectrum Dive
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>Finding no predators in the vicinity and clearly not regarding equines and Construct as competitors or threats, the extra-tiny wyrm continues gliding towards the deceased reptiles.
>It was probably stealthy out of choice rather than size.
>Head cocking in stark puzzlemarent, Mercy flicks her left wing out before fanning it, then the other, frowning at water rolling off her feathers.
"Yes, we did that. Ceasing hostile actions which would be detrimarental to their attempts at containing and inevitably engaging a Riftseeker at a specific time and location. I was able to trade the assurance of a time table for an exchange of non-organics before they engage the Riftseeker itself."
>Wings tightening in slow, controlled reflex, the blind mare's head snaps away, releasing a sharp exhale.
"They did not exclude the possibility of mere observation, nor I will risk his cognizance, knowledge, and importance. That will not change and you have no right to tell me what I should do, there i- ...nevermind. You do not understand."
>Taking a loose at-ready stance, both sets of wingclaws open, gazing towards the south, then east.
>Head swiveling around to stare at you, the expression read as harshly offended, though there was a distinct secondary mood.
>Anger.
>Eyes narrowing briefly, a single tiny overlay forms above his head, the first made of three hard, tilted slashes, then an octagon of batpony claws, ending in a period.
No.
>Artificial mane shaking out in an insulted fashion, the symbiote continues its vigil.
[1d6 = 1] <???
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Construct Realspace Scanning Protocols
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Heavy wing flaps above are followed by a large chunk of solid white cloud smacking onto stone five meters ahead of you, large enough to be a double bed, or possibly something bigger.
>Wingblades rolling, Mercy places her right forehoof in the center, crouching down to slice out a long pair of streamers.
>Tossing the ends towards the Construct, wingclaws reaching up to catch them and wrap around the particle cannons, she turns a severely insulted gaze towards, but not directly at you.
"Your 'duties' are not to safeguard me, and I am not planning on conflict."
>Flicking a smile towards the Construct, she leaps up, breaching into the deeper Voids as the batstallion takes several steps forwards, testing the confusing material.
[1d6 = 5] <Spectrum Dive
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <E.Flight
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
>>371362
>Sunny gave Mercy a very neutral, un-emotive stare, she supposed this had to be expected, Mercy wasn't exactly known for being sociable, nor was she.
"You're taking more offense to this than you need to. I'm not saying you can't go back, I'm simply saying you shouldn't go back alone. In case you'd forgotten, this started out as a simple search and clear, nearly everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. That's not insulation against anything else going wrong."
>She stepped forward and prodded gently at the cloud Mercy had brought down. That had been a rough landing, clouds needed a more gentle touch than that. Sunny poked and nudged and patted with wings, hooves and nose, testing the cloud raft's integrity to be sure it wouldn't drift apart, and to be sure it wasn't wild and angry.
[1d6 = 4] < B.Cloud Shaping
[1d6 = 5]
"My contract is to scout for Razorback, so if you wish to speak of duties, mine lay in that direction regardless. Aside from that, I have to preserve Razorback, which includes the two of you. It's the same reason I prevented you from killing the lunar councilmare earlier, and the same reason I advocated for sparing the lunar vampires when it seemed that she would kill them for no good reason. I have no choice in the matter, so if you're going back to the arena, I am going with you and that's all."
>She gave Mercy and the symbiote a dry look, but an amused lilt in her voice.
"And if that's an issue for you, we could try beating each other up again, but that would solve very little and leave one of us beaten and bloody. So if you're both done being offended because I dared have the audacity to not leave you behind, we should get going. I'll leave the direction up to you."
>Sunny gave Mercy a very neutral, un-emotive stare, she supposed this had to be expected, Mercy wasn't exactly known for being sociable, nor was she.
"You're taking more offense to this than you need to. I'm not saying you can't go back, I'm simply saying you shouldn't go back alone. In case you'd forgotten, this started out as a simple search and clear, nearly everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. That's not insulation against anything else going wrong."
>She stepped forward and prodded gently at the cloud Mercy had brought down. That had been a rough landing, clouds needed a more gentle touch than that. Sunny poked and nudged and patted with wings, hooves and nose, testing the cloud raft's integrity to be sure it wouldn't drift apart, and to be sure it wasn't wild and angry.
[1d6 = 4] < B.Cloud Shaping
[1d6 = 5]
"My contract is to scout for Razorback, so if you wish to speak of duties, mine lay in that direction regardless. Aside from that, I have to preserve Razorback, which includes the two of you. It's the same reason I prevented you from killing the lunar councilmare earlier, and the same reason I advocated for sparing the lunar vampires when it seemed that she would kill them for no good reason. I have no choice in the matter, so if you're going back to the arena, I am going with you and that's all."
>She gave Mercy and the symbiote a dry look, but an amused lilt in her voice.
"And if that's an issue for you, we could try beating each other up again, but that would solve very little and leave one of us beaten and bloody. So if you're both done being offended because I dared have the audacity to not leave you behind, we should get going. I'll leave the direction up to you."
>>371259
"Certainly possible based on the functional, and dysfunctional, levels of each human society, but I know enough to state that I do not know enough. Perhaps later I will ask a few for their opinions on whether such study may be useful."
>Letting that topic go, Helping glances to Krinza, whom looks up with a humored nod.
"That is why we are here. Adjustments and adjustmarents are always necessary, particularly when there is no stable technological base to utilize.
Admittedly, Lann enjoys working so much that she took Razorback's contract for half. The commissions from Basin Village occupied her for two, rarely three, hours per night. Boredom is more easily conquered with friends around, yet there are plenty of times one can simply sit and stare at one of their works for hours, never feeling it is quite right, even if it is functional."
>More than capable enough to reach the drawers, the handles were enchantment locked to you on mental command, which was.. not all that surprising.
>Further testing the Exoskeleton's features, you find that touching the tops of both boots was possible, though reaching the floor would require either a bit more flexibility or a healthier sleeping routine.
>Side eyeing the weapon in sincere amusemarent for a bit, Krinza chuckles dryly.
"I would not suggest melting the barrels under sustained fire such as it desires, but that may prove difficult."
>Eyebrows raising at the massive coldstone above as it shuts down, the chunky stallion frowns.
"Again? ...perhaps I should have stress tested it first-"
>Shrugging it off, a small, metallic red painted cloth is teleported onto the table in front of you, sounding like heavy wooden discs inside.
"Use these. Stabilized semi-artificial magnets. Exceptional heat resistance, they do not lose their magnetic field due to temperature, Gravity or Lightning Elemarentals, and most other effects that we have tested. There are... at least two hundred more around here, if I can find them.
Inside each box is a pair, one with west polarity, one east. Technically it would be best to synchronize them, but I believe you understand that process by now. They will lock on to a specific metal or metallic alloy in the same method you would utilize to activate an enchantmarent. Unfortunately they do not work well with magical composites, however."
>Left forehoof raised to his chest, Krinza offers a short bow, returning the grin.
"You are most welcome Ivan, though we do have numerous centuries worth of knowledge to draw upon. Titanium is not commonly used as it does not retain enchantmarents well unless molecularly aligned in a proper state, which was done fairly well.
Satisfaction when rightfilly earned is both a scholarly and technical pleasure, yet I suspect Helping acknowledges gratification differently. His preference for alchemy and related is well known but I do not think he acknowledges the extraneous skills he possesses.
If you would excuse me, there is..."
>Turning to eye probably piles of damaged, recovered, in progress, and poorly designed close combat weapons, along with a few polearms, clumsily stacked against the east wall, the grandmaster smith rubs both sides of his head with a small, pink cloud.
"That mess to sort out. I suppose finishing twenty of them tonight might not be too difficult.."
"Certainly possible based on the functional, and dysfunctional, levels of each human society, but I know enough to state that I do not know enough. Perhaps later I will ask a few for their opinions on whether such study may be useful."
>Letting that topic go, Helping glances to Krinza, whom looks up with a humored nod.
"That is why we are here. Adjustments and adjustmarents are always necessary, particularly when there is no stable technological base to utilize.
Admittedly, Lann enjoys working so much that she took Razorback's contract for half. The commissions from Basin Village occupied her for two, rarely three, hours per night. Boredom is more easily conquered with friends around, yet there are plenty of times one can simply sit and stare at one of their works for hours, never feeling it is quite right, even if it is functional."
>More than capable enough to reach the drawers, the handles were enchantment locked to you on mental command, which was.. not all that surprising.
>Further testing the Exoskeleton's features, you find that touching the tops of both boots was possible, though reaching the floor would require either a bit more flexibility or a healthier sleeping routine.
>Side eyeing the weapon in sincere amusemarent for a bit, Krinza chuckles dryly.
"I would not suggest melting the barrels under sustained fire such as it desires, but that may prove difficult."
>Eyebrows raising at the massive coldstone above as it shuts down, the chunky stallion frowns.
"Again? ...perhaps I should have stress tested it first-"
>Shrugging it off, a small, metallic red painted cloth is teleported onto the table in front of you, sounding like heavy wooden discs inside.
"Use these. Stabilized semi-artificial magnets. Exceptional heat resistance, they do not lose their magnetic field due to temperature, Gravity or Lightning Elemarentals, and most other effects that we have tested. There are... at least two hundred more around here, if I can find them.
Inside each box is a pair, one with west polarity, one east. Technically it would be best to synchronize them, but I believe you understand that process by now. They will lock on to a specific metal or metallic alloy in the same method you would utilize to activate an enchantmarent. Unfortunately they do not work well with magical composites, however."
>Left forehoof raised to his chest, Krinza offers a short bow, returning the grin.
"You are most welcome Ivan, though we do have numerous centuries worth of knowledge to draw upon. Titanium is not commonly used as it does not retain enchantmarents well unless molecularly aligned in a proper state, which was done fairly well.
Satisfaction when rightfilly earned is both a scholarly and technical pleasure, yet I suspect Helping acknowledges gratification differently. His preference for alchemy and related is well known but I do not think he acknowledges the extraneous skills he possesses.
If you would excuse me, there is..."
>Turning to eye probably piles of damaged, recovered, in progress, and poorly designed close combat weapons, along with a few polearms, clumsily stacked against the east wall, the grandmaster smith rubs both sides of his head with a small, pink cloud.
"That mess to sort out. I suppose finishing twenty of them tonight might not be too difficult.."
>>371240
>>371244
>>371245
>>371260
>>371334
>>371336
>Holding the weapon's earlier, mostly completed state as a distinct frame of reference, functional equivalents to the precision technologies you knew before were unnecessary:
>A hammer was, in technical principles, a broad category of mechanisms devised to produce specific shapes, flatten, expand, or produce contractions in material.
>Here the concept extended to alternate methods, carefully dividing molecules from each other, reinforcing specific particles, alternating molecular flow into solidified waveforms, and creating reality from mere patterns.
>Analogues of human machinery were useful, yet not strictly necessary.
>Stepping back from what should have been a grueling, frustrating series of tasks.. two hours, at least that you could sense, were spent correcting flaws, then adjusting, readjusting, and improving three desired principles to an acceptable, near-cognizant state.
>While time felt moderately quicker here, there was neither the unusual physical or mental fatigue compared to being highly active on Tallus.
>The anvil returns to its waiting form, as do the furnace, forge, and conceptual tools, leaving the weapon before you.
>An iota of conscious or unconscious effort is all it would take to swap it into either hand, and when not needed, remain as a concept that you, alone, held-carried.
>Checking the Storm King's Room in case of highly probable shenanigans, Lonestar and Katyal were on opposite sides of the pelt, the first in an ocean camo sleeping bag, head covered by Nibbles, the second.. big spoon to Hodch.
>>371244
>>371245
>>371260
>>371334
>>371336
>Holding the weapon's earlier, mostly completed state as a distinct frame of reference, functional equivalents to the precision technologies you knew before were unnecessary:
>A hammer was, in technical principles, a broad category of mechanisms devised to produce specific shapes, flatten, expand, or produce contractions in material.
>Here the concept extended to alternate methods, carefully dividing molecules from each other, reinforcing specific particles, alternating molecular flow into solidified waveforms, and creating reality from mere patterns.
>Analogues of human machinery were useful, yet not strictly necessary.
>Stepping back from what should have been a grueling, frustrating series of tasks.. two hours, at least that you could sense, were spent correcting flaws, then adjusting, readjusting, and improving three desired principles to an acceptable, near-cognizant state.
>While time felt moderately quicker here, there was neither the unusual physical or mental fatigue compared to being highly active on Tallus.
>The anvil returns to its waiting form, as do the furnace, forge, and conceptual tools, leaving the weapon before you.
>An iota of conscious or unconscious effort is all it would take to swap it into either hand, and when not needed, remain as a concept that you, alone, held-carried.
>Checking the Storm King's Room in case of highly probable shenanigans, Lonestar and Katyal were on opposite sides of the pelt, the first in an ocean camo sleeping bag, head covered by Nibbles, the second.. big spoon to Hodch.
>>371341
"On a scale from one to one hundred? Everywhere from eighty to two hundred. Humans are-"
>Pausing to think of a word, it takes the visibly older mare ten seconds, laying her head down with a quarter-hearted snort.
"Exotic to certain types of ponies. Different species, physical characteristics, preferences, necessary diet, thought patterns, beliefs, courtship, ideas on sex, etcetera to infinity.
As for the second part, no, it's not attention seeking behavior, it's.. equine herd behavior. Which I'm doing my best not to think about, hopefilly all throughout tonight."
>Returning the flipper onto her side, Nao's eyes squint in visible thought before frowning.
"I did not ask. It is probable, but I do not know for sure. Thirteen centuries prior to now the Colonies that were most in contact with Argenta were: Frost, Ice, Crystal, Swamp, Tropical, Beach, Jungle, and Oceanic.
The Colonies which possibly had contact were: Lava, Inland Shore, Lunar, Solar, and Neighsian.
The Colonies which likely did not have contact were: Archipelago, Continental, Mountain, Great, Lava, Divides, Cave, Plains, and High Peak."
>Shifting back into Shanis' barrel, presumably for greater comfort, or most likely to share warmth, the seal's whiskers twitch as she smiles, clearly amused.
"Normally we wake up, stretch, get a drink, or eat snow, visit with family and friends, dive for food, then roam around until we feel sleepy or find an interesting object. After that we either nap or bring the object back to the Colony, get a drink, or eat snow, visit again, dive, visit once more, then sleep again."
>Reaching up to scratch her cheek with small claws, her flipper waves in what was probably a dismissing motion.
"There are always new friends and interesting objects in each Colony. One could easily state we have simple, yet highly comfortable lives for the most part."
>Forelegs tightening around the pinniped briefly, Shanis grins, her eyes closed and ears splayed out.
"Incredibly snuggly ones with endless varieties of seafood."
"The fish are excellent this time of year, but there are also squid."
"Squid is.. a seafood though."
"Not when they are a snack. A sealweed snack to use the precise termology."
>Snickering at the deadpan matter-of-fact check, the pegasus rolls her ears around, sliding her chin to rest on Nao's forehead.
"And absolutely adorable."
>Barely keeping herself together, THAT PUN WAS INTENTIONAL! or so reads a small billboard Starglow decides to find another page upon which her discontent could be expended..
>Angrily.
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
"On a scale from one to one hundred? Everywhere from eighty to two hundred. Humans are-"
>Pausing to think of a word, it takes the visibly older mare ten seconds, laying her head down with a quarter-hearted snort.
"Exotic to certain types of ponies. Different species, physical characteristics, preferences, necessary diet, thought patterns, beliefs, courtship, ideas on sex, etcetera to infinity.
As for the second part, no, it's not attention seeking behavior, it's.. equine herd behavior. Which I'm doing my best not to think about, hopefilly all throughout tonight."
>Returning the flipper onto her side, Nao's eyes squint in visible thought before frowning.
"I did not ask. It is probable, but I do not know for sure. Thirteen centuries prior to now the Colonies that were most in contact with Argenta were: Frost, Ice, Crystal, Swamp, Tropical, Beach, Jungle, and Oceanic.
The Colonies which possibly had contact were: Lava, Inland Shore, Lunar, Solar, and Neighsian.
The Colonies which likely did not have contact were: Archipelago, Continental, Mountain, Great, Lava, Divides, Cave, Plains, and High Peak."
>Shifting back into Shanis' barrel, presumably for greater comfort, or most likely to share warmth, the seal's whiskers twitch as she smiles, clearly amused.
"Normally we wake up, stretch, get a drink, or eat snow, visit with family and friends, dive for food, then roam around until we feel sleepy or find an interesting object. After that we either nap or bring the object back to the Colony, get a drink, or eat snow, visit again, dive, visit once more, then sleep again."
>Reaching up to scratch her cheek with small claws, her flipper waves in what was probably a dismissing motion.
"There are always new friends and interesting objects in each Colony. One could easily state we have simple, yet highly comfortable lives for the most part."
>Forelegs tightening around the pinniped briefly, Shanis grins, her eyes closed and ears splayed out.
"Incredibly snuggly ones with endless varieties of seafood."
"The fish are excellent this time of year, but there are also squid."
"Squid is.. a seafood though."
"Not when they are a snack. A sealweed snack to use the precise termology."
>Snickering at the deadpan matter-of-fact check, the pegasus rolls her ears around, sliding her chin to rest on Nao's forehead.
"And absolutely adorable."
>Barely keeping herself together, THAT PUN WAS INTENTIONAL! or so reads a small billboard Starglow decides to find another page upon which her discontent could be expended..
>Angrily.
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>>371366
"Ah. Forgive me if I have made you uncomfortable with my questions, miss Shanis, and thank you for your answers."
>With a final curt nod, José gave the pegasus a thankful smile and left such delicate matters rest for the foreseeable future.
>Only whatever deities reside in this world can hope to understand the amount of restraint she had to deal while discussing such things.
>Silently jotting down the various seal Colonies in his mind, Gallo smiled happily at listening the daily life of a pinniped.
"A rather quaint lifestyle to be sure. I sometimes wish humans could dive with a seal's elegance and grace."
>Deciding to test the waters a little bit, the tip of his finger would soon near Nao's snout, yet it didn't straight up boop her.
"Although having these may be enough of a consolation prize. What do you think, miss Nao?"
>Eyebrows raising, José soon glanced over at Starglow's latest attempt at calming herself down.
>He wondered what was her deal at present.
>It couldn't be something as simple as hearing 'sealweed' said unironically, right?
>There must be something deeper than that.
"Ah. Forgive me if I have made you uncomfortable with my questions, miss Shanis, and thank you for your answers."
>With a final curt nod, José gave the pegasus a thankful smile and left such delicate matters rest for the foreseeable future.
>Only whatever deities reside in this world can hope to understand the amount of restraint she had to deal while discussing such things.
>Silently jotting down the various seal Colonies in his mind, Gallo smiled happily at listening the daily life of a pinniped.
"A rather quaint lifestyle to be sure. I sometimes wish humans could dive with a seal's elegance and grace."
>Deciding to test the waters a little bit, the tip of his finger would soon near Nao's snout, yet it didn't straight up boop her.
"Although having these may be enough of a consolation prize. What do you think, miss Nao?"
>Eyebrows raising, José soon glanced over at Starglow's latest attempt at calming herself down.
>He wondered what was her deal at present.
>It couldn't be something as simple as hearing 'sealweed' said unironically, right?
>There must be something deeper than that.
>>371365
>Exhaling as he hefts the now acceptable and as of yet unnamed weapon, he flexes his fingers around the grip.
(Awareness of time spent addressing errors, but the only thing noticeable is the lack of fatigue. Nature of this plane must be conducive to far more intuition based methods of creation...)
>Testing the linked and manifestation properties of his creation, he flips it into the air before willing it out of existence and then back into his waiting hand.
>His fingers maintaining their shape as if still holding the weapon to see if it would reappear in perfect position.
>He would then alternate between crouching, standing, and laying prone while testing its manifestation speed, where he could make it appear, and how accurately it would do so.
(...A satisfactory extension of my will. Speed and accuracy at the rate of thought. Will need to reference other sources for possible methods of altering or removing the anti-Psionic property.)
>Turning and surveying the room, he notes its current state with the pelt being occupied.
>Nodding to himself at nothing seeming out of place, he steps away from the Forge.
>Curiously the bed was left vacant.
>Making his way towards the bed, he experimentally attempts to apply the same principles of alteration to its form.
(If all constituent matter is subject to the same rules, forming a contour pillow and sheets should be possible...)
>Exhaling as he hefts the now acceptable and as of yet unnamed weapon, he flexes his fingers around the grip.
(Awareness of time spent addressing errors, but the only thing noticeable is the lack of fatigue. Nature of this plane must be conducive to far more intuition based methods of creation...)
>Testing the linked and manifestation properties of his creation, he flips it into the air before willing it out of existence and then back into his waiting hand.
>His fingers maintaining their shape as if still holding the weapon to see if it would reappear in perfect position.
>He would then alternate between crouching, standing, and laying prone while testing its manifestation speed, where he could make it appear, and how accurately it would do so.
(...A satisfactory extension of my will. Speed and accuracy at the rate of thought. Will need to reference other sources for possible methods of altering or removing the anti-Psionic property.)
>Turning and surveying the room, he notes its current state with the pelt being occupied.
>Nodding to himself at nothing seeming out of place, he steps away from the Forge.
>Curiously the bed was left vacant.
>Making his way towards the bed, he experimentally attempts to apply the same principles of alteration to its form.
(If all constituent matter is subject to the same rules, forming a contour pillow and sheets should be possible...)
>>371234
>>371241
>>371254
>>371257
>>371258
>>371274
>Pooling their knowledge together, the Shieldmare, aided by all but a few Councilierge, carefully disentangle Razorback, one by one, to prevent dissociative feedback and potential psychoses from the Overherd's synchronicity.
>Freed from the constant, sharp flows of information, most of which was inaccessible by non-Tallus mindscapes, Operators report in by squad.
>When the final all clear is given, one Lunar unicorn attaches to each Assault Vanguard squad, offering to carry equipment if requested.
>Majority resentmarent and distrust from a majority of Solars settle, forming into the outer Watch Guard ranks, greeting their distant kin anew while simultaneously turning scorn and hate filled stares against Razorback.
>The disaster in New Canterlot would not be forgotten or forgiven.
>Stalliongrad's mares were, for now, merely annoyed at the Otherworld presences in close proximity, doing their best to ignore radio chatter.
>Taciturn and unyielding during the march back, the Crystal Empire, Kingdom, Conclave, and Minotaur allies maintain their distance, utilizing their offensive capabilities in cover of outer ranks at every opportunity.
>Only Minor Champion Vokreed and the crystal-unicorn Spireguard leadmare provide more than a few tense words from time to time, keeping her selective companeigh as something of a symbol.
>Constant air drops and flybys of fresh berries, fruit, roots, and stuffed leaf sandwiches brighten the hungry marchers, accompaneighed with freshly roasted or grilled shrimp and small fish to Razorback.
>Few of the batponies were interested in doing more than a prank or two before leaving, while Hunter-Killers became a constant presence, interdicting the few Central Moors threats that tried to approach, dispatching those that did, and terrifying the remainder into fleeing.
>Tensions somewhat ease during the comfortable marching pace, mares from the rear overtaking the front quickly and assuming their scouting roles once more.
>Reaching the widening out road leading into Basin Village, front squads report back that the Rime cluster had been removed, surprisingly small amounts of crystalline taint and Plasma corruption remained in the vicinity.
>Passing over the locations where the XL Void infused bomb had landed, then the M-S.O.L.G.'s launched rods, where the Dagor had impacted Tainted, finally the craters in front of Basin, they had been mostly repaired, though poorly.
>Arriving at the south entrance, the wall of lances and spears was now arranged as an impassable line, dozens of brightly colored streamers, ribbons, sashes, bands, and charms adorning each one.
>Steadfastly ignoring the returnees, hundreds of batponies from across the Greater Moors stuck to any surface they could, wingclaws carving in the name, rank, and position where each deceased pony had been involved across the entrance, walls, and rooftops.
>It would stay inaccessible except to those that desire learning a new, vital piece of history.. or to relearn the old ways, Lunars would remark wistfully.
>One small, dirty marble golem on the east was directing barely half a companeigh of Watch Support Strikers, stacking recently cut beams, planks, and freshly molded stone slabs around the Village's exterior.
>Lines streaming around to the east, west, and north entrances, the blockades, barriers, and Razorback's firing line had been removed, none of the building damage repaired.
>Inside Basin Village, it was empty for the first time both Razorback and Lunars had seen, save for five black robed batponies seated around the basin, Bloodhosts dispersed among them.
>The altar was no longer in view, instead restored to its namesake, while the fountain was still surrounded by translocation matrices.
>Directly south of the fountain was a thoroughly bizarre craft facing the east; sharply angled forward winglike protrusions, another sweeping pair angled down two-thirds behind the front, and a secondary set, possibly acting as rudders, on gimballed joints.
>Visibly similar yet exotic weapons studded the front, side, and lower sections, products of distinctly alien thought processes.
>An unusual blue coloration and familiar, patchy silver tone were decrepit, showing long disuse, but most unusual was the sense that it was dead.
>Behind it was a solid, worn silver hexagon, little more than a pillar, though was emitting faint, garbled radio static.
>Upon comparing the size, slightly larger than a MiG-25, Clemency realizes this example as one of the archaic Otherworld Harpy hulks, most of which rested on the Dark Side of the Moon.
>Standing atop what had to be a canopy was the same Dark Horse cultist mare he'd met much earlier, peering in with a flat stare.
>Slung across her saddle was a matching bright silver case, faintly glowing the same way Guillotine's hull did when in motion.
>Few of the Day or Watch Guard take more than a cursory examination of the scene, the rest marching towards matrices, opening to a variety of streets throughout Stalliongrad and Canterlot.
>Sharing hugs, entwining forelegs, and bumping helmets or snouts together, squads leave without a further word, knowing full well the requiremarent to cover their absences.
>Empire, Kingdom, Conclave, Spireguard, and allied Minotaurs collect towards the north entrance, low, vibrating hums emitting from the ponies, seemingly in meeting.
[1d6 = 4] >Decision
>Peeling off to surround the south entrance in a mob, Lunars step forwards to touch the first lance or spear they could, rotating out for the next in line.
>Helmets removed, assigned squad leaders offer a diamondine blade to each, scoring thin, burning Void-scars in their preferred role.
[1d100 = 79] <Dedication
>>371241
>>371254
>>371257
>>371258
>>371274
>Pooling their knowledge together, the Shieldmare, aided by all but a few Councilierge, carefully disentangle Razorback, one by one, to prevent dissociative feedback and potential psychoses from the Overherd's synchronicity.
>Freed from the constant, sharp flows of information, most of which was inaccessible by non-Tallus mindscapes, Operators report in by squad.
>When the final all clear is given, one Lunar unicorn attaches to each Assault Vanguard squad, offering to carry equipment if requested.
>Majority resentmarent and distrust from a majority of Solars settle, forming into the outer Watch Guard ranks, greeting their distant kin anew while simultaneously turning scorn and hate filled stares against Razorback.
>The disaster in New Canterlot would not be forgotten or forgiven.
>Stalliongrad's mares were, for now, merely annoyed at the Otherworld presences in close proximity, doing their best to ignore radio chatter.
>Taciturn and unyielding during the march back, the Crystal Empire, Kingdom, Conclave, and Minotaur allies maintain their distance, utilizing their offensive capabilities in cover of outer ranks at every opportunity.
>Only Minor Champion Vokreed and the crystal-unicorn Spireguard leadmare provide more than a few tense words from time to time, keeping her selective companeigh as something of a symbol.
>Constant air drops and flybys of fresh berries, fruit, roots, and stuffed leaf sandwiches brighten the hungry marchers, accompaneighed with freshly roasted or grilled shrimp and small fish to Razorback.
>Few of the batponies were interested in doing more than a prank or two before leaving, while Hunter-Killers became a constant presence, interdicting the few Central Moors threats that tried to approach, dispatching those that did, and terrifying the remainder into fleeing.
>Tensions somewhat ease during the comfortable marching pace, mares from the rear overtaking the front quickly and assuming their scouting roles once more.
>Reaching the widening out road leading into Basin Village, front squads report back that the Rime cluster had been removed, surprisingly small amounts of crystalline taint and Plasma corruption remained in the vicinity.
>Passing over the locations where the XL Void infused bomb had landed, then the M-S.O.L.G.'s launched rods, where the Dagor had impacted Tainted, finally the craters in front of Basin, they had been mostly repaired, though poorly.
>Arriving at the south entrance, the wall of lances and spears was now arranged as an impassable line, dozens of brightly colored streamers, ribbons, sashes, bands, and charms adorning each one.
>Steadfastly ignoring the returnees, hundreds of batponies from across the Greater Moors stuck to any surface they could, wingclaws carving in the name, rank, and position where each deceased pony had been involved across the entrance, walls, and rooftops.
>It would stay inaccessible except to those that desire learning a new, vital piece of history.. or to relearn the old ways, Lunars would remark wistfully.
>One small, dirty marble golem on the east was directing barely half a companeigh of Watch Support Strikers, stacking recently cut beams, planks, and freshly molded stone slabs around the Village's exterior.
>Lines streaming around to the east, west, and north entrances, the blockades, barriers, and Razorback's firing line had been removed, none of the building damage repaired.
>Inside Basin Village, it was empty for the first time both Razorback and Lunars had seen, save for five black robed batponies seated around the basin, Bloodhosts dispersed among them.
>The altar was no longer in view, instead restored to its namesake, while the fountain was still surrounded by translocation matrices.
>Directly south of the fountain was a thoroughly bizarre craft facing the east; sharply angled forward winglike protrusions, another sweeping pair angled down two-thirds behind the front, and a secondary set, possibly acting as rudders, on gimballed joints.
>Visibly similar yet exotic weapons studded the front, side, and lower sections, products of distinctly alien thought processes.
>An unusual blue coloration and familiar, patchy silver tone were decrepit, showing long disuse, but most unusual was the sense that it was dead.
>Behind it was a solid, worn silver hexagon, little more than a pillar, though was emitting faint, garbled radio static.
>Upon comparing the size, slightly larger than a MiG-25, Clemency realizes this example as one of the archaic Otherworld Harpy hulks, most of which rested on the Dark Side of the Moon.
>Standing atop what had to be a canopy was the same Dark Horse cultist mare he'd met much earlier, peering in with a flat stare.
>Slung across her saddle was a matching bright silver case, faintly glowing the same way Guillotine's hull did when in motion.
>Few of the Day or Watch Guard take more than a cursory examination of the scene, the rest marching towards matrices, opening to a variety of streets throughout Stalliongrad and Canterlot.
>Sharing hugs, entwining forelegs, and bumping helmets or snouts together, squads leave without a further word, knowing full well the requiremarent to cover their absences.
>Empire, Kingdom, Conclave, Spireguard, and allied Minotaurs collect towards the north entrance, low, vibrating hums emitting from the ponies, seemingly in meeting.
[1d6 = 4] >Decision
>Peeling off to surround the south entrance in a mob, Lunars step forwards to touch the first lance or spear they could, rotating out for the next in line.
>Helmets removed, assigned squad leaders offer a diamondine blade to each, scoring thin, burning Void-scars in their preferred role.
[1d100 = 79] <Dedication
>>371363
>Holding a minutely twisted, firm smile, Mercy's wings flick in twinned dismissing motions.
"Do not matronize me. I am neither your subordinate nor your filly."
>Checking the severed cloud structure's characteristics, it was two to three decades old, distinctly a Ferron creation as it lacked any form of cognizance or self-actualization.
>What little damage it had sustained reforms with ease as you shape the edges into a sturdy chariot-sled, refining the material somewhat into a half-solid, friction reducing state.
>Comfortable, but not perfect.
>Rolling her left outermost wingblade out once, the flat white mare's snout twitches in disgust.
"You deliberately spurned my honor to protect a Malformed from experiencing rightful death. That is a crime regardless if she professes to be Lunar aligned. They cannot be trusted in the slightest."
>The symbiote's body contorts, returning to its normal state as an amorphous mass as it drifts onto Mercy's saddle, cloud ribbons held tightly in the wingclaws while the cannon barrels resting on her wings, head shaking several times in slight motions.
"It is much too late to attempt a compromise. Six insults this Night without even the slightest recompense? No, I do not care if your irrational feelings come from some neglectful sense of duty or wronged pride."
>Sinking into a rapidly flowing Void spectrum, Mercy's wings strike upwards, hanging in place against violent Airstreams throwing her mane and tail around, ones which wanted nothing to do with you.
>Particle cannons peaking at bright orange, the blind mare shoves the cloud forwards with her front hooves, stretched out voices accompaneigh her calm words.
"Stay on this cloud no matter what. If you refuse then I am not responsible for what will happen-"
>Struck by a hostile, agonizing inability to speak, you're enveloped into the cloud mass, wrenched through the higher Tallus spectrums, passing dangerously between the Blind and Ethereal Plane.
>Safe Overdark Passage: Invoked
[1d6 = 5] <Silence Curse
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Demoralize
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Spirit Walk, Forced
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <B.Intimidation
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] <E.Cloud Shaping: Direction
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] <E.Flight: Shove
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <E.Assault: Shove
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Ethereal Expulse
>Holding a minutely twisted, firm smile, Mercy's wings flick in twinned dismissing motions.
"Do not matronize me. I am neither your subordinate nor your filly."
>Checking the severed cloud structure's characteristics, it was two to three decades old, distinctly a Ferron creation as it lacked any form of cognizance or self-actualization.
>What little damage it had sustained reforms with ease as you shape the edges into a sturdy chariot-sled, refining the material somewhat into a half-solid, friction reducing state.
>Comfortable, but not perfect.
>Rolling her left outermost wingblade out once, the flat white mare's snout twitches in disgust.
"You deliberately spurned my honor to protect a Malformed from experiencing rightful death. That is a crime regardless if she professes to be Lunar aligned. They cannot be trusted in the slightest."
>The symbiote's body contorts, returning to its normal state as an amorphous mass as it drifts onto Mercy's saddle, cloud ribbons held tightly in the wingclaws while the cannon barrels resting on her wings, head shaking several times in slight motions.
"It is much too late to attempt a compromise. Six insults this Night without even the slightest recompense? No, I do not care if your irrational feelings come from some neglectful sense of duty or wronged pride."
>Sinking into a rapidly flowing Void spectrum, Mercy's wings strike upwards, hanging in place against violent Airstreams throwing her mane and tail around, ones which wanted nothing to do with you.
>Particle cannons peaking at bright orange, the blind mare shoves the cloud forwards with her front hooves, stretched out voices accompaneigh her calm words.
"Stay on this cloud no matter what. If you refuse then I am not responsible for what will happen-"
>Struck by a hostile, agonizing inability to speak, you're enveloped into the cloud mass, wrenched through the higher Tallus spectrums, passing dangerously between the Blind and Ethereal Plane.
>Safe Overdark Passage: Invoked
[1d6 = 5] <Silence Curse
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7] <Demoralize
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Spirit Walk, Forced
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <B.Intimidation
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] <E.Cloud Shaping: Direction
[1d6+7 = (3+7) = 10]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12]
[1d6+7 = (5+7) = 12] <E.Flight: Shove
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <E.Assault: Shove
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Ethereal Expulse
File (): 6048D2BAC2B9F8DC5757A183843BDA76-562532.jpg (549.3 KB, 1600x899, l-intro-1643135113.jpg)
>>371376
>The voices in his head died off one by one, and no longer being connected to the Overherd did he feel his head throb with a dull headache.
>He had his thoughts to himself again, he could not imagine living a life where the privacy of his own mind was not guaranteed.
>With the march now back in full swing the fatigue that was gaining strength over him faded with each step, but Lont knew he was only delaying the inevitable crash. He only hoped he made it to his own bed in Razorback when that happened.
>Yes...
>Yes, Razorback. That group of chaotic otherworldly hairless apes that has caused so much change in such little time.
>He saw the Solar and Stalliongrad ponies glare murderous daggers at each human, himself included, and understood them fully. He was there after all, at ground zero. How could anyone forgive them of that incident when he will never forgive himself?
>He then looked towards the Crystal ponies and their Auxiliaries. While Canterlot was a burned down bridge the Empire was still their out and proud ally, with the Conclaves now wanting to do trade with them too. Razorback was truly chaotic, for good and bad. He just wished to do more good, yet apparently even seemingly good deeds will lead to more harm from them.
>The winged Operator sighed and slung his Spiker away, hands now free.
>Well, WERE free. Before a kek'ing Batpony filled his hands with a cooked fish and a juicy looking mango. They were gone before he could say thanks.
>He definitely needed to shake himself down of whatever they snuck onto his body when he got to his room.
>They returned to the Basin Village. The carnage had left new scars while the Batponies did their due diligence by adding more scars, those being the names of the fallen onto every possible surface.
>He gave a salute to them and to the neat row of weaponry he passed by.
>History was made here, and again Razorback was involved.
"Thank you for your service, I am grateful."
>He said to his entourage of Stalliongrad mares before they dispersed. There wasn't much else to be said, for what else could he say to them that wouldn't test their patience.
>Now alone he took this moment to wonder about the quiet village.
>Then the Operator saw it, what he could only describe as an aircraft. With a mysterious pony on top of its nose.
>He was about to call out to the hooded pony when his ears picked up the hum of Crystal conversation from the Empire forces through his helmet. He initially was torn on whom to approach first, but his commitments towards the Crystal ponies won through.
>Lont felt slightly awkward, as one would when trying to insert themselves into an ongoing conversation. He didn't sneak up on them, rather he stood there at a respectful distance from the outermost Crystal Pony. Putting the fish and mango away he took off his helmet so to eavesdrop on them before fully committing himself.
>"A shame Gelid Steppes is not among them."
[1d6 = 4] >E.Perception
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] >H.E
>The voices in his head died off one by one, and no longer being connected to the Overherd did he feel his head throb with a dull headache.
>He had his thoughts to himself again, he could not imagine living a life where the privacy of his own mind was not guaranteed.
>With the march now back in full swing the fatigue that was gaining strength over him faded with each step, but Lont knew he was only delaying the inevitable crash. He only hoped he made it to his own bed in Razorback when that happened.
>Yes...
>Yes, Razorback. That group of chaotic otherworldly hairless apes that has caused so much change in such little time.
>He saw the Solar and Stalliongrad ponies glare murderous daggers at each human, himself included, and understood them fully. He was there after all, at ground zero. How could anyone forgive them of that incident when he will never forgive himself?
>He then looked towards the Crystal ponies and their Auxiliaries. While Canterlot was a burned down bridge the Empire was still their out and proud ally, with the Conclaves now wanting to do trade with them too. Razorback was truly chaotic, for good and bad. He just wished to do more good, yet apparently even seemingly good deeds will lead to more harm from them.
>The winged Operator sighed and slung his Spiker away, hands now free.
>Well, WERE free. Before a kek'ing Batpony filled his hands with a cooked fish and a juicy looking mango. They were gone before he could say thanks.
>He definitely needed to shake himself down of whatever they snuck onto his body when he got to his room.
>They returned to the Basin Village. The carnage had left new scars while the Batponies did their due diligence by adding more scars, those being the names of the fallen onto every possible surface.
>He gave a salute to them and to the neat row of weaponry he passed by.
>History was made here, and again Razorback was involved.
"Thank you for your service, I am grateful."
>He said to his entourage of Stalliongrad mares before they dispersed. There wasn't much else to be said, for what else could he say to them that wouldn't test their patience.
>Now alone he took this moment to wonder about the quiet village.
>Then the Operator saw it, what he could only describe as an aircraft. With a mysterious pony on top of its nose.
>He was about to call out to the hooded pony when his ears picked up the hum of Crystal conversation from the Empire forces through his helmet. He initially was torn on whom to approach first, but his commitments towards the Crystal ponies won through.
>Lont felt slightly awkward, as one would when trying to insert themselves into an ongoing conversation. He didn't sneak up on them, rather he stood there at a respectful distance from the outermost Crystal Pony. Putting the fish and mango away he took off his helmet so to eavesdrop on them before fully committing himself.
>"A shame Gelid Steppes is not among them."
[1d6 = 4] >E.Perception
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] >H.E
>>371377
>Sunny raised her eyebrow at being accused of matronising Mercy, is that what she thought she was doing? As long as it worked, she wasn't going to interrupt.
>She didn't respond at all to anything she said, she had to be pushed just over the edge, they both had to be.
>As Mercy made her play, Sunny didn't resist, as terrifying as it was, and as hurt as she was to have her helping hoof spurned, her gamble had to play out regardless of the consequences. She justly deserved what Mercy had done to her for the mistake of extending her trust to these spiritually degenerated creatures that called themselves ponies. Yet there remained a strong undercurrent of satisfaction regardless.
>In Mercy's anger, the symbiote had remained with her, thus she would not be alone if anything went wrong. The risk to Mercy had been as minimised as she could manage, despite the costs, and she was well on her way back, where she could make a clearer report on what had occurred at the Arena than what she assumed Mercy would have given. As obstinate, uncommunicative and unprofessional as she was. This was as optimal an outcome as she could have hoped for.
>Still, she didn't like being forced into the Overdark.
>Theoretically, she could bypass whatever Mercy had done the same way she had breached her dimensional pocket, by temporarily stripping herself of all physicality, then she should be able to simply re-enter realspace from there.
>Whether it would work was another question, the Overdark was higher in physical weight, much higher than she was comfortable with, she couldn't be sure she would even be able to shed her physicality in this manner and under these conditions.
>It would cost her even if she did, the body was simply not supposed to lack physicality, the shock of transitioning between states was harmful in ways that weren't easy to recover from, but it was better than being in the Overdark for any period of time.
>Rearing her hooves, Sunny dove, as deep into the Underdark spectra as she could manage, willing herself to remain in alignment with the cloud she was on rather than phasing through it. If it worked to keep her from falling directly into the planet, it should work here.
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] < M.Stealth + Spider Silk Sneaking Suit + Kitty Catboots + K.I.A
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
>Sunny raised her eyebrow at being accused of matronising Mercy, is that what she thought she was doing? As long as it worked, she wasn't going to interrupt.
>She didn't respond at all to anything she said, she had to be pushed just over the edge, they both had to be.
>As Mercy made her play, Sunny didn't resist, as terrifying as it was, and as hurt as she was to have her helping hoof spurned, her gamble had to play out regardless of the consequences. She justly deserved what Mercy had done to her for the mistake of extending her trust to these spiritually degenerated creatures that called themselves ponies. Yet there remained a strong undercurrent of satisfaction regardless.
>In Mercy's anger, the symbiote had remained with her, thus she would not be alone if anything went wrong. The risk to Mercy had been as minimised as she could manage, despite the costs, and she was well on her way back, where she could make a clearer report on what had occurred at the Arena than what she assumed Mercy would have given. As obstinate, uncommunicative and unprofessional as she was. This was as optimal an outcome as she could have hoped for.
>Still, she didn't like being forced into the Overdark.
>Theoretically, she could bypass whatever Mercy had done the same way she had breached her dimensional pocket, by temporarily stripping herself of all physicality, then she should be able to simply re-enter realspace from there.
>Whether it would work was another question, the Overdark was higher in physical weight, much higher than she was comfortable with, she couldn't be sure she would even be able to shed her physicality in this manner and under these conditions.
>It would cost her even if she did, the body was simply not supposed to lack physicality, the shock of transitioning between states was harmful in ways that weren't easy to recover from, but it was better than being in the Overdark for any period of time.
>Rearing her hooves, Sunny dove, as deep into the Underdark spectra as she could manage, willing herself to remain in alignment with the cloud she was on rather than phasing through it. If it worked to keep her from falling directly into the planet, it should work here.
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12] < M.Stealth + Spider Silk Sneaking Suit + Kitty Catboots + K.I.A
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
>>371376
>The march back to the Basin Village was a long an uncomfortable one.
>Despite being disconnected from the Overherd, the amount of animosity bore down on him and the rest of Razorback. Now that there was no common enemy to fight it was right back to the leers and avoidance. The Solars still hated their guts, no surprise there, the Watch weren't too far off either.
>If it weren't for the Lunars, Crystals, Conclave, and taurs he'd be worried about another fight.
>He'd walk nonstop for another three hours if it meant they were in better company.
>Finally, what felt a lot longer than expected they begin approaching the Basin Village from the South.
>Explosive craters, signs of the Dagor's drive-thru now cleaned up, various other signs of destruction littered across the landscape.
>There was an attempt of cleanup, even the Rime had been removed. He wondered where all the debris from the human munitions went. Between the various small arms explosives, missiles from him and Clem, and the void-fused MOAB would have left flung hazardous debris far and wide. He hopes no ponies were harmed trying to clean it all up. He'll have to ask about it.
>The Southern entrance of the Village had been barred with spears and lances of the fallen, adorned with regalia. Batponies worked to to inscribe the names onto any surface worth bearing the honor.
>The Basin Village was being converted into one giant memorial.
>The Day and Watch Guard begin to depart. The other forces congregate to the North for reasons unbeknownst to him.
>All that were really left were them and the Lunars.
>Watching the locals and fellow Lunars break off for the Southern entrance's memorial, Jeff sighs heavily to himself as he breaks off from the rest of the Operators to do the same.
>He activates his radio as he heads for the end of the line.
(*Pay respects, if you wish. Then return to the Fortress. Assemble South of the Pagoda and wait for a debrief. I won't be long.*)
>Other than the memorial, he has to see if Vestal is still in the Village or she took off. Probably did a long time ago. And Marshmallow's whereabouts. And the state of the Reaper. He'll find someone properly in charge when he was done paying his respects.
>Getting in line to honor the memorial with the other Lunars, Jeff removes his helmet and hooks it onto his hip. The Gepard's weight had long put a cramp in his shoulder. He could bear it a little longer.
>The march back to the Basin Village was a long an uncomfortable one.
>Despite being disconnected from the Overherd, the amount of animosity bore down on him and the rest of Razorback. Now that there was no common enemy to fight it was right back to the leers and avoidance. The Solars still hated their guts, no surprise there, the Watch weren't too far off either.
>If it weren't for the Lunars, Crystals, Conclave, and taurs he'd be worried about another fight.
>He'd walk nonstop for another three hours if it meant they were in better company.
>Finally, what felt a lot longer than expected they begin approaching the Basin Village from the South.
>Explosive craters, signs of the Dagor's drive-thru now cleaned up, various other signs of destruction littered across the landscape.
>There was an attempt of cleanup, even the Rime had been removed. He wondered where all the debris from the human munitions went. Between the various small arms explosives, missiles from him and Clem, and the void-fused MOAB would have left flung hazardous debris far and wide. He hopes no ponies were harmed trying to clean it all up. He'll have to ask about it.
>The Southern entrance of the Village had been barred with spears and lances of the fallen, adorned with regalia. Batponies worked to to inscribe the names onto any surface worth bearing the honor.
>The Basin Village was being converted into one giant memorial.
>The Day and Watch Guard begin to depart. The other forces congregate to the North for reasons unbeknownst to him.
>All that were really left were them and the Lunars.
>Watching the locals and fellow Lunars break off for the Southern entrance's memorial, Jeff sighs heavily to himself as he breaks off from the rest of the Operators to do the same.
>He activates his radio as he heads for the end of the line.
(*Pay respects, if you wish. Then return to the Fortress. Assemble South of the Pagoda and wait for a debrief. I won't be long.*)
>Other than the memorial, he has to see if Vestal is still in the Village or she took off. Probably did a long time ago. And Marshmallow's whereabouts. And the state of the Reaper. He'll find someone properly in charge when he was done paying his respects.
>Getting in line to honor the memorial with the other Lunars, Jeff removes his helmet and hooks it onto his hip. The Gepard's weight had long put a cramp in his shoulder. He could bear it a little longer.
>>371376
>Clemency breaths a sigh of relief when it was his turn to get disconnected form the Overherd
>His thoughts are his own and now he can clear his mind better
>As the march continues, he keeps an eye on the Rookies, especially with the scorn of the Councilierge and Solar ponies glaring at them
>The only thing stopping them from turning on us now is the other half of the host being close allies
>Clemency tries to regain much of his strength during the march
>Slinging Blackhorn, he braces his pack for the long ruck
>While he was going through his water rations, the fish and mangoes was very appreciated, waving thanks to the batponies above
>Reaching the outskirts of the Basin Village, Clemency starts to see the carnage left over from the Tainted armies
>The memories of each landmark comes back to Clemency as he goes by
>Although the damage is being mended, Clemency notices the batponies each scrawling something into the stones
>Looking closely, they're names
>It was touching to him
>Maybe he should bring teal ribbons with him just in case
>But he'll settle for the large M-S.O.L.G craters as him leaving his mark
>Reaching the spear wall with the ribbons, he takes off his helmet and tucks it under his arm before giving the memorial a salute
>Finished with his display, he dons the pilot helmet and continued on with the operators
>He notices the main host start to split off, it was now only Razorback and the Lunars with them
>What catches Clem's eye is the bizarre...thing south of the fountain
>Splitting of from the others, he approaches the craft
>It reminded him of the more advanced fighter jets back home
>It then hits Clemency that this thing was an old Harpy hulk, only dead
>The craft reminded him of the Guillotine and Clemency tried to hail it
**"Guillotine, are you still there? How are you faring"*
>He then walked to the pillar in front and inspect it before trying to figure out the static
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
>Clemency breaths a sigh of relief when it was his turn to get disconnected form the Overherd
>His thoughts are his own and now he can clear his mind better
>As the march continues, he keeps an eye on the Rookies, especially with the scorn of the Councilierge and Solar ponies glaring at them
>The only thing stopping them from turning on us now is the other half of the host being close allies
>Clemency tries to regain much of his strength during the march
>Slinging Blackhorn, he braces his pack for the long ruck
>While he was going through his water rations, the fish and mangoes was very appreciated, waving thanks to the batponies above
>Reaching the outskirts of the Basin Village, Clemency starts to see the carnage left over from the Tainted armies
>The memories of each landmark comes back to Clemency as he goes by
>Although the damage is being mended, Clemency notices the batponies each scrawling something into the stones
>Looking closely, they're names
>It was touching to him
>Maybe he should bring teal ribbons with him just in case
>But he'll settle for the large M-S.O.L.G craters as him leaving his mark
>Reaching the spear wall with the ribbons, he takes off his helmet and tucks it under his arm before giving the memorial a salute
>Finished with his display, he dons the pilot helmet and continued on with the operators
>He notices the main host start to split off, it was now only Razorback and the Lunars with them
>What catches Clem's eye is the bizarre...thing south of the fountain
>Splitting of from the others, he approaches the craft
>It reminded him of the more advanced fighter jets back home
>It then hits Clemency that this thing was an old Harpy hulk, only dead
>The craft reminded him of the Guillotine and Clemency tried to hail it
**"Guillotine, are you still there? How are you faring"*
>He then walked to the pillar in front and inspect it before trying to figure out the static
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <Basic Electronic Warfare Operator
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]
>>371368
>Two mindsets from completely different wavelengths stop everything to stare at you, the seal in stunned disbelief, Starglow taking on a short, severely annoyed face.
"I can't imagine being so fucking bittergreen green that the paint's still sopping wet, shiny, clingy, toxic, and isn't even mixed properly."
>Glancing south at the Crystal mare, Shanis sits up partially, voice clipped in visceral warning tones.
"I have no idea how you managed to completely mistake my words. I was annoyed at ponies not listening to me, grumbling about humans not understanding equine herd behaviors, and irritated at equines not understanding human behaviors, which has basically nothing to do with what you said. At all.
When, where, why, and how I did indicate, show, or so much as feel discomfort? I didn't, which IS making me uncomfortable."
>Flicking her pen over and leaning back on her dam's couch, Starglow's eyes narrow, expression cold and flat.
"You're either dead clueless, dangerously ignorant, or both. I'll be quick but fair this one time: thinking like a human will get you killed. Ponies don't have much common with your species, especially thought processes, considerations, and beliefs. It's the little mistakes, like that one you just committed, which fucks up the first chain link, then starts pissing more and more off..
In short, don't assume anything."
>Doing her best to shut out the past minute, Nao's left flipper pats her side several times rapidly, the young seal's face crinkling in good natured humor.
"Seals of all species are neither elegant nor graceful out of water. When we eat too much and become fat is a problem for long distance travel, but I refuse to become that lazy."
>Head tilting left to blink at her tiny claws, then back at Shanis, her head jolts forwards, pressing warm snout into your finger, retracting with a short giggle.
"The idea of becoming bipedal does not appeal to me, but quadrapedal.. may be acceptable within certain conditions. I am most content with my own limbs, however. Should exceptionally fine tasks be necessary, which I am incapable of performing, there are unicorns, Minotaurs, Crystal ponies, among others."
>Two mindsets from completely different wavelengths stop everything to stare at you, the seal in stunned disbelief, Starglow taking on a short, severely annoyed face.
"I can't imagine being so fucking bittergreen green that the paint's still sopping wet, shiny, clingy, toxic, and isn't even mixed properly."
>Glancing south at the Crystal mare, Shanis sits up partially, voice clipped in visceral warning tones.
"I have no idea how you managed to completely mistake my words. I was annoyed at ponies not listening to me, grumbling about humans not understanding equine herd behaviors, and irritated at equines not understanding human behaviors, which has basically nothing to do with what you said. At all.
When, where, why, and how I did indicate, show, or so much as feel discomfort? I didn't, which IS making me uncomfortable."
>Flicking her pen over and leaning back on her dam's couch, Starglow's eyes narrow, expression cold and flat.
"You're either dead clueless, dangerously ignorant, or both. I'll be quick but fair this one time: thinking like a human will get you killed. Ponies don't have much common with your species, especially thought processes, considerations, and beliefs. It's the little mistakes, like that one you just committed, which fucks up the first chain link, then starts pissing more and more off..
In short, don't assume anything."
>Doing her best to shut out the past minute, Nao's left flipper pats her side several times rapidly, the young seal's face crinkling in good natured humor.
"Seals of all species are neither elegant nor graceful out of water. When we eat too much and become fat is a problem for long distance travel, but I refuse to become that lazy."
>Head tilting left to blink at her tiny claws, then back at Shanis, her head jolts forwards, pressing warm snout into your finger, retracting with a short giggle.
"The idea of becoming bipedal does not appeal to me, but quadrapedal.. may be acceptable within certain conditions. I am most content with my own limbs, however. Should exceptionally fine tasks be necessary, which I am incapable of performing, there are unicorns, Minotaurs, Crystal ponies, among others."
>>371414
>Jose's face quickly pursed into itself as if the most sour of notes dried up his every pore.
>God fucking damnit.
>He had to blunder such a fine interaction with presumptions disguised as politeness
>Wincing slightly from the spiritual pain of his mistake, all he could do was face the disapproval from both mares with a solemn, remorseful look.
"Thank you for correcting my hubris. I'm still learning the basics."
>Hoping he hasn't stepped on yet another social landmine with his apology as Starglow prophesized would happen, he'd soon turn towards Nao with a smaller smile than usual, amping up his careful side to avoid any more mishaps.
>A little extra bit of cheer soon washed upon his face when her snout met his finger, causing him to chuckle amicably in tandem.
"That's great to hear."
>He soon placed a hand on his crouched leg, trying to keep things light to counteract what previously happened.
"I personally wouldn't mind not needing to keep my balance via constant muscle microadjustments."
>An inquisitive look arrived as he mulled over what Nao just said.
"How common is the need to do these exceptionally fine tasks for the average pinniped?"
>Jose's face quickly pursed into itself as if the most sour of notes dried up his every pore.
>God fucking damnit.
>He had to blunder such a fine interaction with presumptions disguised as politeness
>Wincing slightly from the spiritual pain of his mistake, all he could do was face the disapproval from both mares with a solemn, remorseful look.
"Thank you for correcting my hubris. I'm still learning the basics."
>Hoping he hasn't stepped on yet another social landmine with his apology as Starglow prophesized would happen, he'd soon turn towards Nao with a smaller smile than usual, amping up his careful side to avoid any more mishaps.
>A little extra bit of cheer soon washed upon his face when her snout met his finger, causing him to chuckle amicably in tandem.
"That's great to hear."
>He soon placed a hand on his crouched leg, trying to keep things light to counteract what previously happened.
"I personally wouldn't mind not needing to keep my balance via constant muscle microadjustments."
>An inquisitive look arrived as he mulled over what Nao just said.
"How common is the need to do these exceptionally fine tasks for the average pinniped?"
>>371413
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Senior Advanced Aerodynamics
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Senior Advanced Post-Orbital Technologies
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Aeronautics Engineering
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Proficient Aeronautics Theory & Implementation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Observer Aerospace Navigator
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Graduate Advanced Human Aviation
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Senior Dual Jet-Turbine Aviator
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6 = 2] <Apprentice Engineer
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Teacher Fighter Jet Aviator
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Teacher Pilot
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 5] <Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Graduate Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6 = 2] <Expert Wingman
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2] <Expert Aviator
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Expert Perception
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Senior Advanced Aerodynamics
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Senior Advanced Post-Orbital Technologies
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6 = 4] <Apprentice Aeronautics Engineering
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Proficient Aeronautics Theory & Implementation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5] <Observer Aerospace Navigator
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <Graduate Advanced Human Aviation
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Senior Dual Jet-Turbine Aviator
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6 = 2] <Apprentice Engineer
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <Teacher Fighter Jet Aviator
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <Teacher Pilot
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6 = 5] <Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Graduate Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6 = 2] <Expert Wingman
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2] <Expert Aviator
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6+1 = (5+1) = 6] <Expert Perception
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
File (): 27155286A73E38F88482D5542017F978-133689.jpg (130.6 KB, 1280x720, Clemency Investigating Harpy Craft.jpg)
File (): 8569BA24F05220E6CB88DE56B50C0BE7-126379.jpg (123.4 KB, 1280x720, Clemency Investigating Harpy Craft.jpg)
>>371373
>Rigorously testing the potential challenges of motion, direction, and potential hindrances, the weapon flows between each potential situation.
>Your cognizance and reaction speed are the only necessary facets to engage its guided responses, appearing and dissipating when required, roughly one-quarter larger than the GSL-H9.
>Having no weight outside of a willingly contained Graviton, it could slip between distinctive spectrums, requiring only direct speed of thought and timing to integrate between motions.
>A hybrid concept of what a weapon is, and is not, solely based upon your guidance.
>When and where your own willpower interfaces with accepted Tallus laws and Planar logic, the conceptual junctions between them manifest seamlessly.
>The intentions required to produce its physical parameters imposed a marginally active barrier which was, from what you were able to rationalize and logically consider, are blatantly Psionic in nature, function, and form.
>Your own capabilities in Psionicism, rudimentary in existence, knowledge, function, and concept, feature similar, deeply rooted aspects of magnetic fields.
>Combined with the living inherencies to Lightning, Metal, Gravity, and human electromagnetic properties, the weapon is more than agreeable existing upon the Elemarental Planes of Lightning and Gravity, yet are barely less significant when upon Tallus.
>Approaching the massive suite that was far too large for a singular being, sections of the lower right corner rephase.
>Recreated as an extended alcove, a heavy canopy forms over a comfortable spread of pillow, sheet, and blanket, each thickened by desire.
>Heavy ionic sheets, refined from turbulent actions, encourage entrance behind them, beckoning a state of rest that would not be interrupted.
>Rigorously testing the potential challenges of motion, direction, and potential hindrances, the weapon flows between each potential situation.
>Your cognizance and reaction speed are the only necessary facets to engage its guided responses, appearing and dissipating when required, roughly one-quarter larger than the GSL-H9.
>Having no weight outside of a willingly contained Graviton, it could slip between distinctive spectrums, requiring only direct speed of thought and timing to integrate between motions.
>A hybrid concept of what a weapon is, and is not, solely based upon your guidance.
>When and where your own willpower interfaces with accepted Tallus laws and Planar logic, the conceptual junctions between them manifest seamlessly.
>The intentions required to produce its physical parameters imposed a marginally active barrier which was, from what you were able to rationalize and logically consider, are blatantly Psionic in nature, function, and form.
>Your own capabilities in Psionicism, rudimentary in existence, knowledge, function, and concept, feature similar, deeply rooted aspects of magnetic fields.
>Combined with the living inherencies to Lightning, Metal, Gravity, and human electromagnetic properties, the weapon is more than agreeable existing upon the Elemarental Planes of Lightning and Gravity, yet are barely less significant when upon Tallus.
>Approaching the massive suite that was far too large for a singular being, sections of the lower right corner rephase.
>Recreated as an extended alcove, a heavy canopy forms over a comfortable spread of pillow, sheet, and blanket, each thickened by desire.
>Heavy ionic sheets, refined from turbulent actions, encourage entrance behind them, beckoning a state of rest that would not be interrupted.
>>371424
>The realization that the abilities he was making use of essentially constituted a rudimentary form of Psionicism gave him pause as he stood in front of the reformed canopy bed.
(...Likely a result of influence from multiple high Class entities since first arriving on Tallus. Exact source impossible to currently determine. Current personal psychological assessment uncompromised, but no Amadeus system available for cross reference. If I am capable of exhibiting these symptoms, then theoretically any human should be capable.)
>Turning back to look at the other sleeping party members, he cocks his head before looking back at the bed.
(Then why are they all avoiding using this? Is the concept of 'rest' understood in a more permanent fashion here? Will the bed prevent me from waking? Ownership should not be a concern...)
>Rolling his shoulders, he seats himself down onto the bed again.
>Willing the canopy to become more opaque and close behind him to provide some privacy, he lifts his helmet from his neck with an audible hiss of air.
(Can only hope this isn't a mistake.)
>Setting his helmet next to the formed contour pillow, he lays down and draws the sheets over himself attempting to rest until the rest of the group stirs.
>The realization that the abilities he was making use of essentially constituted a rudimentary form of Psionicism gave him pause as he stood in front of the reformed canopy bed.
(...Likely a result of influence from multiple high Class entities since first arriving on Tallus. Exact source impossible to currently determine. Current personal psychological assessment uncompromised, but no Amadeus system available for cross reference. If I am capable of exhibiting these symptoms, then theoretically any human should be capable.)
>Turning back to look at the other sleeping party members, he cocks his head before looking back at the bed.
(Then why are they all avoiding using this? Is the concept of 'rest' understood in a more permanent fashion here? Will the bed prevent me from waking? Ownership should not be a concern...)
>Rolling his shoulders, he seats himself down onto the bed again.
>Willing the canopy to become more opaque and close behind him to provide some privacy, he lifts his helmet from his neck with an audible hiss of air.
(Can only hope this isn't a mistake.)
>Setting his helmet next to the formed contour pillow, he lays down and draws the sheets over himself attempting to rest until the rest of the group stirs.
>>371385
>Outside of their disparate actions and within the few accepted commonalities, Watch Guard and Councilierge alike take specific notice of your salute.
>Similarly respectful motions accompaneigh yours at the Basin's impassable south entrance, a complete lack of objections, either by individuals or squads, seem to assure their intentions in honoring earlier agreemarents of guardianship.
>Hearing a single mare sighing deeply, a second quietly snorting to her side, the third, fourth, and fifth share their last few working neurons.
"Try to ignore the Solars. They may not be capable of forgiving."
"Believe me, if Razorback and Stalliongrad were on better terms this wouldn't be the only time we happen to be on the same side without stupid consequences."
"We haven't done anything. There's still two Argus Behemoth-Destroyers we've come into contact with before, and a Riftseeker out there. Can't say we're ungrateful."
"None of us are exempt from our oaths and duties regardless of distance. In case we do not meet again, be as well as a herd planting their garden in spring and a Changeling under a rain cloud."
>Offering quick nods, the five Councilierge mares stiffly clank towards the nearest line of Assault Vanguards awaiting their turn.
>The gathered host pays no attention towards you, joined humming between the factions, sub-factions, and mini-factions, excepting the Ethereal Golem in their center.
>Bucketed head swiveling, quadruple topaz yellow eyes study you from afar, seeming to dull briefly.
>Catching faint subvocalizations throughout, none were speaking in direct language, instead using rapid paced battlesong.. which you didn't know.
>Focusing down on the lead Spireguard for half a minute, the interlaced hums end on a slow, rolling low note, nodding sharply.
"I am not inconvenienced by these tasks, orders, and assignmarents, honored allies. Should enough temporal units remain I will transcribe this conversation and share it with your leaders."
>Triangular shield lifting up to its chest, the Minor Champion bends forwards for a moment, turning to face you and thudding forwards while the crystalline forces separate into their own groups.
>Raising the axe high, then dropping it into the glittering crystalline shield's rear, Vokreed halts barely two meters out, making no effort to move for several seconds.
>Head swiveling to pass over Razorback, then down to you once more, placing the shield tip down on stone, both massive hands holding it steady while the eyes squint.
>Threateningly.
"Razorback Company has been confirmed to harbor, or be, a significant threat to the Crystal Empire. Only a single unit of your Company is not infected by the corrosive Otherworld effect known as Anti. How do you plead?"
>Outside of their disparate actions and within the few accepted commonalities, Watch Guard and Councilierge alike take specific notice of your salute.
>Similarly respectful motions accompaneigh yours at the Basin's impassable south entrance, a complete lack of objections, either by individuals or squads, seem to assure their intentions in honoring earlier agreemarents of guardianship.
>Hearing a single mare sighing deeply, a second quietly snorting to her side, the third, fourth, and fifth share their last few working neurons.
"Try to ignore the Solars. They may not be capable of forgiving."
"Believe me, if Razorback and Stalliongrad were on better terms this wouldn't be the only time we happen to be on the same side without stupid consequences."
"We haven't done anything. There's still two Argus Behemoth-Destroyers we've come into contact with before, and a Riftseeker out there. Can't say we're ungrateful."
"None of us are exempt from our oaths and duties regardless of distance. In case we do not meet again, be as well as a herd planting their garden in spring and a Changeling under a rain cloud."
>Offering quick nods, the five Councilierge mares stiffly clank towards the nearest line of Assault Vanguards awaiting their turn.
>The gathered host pays no attention towards you, joined humming between the factions, sub-factions, and mini-factions, excepting the Ethereal Golem in their center.
>Bucketed head swiveling, quadruple topaz yellow eyes study you from afar, seeming to dull briefly.
>Catching faint subvocalizations throughout, none were speaking in direct language, instead using rapid paced battlesong.. which you didn't know.
>Focusing down on the lead Spireguard for half a minute, the interlaced hums end on a slow, rolling low note, nodding sharply.
"I am not inconvenienced by these tasks, orders, and assignmarents, honored allies. Should enough temporal units remain I will transcribe this conversation and share it with your leaders."
>Triangular shield lifting up to its chest, the Minor Champion bends forwards for a moment, turning to face you and thudding forwards while the crystalline forces separate into their own groups.
>Raising the axe high, then dropping it into the glittering crystalline shield's rear, Vokreed halts barely two meters out, making no effort to move for several seconds.
>Head swiveling to pass over Razorback, then down to you once more, placing the shield tip down on stone, both massive hands holding it steady while the eyes squint.
>Threateningly.
"Razorback Company has been confirmed to harbor, or be, a significant threat to the Crystal Empire. Only a single unit of your Company is not infected by the corrosive Otherworld effect known as Anti. How do you plead?"
>>371412
>Receiving a number of replies from Operators glad to separate from the Day Guard contingents, as you walk towards the gathering Lunars, the Village truly had been cleared out:
>Excluding the Bloodhosts surrounding the basin, though the giant one was missing, and the five unknown black robed ponies, not a single casing, shell, belt link, magazine, or clip was in sight.
>No pebbles, leaves, or even tracks of mud remained, half of Basin Village's buildings were blacked out and silent.
>The remainder are filled with unicorns, encased in brightly glowing, solid Lumin armor, sweeping every inch of surface in roiling metallic hues.
>Without a word, Lunars shift their ranks to create a line for Razorback on the east side.
>Reaching the chaotic scene of lances, spears, hoofclaws, blades, and more, the majority were standard, few modifications and enchantmarents of note, they had been solidly melded atop stone in hard set diamond.
>Name and rank carved below each one, the number was staggering; at least one thousand Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard had held.
>Dozens of ceremonial Lunar diamondine blades glitter in the darkness, mares and stallions around you silently withstand excruciating Void scarring.
>Sharp, slashing lines of EnKee are carefully burned into hide, some preferring their ears, forehead, cheeks, around eyes, others preferring their throat or snout to be irrevocably marked.
>Reaching up to take a drop of their own blood, each Lunar tosses it towards the sealed entry before turning to leave solemnly.
>While you couldn't place the significance of each action, it was clear that a specific Lunar ritual was being performed.
>Receiving a number of replies from Operators glad to separate from the Day Guard contingents, as you walk towards the gathering Lunars, the Village truly had been cleared out:
>Excluding the Bloodhosts surrounding the basin, though the giant one was missing, and the five unknown black robed ponies, not a single casing, shell, belt link, magazine, or clip was in sight.
>No pebbles, leaves, or even tracks of mud remained, half of Basin Village's buildings were blacked out and silent.
>The remainder are filled with unicorns, encased in brightly glowing, solid Lumin armor, sweeping every inch of surface in roiling metallic hues.
>Without a word, Lunars shift their ranks to create a line for Razorback on the east side.
>Reaching the chaotic scene of lances, spears, hoofclaws, blades, and more, the majority were standard, few modifications and enchantmarents of note, they had been solidly melded atop stone in hard set diamond.
>Name and rank carved below each one, the number was staggering; at least one thousand Day, Night, Lunar, and Watch Guard had held.
>Dozens of ceremonial Lunar diamondine blades glitter in the darkness, mares and stallions around you silently withstand excruciating Void scarring.
>Sharp, slashing lines of EnKee are carefully burned into hide, some preferring their ears, forehead, cheeks, around eyes, others preferring their throat or snout to be irrevocably marked.
>Reaching up to take a drop of their own blood, each Lunar tosses it towards the sealed entry before turning to leave solemnly.
>While you couldn't place the significance of each action, it was clear that a specific Lunar ritual was being performed.
File (): 51A736A193E467F2A726C5ABAE214737-116164.jpg (113.4 KB, 1920x1200, Shattering Skies, Decrepit.jpg)
>>371413
>>371419
>Visibly less precise than the inactive hulls and relics Twisted Wing often showed or described to you, this unusual gunship was far more ancient.
>Opposite of Guillotine, it was distinctly a production model as it wasn't seamless, though held to such high standards which weren't remotely feasible without undergoing extreme testing.
>With every weapon set in optimal locations for high speed passes, the rear fins would definitely have allowed it to perform long strafing maneuvers, potentially having some underwater capability as well.
>Knowing that the Otherworld Harpies were capable of sustaining extreme atmospheric pressure and gravitational shocks that even the best pegasus couldn't hope to, this example outclassed everything short of the Burning General herself.
>Comparing the sweeping wings and starkly angled flight characteristics to much higher standards of prototypes or custom refits you knew of, the design was intended to be third or fourth in combat, delivering heavier salvos against opportune targets.
>Curiously, the strange S-like symbol below the canopy brightens, three letters, a dash, and two numbers appearing in Common Equestrian.
>Guillotine's calm voice rings through the high channel, a one-point-two second lag noted from it.
*"Aflit on calm Airstreams now ye grace, mineself hast chanced 'pon. Be they gentled wherest thou stand, or in shrieking torrent?"*
>Subdued thrumming across the channel holds for three more seconds before huffing with an amused lilt.
*"Rites of Destruction hath prevailed 'pon thee Lonely One, nay ae plate nor beam unscathed 'mongst thee Lonely One's docks. Destroyers needeth nae more tae suffer, havest given all tae sing 'gain.
Minest armor plates shattered afrontal, tech-arcane weapons damaged, rents of hull aplenty... mine sarcophagus untouched, least of care to it mineself havest. Afresh t'will all become 'pon a rest taken."*
>Cutting out for six seconds, the Harpy's voice returns, speaking in cold, low tones.
"Returneth mineself would afore He escapeth again, yet worst of troubles havest mineself seen: twinned giants, battleships mayhap equines callest them, havest acome from thee Lonely One. Accompaneighed they be, thousands 'pon thousands within hulls greater than minself aplenty. Aflit they all to Bloodied Arena... ignore mineself they did, not a one's weapons sparked in fury.
Nae simple raid or pillaging, ye grace. mineself havest seen not such ae fleet as times long past."
>Less a pillar and more a central processing unit, or perhaps command and control, it was comprised of the same exact seamless material as Guillotine's hull.
>Machine learning routines isolate channels coming from the unit, attempting to analyze, process, and translate the nonstop stream of data, which the system gives up on quickly.
>Flickering into raw digital symbols, they closely matched the archaic Otherworld Harpy text you'd seen before, but this variant had sixty-five characters, two more than the original.
>Leaping off the canopy and gliding to a stiff series of clops next to you, the Cultist leadmare grunts tiredly.
"This one is the least weird thing I've seen tonight-"
>Reaching her wings forward to rub her entire head briskly, she tilts her head up at you, then nods towards the gunship with a flat expression.
"Because next to THAT I can't think of much that's both safe to touch and isn't deadly to look at. I've poked Scars, held chunks of raw black iron, and once ate a piece of.."
>Pausing to grimace, she unslings the bright silver-toned hard case and sets it before the unit, left wingclaws pointing towards it.
"Pickled watermelon rind. I think this needs the one you have, but I don't know the language."
>>371419
>Visibly less precise than the inactive hulls and relics Twisted Wing often showed or described to you, this unusual gunship was far more ancient.
>Opposite of Guillotine, it was distinctly a production model as it wasn't seamless, though held to such high standards which weren't remotely feasible without undergoing extreme testing.
>With every weapon set in optimal locations for high speed passes, the rear fins would definitely have allowed it to perform long strafing maneuvers, potentially having some underwater capability as well.
>Knowing that the Otherworld Harpies were capable of sustaining extreme atmospheric pressure and gravitational shocks that even the best pegasus couldn't hope to, this example outclassed everything short of the Burning General herself.
>Comparing the sweeping wings and starkly angled flight characteristics to much higher standards of prototypes or custom refits you knew of, the design was intended to be third or fourth in combat, delivering heavier salvos against opportune targets.
>Curiously, the strange S-like symbol below the canopy brightens, three letters, a dash, and two numbers appearing in Common Equestrian.
>Guillotine's calm voice rings through the high channel, a one-point-two second lag noted from it.
*"Aflit on calm Airstreams now ye grace, mineself hast chanced 'pon. Be they gentled wherest thou stand, or in shrieking torrent?"*
>Subdued thrumming across the channel holds for three more seconds before huffing with an amused lilt.
*"Rites of Destruction hath prevailed 'pon thee Lonely One, nay ae plate nor beam unscathed 'mongst thee Lonely One's docks. Destroyers needeth nae more tae suffer, havest given all tae sing 'gain.
Minest armor plates shattered afrontal, tech-arcane weapons damaged, rents of hull aplenty... mine sarcophagus untouched, least of care to it mineself havest. Afresh t'will all become 'pon a rest taken."*
>Cutting out for six seconds, the Harpy's voice returns, speaking in cold, low tones.
"Returneth mineself would afore He escapeth again, yet worst of troubles havest mineself seen: twinned giants, battleships mayhap equines callest them, havest acome from thee Lonely One. Accompaneighed they be, thousands 'pon thousands within hulls greater than minself aplenty. Aflit they all to Bloodied Arena... ignore mineself they did, not a one's weapons sparked in fury.
Nae simple raid or pillaging, ye grace. mineself havest seen not such ae fleet as times long past."
>Less a pillar and more a central processing unit, or perhaps command and control, it was comprised of the same exact seamless material as Guillotine's hull.
>Machine learning routines isolate channels coming from the unit, attempting to analyze, process, and translate the nonstop stream of data, which the system gives up on quickly.
>Flickering into raw digital symbols, they closely matched the archaic Otherworld Harpy text you'd seen before, but this variant had sixty-five characters, two more than the original.
>Leaping off the canopy and gliding to a stiff series of clops next to you, the Cultist leadmare grunts tiredly.
"This one is the least weird thing I've seen tonight-"
>Reaching her wings forward to rub her entire head briskly, she tilts her head up at you, then nods towards the gunship with a flat expression.
"Because next to THAT I can't think of much that's both safe to touch and isn't deadly to look at. I've poked Scars, held chunks of raw black iron, and once ate a piece of.."
>Pausing to grimace, she unslings the bright silver-toned hard case and sets it before the unit, left wingclaws pointing towards it.
"Pickled watermelon rind. I think this needs the one you have, but I don't know the language."
>>371388
>Landing as Airstreams fade around her, Mercy begins to exhale, streaks of pink, black, red, and blue jolt against blue, yellow, white, and green erupting from her mouth and nostrils.
>Head whipping from side to side in fright, she violently chokes on Ethereal and Void essences battling from inside her own body.
>Wingblades sparking to life on their own, surges of volatile pink-hot energetics snare her down, staring helplessly as MUCH worse begins tearing reality around you:
>The cloud shatters apart as you force it through, then into opposing spectrum polarities, junctions of Void, Overdark, and Ethereal phases.
>Previously ignoring each other, each now meets with pure insubstantial hatred:
[1d100 = 95] <Critical Void Breach: Containmarent Failure
[1d100 = 94] <Void Breach Severity
[1d420 = 149] <Void Breach Duration in Cycles
[1d20+80 = (3+80) = 83] <% of Backlash Intensity
>vs:
[1d100 = 82] <Critical Overdark Breach: Containmarent Failure
[1d20 = 12] <Overdark Breach Duration in Cycles
[1d50+50 = (19+50) = 69] <% of Backlash Intensity, %
>vs:
[1d100 = 84] <Major Ethereal Plane Breach: Containmarent Failure
[1d6 = 3] <Ethereal Breach Duration in Cycles
[1d80+20 = (35+20) = 55] <% of Backlash Intensity
>Mercy:
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Self-Purge
>Landing as Airstreams fade around her, Mercy begins to exhale, streaks of pink, black, red, and blue jolt against blue, yellow, white, and green erupting from her mouth and nostrils.
>Head whipping from side to side in fright, she violently chokes on Ethereal and Void essences battling from inside her own body.
>Wingblades sparking to life on their own, surges of volatile pink-hot energetics snare her down, staring helplessly as MUCH worse begins tearing reality around you:
>The cloud shatters apart as you force it through, then into opposing spectrum polarities, junctions of Void, Overdark, and Ethereal phases.
>Previously ignoring each other, each now meets with pure insubstantial hatred:
[1d100 = 95] <Critical Void Breach: Containmarent Failure
[1d100 = 94] <Void Breach Severity
[1d420 = 149] <Void Breach Duration in Cycles
[1d20+80 = (3+80) = 83] <% of Backlash Intensity
>vs:
[1d100 = 82] <Critical Overdark Breach: Containmarent Failure
[1d20 = 12] <Overdark Breach Duration in Cycles
[1d50+50 = (19+50) = 69] <% of Backlash Intensity, %
>vs:
[1d100 = 84] <Major Ethereal Plane Breach: Containmarent Failure
[1d6 = 3] <Ethereal Breach Duration in Cycles
[1d80+20 = (35+20) = 55] <% of Backlash Intensity
>Mercy:
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Self-Purge
>>371417
>Staring the other mare down hotly, Shanis flicks out a long set of deeply serrated, black-tinged blades from her left wing covering.
"If you could stand to be less of a bitch in the future maybe I won't put you on my ponial shit list."
"I'm under no obligations to be more or less than what, and who, I am."
"Then how does me slapping the arrogance out of your skull sound for an obligation?"
>Tensely holding their gazes, Starglow glances down with a flat, disgruntled snort, the black suited pegasus relaxing into her couch with an annoyed expression.
"Do whatever you like, though I won't be responsible if you twist a feather."
>Muttering several lines in an aery, coldly toned dialect that sounded vaguely French, Shanis tilts her head towards you, wearing a distantly irritated frown.
"I'd ask you to ignore her but that'd take effort better spent elsewhere...
In any case, she is correct on one fact: don't assume. That's the quickest way to make a social faux pas and definitely not the worst thing you could do. Wearing faction regalia, symbols, heraldries, that sort of stuff, in the wrong place is far more likely to cause hostilities."
>Glancing you up and down once more, the white mare's shoulders lift.
"Mmm.. since you're going to Argenta's Lands, I don't think you have anything they'd be offended by. Nice cloak though, wish mine hadn't gotten lost during the move."
>Staring up at the Pagoda's interior beams as if they were the most interesting objects ever, Nao brings her focus down with a bright, partially smushed in smile.
"Swimming requires more microadjustmarent compared to standing, lying down, or rolling. Making a single degree of movemarent in the wrong direction is enough to consistently miss a moving object in water, particularly if said object is evading, fleeing, or in hard current."
>Left flipper curling back to rub her chin, the Polar Seal's whiskers ripple in thought.
"For most in the Colonies? .....two to three times per week. We do not carve as much as our ancestors did, that I am sure of. There are a lot of minerals, gems, and odd things that must be delicately removed from sedimarent, stone, or wood, although the younger, more intelligent drakes, wyrms, and Dragons tend to perform that work instead of us."
>Staring the other mare down hotly, Shanis flicks out a long set of deeply serrated, black-tinged blades from her left wing covering.
"If you could stand to be less of a bitch in the future maybe I won't put you on my ponial shit list."
"I'm under no obligations to be more or less than what, and who, I am."
"Then how does me slapping the arrogance out of your skull sound for an obligation?"
>Tensely holding their gazes, Starglow glances down with a flat, disgruntled snort, the black suited pegasus relaxing into her couch with an annoyed expression.
"Do whatever you like, though I won't be responsible if you twist a feather."
>Muttering several lines in an aery, coldly toned dialect that sounded vaguely French, Shanis tilts her head towards you, wearing a distantly irritated frown.
"I'd ask you to ignore her but that'd take effort better spent elsewhere...
In any case, she is correct on one fact: don't assume. That's the quickest way to make a social faux pas and definitely not the worst thing you could do. Wearing faction regalia, symbols, heraldries, that sort of stuff, in the wrong place is far more likely to cause hostilities."
>Glancing you up and down once more, the white mare's shoulders lift.
"Mmm.. since you're going to Argenta's Lands, I don't think you have anything they'd be offended by. Nice cloak though, wish mine hadn't gotten lost during the move."
>Staring up at the Pagoda's interior beams as if they were the most interesting objects ever, Nao brings her focus down with a bright, partially smushed in smile.
"Swimming requires more microadjustmarent compared to standing, lying down, or rolling. Making a single degree of movemarent in the wrong direction is enough to consistently miss a moving object in water, particularly if said object is evading, fleeing, or in hard current."
>Left flipper curling back to rub her chin, the Polar Seal's whiskers ripple in thought.
"For most in the Colonies? .....two to three times per week. We do not carve as much as our ancestors did, that I am sure of. There are a lot of minerals, gems, and odd things that must be delicately removed from sedimarent, stone, or wood, although the younger, more intelligent drakes, wyrms, and Dragons tend to perform that work instead of us."
>>371428
>As Jeff waited in line to honor the fallen, Jeff looks into the Village where the fountain was. Lumin armor. Must be a specialized cleanup crew. Not a single piece of evidence, minus the desertion, indicated a battle ever took place.
>He'll try asking where everything went, before he leaves.
>The memorial, upon closer inspection, was built to last. The now master-less weapons were welded in diamond to stone. Only the most malicious of force would dare to move them.
>Numbers aside, the loss was too much. Unnecessary. But it happened. All they could do now is honor and remember their sacrifice, and live for them.
>He sees the Lunars etch various parts of their faces with the diamondine blades. The closest around him he can see they were Void enchanted for a particular scarring effect.
>While no blade has been offered to him yet, he draws the one he had chosen from the Lunar Collective.
>He looks it over, the biteblade uncomfortable in his grip. It's properties still a mystery to him. Does it even have a Void enchantment on it? Perhaps something more deadly that if trying to scar his face would cause a far worse effect?
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Junior Researcher
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>In EnKee, he observes what each individual has chosen to bear permanence. On the faces or near the head, to ensure it is visible to the world. As a badge, of sorts. To commemorate the battle, to the fallen?
>A drop of blood from each is added to the memorial, as a tribute he thinks. Like pouring one out, or leaving a personal memento at a grave. He's done that before for fallen friends, and comrades...
>Feeling his connection to the Moors and the Lunars, and considering his position, it only seems necessary he partake as well.
>Maybe he should wait for a safer blade to do the deed.
>What should he even carve into himself, and where?
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Junior Batponies
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Proficient Lunar Military
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Senior Starborn
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>As Jeff waited in line to honor the fallen, Jeff looks into the Village where the fountain was. Lumin armor. Must be a specialized cleanup crew. Not a single piece of evidence, minus the desertion, indicated a battle ever took place.
>He'll try asking where everything went, before he leaves.
>The memorial, upon closer inspection, was built to last. The now master-less weapons were welded in diamond to stone. Only the most malicious of force would dare to move them.
>Numbers aside, the loss was too much. Unnecessary. But it happened. All they could do now is honor and remember their sacrifice, and live for them.
>He sees the Lunars etch various parts of their faces with the diamondine blades. The closest around him he can see they were Void enchanted for a particular scarring effect.
>While no blade has been offered to him yet, he draws the one he had chosen from the Lunar Collective.
>He looks it over, the biteblade uncomfortable in his grip. It's properties still a mystery to him. Does it even have a Void enchantment on it? Perhaps something more deadly that if trying to scar his face would cause a far worse effect?
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Junior Researcher
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>In EnKee, he observes what each individual has chosen to bear permanence. On the faces or near the head, to ensure it is visible to the world. As a badge, of sorts. To commemorate the battle, to the fallen?
>A drop of blood from each is added to the memorial, as a tribute he thinks. Like pouring one out, or leaving a personal memento at a grave. He's done that before for fallen friends, and comrades...
>Feeling his connection to the Moors and the Lunars, and considering his position, it only seems necessary he partake as well.
>Maybe he should wait for a safer blade to do the deed.
>What should he even carve into himself, and where?
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Junior Batponies
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Proficient Lunar Military
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Senior Starborn
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>>371425
>The Elemarental Plane of Lightning's sum of comprehension dating back eons, or more, translates your thoughts into responses from across the realmic divides:
>You were, once, incapable of actively coherent electromagnetic functionality on the world you came from.
>Then, and there, you lacked all the necessary prerequisites of self-expression, knowledge of your own capabilities, and spiritual connections.
>Upon direct transition to Tallus, the vast barriers, cultural, physical, psychological, and physiological, which had impeded access to Psionicism were removed.
>Your ability to request, direct, command, summon, initialize, partake, influence, and control enchantmarents was not an individual choice: it was native to the vast majority of willing sapients.
>Yet had been lost, forgotten, bred out of, or, at worst, consciously removed from the vast majority.
>The Elements of your own world were dead in bleak comparison.
>Here was, is, and will be a Plane of existential reality that understood what was granted to all, the only hindrances to learning being inheritancy, or a lack of knowledge.
>There were no compromises here.
>One either knew, and had multitudes of freely given options to learn, or did not, and had every right to explore further.
>Turning your attention to the three asleep on the pelt.. Katyal, Lonestar, and Nibbles were, for the majority, unlike you.
>Each was a predator, formed from their own choices, necessities, requirements, habits, needs, and circumstances.
>Each likewise found different layers of comfort atop the deadly, long extinct creature's riotously Lightning tinged hide and hair:
>The Moor cat female holds no compunctions against hunting sentient or semi-sapient beings; to eat is to survive, and eventually to thrive and reproduce is an honored achievement.
>Willing to disregard his own safety, but unwilling to risk the lives of others without clear acceptance, for the assurance of a confirmed kill, Lonestar accepted only victory and defeat; all else was subjective, to be discarded when applicable, or necessary.
>A professional killer, murderer, and manslayer, whether at long range, up close, or indirectly through a screen, Katyal had slain hundreds in her only state of cognizance; few deaths cause joy or a sense of accomplishment, though her sense of purpose was faintly puritan in nature.
>They chose to rest where, when, and how each belonged, principle and purpose being their natures, rather than preferring comfort.
>Once again you felt unlike them: less savage, similarly adept, and more logical, yet questionably so
>Your presence was equally important to the shared, honorable goal each would willingly expend their lives to reach.
>Waveforms extract outwards into full, environmentally sealed sheets, the inrush of nitrogen and oxygen, cohabiting from and with Tallus, tasted and smelled comfirting.
>Settling into an unhindered state of being, specifically designed for recuperation, faint ionic tinges flow across your vision, senses, physical body.. then reach deeply into the void of your own, barely existing spiritual cognizance.
>While your ka had been awakened, rudely, roughly, and with little finesse by Katyal's hurried, slightly ignorant methods, here in this Room you were not treated as a neophyte.
>Psionic by existence and electromagentically attuned as all humans are, to varying extents, the vast lack of knowing your own depths remained.
>Decades and centuries of knowledge to discover, define, and refine would remain, even if you did not accept the challenges.
[1d6 = 1] <Awakening
>The Elemarental Plane of Lightning's sum of comprehension dating back eons, or more, translates your thoughts into responses from across the realmic divides:
>You were, once, incapable of actively coherent electromagnetic functionality on the world you came from.
>Then, and there, you lacked all the necessary prerequisites of self-expression, knowledge of your own capabilities, and spiritual connections.
>Upon direct transition to Tallus, the vast barriers, cultural, physical, psychological, and physiological, which had impeded access to Psionicism were removed.
>Your ability to request, direct, command, summon, initialize, partake, influence, and control enchantmarents was not an individual choice: it was native to the vast majority of willing sapients.
>Yet had been lost, forgotten, bred out of, or, at worst, consciously removed from the vast majority.
>The Elements of your own world were dead in bleak comparison.
>Here was, is, and will be a Plane of existential reality that understood what was granted to all, the only hindrances to learning being inheritancy, or a lack of knowledge.
>There were no compromises here.
>One either knew, and had multitudes of freely given options to learn, or did not, and had every right to explore further.
>Turning your attention to the three asleep on the pelt.. Katyal, Lonestar, and Nibbles were, for the majority, unlike you.
>Each was a predator, formed from their own choices, necessities, requirements, habits, needs, and circumstances.
>Each likewise found different layers of comfort atop the deadly, long extinct creature's riotously Lightning tinged hide and hair:
>The Moor cat female holds no compunctions against hunting sentient or semi-sapient beings; to eat is to survive, and eventually to thrive and reproduce is an honored achievement.
>Willing to disregard his own safety, but unwilling to risk the lives of others without clear acceptance, for the assurance of a confirmed kill, Lonestar accepted only victory and defeat; all else was subjective, to be discarded when applicable, or necessary.
>A professional killer, murderer, and manslayer, whether at long range, up close, or indirectly through a screen, Katyal had slain hundreds in her only state of cognizance; few deaths cause joy or a sense of accomplishment, though her sense of purpose was faintly puritan in nature.
>They chose to rest where, when, and how each belonged, principle and purpose being their natures, rather than preferring comfort.
>Once again you felt unlike them: less savage, similarly adept, and more logical, yet questionably so
>Your presence was equally important to the shared, honorable goal each would willingly expend their lives to reach.
>Waveforms extract outwards into full, environmentally sealed sheets, the inrush of nitrogen and oxygen, cohabiting from and with Tallus, tasted and smelled comfirting.
>Settling into an unhindered state of being, specifically designed for recuperation, faint ionic tinges flow across your vision, senses, physical body.. then reach deeply into the void of your own, barely existing spiritual cognizance.
>While your ka had been awakened, rudely, roughly, and with little finesse by Katyal's hurried, slightly ignorant methods, here in this Room you were not treated as a neophyte.
>Psionic by existence and electromagentically attuned as all humans are, to varying extents, the vast lack of knowing your own depths remained.
>Decades and centuries of knowledge to discover, define, and refine would remain, even if you did not accept the challenges.
[1d6 = 1] <Awakening
>>371433
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]<E.A. Lightning Strike (Self)
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] (Ka)
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]<Expert Perception + P.A.
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6 = 1]<Amateur Earth Pony Psionicism
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]<Graduate Neural Brain Interface Systems
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]<E.A. Lightning Strike (Self)
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] (Ka)
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8]<Expert Perception + P.A.
[1d6+2 = (3+2) = 5]
[1d6+2 = (5+2) = 7]
[1d6 = 1]<Amateur Earth Pony Psionicism
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]<Graduate Neural Brain Interface Systems
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
>>371432
>Motionless where they sat around the emptied basin, the Bloodhosts and black robed batponies minutely fluctuated throughout realspace.
>Small, barely perceivable tremors surround each, trace afterimages of blue, red, purple, and black visible, though faint streaks of ashen pink jitter across spectrum boundaries.
>Continuing their duties with stolid purpose, the Lumin armored unicorns rotate around, trading off from both fatigue and weariness.
>Presumably the ones to have removed all materials, and while you couldn't read unicorn, they were visibly undertaking a thorough, purposeful spiritual cleansing of the Village.
>Bright Lunar sigils relaying their actions to each other instead of speaking, known symbols for 'Tainted' flash between remarks of Lunar corruption, Plasma corruption, Eldritch taint, Planar essences, and multiple equivalents to 'purification'.
>Theirs is a sacred act of duty and commemoration, were only removing evidence out of necessity to prevent further contamination throughout the entirety of Basin Village.
>Grasping the biteblade firmly in hand, releasing, flexing, then exploring the unmarked, unremarkable features.. your eyes firmly attune in near-Moonborn thought processes.
>This one was created during the Late Dynasty Conflicts, right at the initial actions and stages of what would lead to the Lunar-Solar War.
>The weapon was unnamed and did not deserve one, according to the imprints of those Lunars that designed and shaped it, among tens of thousands more.
>Grandmaster gem-smiths, shapers, crafters, Mystics, Necromarecers, Druids, Elemarentalists, Geomarecers, batpony cultists, and dozens alike had designed it solely to inflict destruction.
>To kill sentient and sapient alike, where blood must flow and Anima existed to be stolen.
>To destroy Undead and Spectral alike, where physicality was unimportant and Animus was to be rendered inert.
>It wasn't intended to have other purposes, rendered as a final, completed weapon in service, to serve, and to be delivered by principle, but it was created in honor.
>To score yourself with it would not be presumed wrongful, yet it wasn't the proper tool to be marked by.
>Stepping back into histories, hundreds of similar rituals existed across Moorite, Lunar, and some Ferron regions of Mainland Equestria.
>To sacrifice a drop of blood in remembrance of others, dedicating the recognition of fallen family to the future inheritance of equinity had always been part of Luna's children, whether related, distant, or otherwise.
>As family, to family, no matter who, where, what, how, or when an individual occurs.
>Combining several of the most common rituals, the Moorite's favored memorialization, an older Lunar remembrance, a Ferron rite of thankfulness in service, and a Starborn ritual borne from the end of the Lunar Guardians, Basin Village was now consecrated as a place of immarense holiness.
>Composing multiple, older blood rituals into a single form was beyond remarkable: such changes had never occurred in Lunar or Moorite history.
>The unusual modification of adding favored heraldry, ribbons, streamers, and bands to weapons was, however, an ancient Rushyan, then later Stalliongrad, custom, beginning during the Early Dynasty Era.
>Yet, that last had now been fully embraced by Moorites, and it seemed even their most viciously fanatic, xenophobic factions accepted it wholeheartedly and without reservation.
>Becoming aware of thousands of eyes upon you, a mid-50's unicorn Commarender, unusually in dark purple Charger armor, stomps forwards.
>Presenting a deeply Void-touched diamondine ritual blade, hilt first atop a cloud of red energies, her helmet shakes side to side, faint impressions of sincere apology felt from her.
"I will request that you do not use the unnamed ones. Weapons made solely for the purposes and principles destruction do not serve well as tools of honor, but I will not deem such unworthy. It is your choice that I must respect."
>Motionless where they sat around the emptied basin, the Bloodhosts and black robed batponies minutely fluctuated throughout realspace.
>Small, barely perceivable tremors surround each, trace afterimages of blue, red, purple, and black visible, though faint streaks of ashen pink jitter across spectrum boundaries.
>Continuing their duties with stolid purpose, the Lumin armored unicorns rotate around, trading off from both fatigue and weariness.
>Presumably the ones to have removed all materials, and while you couldn't read unicorn, they were visibly undertaking a thorough, purposeful spiritual cleansing of the Village.
>Bright Lunar sigils relaying their actions to each other instead of speaking, known symbols for 'Tainted' flash between remarks of Lunar corruption, Plasma corruption, Eldritch taint, Planar essences, and multiple equivalents to 'purification'.
>Theirs is a sacred act of duty and commemoration, were only removing evidence out of necessity to prevent further contamination throughout the entirety of Basin Village.
>Grasping the biteblade firmly in hand, releasing, flexing, then exploring the unmarked, unremarkable features.. your eyes firmly attune in near-Moonborn thought processes.
>This one was created during the Late Dynasty Conflicts, right at the initial actions and stages of what would lead to the Lunar-Solar War.
>The weapon was unnamed and did not deserve one, according to the imprints of those Lunars that designed and shaped it, among tens of thousands more.
>Grandmaster gem-smiths, shapers, crafters, Mystics, Necromarecers, Druids, Elemarentalists, Geomarecers, batpony cultists, and dozens alike had designed it solely to inflict destruction.
>To kill sentient and sapient alike, where blood must flow and Anima existed to be stolen.
>To destroy Undead and Spectral alike, where physicality was unimportant and Animus was to be rendered inert.
>It wasn't intended to have other purposes, rendered as a final, completed weapon in service, to serve, and to be delivered by principle, but it was created in honor.
>To score yourself with it would not be presumed wrongful, yet it wasn't the proper tool to be marked by.
>Stepping back into histories, hundreds of similar rituals existed across Moorite, Lunar, and some Ferron regions of Mainland Equestria.
>To sacrifice a drop of blood in remembrance of others, dedicating the recognition of fallen family to the future inheritance of equinity had always been part of Luna's children, whether related, distant, or otherwise.
>As family, to family, no matter who, where, what, how, or when an individual occurs.
>Combining several of the most common rituals, the Moorite's favored memorialization, an older Lunar remembrance, a Ferron rite of thankfulness in service, and a Starborn ritual borne from the end of the Lunar Guardians, Basin Village was now consecrated as a place of immarense holiness.
>Composing multiple, older blood rituals into a single form was beyond remarkable: such changes had never occurred in Lunar or Moorite history.
>The unusual modification of adding favored heraldry, ribbons, streamers, and bands to weapons was, however, an ancient Rushyan, then later Stalliongrad, custom, beginning during the Early Dynasty Era.
>Yet, that last had now been fully embraced by Moorites, and it seemed even their most viciously fanatic, xenophobic factions accepted it wholeheartedly and without reservation.
>Becoming aware of thousands of eyes upon you, a mid-50's unicorn Commarender, unusually in dark purple Charger armor, stomps forwards.
>Presenting a deeply Void-touched diamondine ritual blade, hilt first atop a cloud of red energies, her helmet shakes side to side, faint impressions of sincere apology felt from her.
"I will request that you do not use the unnamed ones. Weapons made solely for the purposes and principles destruction do not serve well as tools of honor, but I will not deem such unworthy. It is your choice that I must respect."
>>371436
>Looking over the biteblade, Jeff comes to the conclusion that it had only one true purpose.
>Forged in an era where a weapon was going to be of the utmost necessity. An era of war. Not a skirmish or battle here and there. The Lunar-Solar War.
>To kill and drain the life of the living, and to exorcise the unliving and render their spirits nonexistent.
>Undeserving of a namesake, therefore he will not give it one.
>It was a tool for destruction, not for ceremony.
>What he was planning on using it for would be a waste. Tabooish.
>Going over what he remembers from Lunar military history, this ritual took practices from several era and nations.
>Blood tribute, ornamentation, inclusion. All combined into a clear and powerful display to honor the fallen with.
>The Lunar Collective would probably find this memorial fitting, had they not taken off hours ago.
>As he mulls over the why and hows in his head, he suddenly feels the eyes of the Lunars and others upon him.
>The token human Starborn ready to partake in the old-yet-new Ritual. Or he was about to de-FACE himself with a true weapon of war.
>A unicorn Commarender approaches Jeff, with a more appropriate blade to perform with the ritual.
>Nodding his head and sheathing the old Lunar Solar War biteblade, he give her a apologetic smirk.
"Right. Best to leave it to was it was made for..."
>Tilting the Gepard off of his shoulder, he places it on the ground next to him and rotates his shoulder to get the feeling back into it.
>He groans inwardly at not switching shoulders to burden the heavy rifle more during the march.
>Right arm limbered back up, he grabs the handle of the blade offered to him by the Commarender and draws it out of its sheathe.
>Cradling the edge of the blade in his left palm, handle in his right, he murmurs to himself with hesitation.
>He leans in slightly, whispering under his breath to the unicorn mare.
"What to I mark myself with? A word... a symbol? Does it mater where?"
>Looking over the biteblade, Jeff comes to the conclusion that it had only one true purpose.
>Forged in an era where a weapon was going to be of the utmost necessity. An era of war. Not a skirmish or battle here and there. The Lunar-Solar War.
>To kill and drain the life of the living, and to exorcise the unliving and render their spirits nonexistent.
>Undeserving of a namesake, therefore he will not give it one.
>It was a tool for destruction, not for ceremony.
>What he was planning on using it for would be a waste. Tabooish.
>Going over what he remembers from Lunar military history, this ritual took practices from several era and nations.
>Blood tribute, ornamentation, inclusion. All combined into a clear and powerful display to honor the fallen with.
>The Lunar Collective would probably find this memorial fitting, had they not taken off hours ago.
>As he mulls over the why and hows in his head, he suddenly feels the eyes of the Lunars and others upon him.
>The token human Starborn ready to partake in the old-yet-new Ritual. Or he was about to de-FACE himself with a true weapon of war.
>A unicorn Commarender approaches Jeff, with a more appropriate blade to perform with the ritual.
>Nodding his head and sheathing the old Lunar Solar War biteblade, he give her a apologetic smirk.
"Right. Best to leave it to was it was made for..."
>Tilting the Gepard off of his shoulder, he places it on the ground next to him and rotates his shoulder to get the feeling back into it.
>He groans inwardly at not switching shoulders to burden the heavy rifle more during the march.
>Right arm limbered back up, he grabs the handle of the blade offered to him by the Commarender and draws it out of its sheathe.
>Cradling the edge of the blade in his left palm, handle in his right, he murmurs to himself with hesitation.
>He leans in slightly, whispering under his breath to the unicorn mare.
"What to I mark myself with? A word... a symbol? Does it mater where?"
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication, The Storm King's Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371439
>>371425
>>371433
>>371434
>To sleep is to rest.
>To rest is to recover.
>To recover is to regain, and to regain that which was lost, forgotten, or removed is honored.
>The second, fully equalized purpose of this Room was shared between yourself and what you became aware of accepting once stepping inside.
>Finding thorough contemplation in active, unrestrained thoughts as your physical body relaxes, recuperating from the strain of Night, sections of physicality and spirit meet.
>Seeing yourself between organic eyes, the dim traces of mind, and the essences of those which lie unspoken, untold, untaught, and unfelt, between and beyond cognition all, you convene, aptly so.
>The body, trained to act in principle.
>The mind, tuned to act in purpose.
>The ka, fettered, forgotten, and dysfunctional, once only capable of yearning through the incomplete senses of either.
>Now, yet no longer.
>Reaching forwards to greet the disparate selves, Three of you become One, then, at last, the Only.
>Time neither slows nor increases in the Room when cognizant, instead the separation between the states of consciously awake, unconsciously guiding, and subconsciously active join together.
>You know each physical motion and reflex during this safe, comforting rest, before it occurs, as it occurs, and why.
>Each specific thread of thought, memory, and recall combine, your sole, true self narrowing down possibilities that were previously effort-intensive.
>This new, fascinating vector, untested and unlearned as it was, knows the links between everything and nothing.
>Recalling Hollow and Dancing Eyes, you were little different from them: the waveforms of controlled electromagnetic, neurological, and empathic responses were untrained as you had only minor experience, but not for long.
>The same effort to deliberately initiate and invoke an enchantmarent's affects or effects was the same as provoking one's own currents to influence greater wholes around the self.
>Thought becomes shape, shape become forms, forms translate into actions.
>While utterly weak in humans, Psionicism was inherent and necessary.
>Just as it is to both the direct earth pony descendants of the False Otherwold Empress, and those which were able to grasp her teachings, though some had, knowingly and unknowingly, betrayed their archaic connections to the Elemarents.
>Sections of the puzzle labeled 'why' remain unanswered, the knowledge of having the basic awareness to enact, modify, and change, the same as a Psion could, yet thoroughly and safely less than the horrifying, all-self-knowing Primal Psions suffered from.
>Yet, like any muscle or skill, this must be carefully trained.
>While Katyal, Lonestar, and Nibbles could not aid your learning, they will offer clumsy support, pronounced sparks of your own dry humor relate.
>Hodch will surely be confused at the abnormally ludicrous circumstance, his caution would override curiousness and he will be obligated out of friendship to aid you, but could not share relevant knowledge.
>Among the equines you knew that could directly teach the basics of Psionicism, some... were definitely better than others.
>As it would be easiest to start with one and expand later, there were highly rated, specific options:
>Illusions, while viscerally pleasing to the eyes, weren't as much to the ears or senses, requiring expertise to appear and sound realistic.
>Psikineticism, which some call psychokinesis, was 'merely' the act of moving objects using thought and energy rather than physically doing so; likewise projecting combined electromagnetic, Gravitic, and Lightning essences as substantial, physical weapons was common.
>Solidified waveforms, technically part of psikinesis, but mostly used in defensive and utilitarian purposes, though enhancing physical capabilities or offsetting negative ones was a known side effect.
>Mental contact, consisting of directly reading mindscapes, physically-produced electromagnetic wavelengths, and translating patterns of neural thought; while incredibly tricky albeit potentially useful, the act of doing such could be highly volatile.
Pareidolia: Minor Psionicism Unlocked.
>>371433
>>371434
>To sleep is to rest.
>To rest is to recover.
>To recover is to regain, and to regain that which was lost, forgotten, or removed is honored.
>The second, fully equalized purpose of this Room was shared between yourself and what you became aware of accepting once stepping inside.
>Finding thorough contemplation in active, unrestrained thoughts as your physical body relaxes, recuperating from the strain of Night, sections of physicality and spirit meet.
>Seeing yourself between organic eyes, the dim traces of mind, and the essences of those which lie unspoken, untold, untaught, and unfelt, between and beyond cognition all, you convene, aptly so.
>The body, trained to act in principle.
>The mind, tuned to act in purpose.
>The ka, fettered, forgotten, and dysfunctional, once only capable of yearning through the incomplete senses of either.
>Now, yet no longer.
>Reaching forwards to greet the disparate selves, Three of you become One, then, at last, the Only.
>Time neither slows nor increases in the Room when cognizant, instead the separation between the states of consciously awake, unconsciously guiding, and subconsciously active join together.
>You know each physical motion and reflex during this safe, comforting rest, before it occurs, as it occurs, and why.
>Each specific thread of thought, memory, and recall combine, your sole, true self narrowing down possibilities that were previously effort-intensive.
>This new, fascinating vector, untested and unlearned as it was, knows the links between everything and nothing.
>Recalling Hollow and Dancing Eyes, you were little different from them: the waveforms of controlled electromagnetic, neurological, and empathic responses were untrained as you had only minor experience, but not for long.
>The same effort to deliberately initiate and invoke an enchantmarent's affects or effects was the same as provoking one's own currents to influence greater wholes around the self.
>Thought becomes shape, shape become forms, forms translate into actions.
>While utterly weak in humans, Psionicism was inherent and necessary.
>Just as it is to both the direct earth pony descendants of the False Otherwold Empress, and those which were able to grasp her teachings, though some had, knowingly and unknowingly, betrayed their archaic connections to the Elemarents.
>Sections of the puzzle labeled 'why' remain unanswered, the knowledge of having the basic awareness to enact, modify, and change, the same as a Psion could, yet thoroughly and safely less than the horrifying, all-self-knowing Primal Psions suffered from.
>Yet, like any muscle or skill, this must be carefully trained.
>While Katyal, Lonestar, and Nibbles could not aid your learning, they will offer clumsy support, pronounced sparks of your own dry humor relate.
>Hodch will surely be confused at the abnormally ludicrous circumstance, his caution would override curiousness and he will be obligated out of friendship to aid you, but could not share relevant knowledge.
>Among the equines you knew that could directly teach the basics of Psionicism, some... were definitely better than others.
>As it would be easiest to start with one and expand later, there were highly rated, specific options:
>Illusions, while viscerally pleasing to the eyes, weren't as much to the ears or senses, requiring expertise to appear and sound realistic.
>Psikineticism, which some call psychokinesis, was 'merely' the act of moving objects using thought and energy rather than physically doing so; likewise projecting combined electromagnetic, Gravitic, and Lightning essences as substantial, physical weapons was common.
>Solidified waveforms, technically part of psikinesis, but mostly used in defensive and utilitarian purposes, though enhancing physical capabilities or offsetting negative ones was a known side effect.
>Mental contact, consisting of directly reading mindscapes, physically-produced electromagnetic wavelengths, and translating patterns of neural thought; while incredibly tricky albeit potentially useful, the act of doing such could be highly volatile.
Pareidolia: Minor Psionicism Unlocked.
>>371438
>Head bowing for three seconds, the unicorn Charger stands upright, dull purple eyes half-lidded in exhaustion beneath clear diamondine plates.
"I intend neither disrespect nor dishonor. Those which are unnamed should not be removed from Armory or Reliquary without explicit purpose, and guarded intentions."
>Turning to lift her chin at the sealed weapons forming a gate, the mare exhales heavily through nostril slits.
"While it may be time to revoke their long rests and be returned to service once more, I do not believe most ponies will readily accept them. Councilierge, Day and Watch Guard will suffer equal battles against their own relics and artifacts of prior generations."
>Touching the late Lunar-Solar War relic's tightly bound hilt, eerily comprised of strands taken from Naghtmare tails and manes, the dagger's edges draw out into elongated, esoteric shapes.
>Helmet turning to dip at an earth mare silently undergoing cruel, yet gently firm scarring on her snout, the Commarender's eyes close slowly in thought.
>Opening to meet your gaze, her voice rolls in distant, quietly vibrating subtones, horn lighting in a stark Moonslone glow and wrapping the relic blade's handle with the same.
"That which must be willingly shared and known by All Creation,
Placed by those whom share the suffering of equinity as you do,
Marked as worthy dedications in EnKee within this holiest of places on reality."
>...a Channeler, you realize belatedly in faint alarm.
>Similar to a Shamare in most respects, each are partial empaths, capable of exploring the divisions between physicality and the pseudo-realities that Spectrals, Wraiths, and Revenants inhabit, though not without some danger.
>Head bowing for three seconds, the unicorn Charger stands upright, dull purple eyes half-lidded in exhaustion beneath clear diamondine plates.
"I intend neither disrespect nor dishonor. Those which are unnamed should not be removed from Armory or Reliquary without explicit purpose, and guarded intentions."
>Turning to lift her chin at the sealed weapons forming a gate, the mare exhales heavily through nostril slits.
"While it may be time to revoke their long rests and be returned to service once more, I do not believe most ponies will readily accept them. Councilierge, Day and Watch Guard will suffer equal battles against their own relics and artifacts of prior generations."
>Touching the late Lunar-Solar War relic's tightly bound hilt, eerily comprised of strands taken from Naghtmare tails and manes, the dagger's edges draw out into elongated, esoteric shapes.
>Helmet turning to dip at an earth mare silently undergoing cruel, yet gently firm scarring on her snout, the Commarender's eyes close slowly in thought.
>Opening to meet your gaze, her voice rolls in distant, quietly vibrating subtones, horn lighting in a stark Moonslone glow and wrapping the relic blade's handle with the same.
"That which must be willingly shared and known by All Creation,
Placed by those whom share the suffering of equinity as you do,
Marked as worthy dedications in EnKee within this holiest of places on reality."
>...a Channeler, you realize belatedly in faint alarm.
>Similar to a Shamare in most respects, each are partial empaths, capable of exploring the divisions between physicality and the pseudo-realities that Spectrals, Wraiths, and Revenants inhabit, though not without some danger.
>>371439
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShNq-hqKK1U
>An apparent reconnection has been made.
>An often lauded and much maligned "third sense" that from his Earth at least, never bore much fruit beyond a specific project that was certainly much different from the common idea of the concept.
>Yet, yesterday's delusion has become today's reality.
(Command would have a hard time believing this. Research's occultic branch would probably be having a field day... )
>A strangely familiar intuition actualizes itself within the operative's mind.
>A model, a framework of perception that achieved its results based on intuitive understanding.
(Not far removed from some models of magic in fantasy novels and anime. The "Art of Visualization" where rules are defined by the user's cognitive limits and an energy resource. Does this mean I can genuinely claim to have an evil power sealed within my arm? )
>It thankfully felt hale and wholly familiar as if acknowledging something that had long been present but never named.
>One of the benefits of an intuitively driven power.
>The impetus for this actualization seemingly traced to an understanding of the nature of utilizing enchantments, treated as an extension of one's self despite not being an original part of it.
>The potential for this power was staggering...
>And the implications were disturbing.
(Initial guess was correct. Any human is capable of developing these powers. Then the potential for contamination is extreme beyond measure. Possibly even greater harm than mere technological introduction or cultural contamination.)
>The need for a firm, effective methodology to control its development would be critical.
(Both for myself and for other human psionics. Another structure that will need to be implemented alongside even more Damage Control.)
>Razorback may have some viable teachers for the "types" of psionicism, but current pressing issues need to be addressed first.
(Would prefer not to involve even more ponies into human affairs. May be best to seek out Tipper given her unfortunately copious experience with human affairs already, but only if this operation succeeds fully... otherwise the stress may damage her.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShNq-hqKK1U
>An apparent reconnection has been made.
>An often lauded and much maligned "third sense" that from his Earth at least, never bore much fruit beyond a specific project that was certainly much different from the common idea of the concept.
>Yet, yesterday's delusion has become today's reality.
(Command would have a hard time believing this. Research's occultic branch would probably be having a field day... )
>A strangely familiar intuition actualizes itself within the operative's mind.
>A model, a framework of perception that achieved its results based on intuitive understanding.
(Not far removed from some models of magic in fantasy novels and anime. The "Art of Visualization" where rules are defined by the user's cognitive limits and an energy resource. Does this mean I can genuinely claim to have an evil power sealed within my arm? )
>It thankfully felt hale and wholly familiar as if acknowledging something that had long been present but never named.
>One of the benefits of an intuitively driven power.
>The impetus for this actualization seemingly traced to an understanding of the nature of utilizing enchantments, treated as an extension of one's self despite not being an original part of it.
>The potential for this power was staggering...
>And the implications were disturbing.
(Initial guess was correct. Any human is capable of developing these powers. Then the potential for contamination is extreme beyond measure. Possibly even greater harm than mere technological introduction or cultural contamination.)
>The need for a firm, effective methodology to control its development would be critical.
(Both for myself and for other human psionics. Another structure that will need to be implemented alongside even more Damage Control.)
>Razorback may have some viable teachers for the "types" of psionicism, but current pressing issues need to be addressed first.
(Would prefer not to involve even more ponies into human affairs. May be best to seek out Tipper given her unfortunately copious experience with human affairs already, but only if this operation succeeds fully... otherwise the stress may damage her.)
>>371430
>Well, that didn't work. In fact it had made matters a lot worse.
>As the vortex of hostile opposing energies began to form around her, Sunny realised it would be a very, very bad idea to remain amongst them.
>Somersaulting off the cloud and away from the epicenter of the vortex, Sunny examined what she could of it with what little she knew.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] < M.Evasion - K.I.A
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>The Void energies appeared much more violent and insistent than the other two, but there was a good chance the Overdark and Ethereal energies would tag team it in a sense. It was hard to tell which would come out on top.
>She may be able to do something about the Void breach given the energies that suffused her, but only if it overwhelmed the other two and only if she was very, very lucky. At least something positive would come of that particular inconvenience, but then, this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been suffused with those energies to begin with.
>Opening her mouth, nothing came out, whatever Mercy had done to her still held its sway, she had not even succeeded in breaking out of the Overdark.
>No communication whatsoever, no tools, no reinforcements.
>Further, she wasn't tall enough for this ride, nothing in her arsenal would have any effect. Her hoofclaws may, but so much as getting near a breach like this was much too dangerous, to say nothing of what would be coming out of it shortly, and what it would be dragging in.
>So she wouldn't be able to tip the scales in any way.
>Mercy seemed to be having a rough time, she couldn't be sure, but it looked as if two of the conflicting energies were conflicting inside of her.
>Sunny felt at once remorse, and no sympathy for the mare. She could look after herself, as she had just made very clear.
>Well, that didn't work. In fact it had made matters a lot worse.
>As the vortex of hostile opposing energies began to form around her, Sunny realised it would be a very, very bad idea to remain amongst them.
>Somersaulting off the cloud and away from the epicenter of the vortex, Sunny examined what she could of it with what little she knew.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] < M.Evasion - K.I.A
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
>The Void energies appeared much more violent and insistent than the other two, but there was a good chance the Overdark and Ethereal energies would tag team it in a sense. It was hard to tell which would come out on top.
>She may be able to do something about the Void breach given the energies that suffused her, but only if it overwhelmed the other two and only if she was very, very lucky. At least something positive would come of that particular inconvenience, but then, this wouldn't have happened if she hadn't been suffused with those energies to begin with.
>Opening her mouth, nothing came out, whatever Mercy had done to her still held its sway, she had not even succeeded in breaking out of the Overdark.
>No communication whatsoever, no tools, no reinforcements.
>Further, she wasn't tall enough for this ride, nothing in her arsenal would have any effect. Her hoofclaws may, but so much as getting near a breach like this was much too dangerous, to say nothing of what would be coming out of it shortly, and what it would be dragging in.
>So she wouldn't be able to tip the scales in any way.
>Mercy seemed to be having a rough time, she couldn't be sure, but it looked as if two of the conflicting energies were conflicting inside of her.
>Sunny felt at once remorse, and no sympathy for the mare. She could look after herself, as she had just made very clear.
>>371431
>José's shoulders sag a little as the two mares briefly scuffled a little more, mentally cursing his mistake, before finally letting out a little sigh of relief as Shanis directs her focus towards him.
"I appreciate the check, miss Shanis."
>However, he soon turned pensive, lightly inspecting Lann's spare coat by pinching the fabric with his fingers.
"What does your cloak look like, if I may ask?"
>Now directing his attention towards the slightly more cheerful, Gallo happily nodded in understanding.
"It may be because I am not used to swimming, but I find it fascinating to think about how the body can move underwater. It has this feeling of flow that I can't grasp on land."
>He soon chuckled softly at his admittedly plain observation before gingerly continuing.
"As for gem carving, do you think it'd be a worthy skill to have if I wanted some seal friends?"
>José's shoulders sag a little as the two mares briefly scuffled a little more, mentally cursing his mistake, before finally letting out a little sigh of relief as Shanis directs her focus towards him.
"I appreciate the check, miss Shanis."
>However, he soon turned pensive, lightly inspecting Lann's spare coat by pinching the fabric with his fingers.
"What does your cloak look like, if I may ask?"
>Now directing his attention towards the slightly more cheerful, Gallo happily nodded in understanding.
"It may be because I am not used to swimming, but I find it fascinating to think about how the body can move underwater. It has this feeling of flow that I can't grasp on land."
>He soon chuckled softly at his admittedly plain observation before gingerly continuing.
"As for gem carving, do you think it'd be a worthy skill to have if I wanted some seal friends?"
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication, The Storm King's Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371452
>>371441
>Self-isolated thoughts filter calmly as your body recuperates through vague skeins of time, the Elemarental Plane's mostly helpful exterior comprehensions were silent.
>No, there wasn't an evil power, Only responds.
>What you have was a decisively engineered, analogous bond of Lightning, resulting from a combination of intellectual greed, purposeful overcompensation, and semi-reckless experimarentation to grant then-future equines of the later Middle Dynasty Era specific properties which could be passed down to future generations.
>Project 220 of Refined Batch 11 was labeled inconsistent by researchers frightened of Tallus' Elemental Cores, potentially returning to destroy their work, yet proved to be successful.
>The specific one Denra randomly hoofed to you managed to bridge thousands of divides between human and equine genetics.
>While he fully responsible for the Enclave Party's rather nasty end results, Denra did suffer from several weeks of painful Elemarental imbalances, and minor digestive tract distress, from it.
>Cognizant long before your eyes open in the sealed partition, neural pathways, muscles, tendons, and vascular systems throughout the body prepare for activity.
>Waking into a thoroughly energized, and for once, fully restored state, it felt as if 18 hours had passed, though you'd only slept right before Dusk.
>Tallus Entropy had little claim on sapients here.
>Outside of the ionic barriers, Katyal, Lonestar, and Hodch were sitting in the rug's center, Nibbles lounging atop the stallion's saddle, surprisingly normal deliberations occurring between them as the first two share rations.
"Nah, none of the Overlander's systems are good as the originals. If I wanted print outs it'd take a while. "
"Understood. Likewise my maps on the surrounding region and virtually every piece of knowledge is excruciatingly out of date. I think it best we do not head east or west greater than five human standard miles at most from the main road. Is that acceptable?
And good Dusk to you, Pare. We are planning a travel route."
"What's up sleepyhead, feeling great like the rest of us do?
Ehhh, make it ten miles and I'll agree. Been around enough Ess-Ay's Dynasty ruins to know staying near paths like this one are just as bad as avoiding them."
"Why's that? And good Star's evenin' to you."
"That Abomination Hodch was talking about before we came in here is.. basically like a standard suite of mutations. Small predators half my size become about a third the size of your APC. They'll start developing unusual behaviors, become omnivorous or worse, have mutated weapons, armor, and abilities they shouldn't."
"Have you studied them enough to know whether or not they are related to the creation, production, deploymarent, use, or potential loss of Elemarental Cores?"
"Not me directly, no. The Circle's researchers have a few hundred stacks of pages solely on Dynasty related Abominations. So far as they've been able to pin down in Early to Middle Dynasty records, there was a definite contamination vector in nearly every Lab and research facility. Personally I think there were two, at, worst three.
There's maybe five ponies in Ess-Ay that can read the language. Er, some parts of the language. Or languages. Which doesn't help, I know."
"I can translate a few words thanks to Spiral but the vast majority are too far condensed to comprehend. Any indications on what influenced such vectors?"
"Nothing beyond 'we know X1 did Y5L, therefore L500XY is a huge threat we have to avoid'. In other words: not one single fucking idea."
"The same as Lunars, Moorites, and my Order. We remain dumbfounded."
"......this is partial speculation on my part, but Silverbitch was much smarter during the Early Dynasty. She set out huge goals in broad terms back then. So, those Labs, research bases, Temples, and whatever else work for centuries, entire generations from different schools of knowledge and most species start adding up.
They make thousands of breakthroughs, record what they can, but don't know what to do. Then in the Middle Dynasty Era shit starts getting out of control. Between the variations of Elemarental Cores, biological research, and motherfucking Anti everywhere, everything starts breaking down."
"Hm. The only groups that did not contribute were the Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, Empire, and Changelings-"
"You're forgetting the Crystal Lorekeepers."
"...I was about to exclude them. They, and I mean the Crystal Lorekeepers, kept all of their records. Activities, research, production quotas, food, everything. None of which directly aids us but the information may prove useful.. if we could cross-reference their own records against the Fallen and Remnant Dynasties.
Harpies, whether native, Extra-Planar, or Otherworld hated her as well, though we've no contact with them outside of individuals here and there.
The vast majority of Dragons, sapient wyrms and drakes, Neighsians, Ewerup, and a large amount of Argentum wanted nothing to do with the Dynasty."
"So, what's the plan?"
"I will agree to ten miles east or west, but we will deviate the second any of us pick up so much as a single unusual sensation or particle. We need to avoid all possible contacts and conflicts."
"Agreed, With that outta the way I'm gonna step out, check and see what's gone on since we took this damn nice rest stop."
[1d100 = 41]
>Self-isolated thoughts filter calmly as your body recuperates through vague skeins of time, the Elemarental Plane's mostly helpful exterior comprehensions were silent.
>No, there wasn't an evil power, Only responds.
>What you have was a decisively engineered, analogous bond of Lightning, resulting from a combination of intellectual greed, purposeful overcompensation, and semi-reckless experimarentation to grant then-future equines of the later Middle Dynasty Era specific properties which could be passed down to future generations.
>Project 220 of Refined Batch 11 was labeled inconsistent by researchers frightened of Tallus' Elemental Cores, potentially returning to destroy their work, yet proved to be successful.
>The specific one Denra randomly hoofed to you managed to bridge thousands of divides between human and equine genetics.
>While he fully responsible for the Enclave Party's rather nasty end results, Denra did suffer from several weeks of painful Elemarental imbalances, and minor digestive tract distress, from it.
>Cognizant long before your eyes open in the sealed partition, neural pathways, muscles, tendons, and vascular systems throughout the body prepare for activity.
>Waking into a thoroughly energized, and for once, fully restored state, it felt as if 18 hours had passed, though you'd only slept right before Dusk.
>Tallus Entropy had little claim on sapients here.
>Outside of the ionic barriers, Katyal, Lonestar, and Hodch were sitting in the rug's center, Nibbles lounging atop the stallion's saddle, surprisingly normal deliberations occurring between them as the first two share rations.
"Nah, none of the Overlander's systems are good as the originals. If I wanted print outs it'd take a while. "
"Understood. Likewise my maps on the surrounding region and virtually every piece of knowledge is excruciatingly out of date. I think it best we do not head east or west greater than five human standard miles at most from the main road. Is that acceptable?
And good Dusk to you, Pare. We are planning a travel route."
"What's up sleepyhead, feeling great like the rest of us do?
Ehhh, make it ten miles and I'll agree. Been around enough Ess-Ay's Dynasty ruins to know staying near paths like this one are just as bad as avoiding them."
"Why's that? And good Star's evenin' to you."
"That Abomination Hodch was talking about before we came in here is.. basically like a standard suite of mutations. Small predators half my size become about a third the size of your APC. They'll start developing unusual behaviors, become omnivorous or worse, have mutated weapons, armor, and abilities they shouldn't."
"Have you studied them enough to know whether or not they are related to the creation, production, deploymarent, use, or potential loss of Elemarental Cores?"
"Not me directly, no. The Circle's researchers have a few hundred stacks of pages solely on Dynasty related Abominations. So far as they've been able to pin down in Early to Middle Dynasty records, there was a definite contamination vector in nearly every Lab and research facility. Personally I think there were two, at, worst three.
There's maybe five ponies in Ess-Ay that can read the language. Er, some parts of the language. Or languages. Which doesn't help, I know."
"I can translate a few words thanks to Spiral but the vast majority are too far condensed to comprehend. Any indications on what influenced such vectors?"
"Nothing beyond 'we know X1 did Y5L, therefore L500XY is a huge threat we have to avoid'. In other words: not one single fucking idea."
"The same as Lunars, Moorites, and my Order. We remain dumbfounded."
"......this is partial speculation on my part, but Silverbitch was much smarter during the Early Dynasty. She set out huge goals in broad terms back then. So, those Labs, research bases, Temples, and whatever else work for centuries, entire generations from different schools of knowledge and most species start adding up.
They make thousands of breakthroughs, record what they can, but don't know what to do. Then in the Middle Dynasty Era shit starts getting out of control. Between the variations of Elemarental Cores, biological research, and motherfucking Anti everywhere, everything starts breaking down."
"Hm. The only groups that did not contribute were the Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, Empire, and Changelings-"
"You're forgetting the Crystal Lorekeepers."
"...I was about to exclude them. They, and I mean the Crystal Lorekeepers, kept all of their records. Activities, research, production quotas, food, everything. None of which directly aids us but the information may prove useful.. if we could cross-reference their own records against the Fallen and Remnant Dynasties.
Harpies, whether native, Extra-Planar, or Otherworld hated her as well, though we've no contact with them outside of individuals here and there.
The vast majority of Dragons, sapient wyrms and drakes, Neighsians, Ewerup, and a large amount of Argentum wanted nothing to do with the Dynasty."
"So, what's the plan?"
"I will agree to ten miles east or west, but we will deviate the second any of us pick up so much as a single unusual sensation or particle. We need to avoid all possible contacts and conflicts."
"Agreed, With that outta the way I'm gonna step out, check and see what's gone on since we took this damn nice rest stop."
[1d100 = 41]
>>371427
>Lont stood there, brow furrowed as he listened. He was confused. They were using battlesong to communicate.
>He then noticed that Vokreed was the only one from the Crystal Host to pay him any heed, staring him down.
>Then the Ethereal spoke. Confirming and bookending the private conversation of the Host. What piqued his curiosity was it was in plan Common.
>"Did he speak in Common due to me being here?"
>Before he could ask himself why, the Minor Champion moved up on him. He tracked the Ethereals' axe and breathed in relief that he put it away behind his shield.
>This relief however was cut short by Vokreeds question.
>Lont's mouth opened then closed as a flood of memories wracked his mind.
>The Anti in their radios Spiral made, as a means track those that use them and to protect against tampering. And of course he fought a core of the Solar Tyrant, made out of Anti, which he bashed at with his sword. He must of stunk to high heavens of the stuff.
>Razorback was guilty of using Anti, which is a threat to the Empire.
>He felt his throat dry up, forcing him to cough.
>That threatening look. What will happen to him or Razorback if he pleaded guilty? Will he be cut down on the spot. Perhaps that's why the Empire forces were so distant. What better opportunity to snuff out a bunch Anti-infected when they are too tired to fight back.
>But in the Basin Village of all places? Maybe this was their golden moment to do this rather than assault the Fortress.
>Yet...
>"Yet I was in the Empire numerous times and nopony batted an eye at me nor anyone else, not even Belregard said anything! So if its a threat to the Empire surely death isn't the only solution for it. No, no I'm overreacting. He has that look in his eyes because I am an Otherworldly being that reeks of Anti. He wants the truth, so I'll will oblige him."
>The winged Operator was silent for a heavy moment when the Ethereal asked his question. A cough escaped from Lont as his mouth was dry. Rapidly blinking he focused on Vokreeds four eyes. Determination was in his own.
>"He is an Ethereal, so I must lay out my case like one."
"Guilty. Guilty of harbouring the element known as Anti."
>Now or never.
"Addendum! It must be noted that Razorback was ignorant of the dangers Anti posed towards the Crystal Empire. For we used this element as a safety measure within our communication technology. If we had known the threat it has towards our esteemed allies we would not have used it to begin with, and in this regard we will remove all Anti from Razorback to ensure the security of the Crystal Empire."
>Lont stood there, brow furrowed as he listened. He was confused. They were using battlesong to communicate.
>He then noticed that Vokreed was the only one from the Crystal Host to pay him any heed, staring him down.
>Then the Ethereal spoke. Confirming and bookending the private conversation of the Host. What piqued his curiosity was it was in plan Common.
>"Did he speak in Common due to me being here?"
>Before he could ask himself why, the Minor Champion moved up on him. He tracked the Ethereals' axe and breathed in relief that he put it away behind his shield.
>This relief however was cut short by Vokreeds question.
>Lont's mouth opened then closed as a flood of memories wracked his mind.
>The Anti in their radios Spiral made, as a means track those that use them and to protect against tampering. And of course he fought a core of the Solar Tyrant, made out of Anti, which he bashed at with his sword. He must of stunk to high heavens of the stuff.
>Razorback was guilty of using Anti, which is a threat to the Empire.
>He felt his throat dry up, forcing him to cough.
>That threatening look. What will happen to him or Razorback if he pleaded guilty? Will he be cut down on the spot. Perhaps that's why the Empire forces were so distant. What better opportunity to snuff out a bunch Anti-infected when they are too tired to fight back.
>But in the Basin Village of all places? Maybe this was their golden moment to do this rather than assault the Fortress.
>Yet...
>"Yet I was in the Empire numerous times and nopony batted an eye at me nor anyone else, not even Belregard said anything! So if its a threat to the Empire surely death isn't the only solution for it. No, no I'm overreacting. He has that look in his eyes because I am an Otherworldly being that reeks of Anti. He wants the truth, so I'll will oblige him."
>The winged Operator was silent for a heavy moment when the Ethereal asked his question. A cough escaped from Lont as his mouth was dry. Rapidly blinking he focused on Vokreeds four eyes. Determination was in his own.
>"He is an Ethereal, so I must lay out my case like one."
"Guilty. Guilty of harbouring the element known as Anti."
>Now or never.
"Addendum! It must be noted that Razorback was ignorant of the dangers Anti posed towards the Crystal Empire. For we used this element as a safety measure within our communication technology. If we had known the threat it has towards our esteemed allies we would not have used it to begin with, and in this regard we will remove all Anti from Razorback to ensure the security of the Crystal Empire."
>>371440
>He waves off the Commarender's worries with a small smile.
"It's fine, Ma'am. It was offered to me by those who originally wielded them. They woke up, right when I was checking their crypt for the restoration. I don't intend to use it for anything other than its original purpose. Hopefully, I never have to."
>Jeff looks over at another Lunar nearby scarring themselves.
>His turn, now. Or never.
>The Channeler focusing back onto him, he takes her words in and considers their meaning.
>On display for all to see. A mark he'll have to wear for the rest of his life.
>A mark only those who have felt the loss of other ponies... loss of your herd. The feeling is a universal pain to him. Human or pony, it didn't matter.
>A dedication to the sacrifice all here have made, to everyone that ever makes it.
>He looks back down at the blade, eyes close lost in thought as what to etch onto himself.
>Lots of cliche words that hold little meaning to the memorial go in and out of his mental list.
>What is something that anyone that looks upon him can relate to?
>Not just a word with a single meaning. Something that can transcend, apply to various aspects.
>To ponies, giving their lives for an honorable cause is almost to a fault. But it comes at a cost to those that survive. To not be able to have those family, friends, comrades, even would-be's beside them, herd or not, takes a massive toll.
>He felt that enough through Vestal, hours ago.
>But here's not much else you can do after they're gone. You can mourn, remember, carry on their will. What else CAN you do for those that are already dead?
>Jeff opens his eyes, focus set on a word.
>He drops to his knees for a more stable yet dignified position, bringing the blade up to his face. As if a dignified warrior of bygone eras.
>Mulling over his options for a canvas, he rules out the throat. His skin is a lot thinner than pony hide, and his armor usually covers his neck.
>Around the eyes and his nose were too small to etch anything worth across them.
>Jeff aims the tip of the blade toward his left jaw, closer to his chin and right before the corner of his mouth.
>Taking a deep breath and softly clenching, he touches the edge against his skin to get a feel for what's to come.
>He wasn't afraid of cutting himself, but merely silently bracing for the pain that the Void enchantment was going to bring.
>Remembering to use the verbal form of the word in EnKee, he starts the first letter near his chin and carves across his jawline up to his ear.
>For those that have selflessly given up that right, so that others may cherish it. To experience life fully is to honor their sacrifice.
>LIVE
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Synaptic Voidcleanse
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Iron Will
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Junior Batponies
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Proficient Lunar Military
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Proficient The Moors
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Senior Starborn
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
>He waves off the Commarender's worries with a small smile.
"It's fine, Ma'am. It was offered to me by those who originally wielded them. They woke up, right when I was checking their crypt for the restoration. I don't intend to use it for anything other than its original purpose. Hopefully, I never have to."
>Jeff looks over at another Lunar nearby scarring themselves.
>His turn, now. Or never.
>The Channeler focusing back onto him, he takes her words in and considers their meaning.
>On display for all to see. A mark he'll have to wear for the rest of his life.
>A mark only those who have felt the loss of other ponies... loss of your herd. The feeling is a universal pain to him. Human or pony, it didn't matter.
>A dedication to the sacrifice all here have made, to everyone that ever makes it.
>He looks back down at the blade, eyes close lost in thought as what to etch onto himself.
>Lots of cliche words that hold little meaning to the memorial go in and out of his mental list.
>What is something that anyone that looks upon him can relate to?
>Not just a word with a single meaning. Something that can transcend, apply to various aspects.
>To ponies, giving their lives for an honorable cause is almost to a fault. But it comes at a cost to those that survive. To not be able to have those family, friends, comrades, even would-be's beside them, herd or not, takes a massive toll.
>He felt that enough through Vestal, hours ago.
>But here's not much else you can do after they're gone. You can mourn, remember, carry on their will. What else CAN you do for those that are already dead?
>Jeff opens his eyes, focus set on a word.
>He drops to his knees for a more stable yet dignified position, bringing the blade up to his face. As if a dignified warrior of bygone eras.
>Mulling over his options for a canvas, he rules out the throat. His skin is a lot thinner than pony hide, and his armor usually covers his neck.
>Around the eyes and his nose were too small to etch anything worth across them.
>Jeff aims the tip of the blade toward his left jaw, closer to his chin and right before the corner of his mouth.
>Taking a deep breath and softly clenching, he touches the edge against his skin to get a feel for what's to come.
>He wasn't afraid of cutting himself, but merely silently bracing for the pain that the Void enchantment was going to bring.
>Remembering to use the verbal form of the word in EnKee, he starts the first letter near his chin and carves across his jawline up to his ear.
>For those that have selflessly given up that right, so that others may cherish it. To experience life fully is to honor their sacrifice.
>LIVE
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Synaptic Voidcleanse
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <E.Iron Will
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Junior Batponies
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Proficient Lunar Military
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Proficient The Moors
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <Senior Starborn
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
>>371452
>A response approaching amusement crosses Pareidolia's mind.
(It was a cultural reference, but I appreciate the information. The confluence of these circumstances feels orchestrated despite everything. Likely paranoia on my part. One can hope.)
>Feeling awake in a deep seated sense, he braces himself upright off the bed and inhales deeply.
(Strange clarity. Best to avoid attachment to these sensations. Long term residence on this plane is not part of the plan.)
>Clasping his helmet to his palm with a quick Sticky application, he dons it.
>Staring at the empty display, he reviews the recent events he experienced with the sort of lucidity only found from a deep, effective REM sleep.
(The controlled state of this room should be safe for electronic activation. Prolonged stay has determined the climate to be stable. May have been safe from the beginning. Not a major loss to do so now, however.)
>He reaches behind his head uncovering and pressing the activation switch before closing the protective cover once more.
>Nodding to Shiibo as she boots up, he quickly provides a concise elaboration of the current state of affairs including his efforts in creating a conceptual weapon and psionic discovery.
>Manifesting his unnamed graviton pulse "pistol", he provides a full encompassing view of it to the helmet's sensors as he attempts to contain a graviton.
[1d6 = 4]<Gravitic Coaxing
>He parts the canopy and steps out with his pack carried behind him.
>With a glance behind him, he wills the bed to return to its former state.
>Seeing the rest of the group congregated, he makes his way towards them and seats himself next to Hodch and Nibbles.
>Katyal's question garners a shallow nod from him as he unclasps a glove, presenting his hand towards Nibbles for a standard introductory inspection.
"I seem to have uncovered nascent psionicism. Nibbles, is there anything else on or in me that I should be aware of?"
>Noting the topics of potential threats and charting a travel route, he also switches his helmet's projector on with a free hand to display the maps from Spiral's Lab.
"For cross reference in the event they're needed."
>A response approaching amusement crosses Pareidolia's mind.
(It was a cultural reference, but I appreciate the information. The confluence of these circumstances feels orchestrated despite everything. Likely paranoia on my part. One can hope.)
>Feeling awake in a deep seated sense, he braces himself upright off the bed and inhales deeply.
(Strange clarity. Best to avoid attachment to these sensations. Long term residence on this plane is not part of the plan.)
>Clasping his helmet to his palm with a quick Sticky application, he dons it.
>Staring at the empty display, he reviews the recent events he experienced with the sort of lucidity only found from a deep, effective REM sleep.
(The controlled state of this room should be safe for electronic activation. Prolonged stay has determined the climate to be stable. May have been safe from the beginning. Not a major loss to do so now, however.)
>He reaches behind his head uncovering and pressing the activation switch before closing the protective cover once more.
>Nodding to Shiibo as she boots up, he quickly provides a concise elaboration of the current state of affairs including his efforts in creating a conceptual weapon and psionic discovery.
>Manifesting his unnamed graviton pulse "pistol", he provides a full encompassing view of it to the helmet's sensors as he attempts to contain a graviton.
[1d6 = 4]<Gravitic Coaxing
>He parts the canopy and steps out with his pack carried behind him.
>With a glance behind him, he wills the bed to return to its former state.
>Seeing the rest of the group congregated, he makes his way towards them and seats himself next to Hodch and Nibbles.
>Katyal's question garners a shallow nod from him as he unclasps a glove, presenting his hand towards Nibbles for a standard introductory inspection.
"I seem to have uncovered nascent psionicism. Nibbles, is there anything else on or in me that I should be aware of?"
>Noting the topics of potential threats and charting a travel route, he also switches his helmet's projector on with a free hand to display the maps from Spiral's Lab.
"For cross reference in the event they're needed."
>>371429
>Clemency gives the harpy aircraft a good walk around, almost as if he was conducting a pre-flight checklist on the thing
>So far, the theoretical aerodynamics the aircraft seemed to be made for impresses Clemency
>The aircraft looks like it can perform and handle most aerial maneuvers and with the weapons, provide good CAS
>He was a little confused by the symbols on the harpy vessel
>Only appearing when he was close to it
>"Thought it was dead, unless..."
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Senior Advanced Aerodynamics
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Senior Advanced Post-Orbital Technologies
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6 = 6] <Apprentice Aeronautics Engineering
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Proficient Aeronautics Theory & Implementation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <Observer Aerospace Navigator
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Graduate Advanced Human Aviation
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Senior Dual Jet-Turbine Aviator
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6 = 1] <Apprentice Engineer
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Teacher Fighter Jet Aviator
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Teacher Pilot
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6 = 2] <Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Graduate Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6 = 5] <Expert Wingman
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 6] <Expert Aviator
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Expert Perception
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>Hearing the Guillotine, Clemency is relieved to hear that she is fine all things considered
>Her initial question did make Clemencyy check the Airstreams in his immediate vicinity
>He did expect them to be more calm now since the fighting is over
*"It's good to hear you are well, Guillotine."*
>It's not surprising that she noticed the Construct fleet incoming
>But they really are focused on the Riftseeker's destruction to ignore the Guillotine's presence
>More credence given to the messages Clemency seen from them and Mercy speaking for them
*"The Constructs. They are only here for the Riftseeker. We are already in agreement with them to only allow them to fight and destroy it."*
>With the amount of Constructs coming, he was even more glad to not have stayed for the fighting
>Clemency does wonder if there would be any Basin Arena left after the Constructs are done
>Hearing the Cultist mare walk towards him, Clemency looks down to meet her gaze
"I'm just glad it isn't trying to kill me."
>Clemency did share a grimace with the leadmare
"Watermelon rind? Why that?"
>Nodding to agree with her, Clemency begins to search around for the silver case
>After pulling it out, he brings it before the pillar and inspect the digital symbols more
"It's Harpy alright. Ancient otherworld Harpy but there's extra symbols. I'm also not fluent in it."
>Hopefully the hardcase does something to help out
>Clemency gives the harpy aircraft a good walk around, almost as if he was conducting a pre-flight checklist on the thing
>So far, the theoretical aerodynamics the aircraft seemed to be made for impresses Clemency
>The aircraft looks like it can perform and handle most aerial maneuvers and with the weapons, provide good CAS
>He was a little confused by the symbols on the harpy vessel
>Only appearing when he was close to it
>"Thought it was dead, unless..."
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Senior Advanced Aerodynamics
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Senior Advanced Post-Orbital Technologies
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6 = 6] <Apprentice Aeronautics Engineering
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Proficient Aeronautics Theory & Implementation
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <Observer Aerospace Navigator
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Graduate Advanced Human Aviation
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Senior Dual Jet-Turbine Aviator
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6 = 1] <Apprentice Engineer
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11] <Teacher Fighter Jet Aviator
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Teacher Pilot
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6 = 2] <Apprentice Researcher
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <Graduate Single Engine Propeller Aviator
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8]
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6 = 5] <Expert Wingman
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 6] <Expert Aviator
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <Expert Perception
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>Hearing the Guillotine, Clemency is relieved to hear that she is fine all things considered
>Her initial question did make Clemencyy check the Airstreams in his immediate vicinity
>He did expect them to be more calm now since the fighting is over
*"It's good to hear you are well, Guillotine."*
>It's not surprising that she noticed the Construct fleet incoming
>But they really are focused on the Riftseeker's destruction to ignore the Guillotine's presence
>More credence given to the messages Clemency seen from them and Mercy speaking for them
*"The Constructs. They are only here for the Riftseeker. We are already in agreement with them to only allow them to fight and destroy it."*
>With the amount of Constructs coming, he was even more glad to not have stayed for the fighting
>Clemency does wonder if there would be any Basin Arena left after the Constructs are done
>Hearing the Cultist mare walk towards him, Clemency looks down to meet her gaze
"I'm just glad it isn't trying to kill me."
>Clemency did share a grimace with the leadmare
"Watermelon rind? Why that?"
>Nodding to agree with her, Clemency begins to search around for the silver case
>After pulling it out, he brings it before the pillar and inspect the digital symbols more
"It's Harpy alright. Ancient otherworld Harpy but there's extra symbols. I'm also not fluent in it."
>Hopefully the hardcase does something to help out
Two Breaches: A Renewed Struggle on the Surface & In Depths Untouched
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371558
File (): C94F666D7D10DEC5B05B36A871FA2ED6-2333076.jpg (2.2 MB, 2302x4096, Myrrir King.jpg)
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_aUIls1fwQ
>>371442
>Vomiting a stream of negligently absorbed hostile energies out, Mercy's state was not-quite-hating-everything-yet-but-I'm-getting-closer-every-second-to-it.
>Twisting about and diving straight into the encroaching Void, contamination of realspace heavily distorts the swamps and bogs surrounding her-
[1d6 = 4] <B.Iron Will
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 5] <Spectrum Dive: Breach
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <E.Flight
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
>Erratic, geometric crystalline ripples and breathing, erratic dark shapes flood into reality as you attempt to leap, dragging the mostly damaged cloud with all four hooves into a slightly slowed backwards roll.
>Void and Ethereal clash into each other, the first a profusion of claws, blades, tendrils, teeth, wrenched out shadows of Void Divers, among far worse sliding into view.
>Sections of the Ethereal Plane itself swing open, endless rows of subdued, barely functioning, damaged, or repairing Golems in lines far longer than you could rationally visualize, massive right handed weapons and left shields snapping upwards.
>Millions of quadruple eyes pulse, archaics turning to face down inherently hostile Void creatures, the closest already being torn apart by monstrosities that you had no names for.
>Then... he arrives:
>One of the few known beings that Moorites and Lunars had both agreed upon a name for, with no need to move in order to comprehend the infinite or less, he knew you existed, yet did not mind.. but was far less forgiving towards the Spirit Walker.
>At the extreme edges of vision and comprehension, far below you, vast fragmarents of murky, tinged silver coalesce, solidly transparent one-tenth of a second, corporeally transient the next, the form reflects Moonlight into the Void, back again, between, apart, and through.
>What might pass for a mountainous shard, or perhaps more correctly an imprint, extends towards you, or it may have been doing so.
>Thousands of hushed, whispering voices congregate together as it points.. elsewhere.
This is no place for an Equine, finite one. The Blasted wake. Escape, swiftly.
>Unbearably precise motions of fractal patterns shake realspace as backlashes from the Myrror King's mere presence rend the far less stable waves of higher spectrums, smashing into the cloud-chariot-raft, sending it, and you, on a rapid crash course you had no idea where-
[1d100 = 83] <Altitude
[1d100 = 57] <Backlash Intensity
[1d100 = 15] <Spectrum Overload: The Blind
[1d360 = 167] <Direction
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Myrror King: Desecration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Critical Void Infestation
[1d6 = 5] <The Black
>vs:
[1d6-1 = (2-1) = 1] <Archaic Ethereal Golems
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Archaic Ethereal Moss-Wisp Host: Return
[1d6 = 2] <Ethereal Plane: Realspace Subordination
>>371442
>Vomiting a stream of negligently absorbed hostile energies out, Mercy's state was not-quite-hating-everything-yet-but-I'm-getting-closer-every-second-to-it.
>Twisting about and diving straight into the encroaching Void, contamination of realspace heavily distorts the swamps and bogs surrounding her-
[1d6 = 4] <B.Iron Will
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 5] <Spectrum Dive: Breach
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11] <E.Flight
[1d6+7 = (1+7) = 8]
[1d6+7 = (4+7) = 11]
>Erratic, geometric crystalline ripples and breathing, erratic dark shapes flood into reality as you attempt to leap, dragging the mostly damaged cloud with all four hooves into a slightly slowed backwards roll.
>Void and Ethereal clash into each other, the first a profusion of claws, blades, tendrils, teeth, wrenched out shadows of Void Divers, among far worse sliding into view.
>Sections of the Ethereal Plane itself swing open, endless rows of subdued, barely functioning, damaged, or repairing Golems in lines far longer than you could rationally visualize, massive right handed weapons and left shields snapping upwards.
>Millions of quadruple eyes pulse, archaics turning to face down inherently hostile Void creatures, the closest already being torn apart by monstrosities that you had no names for.
>Then... he arrives:
>One of the few known beings that Moorites and Lunars had both agreed upon a name for, with no need to move in order to comprehend the infinite or less, he knew you existed, yet did not mind.. but was far less forgiving towards the Spirit Walker.
>At the extreme edges of vision and comprehension, far below you, vast fragmarents of murky, tinged silver coalesce, solidly transparent one-tenth of a second, corporeally transient the next, the form reflects Moonlight into the Void, back again, between, apart, and through.
>What might pass for a mountainous shard, or perhaps more correctly an imprint, extends towards you, or it may have been doing so.
>Thousands of hushed, whispering voices congregate together as it points.. elsewhere.
This is no place for an Equine, finite one. The Blasted wake. Escape, swiftly.
>Unbearably precise motions of fractal patterns shake realspace as backlashes from the Myrror King's mere presence rend the far less stable waves of higher spectrums, smashing into the cloud-chariot-raft, sending it, and you, on a rapid crash course you had no idea where-
[1d100 = 83] <Altitude
[1d100 = 57] <Backlash Intensity
[1d100 = 15] <Spectrum Overload: The Blind
[1d360 = 167] <Direction
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Myrror King: Desecration
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <Critical Void Infestation
[1d6 = 5] <The Black
>vs:
[1d6-1 = (2-1) = 1] <Archaic Ethereal Golems
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Archaic Ethereal Moss-Wisp Host: Return
[1d6 = 2] <Ethereal Plane: Realspace Subordination
>>371558
>There went Mercy, gone beyond her ability to keep track of. Odds were that she would head back to the Arena after a spell, but perhaps not. As far as Sunny knew, she was as good as removed from consideration.
>Turning back to sights-she-could-barely-comprehend and regret-for-bringing-into-this-phase-of-existence, all she could do was pull the cloud away from it.
>She felt the Overdark recoil and all but cease to exist, and yet what Mercy had done still held, only forcing her higher and higher into the spectrum, right to the very edge of what managed to remain.
>Then something much more coherent and at the same time less punctured her perception.
>She knew of this one, though could not quite remember from whom she had learned of it.
>Sunny was still unable to speak, she couldn't ask either of them to stop.
>She had been about to attempt to respond when she and the cloud she rode in on were suddenly and forcibly ejected, all she could do was cling for life as the sudden g forces very nearly knocked her off the cloud, her barely honed pegasus magic kicking in on instinct.
[1d6 = 6] < U.Flight
[1d6 = 4] < B.Cloud Shaping
[1d6 = 5]
>There went Mercy, gone beyond her ability to keep track of. Odds were that she would head back to the Arena after a spell, but perhaps not. As far as Sunny knew, she was as good as removed from consideration.
>Turning back to sights-she-could-barely-comprehend and regret-for-bringing-into-this-phase-of-existence, all she could do was pull the cloud away from it.
>She felt the Overdark recoil and all but cease to exist, and yet what Mercy had done still held, only forcing her higher and higher into the spectrum, right to the very edge of what managed to remain.
>Then something much more coherent and at the same time less punctured her perception.
>She knew of this one, though could not quite remember from whom she had learned of it.
>Sunny was still unable to speak, she couldn't ask either of them to stop.
>She had been about to attempt to respond when she and the cloud she rode in on were suddenly and forcibly ejected, all she could do was cling for life as the sudden g forces very nearly knocked her off the cloud, her barely honed pegasus magic kicking in on instinct.
[1d6 = 6] < U.Flight
[1d6 = 4] < B.Cloud Shaping
[1d6 = 5]
>>371443
"Pure silverine sheet exterior atop five ultra tight, stranded black Spectral silk layers from the Moors. Interior was an ultra fine, incredibly soft, fluffy, and warm sheaf of multicolored Crystal Empire lamb wool. Sixteen emeraldine braces across the saddle, Middle Dynasty pieces salvaged from a shipwreck.
Bright rubynine heart-shaped shield on the left side, black iron tower shield on the right in gold. Covered in pegasi decorations, mostly silver trimmed clouds, serrated hoofclaws and wingblades, short twin-beamed lances."
>Glaring southwards for several momarents, Shanis rolls her head onto the hoofrest heavily, left wing flicking in a tight, dismissive motion.
"You're a year and a half too late for that one. It's about four thousand miles southeast of here and buried under a hundred hooves of ice and snow, if not more now. One hoof is four inches by the way."
>Testing the thick, multilayered material, it had significant tensile strength under finely brushed, almost fuzzy outer weave.
>While it looked and felt like cotton there was little air transfer, easily trapping warmth.
>Probably waterproof, too.
>Left flipper raising, Nao curls it inwards to touch her side, then slowly uncurls it, flexing each claw out.
"Humans, being bipedal, do not have the same center of mass and stride that ponies do. It is easier for you to maneuver in tighter locations due to more flexibility, but you also do not have the same easy forward momarentum.
When we must travel on land it is easier to roll, but that makes us dizzy rather quickly. Most prefer the use of a chariot, sled, or occupying a pony's saddle. That is, if they do not mind our weight. We have technically the opposite problem."
>Snout crinkling briefly, the Polar seal's eyes squint before shaking her head in tiny motions.
"The inherent value of each depends on the individual in question. My Colony does not like extravagant or unnecessary, or both, modifications of gems, stones, and natural materials. We prefer objects to be left native if possible, unaltered is perhaps a better word, so I do not know for sure. Round is our favorite shape though."
"I tried to swim once. Sank faster than my last two jobs."
>Rapid scribbling and paper creases halt, an envelope set to the side in a dull purple cloud, Starglow picking up another to stare at.
>Shanis eyes the younger looking Crystal mare, ears flat in visible distaste as she writes.
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
"And what were those?"
"Not dying, and not screwing up. I dislike manabombs more than Constructs, and I really hate walking face first into an ice gouger."
"Never heard of one, but I don't like the name at all."
"Similar to a giant ten-legged wurm without the six eyes. Half the body is a mouth filled with diamond teeth, never see the rest unless they're dead."
"Ethereal or Ice Plane?"
"Native."
"Marental note number I-don't-know-which-this-is: never visit the Empire Wastelands."
"Pure silverine sheet exterior atop five ultra tight, stranded black Spectral silk layers from the Moors. Interior was an ultra fine, incredibly soft, fluffy, and warm sheaf of multicolored Crystal Empire lamb wool. Sixteen emeraldine braces across the saddle, Middle Dynasty pieces salvaged from a shipwreck.
Bright rubynine heart-shaped shield on the left side, black iron tower shield on the right in gold. Covered in pegasi decorations, mostly silver trimmed clouds, serrated hoofclaws and wingblades, short twin-beamed lances."
>Glaring southwards for several momarents, Shanis rolls her head onto the hoofrest heavily, left wing flicking in a tight, dismissive motion.
"You're a year and a half too late for that one. It's about four thousand miles southeast of here and buried under a hundred hooves of ice and snow, if not more now. One hoof is four inches by the way."
>Testing the thick, multilayered material, it had significant tensile strength under finely brushed, almost fuzzy outer weave.
>While it looked and felt like cotton there was little air transfer, easily trapping warmth.
>Probably waterproof, too.
>Left flipper raising, Nao curls it inwards to touch her side, then slowly uncurls it, flexing each claw out.
"Humans, being bipedal, do not have the same center of mass and stride that ponies do. It is easier for you to maneuver in tighter locations due to more flexibility, but you also do not have the same easy forward momarentum.
When we must travel on land it is easier to roll, but that makes us dizzy rather quickly. Most prefer the use of a chariot, sled, or occupying a pony's saddle. That is, if they do not mind our weight. We have technically the opposite problem."
>Snout crinkling briefly, the Polar seal's eyes squint before shaking her head in tiny motions.
"The inherent value of each depends on the individual in question. My Colony does not like extravagant or unnecessary, or both, modifications of gems, stones, and natural materials. We prefer objects to be left native if possible, unaltered is perhaps a better word, so I do not know for sure. Round is our favorite shape though."
"I tried to swim once. Sank faster than my last two jobs."
>Rapid scribbling and paper creases halt, an envelope set to the side in a dull purple cloud, Starglow picking up another to stare at.
>Shanis eyes the younger looking Crystal mare, ears flat in visible distaste as she writes.
[1d6+2 = (1+2) = 3] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
"And what were those?"
"Not dying, and not screwing up. I dislike manabombs more than Constructs, and I really hate walking face first into an ice gouger."
"Never heard of one, but I don't like the name at all."
"Similar to a giant ten-legged wurm without the six eyes. Half the body is a mouth filled with diamond teeth, never see the rest unless they're dead."
"Ethereal or Ice Plane?"
"Native."
"Marental note number I-don't-know-which-this-is: never visit the Empire Wastelands."
>>371453
>Rigidly unmoving until you cough, Vokreed's eyes shutter closed and open multiple times.
"Admission of cri-"
>Colors rippling at your interruption, the Ethereal bends forwards one degree, which took up at least half a meter of space.
>The crystalline Golem's head swivels to note a number of Operators before settling back on you, silent for half a minute.
"Primary, secondary, and tertiary admissions of long standing criminal behavior recorded. The actions of Razorback Company are deemed willfully hostile and willfully negligent against the Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, and Empire. The inactions of Razorback Company are deemed the same: willfully hostile and willfully negligent against the same.
Primary Razorback Company affiliate-liasion to the Crystal Empire admitted to unauthorized and illegal ownership of objects capable of producing, storing, and-or utilizing the corrosive Otherworld effect known as Anti."
>Right hand lifting, the forefinger points at your helmet, a thin, coherent line emitting from the tip, then at the armor, Mural blade, last the Spellslinger in quick order.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Traceline
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Ethereal Eye
"Your primary admission of guilt is accepted and recorded as absolute truth.
Primary evidence collected: examination of helmet, armor, close combat weapon, unknown hybrid close combat-ranged weapon, severe Anti contamination. Biological disruptions detected, moderate.
Secondary evidence collected: moderate to extreme Anti exposure detected throughout Razorback Company.
Admission of willful ignorance: negligent. I deem this statement as suspicious, further investigation is required.
Possibility of innocent behavior: zero."
>Pulling the massive shield back to rest against his lower chest, the Ethereal's left shoulder brightens, sprouting five tiny, diffuse plant-like tendrils.
"The Ethereal Plane, under Grand Champion Belregard's proven claim, disallow Razorback Company from entering all regions claimed by the Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, Empire, and Changeling Hive. Furthermore, the stated regions are granted unrestricted and irrevocable rights to receive at-request reinforcemarents with no limitations allowed.
Exclusion One: lead stallion of venerated Naliyna Remostrine, Crystal Kingdom, former Third Siege Mareauder. Unrestricted access is granted.
Exclusion Two: lead stallion of Sapphire Kiwi, Lunar General. Unrestricted access is granted."
>Giant hand setting down on the shield, the Minor Champion stands upright, unmoving for another ten seconds, then all four eyes narrow again, tapping the shield's top with both thumbs.
"Where and when did Razorback Company gain access to Anti?"
>Rigidly unmoving until you cough, Vokreed's eyes shutter closed and open multiple times.
"Admission of cri-"
>Colors rippling at your interruption, the Ethereal bends forwards one degree, which took up at least half a meter of space.
>The crystalline Golem's head swivels to note a number of Operators before settling back on you, silent for half a minute.
"Primary, secondary, and tertiary admissions of long standing criminal behavior recorded. The actions of Razorback Company are deemed willfully hostile and willfully negligent against the Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, and Empire. The inactions of Razorback Company are deemed the same: willfully hostile and willfully negligent against the same.
Primary Razorback Company affiliate-liasion to the Crystal Empire admitted to unauthorized and illegal ownership of objects capable of producing, storing, and-or utilizing the corrosive Otherworld effect known as Anti."
>Right hand lifting, the forefinger points at your helmet, a thin, coherent line emitting from the tip, then at the armor, Mural blade, last the Spellslinger in quick order.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Traceline
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Ethereal Eye
"Your primary admission of guilt is accepted and recorded as absolute truth.
Primary evidence collected: examination of helmet, armor, close combat weapon, unknown hybrid close combat-ranged weapon, severe Anti contamination. Biological disruptions detected, moderate.
Secondary evidence collected: moderate to extreme Anti exposure detected throughout Razorback Company.
Admission of willful ignorance: negligent. I deem this statement as suspicious, further investigation is required.
Possibility of innocent behavior: zero."
>Pulling the massive shield back to rest against his lower chest, the Ethereal's left shoulder brightens, sprouting five tiny, diffuse plant-like tendrils.
"The Ethereal Plane, under Grand Champion Belregard's proven claim, disallow Razorback Company from entering all regions claimed by the Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, Empire, and Changeling Hive. Furthermore, the stated regions are granted unrestricted and irrevocable rights to receive at-request reinforcemarents with no limitations allowed.
Exclusion One: lead stallion of venerated Naliyna Remostrine, Crystal Kingdom, former Third Siege Mareauder. Unrestricted access is granted.
Exclusion Two: lead stallion of Sapphire Kiwi, Lunar General. Unrestricted access is granted."
>Giant hand setting down on the shield, the Minor Champion stands upright, unmoving for another ten seconds, then all four eyes narrow again, tapping the shield's top with both thumbs.
"Where and when did Razorback Company gain access to Anti?"
>>371456
>Pushing the Channelger out of her way with an undignified grunt, another Lunar Guard unicorn takes her place, offering a pair of ritual blades to the next ponies in line.
"Don't mind her, but do be careful what you use and why. Right now all Lunar crypts, vaults, armories, reliquaries, barracks, Arenas, you name it, are considered off limits for reintegration. We don't have the numbers and trying to make batponies not fill one with entire militias is impossible.
Besides, there's only five platunes of Luminaries right now and four of them are here trying to remove everything contaminating this place."
>Aiding an earth mare in scoring her ears, another squad leader chimes in with a dry tone.
"You must mean the Lumineighers. There are four full platunes with one mostly filled squad and two individuals currently in training. After tonight I do believe there will be calls for new battlelines to be formed."
"That's not the right name to call them."
"It is an honorable and amusing term. They use it quite often for themselves as well."
"Why do I have to keep hearing puns?"
"For the same reason that I have to keep breathing: to correct mistakes and prevent new ones when possible. Mistakes, not puns."
"Are you honest or do you just tell everypony that?"
"Only the ones I like."
>Shutting down your physical perceptions to barely perceptible amounts, the familiar, initial burning-freezing-tearing of Void subsides to minor annoyances.
>Cleanly holding the blade's tip against skin, as you trace the crawling energies firmly upwards in precise motions, mental pain strikes as the first symbol is completed, a second, third, then the final one.
>Holding still as the ritual blade quiets, a bitter sense of calm descends from the Moors itself while an equal one rises within your psyche.
>Flickers of comprehension fold into themselves, images of the short, nearly catastrophic defense pan outwards.
>What was given freely had been honorably kept, and would be upheld as a standard to rally behind.
>Though Basin Village was once held as holy, little knowledge remained of how or yet, yet newly bound by will and blood once more, you hear them:
>Every action, breath, motion, and thought is accompanied, or accompaneighed, by the Moors itself, as much a part of the inhabitants as they were macrocosms to it.
>As it lives, so must you.
>The only expectations that remained were individual.
>Dimly aware of a human, rather, a woman that you had never seen before, standing in front of you, two vibrantly green eyes sparkle.
>Bending forwards at the waist, the woman's left hand raises to place the forefinger on her lips, speaking in a completely flat tone.
>It wasn't a voice.
"Isn't this the strangest place to meet again, but oh well. It happens.
So, how does it feel being here, hm? Is it rewarding? Enticing? Fulfilling? Depressing? Or maybe, just maybe this is the only time you've ever felt honest remorse?
See, there's this problem called 'I don't know much about this human other than he's a real smug bastard some times', but I can forgive that. Really, it's not that hard. Most of the time. Although.. some of us have been known to hold grudges. For centuries even!
After all it took a whole lot of work to build the most perfect, great big entrance until it's just right. And some millennia later a bunch of bipeds stumble by, then it's gone, just like BOOM!"
>Right finger and thumb snapping, an impression of complacency burns off, exposing a furious visage that didn't move even as ponies walk through it.
"Since you can't seem to find yourself all that well, I'll help. I am quite good at that. Honestly it's like a hobby but I treat it as work. Keeping score is awful petty, which I can be. Keep this in mind: I don't like being told no."
>The right hand reaches out to you, palm upwards.. entirely covered in small, green thorns as the figure smiles coldly.
"Normally this sort of thing takes a while, but I'll make this tiiiiiny little exception because you seem to be sincere right now. So, you can either accept, OR, you have no choice other than to take the first punishmarent that crosses my tiny little pink and green bird brain."
[1d6 = 2]
>Pushing the Channelger out of her way with an undignified grunt, another Lunar Guard unicorn takes her place, offering a pair of ritual blades to the next ponies in line.
"Don't mind her, but do be careful what you use and why. Right now all Lunar crypts, vaults, armories, reliquaries, barracks, Arenas, you name it, are considered off limits for reintegration. We don't have the numbers and trying to make batponies not fill one with entire militias is impossible.
Besides, there's only five platunes of Luminaries right now and four of them are here trying to remove everything contaminating this place."
>Aiding an earth mare in scoring her ears, another squad leader chimes in with a dry tone.
"You must mean the Lumineighers. There are four full platunes with one mostly filled squad and two individuals currently in training. After tonight I do believe there will be calls for new battlelines to be formed."
"That's not the right name to call them."
"It is an honorable and amusing term. They use it quite often for themselves as well."
"Why do I have to keep hearing puns?"
"For the same reason that I have to keep breathing: to correct mistakes and prevent new ones when possible. Mistakes, not puns."
"Are you honest or do you just tell everypony that?"
"Only the ones I like."
>Shutting down your physical perceptions to barely perceptible amounts, the familiar, initial burning-freezing-tearing of Void subsides to minor annoyances.
>Cleanly holding the blade's tip against skin, as you trace the crawling energies firmly upwards in precise motions, mental pain strikes as the first symbol is completed, a second, third, then the final one.
>Holding still as the ritual blade quiets, a bitter sense of calm descends from the Moors itself while an equal one rises within your psyche.
>Flickers of comprehension fold into themselves, images of the short, nearly catastrophic defense pan outwards.
>What was given freely had been honorably kept, and would be upheld as a standard to rally behind.
>Though Basin Village was once held as holy, little knowledge remained of how or yet, yet newly bound by will and blood once more, you hear them:
>Every action, breath, motion, and thought is accompanied, or accompaneighed, by the Moors itself, as much a part of the inhabitants as they were macrocosms to it.
>As it lives, so must you.
>The only expectations that remained were individual.
>Dimly aware of a human, rather, a woman that you had never seen before, standing in front of you, two vibrantly green eyes sparkle.
>Bending forwards at the waist, the woman's left hand raises to place the forefinger on her lips, speaking in a completely flat tone.
>It wasn't a voice.
"Isn't this the strangest place to meet again, but oh well. It happens.
So, how does it feel being here, hm? Is it rewarding? Enticing? Fulfilling? Depressing? Or maybe, just maybe this is the only time you've ever felt honest remorse?
See, there's this problem called 'I don't know much about this human other than he's a real smug bastard some times', but I can forgive that. Really, it's not that hard. Most of the time. Although.. some of us have been known to hold grudges. For centuries even!
After all it took a whole lot of work to build the most perfect, great big entrance until it's just right. And some millennia later a bunch of bipeds stumble by, then it's gone, just like BOOM!"
>Right finger and thumb snapping, an impression of complacency burns off, exposing a furious visage that didn't move even as ponies walk through it.
"Since you can't seem to find yourself all that well, I'll help. I am quite good at that. Honestly it's like a hobby but I treat it as work. Keeping score is awful petty, which I can be. Keep this in mind: I don't like being told no."
>The right hand reaches out to you, palm upwards.. entirely covered in small, green thorns as the figure smiles coldly.
"Normally this sort of thing takes a while, but I'll make this tiiiiiny little exception because you seem to be sincere right now. So, you can either accept, OR, you have no choice other than to take the first punishmarent that crosses my tiny little pink and green bird brain."
[1d6 = 2]
>>371615
>The conversation regarding the Luminaries is muddled in Jeff's mental backround as he focuses on the task at hand: marking himself for the rest of his life.
>Jeff carves one symbol after another across his left jawline. Finally he finishes the word he decided on, the Void burning on multiple senses across the side of his face.
>But then it subsides. All his senses numb up. His head de-clutters more than it has ever been in the last several years.
>He idly thinks over the importance of the Moors, and its entire system of inhabitants all intertwined as one. Every aspect cannot live without the other. The Moors... was its own little universe.
>Just like how Tallus as a whole was. And whether or not Razorback and humans as a whole were concerned, they were all part of that universe now. They had to live in it, just like everyone else. Within it.
>As Jeff remains kneeling to let the burning stave itself off, a presence makes itself known to him. Right in front of him. Not the Channeler, or the other Lunar just talking to her, or any others around just now.
>A woman, but just the presence. He can sense the form, without a visual of it. Only the eyes make it through his perception. Piercing sparkling emerald eyes.
>She speaks, but there is no voice. Yet he hears her monotone in his head.
>Despite not recognizing her, this is apparently not the first time they've met.
>Any fear or apprehension gave in to exhaustion and curiosity, at this point.
>SHOULD he know this entity?
[1d6 = 2] <Intuition
>He keeps his inner thoughts to a minimum, not sure if she can read him like a book. Given the circumstances, it was probably.
>She asks how he feels, having been brought to this point. Inevitable was a good word. This feels... pivotal to him.
>Daring not to talk back and potentially piss her off, Jeff remains silent as he observes her monologue at him, about him.
>What entrance? What had she built or helped build that they destroyed?
>A snap of her unseen fingers, and the flat face burns away to a much more appropriate angry facade.
>That's more like it, assuming the shit he and humanity have apparently pulled against this entity so far.
>She'll... help? Find himself?
>Yeah. That's what he's felt like, for a while, hasn't it?
>He's felt... out of sorts. He can't commit... not sure what he should be doing anymore.
>She extends a hand out to him. Covered in thorns. A cold smile.
>This offer wasn't out of the goodness if its heart.
>Should he really trust this entity, at a time like this, offering such a thing?
>Jeff looks at to where the entity's hand should be.
>For all he knows, she could be an after effect from the Void blade. Some interesting trick from a caster? Or is he really crossing paths with some obscure being who's only focus was on him right now?
>So it was either help him unfuck himself, or take a mysterious punishment.
>What did it mean by that last part, though.
>...my tiny little pink and green bird brain.
>A hint to its true form? A gryphon, maybe a harpy?
>The long night was taking its toll on him. Jeff was too tired to refuse, but that didn't mean he was going to agree to something blindly.
>He begins to raise a hand to meet her's, but stops halfway toward the thorny hand.
"As nice as helping straighten myself out sounds, as I'd willingly accept your offer, why should I trust you? Who, what are you? What guarantee do you have that you actually want to help me?"
>The conversation regarding the Luminaries is muddled in Jeff's mental backround as he focuses on the task at hand: marking himself for the rest of his life.
>Jeff carves one symbol after another across his left jawline. Finally he finishes the word he decided on, the Void burning on multiple senses across the side of his face.
>But then it subsides. All his senses numb up. His head de-clutters more than it has ever been in the last several years.
>He idly thinks over the importance of the Moors, and its entire system of inhabitants all intertwined as one. Every aspect cannot live without the other. The Moors... was its own little universe.
>Just like how Tallus as a whole was. And whether or not Razorback and humans as a whole were concerned, they were all part of that universe now. They had to live in it, just like everyone else. Within it.
>As Jeff remains kneeling to let the burning stave itself off, a presence makes itself known to him. Right in front of him. Not the Channeler, or the other Lunar just talking to her, or any others around just now.
>A woman, but just the presence. He can sense the form, without a visual of it. Only the eyes make it through his perception. Piercing sparkling emerald eyes.
>She speaks, but there is no voice. Yet he hears her monotone in his head.
>Despite not recognizing her, this is apparently not the first time they've met.
>Any fear or apprehension gave in to exhaustion and curiosity, at this point.
>SHOULD he know this entity?
[1d6 = 2] <Intuition
>He keeps his inner thoughts to a minimum, not sure if she can read him like a book. Given the circumstances, it was probably.
>She asks how he feels, having been brought to this point. Inevitable was a good word. This feels... pivotal to him.
>Daring not to talk back and potentially piss her off, Jeff remains silent as he observes her monologue at him, about him.
>What entrance? What had she built or helped build that they destroyed?
>A snap of her unseen fingers, and the flat face burns away to a much more appropriate angry facade.
>That's more like it, assuming the shit he and humanity have apparently pulled against this entity so far.
>She'll... help? Find himself?
>Yeah. That's what he's felt like, for a while, hasn't it?
>He's felt... out of sorts. He can't commit... not sure what he should be doing anymore.
>She extends a hand out to him. Covered in thorns. A cold smile.
>This offer wasn't out of the goodness if its heart.
>Should he really trust this entity, at a time like this, offering such a thing?
>Jeff looks at to where the entity's hand should be.
>For all he knows, she could be an after effect from the Void blade. Some interesting trick from a caster? Or is he really crossing paths with some obscure being who's only focus was on him right now?
>So it was either help him unfuck himself, or take a mysterious punishment.
>What did it mean by that last part, though.
>...my tiny little pink and green bird brain.
>A hint to its true form? A gryphon, maybe a harpy?
>The long night was taking its toll on him. Jeff was too tired to refuse, but that didn't mean he was going to agree to something blindly.
>He begins to raise a hand to meet her's, but stops halfway toward the thorny hand.
"As nice as helping straighten myself out sounds, as I'd willingly accept your offer, why should I trust you? Who, what are you? What guarantee do you have that you actually want to help me?"
Taking A Lead, Breakdown in Communication, The Storm King's Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371626
>>371457
>Functional and online in record time, 'Shiibo' checks her previous background task list, then offers a short, acknowledging bow.
>The AI studiously records your words, facial expressions, and runs a voice analysis, just in case, which clears as truthful.
>Adding new topics to correlate later, the limited technological systems register minute shifts in local electromagnetic spectra, which the avatar stiffens at.
>Examining the weapon as best she could, then comparing to her library, what you felt was not sensing external electrical fields: an unappreciatively fast particle had moved into close proximity, remaining around you, as if to find competence.
>It was expecting, and appraising, at the same time.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
'This is highly uncomfortable. And nonsensical. I can feel unknown pressures throughout the helmet's material. Local EMF distortions present, causes speculative, sir. Note that my following words are implied under consensual duress.
The implications of a single semi, fully, or autonomously magical Graviton becoming acclimated and attuned to the usage of a single individual are.. possible.
There remains a potential for direct neural connection based upon your physical, mental, physiological, psychological, and Elemental attunement to Gravity-based conceptual particles.'
>Regardless of Shiibo's words and phrasing, a selection of respectful Gravitons stay in the vicinity of the Storm King's Room.
>Each remains potentially accessible, though wary.
>Sitting back from her unidentifiable MRE remnants, Katyal's right hand lifts to cover her mouth, a deliberate expression of sincere apology on her face.
"You got the worst result. Don't want it, ignore it until there's a better something or other."
>Lonestar stares at her in disbelief, Hodch merely curious, the woman's eyes snapping between them.
"...the fuck is with you two? It is! Look dude, just ignore any urges until they change, then something better might roll up."
"Such as?"
>Stone faced at the not-at-all-innocent unicorn's question, Katyal points her left pinky finger at Lone.
"I'm not saying another word unless or until YOU experience the first offering from Tallus. I'm staying here despite all odds, so fuck you, but-"
>Switching to her forefinger, now pointing at you, Katyal's expression softens, a mixture of severe worry and regret apparent on her face.
"I don't know you, neither does Tallus, so this is your choice: you can let her understand what you need, or tell her that you're not interested. If you don't like her first choice then all I can say is this: wait until you feel different offerings.
Best I can say is this: don't push against, or for, something you don't want to live out. Different world, different rules."
>Arms folding together, Katyal leans backwards as she shrugs.
"And I just remembered the dipshit's name that joined the Rogues Circle in Las Pegasus: Pikeman. A few Elites grabbed him from Tartarus Isle, they asked Shanis first of course. Brought him back and slashed his throat, then dumped his body."
>Dark eyes narrowing at you briefly, the Moor cat stands up on Hodch's saddle, giving a sharp nod.
>Both wings flop outwards as she makes a full body stretch and yawn, pausing to sniff at one front paw, then the other.
>Leaping up and streaking across the Room, Nibbles lands on your right shoulder, clinging to the armor's exterior briefly before flailing around in panic.
>Jumping off and hanging in the air before you, her face creases heavily in distaste, sniffing the air around her several times.
>Making a severe frown, Nibbles stares into the black sapphirine helmet, right eyebrow raising as the left lowers.
>Head cocking, the outermost left claw points your chest, then her, creates a precise circle in air, mimics retching, and finally holds the left paw over her mouth.
>Wings flapping backwards in a somersault and spinning around in air, the Moor cat lands on Katyal's lap, sitting down politely.
>Performing a series of expressive motions for half a minute, the First Responder's face shifts from stolid to concerned.
"If I'm getting this right, she says your armor's emitting a non-physical acid, but some burning-cold sphere is now keeping you safe. It doesn't hurt her when she's not.. directly touching. Is that why you don't like being near him?"
>Receiving three quick nods in a row, concern shifts to revulsion as her left hand twitches.
"Neither corrupted or tainted, acts like Acid but isn't, and simply touching it.... your armor's fucking CRAWLING with Anti dude, I-"
>Paused by a hiss, Nibbles' head swivels around, nodding at Lonestar.
"Him too? Where and what?"
>Sitting back, the bat winged feline flexes out all of her claws, pantomiming swinging a bat with both legs, then mimics a club.
"Both weapons?"
>A final nod is given, Nibbles flopping on her side to stare at Hodch, tail flicking slowly as the Reservist's face blanches, half-shouting at the feline.
"How was I supposed to know?! I've never studied, touched, or seen a single object containing Anti outside the Sunglobes, and those are safe unless fractured! And if YOU knew it, why not tell me!?"
>Whiskers twitching once, the batcat takes on a glare, pointing at you, then Lonestar.
"Whomever said I could recognize Anti was, or is, a liar, so I w-"
"Hold your ass for a minute Hodch!"
>Reaching around to pick up the mythril branch and lay it across his legs, then removing his baton to wave it in a small circle, the naval man scowls.
"Spiral shaped this one, and made this because my old baton was in bad shape. You're saying Pare's armor and both of these contain that shit?"
"Dude's armor burned her paws, but not physically, so.. yeah. Both of you and probably every human in Razorback are super-fucked, so whatever happens don't touch me or I will break your faces."
>Glancing at the projections, Hodch sighs as Lonestar stands up fuming, stepping out from the circle entrance into the OL-3.
"We have a much bigger problem than where we're going.."
>Functional and online in record time, 'Shiibo' checks her previous background task list, then offers a short, acknowledging bow.
>The AI studiously records your words, facial expressions, and runs a voice analysis, just in case, which clears as truthful.
>Adding new topics to correlate later, the limited technological systems register minute shifts in local electromagnetic spectra, which the avatar stiffens at.
>Examining the weapon as best she could, then comparing to her library, what you felt was not sensing external electrical fields: an unappreciatively fast particle had moved into close proximity, remaining around you, as if to find competence.
>It was expecting, and appraising, at the same time.
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
'This is highly uncomfortable. And nonsensical. I can feel unknown pressures throughout the helmet's material. Local EMF distortions present, causes speculative, sir. Note that my following words are implied under consensual duress.
The implications of a single semi, fully, or autonomously magical Graviton becoming acclimated and attuned to the usage of a single individual are.. possible.
There remains a potential for direct neural connection based upon your physical, mental, physiological, psychological, and Elemental attunement to Gravity-based conceptual particles.'
>Regardless of Shiibo's words and phrasing, a selection of respectful Gravitons stay in the vicinity of the Storm King's Room.
>Each remains potentially accessible, though wary.
>Sitting back from her unidentifiable MRE remnants, Katyal's right hand lifts to cover her mouth, a deliberate expression of sincere apology on her face.
"You got the worst result. Don't want it, ignore it until there's a better something or other."
>Lonestar stares at her in disbelief, Hodch merely curious, the woman's eyes snapping between them.
"...the fuck is with you two? It is! Look dude, just ignore any urges until they change, then something better might roll up."
"Such as?"
>Stone faced at the not-at-all-innocent unicorn's question, Katyal points her left pinky finger at Lone.
"I'm not saying another word unless or until YOU experience the first offering from Tallus. I'm staying here despite all odds, so fuck you, but-"
>Switching to her forefinger, now pointing at you, Katyal's expression softens, a mixture of severe worry and regret apparent on her face.
"I don't know you, neither does Tallus, so this is your choice: you can let her understand what you need, or tell her that you're not interested. If you don't like her first choice then all I can say is this: wait until you feel different offerings.
Best I can say is this: don't push against, or for, something you don't want to live out. Different world, different rules."
>Arms folding together, Katyal leans backwards as she shrugs.
"And I just remembered the dipshit's name that joined the Rogues Circle in Las Pegasus: Pikeman. A few Elites grabbed him from Tartarus Isle, they asked Shanis first of course. Brought him back and slashed his throat, then dumped his body."
>Dark eyes narrowing at you briefly, the Moor cat stands up on Hodch's saddle, giving a sharp nod.
>Both wings flop outwards as she makes a full body stretch and yawn, pausing to sniff at one front paw, then the other.
>Leaping up and streaking across the Room, Nibbles lands on your right shoulder, clinging to the armor's exterior briefly before flailing around in panic.
>Jumping off and hanging in the air before you, her face creases heavily in distaste, sniffing the air around her several times.
>Making a severe frown, Nibbles stares into the black sapphirine helmet, right eyebrow raising as the left lowers.
>Head cocking, the outermost left claw points your chest, then her, creates a precise circle in air, mimics retching, and finally holds the left paw over her mouth.
>Wings flapping backwards in a somersault and spinning around in air, the Moor cat lands on Katyal's lap, sitting down politely.
>Performing a series of expressive motions for half a minute, the First Responder's face shifts from stolid to concerned.
"If I'm getting this right, she says your armor's emitting a non-physical acid, but some burning-cold sphere is now keeping you safe. It doesn't hurt her when she's not.. directly touching. Is that why you don't like being near him?"
>Receiving three quick nods in a row, concern shifts to revulsion as her left hand twitches.
"Neither corrupted or tainted, acts like Acid but isn't, and simply touching it.... your armor's fucking CRAWLING with Anti dude, I-"
>Paused by a hiss, Nibbles' head swivels around, nodding at Lonestar.
"Him too? Where and what?"
>Sitting back, the bat winged feline flexes out all of her claws, pantomiming swinging a bat with both legs, then mimics a club.
"Both weapons?"
>A final nod is given, Nibbles flopping on her side to stare at Hodch, tail flicking slowly as the Reservist's face blanches, half-shouting at the feline.
"How was I supposed to know?! I've never studied, touched, or seen a single object containing Anti outside the Sunglobes, and those are safe unless fractured! And if YOU knew it, why not tell me!?"
>Whiskers twitching once, the batcat takes on a glare, pointing at you, then Lonestar.
"Whomever said I could recognize Anti was, or is, a liar, so I w-"
"Hold your ass for a minute Hodch!"
>Reaching around to pick up the mythril branch and lay it across his legs, then removing his baton to wave it in a small circle, the naval man scowls.
"Spiral shaped this one, and made this because my old baton was in bad shape. You're saying Pare's armor and both of these contain that shit?"
"Dude's armor burned her paws, but not physically, so.. yeah. Both of you and probably every human in Razorback are super-fucked, so whatever happens don't touch me or I will break your faces."
>Glancing at the projections, Hodch sighs as Lonestar stands up fuming, stepping out from the circle entrance into the OL-3.
"We have a much bigger problem than where we're going.."
>>371614
>"Good he accepted my addendum. Oh. Oh piss."
>Lont's jaw tightened as Vokreed stated that Razorback, himself included, were being "wilfully hostile" towards the Empire by not knowing about Anti.
>Ignorance wasn't a valid defence in the Ethereals' eyes.
>Why, why did none of the ponies in Razorback bring up this issue with Anti before?
>He pinched the bridge of his brow in growing frustration.
>After all this time of helping the Empire, he has now been barred from entering any of its territories because of the word of this one Ethereal.
"Explanation on Primary Evidence. My weaponry, armour and other equipment along with my own person being contaminated with Anti is due to fighting against a Core of the Solar Tyrant. Its destruction had saturated me with Anti."
>Lont gestured with a hand back towards the other humans that were around the Basin Village still.
"Explanation on Secondary Evidence. It was not just the one Core of the Solar Tyrant that was destroyed within the Fortress of Razorback. Their destruction saturated all personnel, both human and pony. These explanations along with our use of Anti within our communication technology is to highlight that our intentions are not 'wilfully hostile' towards the Empire and all related territories."
>The Operator glanced towards the Empire Host then back to Vokreed, particularly the tendrils sprouting from his shoulder.
"I must plead that there be a distinction made between 'wilfully hostile' and wilful negligence. Razorbacks' actions, MY actions, in assisting the Empire adds credence to our claim of general ignorance of Anti and its contaminating properties."
>None of the ponies told them that Anti was a danger to the Empire, not Tipper, not Naliyna and not even Spiral.
>Spiral.
>The Marquis was the one that fitted Anti into all their radios, he must of known of the dangers surely. But where did he get Anti from? Lont didn't know. It was dawning on him in his fatigued state that this situation has occurred because no one asked him where he got it from.
>"Lucky and now Spiral. We just accept things at face value don't we? Never once doing the most basic of background checks."
>Lont looked towards one of the Matrices longingly before answering. His bed was there, so close yet so far.
"Over a year ago a highly esteemed pony within Razorback known as Spiral supplied and fitted our communication equipment with Anti as a protective measure. I do not know how he had access to Anti nor where he obtained it. It never occurred to us to question him, for why would we do so to one of our most respected members of Razorback on a subject matter we knew nothing of."
>How stupidly naïve of everyone. Then again none of the other ponies brought it up as an issue. Did...Did they not know of the use of Anti at all? That has to be it, that is the only logical explanation.
>"Good he accepted my addendum. Oh. Oh piss."
>Lont's jaw tightened as Vokreed stated that Razorback, himself included, were being "wilfully hostile" towards the Empire by not knowing about Anti.
>Ignorance wasn't a valid defence in the Ethereals' eyes.
>Why, why did none of the ponies in Razorback bring up this issue with Anti before?
>He pinched the bridge of his brow in growing frustration.
>After all this time of helping the Empire, he has now been barred from entering any of its territories because of the word of this one Ethereal.
"Explanation on Primary Evidence. My weaponry, armour and other equipment along with my own person being contaminated with Anti is due to fighting against a Core of the Solar Tyrant. Its destruction had saturated me with Anti."
>Lont gestured with a hand back towards the other humans that were around the Basin Village still.
"Explanation on Secondary Evidence. It was not just the one Core of the Solar Tyrant that was destroyed within the Fortress of Razorback. Their destruction saturated all personnel, both human and pony. These explanations along with our use of Anti within our communication technology is to highlight that our intentions are not 'wilfully hostile' towards the Empire and all related territories."
>The Operator glanced towards the Empire Host then back to Vokreed, particularly the tendrils sprouting from his shoulder.
"I must plead that there be a distinction made between 'wilfully hostile' and wilful negligence. Razorbacks' actions, MY actions, in assisting the Empire adds credence to our claim of general ignorance of Anti and its contaminating properties."
>None of the ponies told them that Anti was a danger to the Empire, not Tipper, not Naliyna and not even Spiral.
>Spiral.
>The Marquis was the one that fitted Anti into all their radios, he must of known of the dangers surely. But where did he get Anti from? Lont didn't know. It was dawning on him in his fatigued state that this situation has occurred because no one asked him where he got it from.
>"Lucky and now Spiral. We just accept things at face value don't we? Never once doing the most basic of background checks."
>Lont looked towards one of the Matrices longingly before answering. His bed was there, so close yet so far.
"Over a year ago a highly esteemed pony within Razorback known as Spiral supplied and fitted our communication equipment with Anti as a protective measure. I do not know how he had access to Anti nor where he obtained it. It never occurred to us to question him, for why would we do so to one of our most respected members of Razorback on a subject matter we knew nothing of."
>How stupidly naïve of everyone. Then again none of the other ponies brought it up as an issue. Did...Did they not know of the use of Anti at all? That has to be it, that is the only logical explanation.
>>371458
>Making a series of comparisons to standard aircraft and running into multiple walls, an idea forms that the potential of this one functioned as a moment's notice, modifiable hybrid design with absolute certainty:
>Visualizing the subjectively stock, barely modified weaponry against Guillotine's, this one was similarly intended to utilize every possible weapon at the same time.
>It could definitely support prioritizing specific weapons at will, particularly given the unusual damage around each barrel resulting from high energetic charges and overloads.
>Variable rear surface wings fit the theory well, while minimal air resistance and efficient multistage engines would allow switching roles at whim.
>The exoatmospheric craft could, whether out of necessity or at-will needs, fit the roles for nearly everything: extreme to close range interceptor, long ranged target acquisition, kill-on-pass multi-strike fighter, in-range close combat fighter, long to close range air support, and potentially bomber.
>Which, at a quick check underneath, there were six inactive bays: three that could easily fit a 100 pound bomb, the fourth a 300 pounder, and the remaining two were most likely special purpose.
>In your own estimations, it was definitively produced and barely modified from original specifications, unlike the near-organic processes and capabilities that Guillotine had.
>While capable of acting in nearly every role, this example was best suited to function as a variable range heavy gunship, deploying heavy, massively energy-efficient long range support fire until closing in on a target larger than itself, then providing extreme damage until the target was destroyed.
>Satisfied that the multirole theory wouldn't fit either human, pegasi, or batpony standards, you begin thinking of a second, potentially likely explanation:
>Upon the Otherworld Harpies reaching Tallus, they would have had a massive amount of assistance from their planetary, or possibly sector based, production facilities.
>Earlier examples and records of their species, well known for the most part, did indicate their need to compensate for unknown physics, their eventual induction to becoming native among the Airstreams was another key asset that could not be ignored.
>Similar to Twisted Wing's near-spiritual teaching on the Airstreams themselves, how they functioned, could be bent to her own needs, and were able to shift in conjunction with the needs of pegasi and batponies, the Otherworld Harpies were capable of analyzing the same.
>They were, from what you could accurately recall, purely physical and wholly scientific based, though their later states would show a much greater psychological, physiological, and Air Elemarental-infused need upon later generations acclimating to Tallus.
>Dating the hard, recognizable Airstream currents throughout the interior, weapons, armor, hull, internal structures, and tech-arcane components within, this specific production line, variable role gunship was slightly less than 15,000 years old.
>Possibly their last refining of aircraft knowledge that would be felt as native, the extent of combining pure science with native magic became a near-religious movement.
>Their efforts had succeeded after multiple generations, but the costs were severe: in order to belong on this world, each pilot would become one with the Airstreams yet in doing so they were forced to suppress, prevent, and destroy every individual condition that would prevent their newfound heritage.
>Becoming entombed as they were in a sarcophagus, the Otherworld Hapries could never leave their chosen vessel, but they would, theoretically, gain more than they had lost: becoming able to feel each particle, wavelength, and shift of matter across their newfound skin of silver-like material.
>Reaching both hands out and testing through the gloves, the Airstreams were severely perturbed
>There were degrees of corruption, taint, and damage here that were being restored, but would take time to recover; a week at best, you figured.
*"Mineself be wellest as caen be ye grace. Untouched an' unharried ye be, 'tis honorous!"*
>A sharp, cheerful noise emitting, Guillotine's connection falls silent, except background thrums that you'd heard while aboard.
>Speaking after nine seconds, her voice was tinged in mixed wonder and curiosity amid deep, brittle hatred.
*"Ye sayeth thine words true, ye grace? Aen agreemarent? How knoweth thee Constructed Twos tae speak an' translate language? How doth they havest contact, unbidden or t'wise?"*
"Same, but I would like to stop being surprised. Starting to think going back to my tree, eating, sleeping, visiting friends, and being lewd whenever I want is a better idea. But that would mean giving up reading, learning, asking, writing, knowing.. which I'd hate in a few hours."
>Tossing a deep seated stare at, but probably through, you, the Cultist allows herself a full body cringe, mane bristling, wings shivering, and face scrunching as if she'd bitten into a horribly unripe giant grapefruit.
"An earth pony said it would be good and I didn't doubt her. Haven't trusted anypony's word since without checking for myself."
>Pulling the hard case you'd been carrying next to the one she'd acquired, most likely taken from the gunsihp, the batmare sits down, snorting half-heartedly.
"From what I've read there's at least twenty different Otherworld Harpy languages and ten or so dialects. They're contiguous, lot of cross-translations that don't make sense to us. It's like comparing Middle EnKee to Pre-Modern Pegasi: some words are easily exchanged, others have connotations that're shared and distinct that earlier or later dialects don't have."
>The cases emit paired loud, unusual beeps, each fold outwards, exposing large, holographic interfaces covered in symbols.. that neither of you could read, the mare bending forwards with raised eyebrows.
"Deeeeefinitely not a language I know. Do any of these look military to you?"
[1d6 = 2] <Translation
>Making a series of comparisons to standard aircraft and running into multiple walls, an idea forms that the potential of this one functioned as a moment's notice, modifiable hybrid design with absolute certainty:
>Visualizing the subjectively stock, barely modified weaponry against Guillotine's, this one was similarly intended to utilize every possible weapon at the same time.
>It could definitely support prioritizing specific weapons at will, particularly given the unusual damage around each barrel resulting from high energetic charges and overloads.
>Variable rear surface wings fit the theory well, while minimal air resistance and efficient multistage engines would allow switching roles at whim.
>The exoatmospheric craft could, whether out of necessity or at-will needs, fit the roles for nearly everything: extreme to close range interceptor, long ranged target acquisition, kill-on-pass multi-strike fighter, in-range close combat fighter, long to close range air support, and potentially bomber.
>Which, at a quick check underneath, there were six inactive bays: three that could easily fit a 100 pound bomb, the fourth a 300 pounder, and the remaining two were most likely special purpose.
>In your own estimations, it was definitively produced and barely modified from original specifications, unlike the near-organic processes and capabilities that Guillotine had.
>While capable of acting in nearly every role, this example was best suited to function as a variable range heavy gunship, deploying heavy, massively energy-efficient long range support fire until closing in on a target larger than itself, then providing extreme damage until the target was destroyed.
>Satisfied that the multirole theory wouldn't fit either human, pegasi, or batpony standards, you begin thinking of a second, potentially likely explanation:
>Upon the Otherworld Harpies reaching Tallus, they would have had a massive amount of assistance from their planetary, or possibly sector based, production facilities.
>Earlier examples and records of their species, well known for the most part, did indicate their need to compensate for unknown physics, their eventual induction to becoming native among the Airstreams was another key asset that could not be ignored.
>Similar to Twisted Wing's near-spiritual teaching on the Airstreams themselves, how they functioned, could be bent to her own needs, and were able to shift in conjunction with the needs of pegasi and batponies, the Otherworld Harpies were capable of analyzing the same.
>They were, from what you could accurately recall, purely physical and wholly scientific based, though their later states would show a much greater psychological, physiological, and Air Elemarental-infused need upon later generations acclimating to Tallus.
>Dating the hard, recognizable Airstream currents throughout the interior, weapons, armor, hull, internal structures, and tech-arcane components within, this specific production line, variable role gunship was slightly less than 15,000 years old.
>Possibly their last refining of aircraft knowledge that would be felt as native, the extent of combining pure science with native magic became a near-religious movement.
>Their efforts had succeeded after multiple generations, but the costs were severe: in order to belong on this world, each pilot would become one with the Airstreams yet in doing so they were forced to suppress, prevent, and destroy every individual condition that would prevent their newfound heritage.
>Becoming entombed as they were in a sarcophagus, the Otherworld Hapries could never leave their chosen vessel, but they would, theoretically, gain more than they had lost: becoming able to feel each particle, wavelength, and shift of matter across their newfound skin of silver-like material.
>Reaching both hands out and testing through the gloves, the Airstreams were severely perturbed
>There were degrees of corruption, taint, and damage here that were being restored, but would take time to recover; a week at best, you figured.
*"Mineself be wellest as caen be ye grace. Untouched an' unharried ye be, 'tis honorous!"*
>A sharp, cheerful noise emitting, Guillotine's connection falls silent, except background thrums that you'd heard while aboard.
>Speaking after nine seconds, her voice was tinged in mixed wonder and curiosity amid deep, brittle hatred.
*"Ye sayeth thine words true, ye grace? Aen agreemarent? How knoweth thee Constructed Twos tae speak an' translate language? How doth they havest contact, unbidden or t'wise?"*
"Same, but I would like to stop being surprised. Starting to think going back to my tree, eating, sleeping, visiting friends, and being lewd whenever I want is a better idea. But that would mean giving up reading, learning, asking, writing, knowing.. which I'd hate in a few hours."
>Tossing a deep seated stare at, but probably through, you, the Cultist allows herself a full body cringe, mane bristling, wings shivering, and face scrunching as if she'd bitten into a horribly unripe giant grapefruit.
"An earth pony said it would be good and I didn't doubt her. Haven't trusted anypony's word since without checking for myself."
>Pulling the hard case you'd been carrying next to the one she'd acquired, most likely taken from the gunsihp, the batmare sits down, snorting half-heartedly.
"From what I've read there's at least twenty different Otherworld Harpy languages and ten or so dialects. They're contiguous, lot of cross-translations that don't make sense to us. It's like comparing Middle EnKee to Pre-Modern Pegasi: some words are easily exchanged, others have connotations that're shared and distinct that earlier or later dialects don't have."
>The cases emit paired loud, unusual beeps, each fold outwards, exposing large, holographic interfaces covered in symbols.. that neither of you could read, the mare bending forwards with raised eyebrows.
"Deeeeefinitely not a language I know. Do any of these look military to you?"
[1d6 = 2] <Translation
>>371581
>Sinking tightly into the cloud raft-chariot with all four hooves and realigning it's molecular structure to withstand incoming Gravity-shocks, the Myrrir King's head turns.
>You regard the partially exposed, silver-black face plate, unseen by aeons forgotten, as he regards your own unknowable and primal connections elsewhere.
Existence are the parameters between finite and infinite meeting again, Equine. Until we convene once more, take Rage anew into storms forward.
>Faceless, nameless dimensions behind it bow, calm amidst the utter disconnect between a renewed, volatile, and barely impeded assault into the Ethereal Plane's deepest sectors.
>The Descendant shifts wordlessly, leaping forwards while shrieking cacophonies of Void sapients following in his wake, millions of archaic Ethereal Golems enveloped, shredded, torn apart, shattered, and irrecoverably destroyed.
>Legions of Elder Moss-Wisps in the thousands blink into existence, overrun before the first could so much as defend themselves.
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Myrrir King: Devastation
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Void Host
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <The Black
>vs:
[1d6-1 = (6-1) = 5] <Archaic Ethereal Golem Host
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Archaic Ethereal Moss-Wisp Host
>Rising higher into the last Blind remnants, the cloud's direction was knocked well off course, from directly eastwards to almost straight south.
>Kneeling into the cloud's reinforced material, snapping out both wings to guide your path is rewarded by a controlled ascent, though old fractures threaten every movemarent.
>No muscle survives the colossal efforts, from hoof to ear straining to hold against 5.3 gravities of acceleration while feathers spark, harsh, cold blue Airstreams screaming across each.
>Wingblades bending and finally shattering at each micro-degree adjustmarent to retain stability, instinctive movemarents of self-preservation successfully take hold.
>Flight, from ways and in means that were no longer clear, gratifying in all others.
>Gazing across near endless banks of fog, mist, and low clouds that keep the Moors safe, the Sun's first rays show far across Eastern Equestria.
>Small, warm traces of yellow, orange, red, and white that would soon become Dawn flicker as you reach an apex curve.
>Far above gnarled, twisted, and darkly colored fruit trees below, streaks among them flit from branch to branch, wings blurring in rapid paces as they dive down.
>Now was the time for Moorites to forage before sleeping through the much warmer day, baskets and loosely woven saddlepacks being filled with careless joy.
>But stress, and strain, always reap their tolls.
>Riding the severe adrenaline high into agonies that you could not even scream to release and holding fast to the cloud, your last sight is that of a vast aerial presence.
>Bright orange spheres in the tens of thousands, guarded by two that could easily fit Tartarus Isle inside and have room for part of another, holding station, perhaps a few minutes flight away.
Sunny: 0/120 Morale, Unconscious.
[1d1000 = 744] <Recovery
>Sinking tightly into the cloud raft-chariot with all four hooves and realigning it's molecular structure to withstand incoming Gravity-shocks, the Myrrir King's head turns.
>You regard the partially exposed, silver-black face plate, unseen by aeons forgotten, as he regards your own unknowable and primal connections elsewhere.
Existence are the parameters between finite and infinite meeting again, Equine. Until we convene once more, take Rage anew into storms forward.
>Faceless, nameless dimensions behind it bow, calm amidst the utter disconnect between a renewed, volatile, and barely impeded assault into the Ethereal Plane's deepest sectors.
>The Descendant shifts wordlessly, leaping forwards while shrieking cacophonies of Void sapients following in his wake, millions of archaic Ethereal Golems enveloped, shredded, torn apart, shattered, and irrecoverably destroyed.
>Legions of Elder Moss-Wisps in the thousands blink into existence, overrun before the first could so much as defend themselves.
[1d6+7 = (2+7) = 9] <Myrrir King: Devastation
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <Void Host
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10] <The Black
>vs:
[1d6-1 = (6-1) = 5] <Archaic Ethereal Golem Host
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <Archaic Ethereal Moss-Wisp Host
>Rising higher into the last Blind remnants, the cloud's direction was knocked well off course, from directly eastwards to almost straight south.
>Kneeling into the cloud's reinforced material, snapping out both wings to guide your path is rewarded by a controlled ascent, though old fractures threaten every movemarent.
>No muscle survives the colossal efforts, from hoof to ear straining to hold against 5.3 gravities of acceleration while feathers spark, harsh, cold blue Airstreams screaming across each.
>Wingblades bending and finally shattering at each micro-degree adjustmarent to retain stability, instinctive movemarents of self-preservation successfully take hold.
>Flight, from ways and in means that were no longer clear, gratifying in all others.
>Gazing across near endless banks of fog, mist, and low clouds that keep the Moors safe, the Sun's first rays show far across Eastern Equestria.
>Small, warm traces of yellow, orange, red, and white that would soon become Dawn flicker as you reach an apex curve.
>Far above gnarled, twisted, and darkly colored fruit trees below, streaks among them flit from branch to branch, wings blurring in rapid paces as they dive down.
>Now was the time for Moorites to forage before sleeping through the much warmer day, baskets and loosely woven saddlepacks being filled with careless joy.
>But stress, and strain, always reap their tolls.
>Riding the severe adrenaline high into agonies that you could not even scream to release and holding fast to the cloud, your last sight is that of a vast aerial presence.
>Bright orange spheres in the tens of thousands, guarded by two that could easily fit Tartarus Isle inside and have room for part of another, holding station, perhaps a few minutes flight away.
Sunny: 0/120 Morale, Unconscious.
[1d1000 = 744] <Recovery
>>371619
>Dull traces of green and pink click together.
>Lacking physicality as it chose to, the figure's eyebrows raise, appearing in a mockingly wounded state.
>You had met her before at least five times now though not in a similar capacity, and never this close.
>Rocking back outside of realspace, the visage's arms lift and spread outwards, words flowing as concepts quicker than the motions of ponies or Operators throughout the Basin.
"Such an extremely easy question to answer that any foal would know! The best answer is: you don't deserve a choice. Especially since you didn't take the time to listen and certainly refused to care when a lovely Crystal mare and her dutiful stallion tried their best to warn you of terrible consequences that might occur.
But then you ignored and later shamed them, after all. Harassing both for attempting to keep matters quiet and outside of human reach, was that really the best you could do?
But that wasn't enough. To you their actions were absolutely wrong, preventing dangers and threats that humans had no rights interfering in. Pure ignorance is excusable under some circumstances, but unadulterated arrogance with purposefully nasty behavior? Such pettiness."
>Lips curling inwards briefly, the eyes squint as if considering the greatest joke imaginable.
"Let's play not-so-pretend for your benefit.
Imagine that six great big, hulking, brutal Minotaurs find your little Fortress out in the New Everfree. Quiet, unoccupied, no sapients around, and filled with all sorts of shiny materials that they consider valuable for one reason or another.
Now, those Minotaurs awaken and blow up the semi-living entrance to that great big place, without any provocation whatsoever. They don't even attempt to speak! Is that murder? It should be, so I will say it was indeed murder!
Then those Minotaurs stroll in, stuffing everything they can into whatever soft and hard containers they have before leaving. Oh, how horrible, they don't even apologize for their deplorable actions! Why, what despicable and oh so difficult to rationalize individuals they must be! Murder, breaking, entering, mass theft.. but worst of all was their desecration."
>Losing all positive semblances, the human-shape bends forwards, sneering.
"Why would you care now, especially when you should have been a whole lot more reasonable then? I mean, you REALLY tried your best to waste their efforts, which hurts my existence thinking that your species might have been worthwhile keeping around.
But sadly, no, you didn't care then, so why bother now. Ego? Inability to be proven wrong? The fact that you don't truly belong here? Or was it plain, simple, basic jealousy?"
>Instantly reshaped as a small, bright pink winged and green bodied hummingbird, leering black eyes squint without humor.
"This is what I prefer to look like for reasons you haven't even tried to comprehend, although I'm not all that important. One little piece of a huge puzzle which doesn't matter since it'll never be solved. Or it could, just not to you. Neither option means much, really.
But I'm not going to answer. You don't deserve one. An answer, that is. Unlike you, ponies knows when to apologize yet you haven't done that once. Until you did a few minutes ago. Funny, isn't it?"
>Restoring to the indistinct human shape, she takes a half-step backwards, left arm crossing to hold the opposite, right hand lifting to hold her chin.
"Ancient to modern Crystal ponies describe me as 'Linear-In-Nature'. I absolutely love and adore how equines discover the world around them. How they think, feel, consider, and learn. Such excitemarent and wonders they share! They always seek to understand what is complex so they can teach their progeny more concise, simpler methods than what they know.
Isn't it amazing how native life grows and improves upon itself, generation after generation? Why is it so immarensely difficult for you to share that?"
>Shoulders lifting, the figure's arms fold behind her as she leans forwards.
"Since you so easily forgot what I just said, I'm taking your words as a no, therefore I'm not helping you. Just the opposite, but a small caveat might be enough to convince you otherwise! Now you'll have to earn each chance . Or maybe you won't, but that's not my problem. And what good is an insult if said insult isn't repaid equally?"
>Swiping the previously offered hand forwards to grip your own and drag you to a half-standing position, small, hot pinpricks are felt throughout fingers and palm.
[1d6 = 6] <Pain
>Stinging nettle, of a highly toxic subspecies.
"It'd be a shame for new flora to not be thoroughly tested. Those will certainly hurt. But they're not lethal, after all I only created them as a deterrent. Some ponies will assuredly find them tasty of course, though I rather enjoy viability more than appearance or use.
Consider each one like the thorns that you shoved against Naliyna and Thrill. Pain for pain, as it should be-"
>Shifted to a brightly lit, glowing underground bowl at least a mile around, you were standing in front of a small, slow flowing stream.
>The hummingbird reappears, seated atop a giant sparkling emerald, easily weighing eight tons, and behind her are great crystalline trees, strange avian-like creatures flitting between them, choruses of shrill chirps ringing clearly.
"There's a lot of options here so you'll have to choose which one or two to pick. Three if you're daring. Feel lucky? Four. That's always a nice round option. Four hooves for four ponies, the perfect number for a herd... usually."
>Raising the left wing in warning, the aspect's left eye closes.
"But don't push me. I don't think like the rest of us so-called Ancients. Where they prefer to recognize change, I know what succeeds over what does not. Success is after all measured in degrees, so what I really want to see is how worthwhile you, the individual, can be, could be, are, or are not.
My name is Lin, by the way."
>Dull traces of green and pink click together.
>Lacking physicality as it chose to, the figure's eyebrows raise, appearing in a mockingly wounded state.
>You had met her before at least five times now though not in a similar capacity, and never this close.
>Rocking back outside of realspace, the visage's arms lift and spread outwards, words flowing as concepts quicker than the motions of ponies or Operators throughout the Basin.
"Such an extremely easy question to answer that any foal would know! The best answer is: you don't deserve a choice. Especially since you didn't take the time to listen and certainly refused to care when a lovely Crystal mare and her dutiful stallion tried their best to warn you of terrible consequences that might occur.
But then you ignored and later shamed them, after all. Harassing both for attempting to keep matters quiet and outside of human reach, was that really the best you could do?
But that wasn't enough. To you their actions were absolutely wrong, preventing dangers and threats that humans had no rights interfering in. Pure ignorance is excusable under some circumstances, but unadulterated arrogance with purposefully nasty behavior? Such pettiness."
>Lips curling inwards briefly, the eyes squint as if considering the greatest joke imaginable.
"Let's play not-so-pretend for your benefit.
Imagine that six great big, hulking, brutal Minotaurs find your little Fortress out in the New Everfree. Quiet, unoccupied, no sapients around, and filled with all sorts of shiny materials that they consider valuable for one reason or another.
Now, those Minotaurs awaken and blow up the semi-living entrance to that great big place, without any provocation whatsoever. They don't even attempt to speak! Is that murder? It should be, so I will say it was indeed murder!
Then those Minotaurs stroll in, stuffing everything they can into whatever soft and hard containers they have before leaving. Oh, how horrible, they don't even apologize for their deplorable actions! Why, what despicable and oh so difficult to rationalize individuals they must be! Murder, breaking, entering, mass theft.. but worst of all was their desecration."
>Losing all positive semblances, the human-shape bends forwards, sneering.
"Why would you care now, especially when you should have been a whole lot more reasonable then? I mean, you REALLY tried your best to waste their efforts, which hurts my existence thinking that your species might have been worthwhile keeping around.
But sadly, no, you didn't care then, so why bother now. Ego? Inability to be proven wrong? The fact that you don't truly belong here? Or was it plain, simple, basic jealousy?"
>Instantly reshaped as a small, bright pink winged and green bodied hummingbird, leering black eyes squint without humor.
"This is what I prefer to look like for reasons you haven't even tried to comprehend, although I'm not all that important. One little piece of a huge puzzle which doesn't matter since it'll never be solved. Or it could, just not to you. Neither option means much, really.
But I'm not going to answer. You don't deserve one. An answer, that is. Unlike you, ponies knows when to apologize yet you haven't done that once. Until you did a few minutes ago. Funny, isn't it?"
>Restoring to the indistinct human shape, she takes a half-step backwards, left arm crossing to hold the opposite, right hand lifting to hold her chin.
"Ancient to modern Crystal ponies describe me as 'Linear-In-Nature'. I absolutely love and adore how equines discover the world around them. How they think, feel, consider, and learn. Such excitemarent and wonders they share! They always seek to understand what is complex so they can teach their progeny more concise, simpler methods than what they know.
Isn't it amazing how native life grows and improves upon itself, generation after generation? Why is it so immarensely difficult for you to share that?"
>Shoulders lifting, the figure's arms fold behind her as she leans forwards.
"Since you so easily forgot what I just said, I'm taking your words as a no, therefore I'm not helping you. Just the opposite, but a small caveat might be enough to convince you otherwise! Now you'll have to earn each chance . Or maybe you won't, but that's not my problem. And what good is an insult if said insult isn't repaid equally?"
>Swiping the previously offered hand forwards to grip your own and drag you to a half-standing position, small, hot pinpricks are felt throughout fingers and palm.
[1d6 = 6] <Pain
>Stinging nettle, of a highly toxic subspecies.
"It'd be a shame for new flora to not be thoroughly tested. Those will certainly hurt. But they're not lethal, after all I only created them as a deterrent. Some ponies will assuredly find them tasty of course, though I rather enjoy viability more than appearance or use.
Consider each one like the thorns that you shoved against Naliyna and Thrill. Pain for pain, as it should be-"
>Shifted to a brightly lit, glowing underground bowl at least a mile around, you were standing in front of a small, slow flowing stream.
>The hummingbird reappears, seated atop a giant sparkling emerald, easily weighing eight tons, and behind her are great crystalline trees, strange avian-like creatures flitting between them, choruses of shrill chirps ringing clearly.
"There's a lot of options here so you'll have to choose which one or two to pick. Three if you're daring. Feel lucky? Four. That's always a nice round option. Four hooves for four ponies, the perfect number for a herd... usually."
>Raising the left wing in warning, the aspect's left eye closes.
"But don't push me. I don't think like the rest of us so-called Ancients. Where they prefer to recognize change, I know what succeeds over what does not. Success is after all measured in degrees, so what I really want to see is how worthwhile you, the individual, can be, could be, are, or are not.
My name is Lin, by the way."
>>371626
>Noting the Gravitons that remained, he makes another attempt at coaxing one to be contained as he walks towards the gathering on the rug.
[1d6 = 4]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Nodding grimly at Katyal, Pareidolia replies.
"That was my plan. Not that I wanted any of this to begin with. Forced to adopt changes based on a higher order being's involvement. I already have to find a suitable culture if I survive on top of this."
>Waving his free hand in a dismissive motion, he rests it back down on his legs.
>He looks up as news of Pikeman's death is provided.
"Noted. Death logged. One less idiot to contain and remove."
>He keeps his body relaxed as Nibbles begins her inspection.
>However, this turns to a rigid flinch as Nibbles suddenly leaps off his shoulder.
>Looking to his right shoulder in alarm, he glances back between it and her despite knowing he wouldn't be able to see whatever caused her severe reaction.
>He leans backwards in disbelief and confusion, internally consulting record logs for possible Anti exposure as the unpleasant revelation is expanded in scope.
"Possible vectors for Anti exposure should be limited to-, yes those Sunglobes which I have not encountered. Spiral..."
>Frowning, his mind races to recall the past events of his optical camo suit's acquisition as he mutters to himself.
"Spiral personally worked on my equipment... he must have known. Why would he do this? Possible Anti manipulation vector? Purposeful tracking? Negligence? Need to consider cleansing procedures."
>He sighs in frustration while his hands work to fish out the Rime Lattice Orb Naliyna gave to him.
"Then apparently the Anti's presence was masked with this Rime orb Naliyna had made on Spiral's request. I do not know how it is achieving this effect. But if it could be utilized to cleanse or remove Anti, or if there are any methods of such available to us, we need to pursue it."
>Looking towards the portal exit as Lonestar leaves, he squeezes his thigh in agitation.
"Knowing our luck, that likely won't be an option will it."
>Noting the Gravitons that remained, he makes another attempt at coaxing one to be contained as he walks towards the gathering on the rug.
[1d6 = 4]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Nodding grimly at Katyal, Pareidolia replies.
"That was my plan. Not that I wanted any of this to begin with. Forced to adopt changes based on a higher order being's involvement. I already have to find a suitable culture if I survive on top of this."
>Waving his free hand in a dismissive motion, he rests it back down on his legs.
>He looks up as news of Pikeman's death is provided.
"Noted. Death logged. One less idiot to contain and remove."
>He keeps his body relaxed as Nibbles begins her inspection.
>However, this turns to a rigid flinch as Nibbles suddenly leaps off his shoulder.
>Looking to his right shoulder in alarm, he glances back between it and her despite knowing he wouldn't be able to see whatever caused her severe reaction.
>He leans backwards in disbelief and confusion, internally consulting record logs for possible Anti exposure as the unpleasant revelation is expanded in scope.
"Possible vectors for Anti exposure should be limited to-, yes those Sunglobes which I have not encountered. Spiral..."
>Frowning, his mind races to recall the past events of his optical camo suit's acquisition as he mutters to himself.
"Spiral personally worked on my equipment... he must have known. Why would he do this? Possible Anti manipulation vector? Purposeful tracking? Negligence? Need to consider cleansing procedures."
>He sighs in frustration while his hands work to fish out the Rime Lattice Orb Naliyna gave to him.
"Then apparently the Anti's presence was masked with this Rime orb Naliyna had made on Spiral's request. I do not know how it is achieving this effect. But if it could be utilized to cleanse or remove Anti, or if there are any methods of such available to us, we need to pursue it."
>Looking towards the portal exit as Lonestar leaves, he squeezes his thigh in agitation.
"Knowing our luck, that likely won't be an option will it."
>>371607
"Oh."
>There goes that little opportunity out of the window.
>José hid away a little snicker at his silly question by gently clearing his throat before nodding at Shanis with a smile.
"I'll keep it in mind. Have you obtained a suitable replacemarent for it?"
>Surely by the useful attributes his own coat had, the assumed pegasus marecenary queen may enjoy another one.
>Gallo smiled wide, fascinated with her well of life experience in Tallus.
>The temptation to try and pull off The Worm dance move was tantalizing after what she said, but he'd rather not offend anyone.
>Again.
"I believe I understand what you mean. Round shapes are pretty nifty with their lack of jagged edges and ease to push and hold."
>He soon opted to rummage through his stuff to try and find a cool round object in his possession, humming pensively all the while, until he pulled out one of his Spirit Candies for Nao to appraise.
>He couldn't help but to smile earnestly, wondering how a pinniped would react to what probably was an equine treat.
>The human promptly was stunned slightly from Starglow and Shanis's anecdote, once again reminded of how dangerous this place really was undeneath all the pastel ponies and squishy seals.
"May I inquire the purpose of your presence in the Empire Wastelands, miss?"
>Keep it simple and concise.
>No assuming.
"Oh."
>There goes that little opportunity out of the window.
>José hid away a little snicker at his silly question by gently clearing his throat before nodding at Shanis with a smile.
"I'll keep it in mind. Have you obtained a suitable replacemarent for it?"
>Surely by the useful attributes his own coat had, the assumed pegasus marecenary queen may enjoy another one.
>Gallo smiled wide, fascinated with her well of life experience in Tallus.
>The temptation to try and pull off The Worm dance move was tantalizing after what she said, but he'd rather not offend anyone.
>Again.
"I believe I understand what you mean. Round shapes are pretty nifty with their lack of jagged edges and ease to push and hold."
>He soon opted to rummage through his stuff to try and find a cool round object in his possession, humming pensively all the while, until he pulled out one of his Spirit Candies for Nao to appraise.
>He couldn't help but to smile earnestly, wondering how a pinniped would react to what probably was an equine treat.
>The human promptly was stunned slightly from Starglow and Shanis's anecdote, once again reminded of how dangerous this place really was undeneath all the pastel ponies and squishy seals.
"May I inquire the purpose of your presence in the Empire Wastelands, miss?"
>Keep it simple and concise.
>No assuming.
>>371627
>Head tipping down slightly, the Minor Champion speaks in a brisk, flat tone.
"Primary statement is non-factual. Probability of indirect lie: minimal. Probability of external misdirection: extreme. Probability of incorrect context: high. Omissions noted, record appended.
Primary correction: the event you state was recorded in early Octember of 29,996. Current cycle: pre-Dawn Septimber 39th, 29,998. The corrosive effects of Class 10 Anti are critically self-destructive and considered unnecessary to treat.
Relevant data: Class 9 Anti exposure requires two treatmarents, Class 8 requires five treatmarents, continuing in order. Extended Class 3 exposure to Anti is responsible for numerous beings listed under the following common classifications: 'Abomination', 'Infected', 'Malformed'.
Class 2 Anti exposure is inherently lethal to all biological lifeforms and derivatives. Class 1 exposure is unknown, there are no recorded survivors.
Addendum: the Enchained individual known as Sweet Dreams, an Independent Assassin formerly of Manehattan, now residing in Stalliongrad, is the only known carrier of a Flawless Anti Core. Threat level: zero, individual does not constitute a hazard unless willfully engaged by hostile factors.
Secondary corrections: helmet, armor, close combat weapon, and hybrid close combat-ranged weapon are currently emitting Class 3, 3, 4, and 3 levels of Anti."
>Pausing to stare down at you, the top pair of eyes blink.
"You should not be alive at current. Addition: no relevant data found on human biological standards to analyze or assist identifying unit damage.
Speculative theoretical: similar Otherworld interfacing prevents thorough contamination and mutation. Probability: marginal.
Tertiary correction: the Class 11 object producing Anti features extensive modifications, methods unknown. Contamination risk: unknown, presumed minimal."
>Standing ramrod straight once more, Vokreed's eyes shutter once.
"You have been recorded as transferring into the Crystal City-State from thirty to fifty times per Tallus year. Each instance preceded deleterious states and side effects against individual Crystal equines. Witnesses have been independently verified and subjected to factual analysis; all witness accounts confirmed to be truthful. Medical access records updated, threat downgraded from willfully hostile to unwillingly hostile actions.
During this Night Cycle one Lorekeeper was located in a nonfunctioning state approximately one local hour after an unarranged meeting with you. Imperial diagnostic records indicate direct Class Three exposure and probable contact with Anti effect. Estimated time for sufficient recovery: ten to twenty Tallus cycles.
Primary conclusion: extreme willful negligence. Supplemarental data recorded and logged."
>Hefting the shield back into his right hand, the Ethereal half-turns to face east, gazing upwards.
"Information collected and aggregated, now verifying.. complete. Cross-referencing: there are no equines under the herdname of 'Spiral' located in currently accessible Archives.
Searching storage Archives...... complete. Two thousand to three thousand equines under multiple descendant herdnames of 'Spiral' located: all listed as deceased prior to 29,130 Tallus year cycle.
Distant living relatives presumed to inhabit Caneighdia, region access prohibited. All further data is classified.
Preparing aggregate summary to uplink.. no connections available. Verifying lack of connectivity.. significant process failures noted. Attempting to locate nearest Empire Hololith.... no uplinks, sockets, or relays in range. Locating nearest Consortium Branch Office..."
>Silent for two seconds, the Minor Champion's form erupts in wild, spastic colorations, geometric runes streaking across the shield and axe, voice booming in disbelief, which quickly turns into fury.
"A WHAT?! ...YOU ARE INCORRECT. INCORRECT ONCE MORE. INCORRECT A THIRD TIME! .....PREVENTING CONTAINMARENT FAILURES IS THE RESPONSIBILITY OF YOUR ASSIGNED LEGION! ....DO NOT QUESTION MY ORDERS, TASKS, OR DUTIES! ....CEASE TRANSMISSION IMMEDIATELY OR BE CONSIDER-"
>Quadruple eyes twitching, Vokreed twists right, snatching the war axe from his shield and breaks into a storming run at the northmost translocation matrice.
"CLEAR A PATH HONORED EQUINES, A DISHONORABLE FOOL, A COWARD, AND A TRAITOR MUST BE DESTROYED THIS NIGHT!"
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Protocol: Rush Them Down
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
>Head tipping down slightly, the Minor Champion speaks in a brisk, flat tone.
"Primary statement is non-factual. Probability of indirect lie: minimal. Probability of external misdirection: extreme. Probability of incorrect context: high. Omissions noted, record appended.
Primary correction: the event you state was recorded in early Octember of 29,996. Current cycle: pre-Dawn Septimber 39th, 29,998. The corrosive effects of Class 10 Anti are critically self-destructive and considered unnecessary to treat.
Relevant data: Class 9 Anti exposure requires two treatmarents, Class 8 requires five treatmarents, continuing in order. Extended Class 3 exposure to Anti is responsible for numerous beings listed under the following common classifications: 'Abomination', 'Infected', 'Malformed'.
Class 2 Anti exposure is inherently lethal to all biological lifeforms and derivatives. Class 1 exposure is unknown, there are no recorded survivors.
Addendum: the Enchained individual known as Sweet Dreams, an Independent Assassin formerly of Manehattan, now residing in Stalliongrad, is the only known carrier of a Flawless Anti Core. Threat level: zero, individual does not constitute a hazard unless willfully engaged by hostile factors.
Secondary corrections: helmet, armor, close combat weapon, and hybrid close combat-ranged weapon are currently emitting Class 3, 3, 4, and 3 levels of Anti."
>Pausing to stare down at you, the top pair of eyes blink.
"You should not be alive at current. Addition: no relevant data found on human biological standards to analyze or assist identifying unit damage.
Speculative theoretical: similar Otherworld interfacing prevents thorough contamination and mutation. Probability: marginal.
Tertiary correction: the Class 11 object producing Anti features extensive modifications, methods unknown. Contamination risk: unknown, presumed minimal."
>Standing ramrod straight once more, Vokreed's eyes shutter once.
"You have been recorded as transferring into the Crystal City-State from thirty to fifty times per Tallus year. Each instance preceded deleterious states and side effects against individual Crystal equines. Witnesses have been independently verified and subjected to factual analysis; all witness accounts confirmed to be truthful. Medical access records updated, threat downgraded from willfully hostile to unwillingly hostile actions.
During this Night Cycle one Lorekeeper was located in a nonfunctioning state approximately one local hour after an unarranged meeting with you. Imperial diagnostic records indicate direct Class Three exposure and probable contact with Anti effect. Estimated time for sufficient recovery: ten to twenty Tallus cycles.
Primary conclusion: extreme willful negligence. Supplemarental data recorded and logged."
>Hefting the shield back into his right hand, the Ethereal half-turns to face east, gazing upwards.
"Information collected and aggregated, now verifying.. complete. Cross-referencing: there are no equines under the herdname of 'Spiral' located in currently accessible Archives.
Searching storage Archives...... complete. Two thousand to three thousand equines under multiple descendant herdnames of 'Spiral' located: all listed as deceased prior to 29,130 Tallus year cycle.
Distant living relatives presumed to inhabit Caneighdia, region access prohibited. All further data is classified.
Preparing aggregate summary to uplink.. no connections available. Verifying lack of connectivity.. significant process failures noted. Attempting to locate nearest Empire Hololith.... no uplinks, sockets, or relays in range. Locating nearest Consortium Branch Office..."
>Silent for two seconds, the Minor Champion's form erupts in wild, spastic colorations, geometric runes streaking across the shield and axe, voice booming in disbelief, which quickly turns into fury.
"A WHAT?! ...YOU ARE INCORRECT. INCORRECT ONCE MORE. INCORRECT A THIRD TIME! .....PREVENTING CONTAINMARENT FAILURES IS THE RESPONSIBILITY OF YOUR ASSIGNED LEGION! ....DO NOT QUESTION MY ORDERS, TASKS, OR DUTIES! ....CEASE TRANSMISSION IMMEDIATELY OR BE CONSIDER-"
>Quadruple eyes twitching, Vokreed twists right, snatching the war axe from his shield and breaks into a storming run at the northmost translocation matrice.
"CLEAR A PATH HONORED EQUINES, A DISHONORABLE FOOL, A COWARD, AND A TRAITOR MUST BE DESTROYED THIS NIGHT!"
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12] <Protocol: Rush Them Down
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (2+10) = 12]
[1d6+10 = (4+10) = 14]
File (): E715E395581CBA656351C533C00E9FA2-2231568.gif (2.1 MB, 200x222, unsure.gif)
>>371657
>The entity runs its voice through his head faster than perceived time. Ponies and humans crawl to a halt.
>She talks to him about a Crystal mare and a stallion, warning him of consequences. Him ignoring their plea, shaming them, harassing them?
>He has no idea what she's talking about. Is she talking about Nalyina and Thrill?
>He's never done anything like that to them. And she calls hims arrogant, nasty, and petty for it?
>Next up is an analogy of sorts. Specifically six Minotaurs attacking an undefended Fortress, looting the place clean. Murder, desecration, etc.
>He tries to think of an instance he was involved in that would match that sequence of events.
>He draws a blank, nothing comes to mind.
>The being reforms itself into a green and pink hummingbird.
>It's the hummingbird that hung around Thrill and Nalyina.
>There was that red finch too. He wonders if it was also a being like her.
>She expected him to apologize for something. He doesn't know what for, since she doesn't elaborate.
>Monologuing about herself as she reshapes, Jeff surmises she's a powerful entity. Enough to do what she's doing right now. Linear-in-Nature.
>Jeff's confusion grows as he truly doesn't see how he's become the center of this being's ire. It's starting to become a little awkward.
>And just like that, whatever chance he though he had, she took it away from him. Earn his chances? She was never going to give him an easy way out to begin with.
>The hand he left out half-way was grabbed by her. Instant searing pain courses through the contact point as he's hoisted up from his knees.
>He instinctively grasps at his wrist of the afflicted hand. It felt like nettle. He'd gotten stung enough times between training and ops to know that feeling.
>Staying hunched over he grits his teeth as he holds back an excruciating wail, coming out as a growling hiss.
>His already exhausted body and mind were further draining from the pain. He's surprised he hasn't collapsed yet...
>Too occupied with his hand burning like hell itself, she speaks about the potency of this one in particular she cooked up personally.
>Retribution for Nalyina and Thrill? Why does she think he's ever scorned them in any way?
>He's taken somewhere else. A stream ran in front of him. The hummingbird form perches itself on top of a colossal emerald. Crystalline trees, big ones, appear behind along with some sort of bird-like creatures flying between them.
>Surprised he was actually being given choices from here on out. It was a test. To prove his worth.
>To this Ancient. Lin.
>Jeff stops his panting for a split second. Lin is an Ancient, a legendary being.
>Thrill mentioned them that one time right after what happened with that reliquary...
>He tries to even his breathing the pain in his hand refuses to subside, and stands to full height and looks at Lin. A solemn tone in his voice.
"Lin, was it? Mmmph... you're talking about Vulgroz's guardian and reliquary being destroyed, right? I... jeez I wasn't involved in either of those. I've never seen one, been near one, or even have the time to go and visit one. I only know about them from what Thrill's told me from his travels and witnessing Synxfaldir putting Void on trail for blowing up Vulgroz's."
>Jeff exhales sympathetically.
"I understand it hurts all of you Ancients if even one is destroyed like that, but the perpetrator is already serving their time for it. He's tasked with helping rebuild Vulgroz's, if I recall. If you've felt like no one has never apologized to you or him personally for it, then I will. Right here, and now."
>Pain still coursing through his hand, he gives Lin a strained yet sincere apologetic bow.
"I apologize, on behalf of Razorback, for taking away that which is precious to you."
>Was this all a big misunderstanding, or was he getting a blanket punishment for humanity?
>Jeff stands slightly more straight as he continues with his second matter.
"As for Nalyina and Thrill... I'm honestly confused as to where you're getting your accusations from. We share a herd-second, for Luna's sake. Thrill and I have been friends since the beginning. First one-hundred off of Celestia's summons. I've never done him dirty. As for Nalyina..."
>He thinks for a moment, and exhales sharply, raising a nettle stung finger in contemplation.
"I'll admit... I didn't fully grasp everything she had gone through at first, and it took me time try and understand her. Once I learned of what she's had to endure, and how she's overcome it with Thrill..."
>The thought of him scorning either, and being accused of it irritated him. Not angry. But he smiles faintly up at the hummingbird.
"I have the utmost respect for her. She's my friend, just as much as Thrill is! She's done so much for us, for Razorback. Between me, her, Tipper, and the Support Staff we've been keeping the Fortress above water for over six months now. I would put my life in her hands if needed. I've only ever wished nothing but happiness for her and Thrill. Out of anyone in that place, they deserve it more than anyone!"
>Jeff settles down, last part came out more as an unintentionally resolute than he expected. He clears his throat, composes himself. Hand still burning, though.
"Now that we've both said our piece, unless you have something else against me I'd rather not get raked over hot coals for acts I didn't personally commit. If you're as powerful as I think you are, then you can tell I have no true recollection of anything you're holding against me."
>He sighs out of exhaustion and acceptance.
"But if you're still set on watching me try and prove my worth, then I will."
>Jeff shifts his eyes from Lin to the emerald. Then the stream. Then to the trees. Not sure how to proceed.
>Whatever fanfare he had built up during his time to talk had been exhausted. Much like the rest of him. He was back to calm, tired, and nonchalant.
"So what options do I have? Am I choosing the trees, or those bird things flying around?"
>The entity runs its voice through his head faster than perceived time. Ponies and humans crawl to a halt.
>She talks to him about a Crystal mare and a stallion, warning him of consequences. Him ignoring their plea, shaming them, harassing them?
>He has no idea what she's talking about. Is she talking about Nalyina and Thrill?
>He's never done anything like that to them. And she calls hims arrogant, nasty, and petty for it?
>Next up is an analogy of sorts. Specifically six Minotaurs attacking an undefended Fortress, looting the place clean. Murder, desecration, etc.
>He tries to think of an instance he was involved in that would match that sequence of events.
>He draws a blank, nothing comes to mind.
>The being reforms itself into a green and pink hummingbird.
>It's the hummingbird that hung around Thrill and Nalyina.
>There was that red finch too. He wonders if it was also a being like her.
>She expected him to apologize for something. He doesn't know what for, since she doesn't elaborate.
>Monologuing about herself as she reshapes, Jeff surmises she's a powerful entity. Enough to do what she's doing right now. Linear-in-Nature.
>Jeff's confusion grows as he truly doesn't see how he's become the center of this being's ire. It's starting to become a little awkward.
>And just like that, whatever chance he though he had, she took it away from him. Earn his chances? She was never going to give him an easy way out to begin with.
>The hand he left out half-way was grabbed by her. Instant searing pain courses through the contact point as he's hoisted up from his knees.
>He instinctively grasps at his wrist of the afflicted hand. It felt like nettle. He'd gotten stung enough times between training and ops to know that feeling.
>Staying hunched over he grits his teeth as he holds back an excruciating wail, coming out as a growling hiss.
>His already exhausted body and mind were further draining from the pain. He's surprised he hasn't collapsed yet...
>Too occupied with his hand burning like hell itself, she speaks about the potency of this one in particular she cooked up personally.
>Retribution for Nalyina and Thrill? Why does she think he's ever scorned them in any way?
>He's taken somewhere else. A stream ran in front of him. The hummingbird form perches itself on top of a colossal emerald. Crystalline trees, big ones, appear behind along with some sort of bird-like creatures flying between them.
>Surprised he was actually being given choices from here on out. It was a test. To prove his worth.
>To this Ancient. Lin.
>Jeff stops his panting for a split second. Lin is an Ancient, a legendary being.
>Thrill mentioned them that one time right after what happened with that reliquary...
>He tries to even his breathing the pain in his hand refuses to subside, and stands to full height and looks at Lin. A solemn tone in his voice.
"Lin, was it? Mmmph... you're talking about Vulgroz's guardian and reliquary being destroyed, right? I... jeez I wasn't involved in either of those. I've never seen one, been near one, or even have the time to go and visit one. I only know about them from what Thrill's told me from his travels and witnessing Synxfaldir putting Void on trail for blowing up Vulgroz's."
>Jeff exhales sympathetically.
"I understand it hurts all of you Ancients if even one is destroyed like that, but the perpetrator is already serving their time for it. He's tasked with helping rebuild Vulgroz's, if I recall. If you've felt like no one has never apologized to you or him personally for it, then I will. Right here, and now."
>Pain still coursing through his hand, he gives Lin a strained yet sincere apologetic bow.
"I apologize, on behalf of Razorback, for taking away that which is precious to you."
>Was this all a big misunderstanding, or was he getting a blanket punishment for humanity?
>Jeff stands slightly more straight as he continues with his second matter.
"As for Nalyina and Thrill... I'm honestly confused as to where you're getting your accusations from. We share a herd-second, for Luna's sake. Thrill and I have been friends since the beginning. First one-hundred off of Celestia's summons. I've never done him dirty. As for Nalyina..."
>He thinks for a moment, and exhales sharply, raising a nettle stung finger in contemplation.
"I'll admit... I didn't fully grasp everything she had gone through at first, and it took me time try and understand her. Once I learned of what she's had to endure, and how she's overcome it with Thrill..."
>The thought of him scorning either, and being accused of it irritated him. Not angry. But he smiles faintly up at the hummingbird.
"I have the utmost respect for her. She's my friend, just as much as Thrill is! She's done so much for us, for Razorback. Between me, her, Tipper, and the Support Staff we've been keeping the Fortress above water for over six months now. I would put my life in her hands if needed. I've only ever wished nothing but happiness for her and Thrill. Out of anyone in that place, they deserve it more than anyone!"
>Jeff settles down, last part came out more as an unintentionally resolute than he expected. He clears his throat, composes himself. Hand still burning, though.
"Now that we've both said our piece, unless you have something else against me I'd rather not get raked over hot coals for acts I didn't personally commit. If you're as powerful as I think you are, then you can tell I have no true recollection of anything you're holding against me."
>He sighs out of exhaustion and acceptance.
"But if you're still set on watching me try and prove my worth, then I will."
>Jeff shifts his eyes from Lin to the emerald. Then the stream. Then to the trees. Not sure how to proceed.
>Whatever fanfare he had built up during his time to talk had been exhausted. Much like the rest of him. He was back to calm, tired, and nonchalant.
"So what options do I have? Am I choosing the trees, or those bird things flying around?"
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication, The Storm King's Room 1/2
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371694
>>371662
>Feeling shifts throughout spectra once more, numerous Gravitons were still in local vicinity, yet not convinced to accept being contained.
>Recording nearly the same electromagnetic fluctuations once more, 'Shiibo' turns an annoyed expression at internal monitors.
'Unsuccessful, sir. And impossible to translate. Interferences catalogued but I do not have sufficient capabilities to analyze them.'
>Standing in front of the predator's pelt now, Katyal bites her lips several times, then shakes her head, speaking in a questioning tone.
"Tallus isn't a being in the way most think. She's an actively involved, living world.. if that means there aren't any differences? Maybe? My world didn't have deities so I don't know, and neither the alicorns or Discord count. I'm just glad belonging to somewhere that I'm wanted."
>Viewing you seriously for once, Katyal's expression turns downcast.
"Most of us didn't ask to be here. Way I see it, that can't be a negative. And so far as I can tell you're still doing well, but if you need guidance or stability, say so. I'll try and keep you from getting screwed over but I'm nowhere close to a Mystic."
>Combing through recordings, images, and files throughout Razorback, the avatar succeeds in locating four which were relevant:
>An old after-action report was first, dated to less than a month after Razorback's arrival.
>Detailing Sweet, then listed as 'Black Diamondine Juggernaut', her unusual, inherently hostile memory-damaging and altering capabilities were to be regarded with extreme caution, especially since Twisted Wing became incapacitated, vomiting after only a single exposure.
>Second was a complete breakdown of an incident that occurred two months after arrival in both Razorback Fortress and Razorback Enclave, at the same time.
>An unknown individual deemed "Horizon", which had numerous further documents listed elsewhere, in the shape of an alicorn had led numerous poorly Enchained earth mares with corrupted Sunglobes and Anti Cores, both embedded in the chest, during The Siege.
>Subsequent notes describe Anti causing severe and widespread temporal halting effects against native ponies, including the near-destruction of Spiral's Elemarental forms.
>Medical analyses from Tipper list short term memory damage, unnaturally high electrolyte depletion, moderate dehydration, chemically-caused mood swings, and enchantmarent disruption as key factors in isolating Anti exposure.
>The efforts of Thrill, Lont, and Gas Man in the Enclave were enough to kill three Enchained white earth mares infused with Anti Cores, though they would spend the next two weeks recovering under Tipper's irate hooves.
>Hollow exited the Fortress to Tartarus Isle, where Sweet would then self-dispatch to take on "Horizon" in the Fortress itself, followed by approximately 800 marecenary pegasi and Shanis deploying after her.
>A short note adds "Horizon" was accompaneighed by two more earth mares in control of Anti-infused Sunglobes, suspected to be of much better quality than the trio which attacked Razorback Enclave.
>Shanis would deliver the final blow, severing the alicorn's head, though would quickly suffer unnatural aging by a factor of three in the following weeks, physically appearing closer to 60 and suffering numerous permarenent health issues.
>More documarents signed by Tipper state extreme doubts in reversing the effects, followed by dozens confirming numerous suspicions, and while she believed there might have been alternate treatmarents to halt or slow the process, none were available due to being cut off from most of Equestria.
>The third was Jeff instructing that each radio would feature a specifically Anti-infused perfect gem, among several lots created by Spiral, to link into the Marquis' relay network, acting as both a tracker and protective measure in the event of equipment capture.
>Fourth was a strict request to help out Sweet whenever she arrived to the Fortress for work, or to keep her busy, but mostly AWAY from Shanis.
>Multiple followups spread throughout the next year state that Sweet's version of Anti was incapable of harming neutrals, friends, and allies.
>Feeling shifts throughout spectra once more, numerous Gravitons were still in local vicinity, yet not convinced to accept being contained.
>Recording nearly the same electromagnetic fluctuations once more, 'Shiibo' turns an annoyed expression at internal monitors.
'Unsuccessful, sir. And impossible to translate. Interferences catalogued but I do not have sufficient capabilities to analyze them.'
>Standing in front of the predator's pelt now, Katyal bites her lips several times, then shakes her head, speaking in a questioning tone.
"Tallus isn't a being in the way most think. She's an actively involved, living world.. if that means there aren't any differences? Maybe? My world didn't have deities so I don't know, and neither the alicorns or Discord count. I'm just glad belonging to somewhere that I'm wanted."
>Viewing you seriously for once, Katyal's expression turns downcast.
"Most of us didn't ask to be here. Way I see it, that can't be a negative. And so far as I can tell you're still doing well, but if you need guidance or stability, say so. I'll try and keep you from getting screwed over but I'm nowhere close to a Mystic."
>Combing through recordings, images, and files throughout Razorback, the avatar succeeds in locating four which were relevant:
>An old after-action report was first, dated to less than a month after Razorback's arrival.
>Detailing Sweet, then listed as 'Black Diamondine Juggernaut', her unusual, inherently hostile memory-damaging and altering capabilities were to be regarded with extreme caution, especially since Twisted Wing became incapacitated, vomiting after only a single exposure.
>Second was a complete breakdown of an incident that occurred two months after arrival in both Razorback Fortress and Razorback Enclave, at the same time.
>An unknown individual deemed "Horizon", which had numerous further documents listed elsewhere, in the shape of an alicorn had led numerous poorly Enchained earth mares with corrupted Sunglobes and Anti Cores, both embedded in the chest, during The Siege.
>Subsequent notes describe Anti causing severe and widespread temporal halting effects against native ponies, including the near-destruction of Spiral's Elemarental forms.
>Medical analyses from Tipper list short term memory damage, unnaturally high electrolyte depletion, moderate dehydration, chemically-caused mood swings, and enchantmarent disruption as key factors in isolating Anti exposure.
>The efforts of Thrill, Lont, and Gas Man in the Enclave were enough to kill three Enchained white earth mares infused with Anti Cores, though they would spend the next two weeks recovering under Tipper's irate hooves.
>Hollow exited the Fortress to Tartarus Isle, where Sweet would then self-dispatch to take on "Horizon" in the Fortress itself, followed by approximately 800 marecenary pegasi and Shanis deploying after her.
>A short note adds "Horizon" was accompaneighed by two more earth mares in control of Anti-infused Sunglobes, suspected to be of much better quality than the trio which attacked Razorback Enclave.
>Shanis would deliver the final blow, severing the alicorn's head, though would quickly suffer unnatural aging by a factor of three in the following weeks, physically appearing closer to 60 and suffering numerous permarenent health issues.
>More documarents signed by Tipper state extreme doubts in reversing the effects, followed by dozens confirming numerous suspicions, and while she believed there might have been alternate treatmarents to halt or slow the process, none were available due to being cut off from most of Equestria.
>The third was Jeff instructing that each radio would feature a specifically Anti-infused perfect gem, among several lots created by Spiral, to link into the Marquis' relay network, acting as both a tracker and protective measure in the event of equipment capture.
>Fourth was a strict request to help out Sweet whenever she arrived to the Fortress for work, or to keep her busy, but mostly AWAY from Shanis.
>Multiple followups spread throughout the next year state that Sweet's version of Anti was incapable of harming neutrals, friends, and allies.
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication, The Storm King's Room 2/2
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371695
>>371662
>>371694
>Sitting back with a scowl, Hodch's left hoof lifts to press into his chest, bending forwards and exhaling raspily.
"Much as I knew Spiral had access to Elemarentals that nopony theoretically should... there are no excuses or reasons for my failures to protect Razorback. There are circumstances that I will not explain. However, I can not blame you or most other humans that I now know for sure have no involvement, or are unconnected to certain events. I will.. try to explain what I can later.
Likewise, I am not sure whom to blame regarding the unusual lack of unicorns opting to aid Razorback. Most would have noted the specific discrepancies which I am now painfilly aware of. I know. Well off track of our current objective. Relevant to other problems all the same."
>Tapping a hoof on the pelt several times, the deep purple stallion nods.
"I know Rime Lattices fairly well. As Crystal ponies age, they become more capable of extracting trace Rime essence from themselves to create multipurpose.. let's call them devices. Whether to carry for themselves, grant to others, apply to armors, shields, devices, ExoFrames, though more often used as gifts. Some are used in Skinshields and static defensive shields, though tend to be incredibly difficult to properly.
They do greatly increasing resistance against Construct weapons, certain esoterics, most energy and particle weaponry as well. To lesser extents, a Rime Lattice protects against Crystal Runes and earth pony Psionic capabilities in equal measures, including the unique acidic-infused Changeling variants.
Known but rarely used in such fashions, Rime Lattices are able to nullify physical heat to a variable degrees, similar yet far better than the long extinct frostame, and especially Crystal Rune produced coldstones. Hot, burning, freezing burns, acids, some toxins, and acid-likes, of which there are... acid. Acidic. Acrid. Acid-likes... if capable of non-direct exposure... I know of numerous non-physical Acidics which burn and freeze at the same time-"
>Head swiveling to stare at Katyal, then down to
" Acid-like, hot, freezing, cold, and burning at the same time. Indistinct yet inseparably distinct.. the same as Anti does to an individual. Spiral didn't know precisely what Anti incurring to him. How could he have acknowledged what to guard against other than the basic definition of heat?
If he knew, he would requested one specifically from Naliyna other than an object specifically intended to soothe the worst sensations of burning. He'd asked me dozens of times while I was there. Loaned him hundreds of objects from both my collection and.. certain others. He said none of them aided him. The problem now is I don't know more than Tipper's reports of what Anti causes."
"Much as I want to dropkick you out that portal and throw a bunch of grenades, I'm going to walk out on this figurative limb for all our sakes. Take that Rime thing out so we can all it, then activate it."
>Tossing a sharp glance your way, Katyal lifts the Hero(ine) of the Moors in both hands.. whom takes on a faux-innocent face.
"Nibbles, you tell me the second whatever that cold thing is starts working... I'm not a pony. No? What do you mean? They aren't THAT big. ...you LITTLE SHIT!"
>Grasping both wings and shaking Nibbles around, meowing raucously, the Responder shouts in her face.
"Say that again and I'll duct tape you between Folu's teats for an hour!"
"Anyone got a minute? There's a bunch of reeeeaaa-"
>Head popping through portal, Lonestar's face seizes in a myriad of emotions at Katyal angrily smothering Nibbles in her chest, the Mystic butterfly on her head appearing to snicker aloud, and Hodch rolling his eyes.
"...rrrright, bad timing, Yeah, I'm.. gonna see if Anon can restore the Overlander to full specs."
"Please do."
[1d6 = 5] <Silver Wish Disc: Improvement
[1d6 = 6]
>>371694
>Sitting back with a scowl, Hodch's left hoof lifts to press into his chest, bending forwards and exhaling raspily.
"Much as I knew Spiral had access to Elemarentals that nopony theoretically should... there are no excuses or reasons for my failures to protect Razorback. There are circumstances that I will not explain. However, I can not blame you or most other humans that I now know for sure have no involvement, or are unconnected to certain events. I will.. try to explain what I can later.
Likewise, I am not sure whom to blame regarding the unusual lack of unicorns opting to aid Razorback. Most would have noted the specific discrepancies which I am now painfilly aware of. I know. Well off track of our current objective. Relevant to other problems all the same."
>Tapping a hoof on the pelt several times, the deep purple stallion nods.
"I know Rime Lattices fairly well. As Crystal ponies age, they become more capable of extracting trace Rime essence from themselves to create multipurpose.. let's call them devices. Whether to carry for themselves, grant to others, apply to armors, shields, devices, ExoFrames, though more often used as gifts. Some are used in Skinshields and static defensive shields, though tend to be incredibly difficult to properly.
They do greatly increasing resistance against Construct weapons, certain esoterics, most energy and particle weaponry as well. To lesser extents, a Rime Lattice protects against Crystal Runes and earth pony Psionic capabilities in equal measures, including the unique acidic-infused Changeling variants.
Known but rarely used in such fashions, Rime Lattices are able to nullify physical heat to a variable degrees, similar yet far better than the long extinct frostame, and especially Crystal Rune produced coldstones. Hot, burning, freezing burns, acids, some toxins, and acid-likes, of which there are... acid. Acidic. Acrid. Acid-likes... if capable of non-direct exposure... I know of numerous non-physical Acidics which burn and freeze at the same time-"
>Head swiveling to stare at Katyal, then down to
" Acid-like, hot, freezing, cold, and burning at the same time. Indistinct yet inseparably distinct.. the same as Anti does to an individual. Spiral didn't know precisely what Anti incurring to him. How could he have acknowledged what to guard against other than the basic definition of heat?
If he knew, he would requested one specifically from Naliyna other than an object specifically intended to soothe the worst sensations of burning. He'd asked me dozens of times while I was there. Loaned him hundreds of objects from both my collection and.. certain others. He said none of them aided him. The problem now is I don't know more than Tipper's reports of what Anti causes."
"Much as I want to dropkick you out that portal and throw a bunch of grenades, I'm going to walk out on this figurative limb for all our sakes. Take that Rime thing out so we can all it, then activate it."
>Tossing a sharp glance your way, Katyal lifts the Hero(ine) of the Moors in both hands.. whom takes on a faux-innocent face.
"Nibbles, you tell me the second whatever that cold thing is starts working... I'm not a pony. No? What do you mean? They aren't THAT big. ...you LITTLE SHIT!"
>Grasping both wings and shaking Nibbles around, meowing raucously, the Responder shouts in her face.
"Say that again and I'll duct tape you between Folu's teats for an hour!"
"Anyone got a minute? There's a bunch of reeeeaaa-"
>Head popping through portal, Lonestar's face seizes in a myriad of emotions at Katyal angrily smothering Nibbles in her chest, the Mystic butterfly on her head appearing to snicker aloud, and Hodch rolling his eyes.
"...rrrright, bad timing, Yeah, I'm.. gonna see if Anon can restore the Overlander to full specs."
"Please do."
[1d6 = 5] <Silver Wish Disc: Improvement
[1d6 = 6]
>>371633
>Clemency runs through most of this knowledge concerning aeronautics and military application, deep in thought of the strange craft in front of him
>It's obviously designed as a multirole but not up to known standards
>Instead, Clemency decides that these ships were essentially an adaptation to their exposure on Tallus
>The Airstreams was essentially their way of acclimating all the way into becoming entombed in these ships to become one with them
>Feeling the Airstreams himself, the locals currents are not as calm as he thought
>His concentration was broken by the Guillotine's response, allowing himself to grin
*"I'm surprised I made it out unscathed myself."*
>Of course, she was surprised at the thought of Constructs communicating
*"Yes, true. Me and another operator started getting messages electronically from them, the Common being very...machine-like and unexpected. So unexpected, everypony and everyone questioned our claims until we had to show proof from our messages. The agreemarent came from them talking to two ponies belonging to Razorback."*
"Yeah, well, I don't blame you after that incident."
>As the cases open, more harpy symbols appear
>Very quickly Clemency is finding himself out of his own depth
"I really wouldn't know. Hmmm...."
>Clemency keys into his mic again
*"Guillotine, can you see our location with the harpy vessel near us? Are you able to translate this device for us?"*
>Clemency runs through most of this knowledge concerning aeronautics and military application, deep in thought of the strange craft in front of him
>It's obviously designed as a multirole but not up to known standards
>Instead, Clemency decides that these ships were essentially an adaptation to their exposure on Tallus
>The Airstreams was essentially their way of acclimating all the way into becoming entombed in these ships to become one with them
>Feeling the Airstreams himself, the locals currents are not as calm as he thought
>His concentration was broken by the Guillotine's response, allowing himself to grin
*"I'm surprised I made it out unscathed myself."*
>Of course, she was surprised at the thought of Constructs communicating
*"Yes, true. Me and another operator started getting messages electronically from them, the Common being very...machine-like and unexpected. So unexpected, everypony and everyone questioned our claims until we had to show proof from our messages. The agreemarent came from them talking to two ponies belonging to Razorback."*
"Yeah, well, I don't blame you after that incident."
>As the cases open, more harpy symbols appear
>Very quickly Clemency is finding himself out of his own depth
"I really wouldn't know. Hmmm...."
>Clemency keys into his mic again
*"Guillotine, can you see our location with the harpy vessel near us? Are you able to translate this device for us?"*
File (): 498C84BA416D6C6947FAF8FE931AB382-215914.jpg (210.9 KB, 846x1238, Lont stressed!.jpeg)
>>371680
>Lont listened to Vokreed intently. He did not enjoy the Ethereal dissect his earnest attempt at speaking the truth and finding it lacking, yet nevertheless bit his tongue and absorbed the critical information about Anti.
>"Lower the Class for Anti the worse it gets. Got it."
>He blinked.
"No..."
>He muttered under his breath in disbelief.
>That can't be. All his equipment were emitting Class 3 and 4 Anti? All that time ago from his encounter with the Core of the Solar Tyrant?
"No."
>He denied again. Those dangerous levels he was emitting for so long and yet he has been waltzing around the Empire the entire time.
>Why didn't any of the ponies say anything.
>Whatever positive feelings he would of had from hearing his and Razorbacks actions being downgraded to a "unwillingly hostile" was snuffed out by this newest revelation.
>Lont stepped back several feet, as if physically struck.
"Rubelline!"
>The helmet he held in the nook of one arm fell to the ground, forgotten as both hands ran through his hair.
>This was madness. For 2 years. Potentially hundreds of ponies were made sick by his Anti contamination.
>But when he met with the Head Lorekeeper he wasn't in his equipment, he was in a plain shirt and shorts. Was his body also emitting Class 3 Anti? The kiss on the hood he gave to Rubelline almost killed her!
>His knees were threatening to buckle under his own weight while his new wings twitched and rattled in response to his state of mind.
>It was happening again.
>New Canterlot all over again. It was happening again. Except this time it was moulded into his own personal hell. No one else to truly share the blame. He has been singlehandedly poisoning hundreds of ponies through the Empire with every step and breath. The Empire and ponies he wanted to start fresh with after the disaster in New Canterlot, ponies that took him and the rest of Razorback in despite what had happened. Names and faces were flashing in quick succession. Cadence, Shattered Glacier and her foal, the Conclave Matron and even that one baker! Sourdough Roll her name was.
>He hurt them all. Despite doing his best to help he ended up harming them. Instead of a nuclear bomb going off killing hundreds in an instant it was a mass poisoning, singlehandedly perpetuated by him. It was New Canterlot with Celestia all over again! No matter how much he tries to assist and make up for his mistakes it always turns out to be doing more harm than good!
>Even when playing with colts and fillies he was hurting them.
"Void Crasher. By the Iron Kings no!"
>Lont was in a world of his own, crumbling around him while the real one was dead to him. Vokreed inanely trying to connect to a functioning landline went unnoticed to the panicking Operator.
>However, it was Vokreeds sudden outburst that snapped Lont out of his spiral into utter misery.
>He stood there as the Ethereal sped away towards a Matrice. He caught his breath as he tried to regain his focus, his composure.
>It took longer than he liked.
>It was then he noticed a hand was whiteknuckling the hilt of his sword, he shakily let go of it. He assumed he grabbed it on instinct when the Ethereal in front of him suddenly brandished his own axe and shield while roaring in anger.
>Lont stood there. Shoulders and wings slumped, arms hanging limply by his sides. Mind, body and soul were spend.
>Sluggishly he retrieved his helm, he didn't want to leave that biohazardous material lying around and doing more damage towards the Basin.
>With that thought in mind he clicked his radio on and announced to all of Razorback.
"*This is Lont. By order of Grand Champion Belregard of the Ethereal Plain -all- members of Razorback are barred from entering the Empire and all related territories for the foreseeable future. In addition, I am putting out a direct order that interaction with anyone outside of Razorback ceases immediately as well. Reasons for why and further details will be given as soon as possible. Failure to comply with these will be met with harsh punishment. Over and out.*"
>His voice was low energy for most of his broadcast, but took a darker tone near the end. He has harmed too many. He will be damned to allow this to continue. Not until the Anti was all gone.
>With fatigue slowing his movements the Operator looked towards the Empire Host, defeat written across his tired features.
"I am truly sorry. I-I don't...If you can't forgive me, I understand.."
>Lont listened to Vokreed intently. He did not enjoy the Ethereal dissect his earnest attempt at speaking the truth and finding it lacking, yet nevertheless bit his tongue and absorbed the critical information about Anti.
>"Lower the Class for Anti the worse it gets. Got it."
>He blinked.
"No..."
>He muttered under his breath in disbelief.
>That can't be. All his equipment were emitting Class 3 and 4 Anti? All that time ago from his encounter with the Core of the Solar Tyrant?
"No."
>He denied again. Those dangerous levels he was emitting for so long and yet he has been waltzing around the Empire the entire time.
>Why didn't any of the ponies say anything.
>Whatever positive feelings he would of had from hearing his and Razorbacks actions being downgraded to a "unwillingly hostile" was snuffed out by this newest revelation.
>Lont stepped back several feet, as if physically struck.
"Rubelline!"
>The helmet he held in the nook of one arm fell to the ground, forgotten as both hands ran through his hair.
>This was madness. For 2 years. Potentially hundreds of ponies were made sick by his Anti contamination.
>But when he met with the Head Lorekeeper he wasn't in his equipment, he was in a plain shirt and shorts. Was his body also emitting Class 3 Anti? The kiss on the hood he gave to Rubelline almost killed her!
>His knees were threatening to buckle under his own weight while his new wings twitched and rattled in response to his state of mind.
>It was happening again.
>New Canterlot all over again. It was happening again. Except this time it was moulded into his own personal hell. No one else to truly share the blame. He has been singlehandedly poisoning hundreds of ponies through the Empire with every step and breath. The Empire and ponies he wanted to start fresh with after the disaster in New Canterlot, ponies that took him and the rest of Razorback in despite what had happened. Names and faces were flashing in quick succession. Cadence, Shattered Glacier and her foal, the Conclave Matron and even that one baker! Sourdough Roll her name was.
>He hurt them all. Despite doing his best to help he ended up harming them. Instead of a nuclear bomb going off killing hundreds in an instant it was a mass poisoning, singlehandedly perpetuated by him. It was New Canterlot with Celestia all over again! No matter how much he tries to assist and make up for his mistakes it always turns out to be doing more harm than good!
>Even when playing with colts and fillies he was hurting them.
"Void Crasher. By the Iron Kings no!"
>Lont was in a world of his own, crumbling around him while the real one was dead to him. Vokreed inanely trying to connect to a functioning landline went unnoticed to the panicking Operator.
>However, it was Vokreeds sudden outburst that snapped Lont out of his spiral into utter misery.
>He stood there as the Ethereal sped away towards a Matrice. He caught his breath as he tried to regain his focus, his composure.
>It took longer than he liked.
>It was then he noticed a hand was whiteknuckling the hilt of his sword, he shakily let go of it. He assumed he grabbed it on instinct when the Ethereal in front of him suddenly brandished his own axe and shield while roaring in anger.
>Lont stood there. Shoulders and wings slumped, arms hanging limply by his sides. Mind, body and soul were spend.
>Sluggishly he retrieved his helm, he didn't want to leave that biohazardous material lying around and doing more damage towards the Basin.
>With that thought in mind he clicked his radio on and announced to all of Razorback.
"*This is Lont. By order of Grand Champion Belregard of the Ethereal Plain -all- members of Razorback are barred from entering the Empire and all related territories for the foreseeable future. In addition, I am putting out a direct order that interaction with anyone outside of Razorback ceases immediately as well. Reasons for why and further details will be given as soon as possible. Failure to comply with these will be met with harsh punishment. Over and out.*"
>His voice was low energy for most of his broadcast, but took a darker tone near the end. He has harmed too many. He will be damned to allow this to continue. Not until the Anti was all gone.
>With fatigue slowing his movements the Operator looked towards the Empire Host, defeat written across his tired features.
"I am truly sorry. I-I don't...If you can't forgive me, I understand.."
>>371667
"Nope, but a cloak isn't the same as-"
>Left wing hefting to pat heavily on the black winter suit once, Shanis smiles broadly, accompaneighed by an amused side eye.
"This is. Can't compare something around eight centuries old to a bodysuit that's been custom fit and tested for over a year. Damned good, even if hard to climb inside without some help. Does fit better on my legs, neck, barrel, and flanks. Lann made it so those are foregone conclusions. Has lots of adjustmarent points if I need them.
Also keeps my teats warm. That's a huge plus for me."
>Face creased in simple expressive joy, Nao delivers a short nod.
"That is most of why my species and related enjoy spheres so much: they lack the capability to poke or stab us. While our hide is equally tough compared to equines, we do have a marginally higher amount of nervous system endings."
>Whiskers twitching several times, her left flipper raises to pantomime rolling an object around several times.
"Also we like to touch objects when possible, especially if they are smooth. But that is an attribute specifically derived from older Polar Seal culture rather than necessities dictated by biological or learned survival imperatives."
>Peering closely at the unusual paper tube covered in metallic foil as you extract the first dimly glowing Spirit Candy, Nao rolls forwards to sniff at it twice.
>Politely, of course.
>Reclining once more into Shanis' barrel, her head tilts, whiskers twitching in serious thought.
"I do not recognize that item, though it is quite sweet to my sense of smell. It is, unfortunately, not engaging to me as I am primarily carnivorous. I would expect the majority of equines to enjoy the taste and scent though. However, there are faint traces which are unfamiliar to me. I do not know what to think of them."
>Inhaling deeply, the Marecenary Queen's head snaps up to gaze at the sphere for five seconds, then stares at you.
"Real Spirit Candy. From Neighsia. Rainpontan scented.. and fresh too. You don't have to answer this question, but, where'd you get that roll from? Same for this one: how'd you acquire that roll? And third, same for the last two: when did you get that roll?"
>Finishing her chosen page, Starglow's head lifts to offer a contradictory expression: half-smile, half-scowl, but thoroughly angered, her ears flat and voice strained.
"If a pony takes on a contract, they either fulfill the contract, try and succeed in variable degrees, try and fail in variable degrees, or the attempt is a negligible to complete failure.
Depending on all the stipulations and allowances in each contract that are negotiated on, there's always coins, gems, or both given up front regardless of success or failure. Standard necessities like armamarent and armor repairs, food, water, and shelter are automatically covered, but other accommodations are on the contractee to come up with if necessary."
>Holding for three seconds, she gives up, settling with a touchy frown, slouching forwards and collecting another opened envelope.
"For reason I'm not going to explain, I prefer removing Constructs over all other potential targets. There's about five thousand mines across the Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Conclaves that're still infested and haven't been reclaimed. Yet.
Two weeks ago, the marecenary squad I joined ran face first into an ice gouger. Middle Conclavist Era crystal mine, lot of good stuff there. Marenaged to kill it but that was far closer to one that I ever want.
Few days later I joined a different squad after my sister restored everything. They'd been repelled twice by a pair of Argus Eliminator Constructs trying to recover a newly claimed Imperial mine. The Constructs were trying to recover it, that is. Must've been fifty archaic models frozen inside. Took these-"
>Right forehoof lifting to point at the unusual burst-like scar on her snout, then several more energy-caused ones on her chest, the younger fuchsia Crystal mare's expression tightens.
"No losses other than pride, nine manabombs, and half a week in a fucking Clinic.
In other words: reclaiming all the locations the Changeling Hive and Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, and Empire once had."
"Nope, but a cloak isn't the same as-"
>Left wing hefting to pat heavily on the black winter suit once, Shanis smiles broadly, accompaneighed by an amused side eye.
"This is. Can't compare something around eight centuries old to a bodysuit that's been custom fit and tested for over a year. Damned good, even if hard to climb inside without some help. Does fit better on my legs, neck, barrel, and flanks. Lann made it so those are foregone conclusions. Has lots of adjustmarent points if I need them.
Also keeps my teats warm. That's a huge plus for me."
>Face creased in simple expressive joy, Nao delivers a short nod.
"That is most of why my species and related enjoy spheres so much: they lack the capability to poke or stab us. While our hide is equally tough compared to equines, we do have a marginally higher amount of nervous system endings."
>Whiskers twitching several times, her left flipper raises to pantomime rolling an object around several times.
"Also we like to touch objects when possible, especially if they are smooth. But that is an attribute specifically derived from older Polar Seal culture rather than necessities dictated by biological or learned survival imperatives."
>Peering closely at the unusual paper tube covered in metallic foil as you extract the first dimly glowing Spirit Candy, Nao rolls forwards to sniff at it twice.
>Politely, of course.
>Reclining once more into Shanis' barrel, her head tilts, whiskers twitching in serious thought.
"I do not recognize that item, though it is quite sweet to my sense of smell. It is, unfortunately, not engaging to me as I am primarily carnivorous. I would expect the majority of equines to enjoy the taste and scent though. However, there are faint traces which are unfamiliar to me. I do not know what to think of them."
>Inhaling deeply, the Marecenary Queen's head snaps up to gaze at the sphere for five seconds, then stares at you.
"Real Spirit Candy. From Neighsia. Rainpontan scented.. and fresh too. You don't have to answer this question, but, where'd you get that roll from? Same for this one: how'd you acquire that roll? And third, same for the last two: when did you get that roll?"
>Finishing her chosen page, Starglow's head lifts to offer a contradictory expression: half-smile, half-scowl, but thoroughly angered, her ears flat and voice strained.
"If a pony takes on a contract, they either fulfill the contract, try and succeed in variable degrees, try and fail in variable degrees, or the attempt is a negligible to complete failure.
Depending on all the stipulations and allowances in each contract that are negotiated on, there's always coins, gems, or both given up front regardless of success or failure. Standard necessities like armamarent and armor repairs, food, water, and shelter are automatically covered, but other accommodations are on the contractee to come up with if necessary."
>Holding for three seconds, she gives up, settling with a touchy frown, slouching forwards and collecting another opened envelope.
"For reason I'm not going to explain, I prefer removing Constructs over all other potential targets. There's about five thousand mines across the Crystal Empire, Kingdom, and Conclaves that're still infested and haven't been reclaimed. Yet.
Two weeks ago, the marecenary squad I joined ran face first into an ice gouger. Middle Conclavist Era crystal mine, lot of good stuff there. Marenaged to kill it but that was far closer to one that I ever want.
Few days later I joined a different squad after my sister restored everything. They'd been repelled twice by a pair of Argus Eliminator Constructs trying to recover a newly claimed Imperial mine. The Constructs were trying to recover it, that is. Must've been fifty archaic models frozen inside. Took these-"
>Right forehoof lifting to point at the unusual burst-like scar on her snout, then several more energy-caused ones on her chest, the younger fuchsia Crystal mare's expression tightens.
"No losses other than pride, nine manabombs, and half a week in a fucking Clinic.
In other words: reclaiming all the locations the Changeling Hive and Crystal Conclaves, Kingdom, and Empire once had."
>>371694
>He directs a brief glance at Shiibo's display to acknowledge her report.
"Understood. I can also sense them due to recent developments, their in depth particle analysis is low priority."
>Giving Katyal a pointed turn of his helmet at her offer, he simply shakes his head before turning back to Nibbles.
"Appreciated."
>Speaking to himself, he adds a personal note.
"Katyal's personal psychological profile corroborated with initial assessment. Personal sense of identity suited to integration with preexisting, alien culture. Likely driven by personal emotional needs previously unfulfilled."
>Rapidly scanning through the logs and records of Anti exposure and its effects, the inconsistencies between them and the fact that he had been exposed for far longer without any apparent symptoms prompted him to press a glove against his helmet visor in frustration.
"All accounts indicate severe exposure effects within moments to minutes. Likely nearly all of Razorback is contaminated. Why have I not experienced any symptoms lethal or otherwise? Jeff even specifically had Spiral infuse it into the tracker gems in our radios!"
>Staring down towards the pelt, he clicks his tongue in a mixture of anger and focus attempting to parse out the possible explanations with Hodch's audible contemplation serving as a parallel backdrop.
(Inconsistency in symptom incidence. Humans and ponies capable of experiencing contamination. I have not experienced any symptoms. Would the Nightmare recognize the presence of Anti? Would anyone other than Tipper? But she should have noticed-would she have noticed Spiral's condition? Surely Dr. Heartbreak would have experienced effects, but nothing was reported and her condition seemed nominal for the duration... )
>As the unicorn starts musing on the characteristic sensations of Anti however, he looks up.
"Then Spiral was unaware of the dangers and this was his attempt to treat them..."
>Having fished the Rime Orb out, he leans forward to rest his right elbow against his knee as his glove presses against his helmet with even greater force while muttering to himself.
"Can't be certain of exact contamination vector yet, but if this is a result of human action... "
>His left palm cradles the small orb in his lap as he stares at it.
>As Katyal speaks, he turns his head up to cock it sideways at her in disbelief.
>His right hand moves off his helmet to gesture at her.
"You want me to activate this Rime Lattice Orb here? Now? Will you be responsible for cleaning and containing the Rime deposit left here in this Plane? As far as we know, this only masks the presence of Anti. It hasn't cleansed it from me or my equipment. Unless you can provide a mechanism of action for achieving that effect with this, I'm not going to introduce Rime into this environment."
>His irritated posture remains as she starts suffocating an unfortunate Heroine of the Moors.
>He directs a brief glance at Shiibo's display to acknowledge her report.
"Understood. I can also sense them due to recent developments, their in depth particle analysis is low priority."
>Giving Katyal a pointed turn of his helmet at her offer, he simply shakes his head before turning back to Nibbles.
"Appreciated."
>Speaking to himself, he adds a personal note.
"Katyal's personal psychological profile corroborated with initial assessment. Personal sense of identity suited to integration with preexisting, alien culture. Likely driven by personal emotional needs previously unfulfilled."
>Rapidly scanning through the logs and records of Anti exposure and its effects, the inconsistencies between them and the fact that he had been exposed for far longer without any apparent symptoms prompted him to press a glove against his helmet visor in frustration.
"All accounts indicate severe exposure effects within moments to minutes. Likely nearly all of Razorback is contaminated. Why have I not experienced any symptoms lethal or otherwise? Jeff even specifically had Spiral infuse it into the tracker gems in our radios!"
>Staring down towards the pelt, he clicks his tongue in a mixture of anger and focus attempting to parse out the possible explanations with Hodch's audible contemplation serving as a parallel backdrop.
(Inconsistency in symptom incidence. Humans and ponies capable of experiencing contamination. I have not experienced any symptoms. Would the Nightmare recognize the presence of Anti? Would anyone other than Tipper? But she should have noticed-would she have noticed Spiral's condition? Surely Dr. Heartbreak would have experienced effects, but nothing was reported and her condition seemed nominal for the duration... )
>As the unicorn starts musing on the characteristic sensations of Anti however, he looks up.
"Then Spiral was unaware of the dangers and this was his attempt to treat them..."
>Having fished the Rime Orb out, he leans forward to rest his right elbow against his knee as his glove presses against his helmet with even greater force while muttering to himself.
"Can't be certain of exact contamination vector yet, but if this is a result of human action... "
>His left palm cradles the small orb in his lap as he stares at it.
>As Katyal speaks, he turns his head up to cock it sideways at her in disbelief.
>His right hand moves off his helmet to gesture at her.
"You want me to activate this Rime Lattice Orb here? Now? Will you be responsible for cleaning and containing the Rime deposit left here in this Plane? As far as we know, this only masks the presence of Anti. It hasn't cleansed it from me or my equipment. Unless you can provide a mechanism of action for achieving that effect with this, I'm not going to introduce Rime into this environment."
>His irritated posture remains as she starts suffocating an unfortunate Heroine of the Moors.
>>371700
>José let out a little chuckle out after Shanis's in-depth description of her new winter bodysuit, nodding in earnest.
"I'm glad to hear that, miss Shanis."
>Seeing Nao's joy manifest at his understanding, Gallo practically beamed back in satisfaction.
(Vamos carajo)
>A part of him pushed it down to a more gentle smile just in case, however.
>He promptly opted to stay silent and listen as the pinniped explained further plus appraised the item before looking up at the inquisitive Shanis with mild surprise.
"I was sent this in a package along with other trinkets during breakfast today in the Mess Hall via a Ferron Clan pegasus if I recall correctly."
>He promptly offered the treat to Shanis with a smile.
"You can take it if you want it, miss."
>He briefly considered pulling out some beef jerky for Nao too, but figured it was too far away from common sea foods to be accepted.
>Listening intently to Starglow's detailed explanation with a serious expression, he soon nods neutrally.
"I see. I appreciate your input, miss Starglow."
>It was a little hard to tell if any of this was deemed as commendable, so he stored such comments away for the time being.
>Feeling pretty good with how things were wrapping up thus far, Gallo slowly but surely stood back up again with a small grunt and a soft sniff followed by a curt bow.
"Thank you for your time. Excuse me."
>He promptly stepped off towards the Remnant while recalling how to interact with it.
>It should be as simple as talking to it last time he sent that letter for Frost.
"Morning, Vortex Remnant. I'd like to know any and all information about travelling to Argenta, please."
>Hopefully this time it isn't shy about speaking.
>José let out a little chuckle out after Shanis's in-depth description of her new winter bodysuit, nodding in earnest.
"I'm glad to hear that, miss Shanis."
>Seeing Nao's joy manifest at his understanding, Gallo practically beamed back in satisfaction.
(Vamos carajo)
>A part of him pushed it down to a more gentle smile just in case, however.
>He promptly opted to stay silent and listen as the pinniped explained further plus appraised the item before looking up at the inquisitive Shanis with mild surprise.
"I was sent this in a package along with other trinkets during breakfast today in the Mess Hall via a Ferron Clan pegasus if I recall correctly."
>He promptly offered the treat to Shanis with a smile.
"You can take it if you want it, miss."
>He briefly considered pulling out some beef jerky for Nao too, but figured it was too far away from common sea foods to be accepted.
>Listening intently to Starglow's detailed explanation with a serious expression, he soon nods neutrally.
"I see. I appreciate your input, miss Starglow."
>It was a little hard to tell if any of this was deemed as commendable, so he stored such comments away for the time being.
>Feeling pretty good with how things were wrapping up thus far, Gallo slowly but surely stood back up again with a small grunt and a soft sniff followed by a curt bow.
"Thank you for your time. Excuse me."
>He promptly stepped off towards the Remnant while recalling how to interact with it.
>It should be as simple as talking to it last time he sent that letter for Frost.
"Morning, Vortex Remnant. I'd like to know any and all information about travelling to Argenta, please."
>Hopefully this time it isn't shy about speaking.
>>371692
"You certainly knew about the Reliquary Guardian, yet no punishments were given for murder, desecration, and looting? By that statement I should treat all humans as automagically guilty. Simple association and lacking the necessary cultural developmental concept called justice would suffice. The rest wouldn't even blink."
>Tiny head cocking, Lin's voice drops into a nearly gleeful tone.
"I know. The others don't. I'll keep it that way until there's a convenient enough reason to share. Besides, you certainly don't know what defending a home is like. I was there when you weren't. Or perhaps you do. Reliquaries are created for others to use, not that such a point matters."
>Right wing flicking up in warning once more, a bright red line on her throat appears.
"That's close to funny. How can you speak for others when you don't know what they might state? The act of speaking words is a complex organic series of electrochemical reactions originating in an individual's brain which are transmitted by neurons relaying information throughout the rest of the body. 'What I think is whom I am' sort.
All nonsense. Little more than individually predisposed self-programming. But most likely a biologically conditional response to being out of your element and threatened, really. Consciousness is merely a state of an individual being aware that the individual is aware. You're not doing well with that concept right now."
>Staring rigidly for some time, the hummingbird's beak clacks.
"No, you obviously don't. Worse, I simply can't possibly understand all those incredibly complicated Otherworld mental processes, contexts, and linguistics. They're such a puzzle. But I'm surely not recalling you delivering certain attitudes to any other humans. Or maybe I'm confused and you were merely having multiple bad nights in a row. Then again there's always arrogance and an individual sense of self-preservation overriding proper judgement. Or common sense."
>Lying down outstretched and setting her beak on the boulder, beady eyes twitch coldly.
"Have you visited the Scarred Crags before? Northeastern Moors. Not pleasant anymore. Used to be. Can't remember that far back, sadly. A hundred some thousand Eternal Marchers were killed there. Not that there were witnesses to count. Destroyed who knows how many years of progress. It's the only barrier keeping the damned Crystal Moors from spreading and I'd like nothing more than to burn that rotten mess out.
Spent what little time I had creating newer and faster evolving species. Didn't help then. Still hasn't. Not much is able to grow there and little even bothers to pass through the smallest sections. Most creatures despise being near Otherworld essences, much less sensing, and absolutely hate conta-"
>Lin's head snaps around, tracking something out of sight.
>In the stream, hundreds of varying sized green gems sparkle, everything from unusual pebbles to nearly adult Ferron size, flawless pieces that wouldn't be out of place in a natural museum, or a unicorn's arcane lodge.
>Tiny, brightly colored inland shrimp, beetles, fish, and water skimmers cluster around sections of river grass and algae mats dotted with clams, or hunting each other.
>Beyond the immense emerald, the avian-likes you'd seen flying earlier had either left or had settled in to sleep, and the crystalline trees were slowly darkening.
>Rotating back, she emits a thin, loud and shrill exhale, left wing flapping out in a blur and smacking the boulder.
"Why would I want you to touch a single iota here? I was debating whether to call a certain not-a-friend here to judge just how awful you are as an individual. Then I remembered how painfully slow that process is and I'd have to kill myself. Again. For the unknownth time. No, I have ideas.
Option one: find a hidden exit and climb this Reliquary. Without dying. I'd give that a one in one-thousand chance in your state. This is my other home after all. Lot of hours have been spent here creating the various creatures that aren't nice, but those are the most important ones to make a thriving ecosystem.
Two would have been me making an offer and you swearing to serve the Moors regardless of injury, suffering, death, you get the point. Except for that shitty little section corrupted by Rime and Ethereal garbage. But my tiny little bird brain simply doesn't recall a whole lot of kindness originating from you, so that's off the boulder permanently.
>Eyes narrowing slightly, Lin sits up.
"Revoke all dedications you have towards the Moors, including inhabitants, and give back every object that came from here. That also means never returning and interacting with a single organism or grain of sand that belongs here. A reasonable decision to make, really.
Option three: take a drink from the pond. Stream runs to it. Should be phenomenally easy to find. You might live. Or not. Could die. Possibly forget everything. May even be reduced to constituent molecules or worse yet atoms, but then I'd have to clean up the mess before some poor creature takes a sip. Doesn't cause any problems for me since I made it.
Option four: leave this world and take the humans that don't belong here. I don't care where. Lot of places take garbage in but the sorting processes usually aren't nice. Not my favorite insult but it should certainly leave an impression.
Option five: kill each and every human of Razorback that doesn't or shouldn't belong on Tallus, but I'll be a touch nice so let's say twenty can plead their case. To Vulgroz. He gets to choose which ones at random. In the impossible event that all ten are accepted, then another ten are chosen. That will continue until there are no more humans remaining.
Option six. Hmmmmmmmm. Hmhmhmm. I hate thinking longer than the time it'd take to find a new flower that isn't mine. Or one that evolved from those I created..."
>Wings flicking in and out of view in spastic thought, the hummingbird stops, head craning at a 90-degree angle.
"How about.. you leave."
"You certainly knew about the Reliquary Guardian, yet no punishments were given for murder, desecration, and looting? By that statement I should treat all humans as automagically guilty. Simple association and lacking the necessary cultural developmental concept called justice would suffice. The rest wouldn't even blink."
>Tiny head cocking, Lin's voice drops into a nearly gleeful tone.
"I know. The others don't. I'll keep it that way until there's a convenient enough reason to share. Besides, you certainly don't know what defending a home is like. I was there when you weren't. Or perhaps you do. Reliquaries are created for others to use, not that such a point matters."
>Right wing flicking up in warning once more, a bright red line on her throat appears.
"That's close to funny. How can you speak for others when you don't know what they might state? The act of speaking words is a complex organic series of electrochemical reactions originating in an individual's brain which are transmitted by neurons relaying information throughout the rest of the body. 'What I think is whom I am' sort.
All nonsense. Little more than individually predisposed self-programming. But most likely a biologically conditional response to being out of your element and threatened, really. Consciousness is merely a state of an individual being aware that the individual is aware. You're not doing well with that concept right now."
>Staring rigidly for some time, the hummingbird's beak clacks.
"No, you obviously don't. Worse, I simply can't possibly understand all those incredibly complicated Otherworld mental processes, contexts, and linguistics. They're such a puzzle. But I'm surely not recalling you delivering certain attitudes to any other humans. Or maybe I'm confused and you were merely having multiple bad nights in a row. Then again there's always arrogance and an individual sense of self-preservation overriding proper judgement. Or common sense."
>Lying down outstretched and setting her beak on the boulder, beady eyes twitch coldly.
"Have you visited the Scarred Crags before? Northeastern Moors. Not pleasant anymore. Used to be. Can't remember that far back, sadly. A hundred some thousand Eternal Marchers were killed there. Not that there were witnesses to count. Destroyed who knows how many years of progress. It's the only barrier keeping the damned Crystal Moors from spreading and I'd like nothing more than to burn that rotten mess out.
Spent what little time I had creating newer and faster evolving species. Didn't help then. Still hasn't. Not much is able to grow there and little even bothers to pass through the smallest sections. Most creatures despise being near Otherworld essences, much less sensing, and absolutely hate conta-"
>Lin's head snaps around, tracking something out of sight.
>In the stream, hundreds of varying sized green gems sparkle, everything from unusual pebbles to nearly adult Ferron size, flawless pieces that wouldn't be out of place in a natural museum, or a unicorn's arcane lodge.
>Tiny, brightly colored inland shrimp, beetles, fish, and water skimmers cluster around sections of river grass and algae mats dotted with clams, or hunting each other.
>Beyond the immense emerald, the avian-likes you'd seen flying earlier had either left or had settled in to sleep, and the crystalline trees were slowly darkening.
>Rotating back, she emits a thin, loud and shrill exhale, left wing flapping out in a blur and smacking the boulder.
"Why would I want you to touch a single iota here? I was debating whether to call a certain not-a-friend here to judge just how awful you are as an individual. Then I remembered how painfully slow that process is and I'd have to kill myself. Again. For the unknownth time. No, I have ideas.
Option one: find a hidden exit and climb this Reliquary. Without dying. I'd give that a one in one-thousand chance in your state. This is my other home after all. Lot of hours have been spent here creating the various creatures that aren't nice, but those are the most important ones to make a thriving ecosystem.
Two would have been me making an offer and you swearing to serve the Moors regardless of injury, suffering, death, you get the point. Except for that shitty little section corrupted by Rime and Ethereal garbage. But my tiny little bird brain simply doesn't recall a whole lot of kindness originating from you, so that's off the boulder permanently.
>Eyes narrowing slightly, Lin sits up.
"Revoke all dedications you have towards the Moors, including inhabitants, and give back every object that came from here. That also means never returning and interacting with a single organism or grain of sand that belongs here. A reasonable decision to make, really.
Option three: take a drink from the pond. Stream runs to it. Should be phenomenally easy to find. You might live. Or not. Could die. Possibly forget everything. May even be reduced to constituent molecules or worse yet atoms, but then I'd have to clean up the mess before some poor creature takes a sip. Doesn't cause any problems for me since I made it.
Option four: leave this world and take the humans that don't belong here. I don't care where. Lot of places take garbage in but the sorting processes usually aren't nice. Not my favorite insult but it should certainly leave an impression.
Option five: kill each and every human of Razorback that doesn't or shouldn't belong on Tallus, but I'll be a touch nice so let's say twenty can plead their case. To Vulgroz. He gets to choose which ones at random. In the impossible event that all ten are accepted, then another ten are chosen. That will continue until there are no more humans remaining.
Option six. Hmmmmmmmm. Hmhmhmm. I hate thinking longer than the time it'd take to find a new flower that isn't mine. Or one that evolved from those I created..."
>Wings flicking in and out of view in spastic thought, the hummingbird stops, head craning at a 90-degree angle.
"How about.. you leave."
>>371696
*"Thy havest bountiful spans ahead, ye graces. Harry theeself little aside risks taken an' chances granted, mineself asks."*
>Background thrums slowing to a pulsing, relaxed state, distant bomb rotor cycling continues for half a minute until the archaic Harpy returns with a shrill, aerily discontented noise.
*"......'tis scarce times mineself desireth thoughts unbidden. Nae words come. Nae words form."*
>Flashing a merry fanged smile at the pair of cases, solid energy forms into a single coherent screen above, studying the sharply defined symbols with a suitably stumped expression.
"Met her a few weeks later at Stonehat Lodge. She couldn't tell the difference between ripe red lemons, limes, pomelos, and citronal fruits. That last one has nothing to do with grapes as it's a crossbreed. Guess what I snuck into her bowl when she asked for the sweetest ones.
And don't worry, this might take me a few hours to understand the word 'the', but that'll at least be a start."
>Snickering quietly, left wingclaws raising to point at specific symbols, right set tracing lines in air, halting after a few seconds to screech in rage.
"COLT OF A SPRING HORSE! I sent my saddlepack with them!"
>Rolling her eyes after a few seconds, the Cultist snorts, but continues once more, trying, and continuously failing, to translate.
"And there isn't anything left to write on either... you know Lann's shop, yes? Behind her counter is a Moon Orb, pick it up and ask for.. what was she called? Some berry name. I think? Meh."
>Head lifting to settle a flat, strict gaze on you, the mare's jaw tightens before speaking in low tones.
"I'm trusting you not to step on this opportunity the wrong way. Basin City does not open for outsiders, EVER, but you are leadstallion of a certain mare that most of us have complete and total respect towards. Just say the Dark Horses need twenty charcoal sticks and at least five untouched record tomes. They'll have no choice but to open for a few hours. If we're lucky they might even offer some trades."
[1d6 = 5] <Translation
>Responding near-instantly this time, the Otherworld Harpy shriek-screams in sincere, absolute rage, loud booms in the background heralding probably-not-positive reactions from either her weaponry or the hull she was bound within.
*"TOUCH NOT THEE SARCOPHAGUS WITHIN THAT VESSAIL! Be not lured tae suffer, accursed unsleeping an' undreaming 'pon waves tae never touch aegin!"*
>Sharp inhales and exhales that definitely weren't organic fill the channel before a sharp, almost snarling tone grinds through.
*"Nae, an' nae twinned. Only water mayest mineself rest 'pon, or within Arena cradles of auld... mayhaps Basin City havest afirst. Realspace fold engrams alight. Touch nae thee vessail afore mineself arriveth shortly-"*
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] Intact Realspace Fold Drive: Slow Transitional State
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
*"Thy havest bountiful spans ahead, ye graces. Harry theeself little aside risks taken an' chances granted, mineself asks."*
>Background thrums slowing to a pulsing, relaxed state, distant bomb rotor cycling continues for half a minute until the archaic Harpy returns with a shrill, aerily discontented noise.
*"......'tis scarce times mineself desireth thoughts unbidden. Nae words come. Nae words form."*
>Flashing a merry fanged smile at the pair of cases, solid energy forms into a single coherent screen above, studying the sharply defined symbols with a suitably stumped expression.
"Met her a few weeks later at Stonehat Lodge. She couldn't tell the difference between ripe red lemons, limes, pomelos, and citronal fruits. That last one has nothing to do with grapes as it's a crossbreed. Guess what I snuck into her bowl when she asked for the sweetest ones.
And don't worry, this might take me a few hours to understand the word 'the', but that'll at least be a start."
>Snickering quietly, left wingclaws raising to point at specific symbols, right set tracing lines in air, halting after a few seconds to screech in rage.
"COLT OF A SPRING HORSE! I sent my saddlepack with them!"
>Rolling her eyes after a few seconds, the Cultist snorts, but continues once more, trying, and continuously failing, to translate.
"And there isn't anything left to write on either... you know Lann's shop, yes? Behind her counter is a Moon Orb, pick it up and ask for.. what was she called? Some berry name. I think? Meh."
>Head lifting to settle a flat, strict gaze on you, the mare's jaw tightens before speaking in low tones.
"I'm trusting you not to step on this opportunity the wrong way. Basin City does not open for outsiders, EVER, but you are leadstallion of a certain mare that most of us have complete and total respect towards. Just say the Dark Horses need twenty charcoal sticks and at least five untouched record tomes. They'll have no choice but to open for a few hours. If we're lucky they might even offer some trades."
[1d6 = 5] <Translation
>Responding near-instantly this time, the Otherworld Harpy shriek-screams in sincere, absolute rage, loud booms in the background heralding probably-not-positive reactions from either her weaponry or the hull she was bound within.
*"TOUCH NOT THEE SARCOPHAGUS WITHIN THAT VESSAIL! Be not lured tae suffer, accursed unsleeping an' undreaming 'pon waves tae never touch aegin!"*
>Sharp inhales and exhales that definitely weren't organic fill the channel before a sharp, almost snarling tone grinds through.
*"Nae, an' nae twinned. Only water mayest mineself rest 'pon, or within Arena cradles of auld... mayhaps Basin City havest afirst. Realspace fold engrams alight. Touch nae thee vessail afore mineself arriveth shortly-"*
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] Intact Realspace Fold Drive: Slow Transitional State
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
>>371701
>Keeping a portion of his awareness trained on the still present Gravitons, he again attempts to coax one into joining him.
[1d6 = 4]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Keeping a portion of his awareness trained on the still present Gravitons, he again attempts to coax one into joining him.
[1d6 = 4]<Gravitic Coaxing
>>371767
>Jeff shrugs his shoulders at lIn's follow-up on the Guardian.
>The punishment Void got was ONLY for the Reliquary's destruction? Not for the guardian or anything else?
"Then I and all the humans, ponies, and whoever else among Razorback are under the impression that Void's punishment included the other crimes against Vulgroz. Why would Synxfaldir put on a trail only for the Reliquary? Why wait all this time to only now seek justice?"
>He sucks a bit of air in, re-actively.
"Did you witness what happened at the Basin Village about three-ish hours ago? All those Tainted ready to level it. Whatever problems I had, I dropped and came to its aid. And I called on whatever Razorback had to help defend it, side-by-side with both allies and enemies."
>Raising a pained finger, he taps it against the fresh reminder Void burning on his left jaw.
"We may have stopped them and finally put their souls to peace, but I was ready to die right there with... those that ultimately did. Even after the survivors were pulled to the Basin Arena to what would have most likely been a suicide-mission-via-Riftseeker, I was ready there too. All of us. The Village and the Moors is... probably the closest thing I've ever considered a home, even more than Razorback in some aspects. So yes. I do know how it feels to defend my home."
>Jeff takes the backlash on Nalyina and Thrill with little reaction. He's never know them to not be his friends. If that's the case, and they don't say they have a problem with him, wouldn't they be just as much in the wrong?
>Perhaps she is too much different of a being compared to him and the humans to fully understand them. Such as himself, and other humans, to Tallus.
>Eventually Lin settles down, conversation changing to the Moors. He shakes his his sympathetically, to her most civil question so far.
>He knew of the Crystal Moors pushing against the Scars there.
"No. I was told to leave it be when I was planning and managing the Moor's restoration efforts. Kept insisting it was beyond saving, so I've been doing wherever else I could. I worked with the Village, the Lunars, locals, allies, even Razorback to allocate funding and resources to help. Roads being re-pathed, locations and ruins long lost to time being rediscovered and pulled from the muck for refurbishing. I heard Scars in some areas were starting to heal, and now recently... almost all of the Tainted are no longer an issue."
>It couldn't have gone unsaid. It was one act of selfless kindness he can attest to.
>Jeff makes an honest attempt at connecting with Lin, regardless on his current predicament.
"Despite your anger toward me, could I ask you for an opinion on the state of the rest of Moors now? I figured if anyone would know if my and everpony else's efforts have helped, it would be you."
>As he observes the environment around him Jeff shudders at Lin's clear offense.
>She lists off every opportunity he has to garner any sort of aid from her.
>The first being a hunt for an exit from the realm, and full of what sounds like dangerous flora and fauna.
"If was was in any shape to, maybe. You've caught me after a very long and tiring night. Sounds like an easy way to kill me off."
>The second one, after she changes her mind, he tightens his lips.
>Object and prizes be damned, he can give those back no question. After all the work and dedication... The VIllage bustling every time he went at night. Going to the Cafe to get a break, after a grueling day pushing papers. Belltower and Malyne... he needs to make sure Belltower's okay. He can't walk away from her, like it is now."
"It would be, if I haven't already given two big reasons why I wouldn't do that. I've put too much effort trying to help the Moors reach a better state of being. Too many relationships, friends, and family I care about for me to turn them away completely like that."
>The third... he looks down at aforementioned stream and its flow.
"That sounds like, again, a pretty easy and quick way to get rid of me doesn't it?"
>The fourth sounds impossible. But if it's being offered, then it should be?
>Leave Tallus all together, take the bad apples with him? So many variables are at play with that one.
"I didn't even know I could leave Tallus, until just now. Trying to convince others, finding a where, and arranging the means to would take time. To pull humans away from environment by force... could cause even more problems."
>The fifth... made his stomach churn. Kill? Razorback members? Fear aside, he doesn't think he could ever cause such a betrayal tot he Fortress like that.
"That is... quite vicious. Is that what Vulgroz's wishes? Make me executioner, blood for blood?"
>The sixth, at first was going to what would've assumed to be an impossible flower hunt... turn easy?
>Far too, suspiciously dumbfoundedly easy.
>The phrasing was vague and ominous.
"Leave? Just like that, with no worth proven? Just dump me back in the Village where I was just now?"
>Jeff shrugs his shoulders at lIn's follow-up on the Guardian.
>The punishment Void got was ONLY for the Reliquary's destruction? Not for the guardian or anything else?
"Then I and all the humans, ponies, and whoever else among Razorback are under the impression that Void's punishment included the other crimes against Vulgroz. Why would Synxfaldir put on a trail only for the Reliquary? Why wait all this time to only now seek justice?"
>He sucks a bit of air in, re-actively.
"Did you witness what happened at the Basin Village about three-ish hours ago? All those Tainted ready to level it. Whatever problems I had, I dropped and came to its aid. And I called on whatever Razorback had to help defend it, side-by-side with both allies and enemies."
>Raising a pained finger, he taps it against the fresh reminder Void burning on his left jaw.
"We may have stopped them and finally put their souls to peace, but I was ready to die right there with... those that ultimately did. Even after the survivors were pulled to the Basin Arena to what would have most likely been a suicide-mission-via-Riftseeker, I was ready there too. All of us. The Village and the Moors is... probably the closest thing I've ever considered a home, even more than Razorback in some aspects. So yes. I do know how it feels to defend my home."
>Jeff takes the backlash on Nalyina and Thrill with little reaction. He's never know them to not be his friends. If that's the case, and they don't say they have a problem with him, wouldn't they be just as much in the wrong?
>Perhaps she is too much different of a being compared to him and the humans to fully understand them. Such as himself, and other humans, to Tallus.
>Eventually Lin settles down, conversation changing to the Moors. He shakes his his sympathetically, to her most civil question so far.
>He knew of the Crystal Moors pushing against the Scars there.
"No. I was told to leave it be when I was planning and managing the Moor's restoration efforts. Kept insisting it was beyond saving, so I've been doing wherever else I could. I worked with the Village, the Lunars, locals, allies, even Razorback to allocate funding and resources to help. Roads being re-pathed, locations and ruins long lost to time being rediscovered and pulled from the muck for refurbishing. I heard Scars in some areas were starting to heal, and now recently... almost all of the Tainted are no longer an issue."
>It couldn't have gone unsaid. It was one act of selfless kindness he can attest to.
>Jeff makes an honest attempt at connecting with Lin, regardless on his current predicament.
"Despite your anger toward me, could I ask you for an opinion on the state of the rest of Moors now? I figured if anyone would know if my and everpony else's efforts have helped, it would be you."
>As he observes the environment around him Jeff shudders at Lin's clear offense.
>She lists off every opportunity he has to garner any sort of aid from her.
>The first being a hunt for an exit from the realm, and full of what sounds like dangerous flora and fauna.
"If was was in any shape to, maybe. You've caught me after a very long and tiring night. Sounds like an easy way to kill me off."
>The second one, after she changes her mind, he tightens his lips.
>Object and prizes be damned, he can give those back no question. After all the work and dedication... The VIllage bustling every time he went at night. Going to the Cafe to get a break, after a grueling day pushing papers. Belltower and Malyne... he needs to make sure Belltower's okay. He can't walk away from her, like it is now."
"It would be, if I haven't already given two big reasons why I wouldn't do that. I've put too much effort trying to help the Moors reach a better state of being. Too many relationships, friends, and family I care about for me to turn them away completely like that."
>The third... he looks down at aforementioned stream and its flow.
"That sounds like, again, a pretty easy and quick way to get rid of me doesn't it?"
>The fourth sounds impossible. But if it's being offered, then it should be?
>Leave Tallus all together, take the bad apples with him? So many variables are at play with that one.
"I didn't even know I could leave Tallus, until just now. Trying to convince others, finding a where, and arranging the means to would take time. To pull humans away from environment by force... could cause even more problems."
>The fifth... made his stomach churn. Kill? Razorback members? Fear aside, he doesn't think he could ever cause such a betrayal tot he Fortress like that.
"That is... quite vicious. Is that what Vulgroz's wishes? Make me executioner, blood for blood?"
>The sixth, at first was going to what would've assumed to be an impossible flower hunt... turn easy?
>Far too, suspiciously dumbfoundedly easy.
>The phrasing was vague and ominous.
"Leave? Just like that, with no worth proven? Just dump me back in the Village where I was just now?"
>>371697
*"What, NOW?!"*
*".....shut up. You heard him. Everyone, do NOT approach a human, pony, other sapient that isn't directly part of Razorback."*
*"Seconded, and don't ask any fucking questions. Reports later, security first. Whomever gets done at the south entrance, gather around me, east side of Basin Village, or you'll be eating solid copper faster than this bitch can deliver it."*
*"Don't screw this up people, it's a bad fucking night to test any further limits."*
>Sharply turning about to face you, the lead Spireguard mare tosses her lance backwards, stomping forwards.
>Stopping at barely 2M away, the crystal-unicorn glances down to study the Mural Blade, frowns, then lifts her head, speaking in a tightly clipped Canterlot accent.
"Against multiple standing orders, I am willfully breaking all imposed restrictions solely of my own cognizance and equinity. Therefore, no party is liable for harm caused to me-"
>Shade larger than the Moon fills her voice, visibly snarling under the crystalline mask.
"'Whether out of suspected willfulness or negligence'. None of us have the full details or reports, but I must state the following under severe distress and duress.
One: precisely nine of us have been negatively effected by Anti exposure, from Class Ten to Class Eight. Direct contact acts as the primary vector but as of yet there is little proof to back our own theories.
At this distance I do not feel, detect, nor sense entropic effects which would be similar, and none of us are capable of recognizing Anti.
Two: we do not believe Razorback was aware of causing exposures, nor do the majority think the actions of Razorback to be hostile. Negligence a matter for much later.
While Minor Champion Vokreed via Grand Champion Belregard has verbally ordered such an isolation in good standing and trust, Vokreed is fresh, untested, and unknown. As such, once we return to the City-State there will be an immediate summoning of all those able to recognize Anti, in its known and theoretical forms, and conduct thorough examinations.
In addition, not a single proto-sapient Ethereal, and especially not the ignorant, idiotic, zealotry-ridden Moss-Wisps shall be allowed contact with humans. I am not alone in stating that the addition of an Ethereal shield or weapon to my family's honors would be tremarendously celebrated.
Three: the vast majority of Razorback does not understand or know how such an incredulous amount of Anti exposure has occurred, therefore if the majority of ponies within Razorback have not suffered from harm... there must be individuals, factors, vectors, or items within and around Razorback Fortress to explain such a critical discrepancy.
If possible, order an examination and survey of every last micron."
>Glancing back at the majority of Spireguard, Kingdom, and Conclavists sharing a brief hum, her expression remains bitter.
"Four: a small number of Spireguard, myself not included, have suggested a highly consolidated, rather logical, but as of yet unsupported theory. We know that Princess Cadenza brought three Kingdom Generals to Razorback Fortress, thus we are requesting that when you return, to, politely, insist they perform thorough medical analyses for negative and potential Anti-related side effects.
Send their completed logs to Imperial Task Force Five, codename Fractured Cliff, Section Three, Building Nine, Squad One, preferably using one of the top five Consortium crystalplates."
>Eyes rolling at numerous dissonant battlehums ejecting from the Crystal forces behind her, the mare exhales slowly.
"Rather, any of the top ten Consortium brands will suffice, though the more expensive plates have significantly fewer recording failure risks."
"And they sound a lot clearer!"
>Shaking her left foreleg twice, a small, bright blue sphere falls from the knee armor segmarents, hoof bending back and kicking it towards you.
"This is a Subrefined Rime Matrix, carry it at all times against your skin. It may be capable of purging small amounts of Anti within a short radius, but we do not know for sure. If not, and it becomes damaged, that will be vital information to test contact exposure."
*"Hate to say this right now bu-"*
*"Can it. People, Emerald's missing. Last I saw her was at the fountain, shouting at a whitesteel cube, could've been a crate or box. Didn't get a good look at it either."*
*"Like what? Poof? Gone, no traces?"*
*"Look, I'm tired but not hallucinating or stupid. Okay, definitely SOME stupid given all the shit tonight. Between nothing and nada, she WAS there, then she WASN'T."*
*"I didn't see her enter with us, or anyone else."*
*"No one?"*
*"Kind of remember the box. Shouting.. yeah, that too."*
*"So she DIDN'T march with us?"*
*"Now that you mention.. that's a no. Anyone else?"*
*"Big no from this squad, we were on the east end."*
*"Same here."*
*"I heard something about.. fuck! My everything hurts from all the pollen I can't think straight!"*
*"Think she was talking about sleeping horses, or maybe lazy ones?"*
*"...check what can be seen in Basin Village. Eyes, senses, and gear only."*
*"Thermals, infrared, night vision, all other optics, starting looking right now. We better see fingers STAYING off triggers or the first dipshit gets wall duty for the next year straight-"*
[1d6-1 = (5-1) = 4] <Search
*"What, NOW?!"*
*".....shut up. You heard him. Everyone, do NOT approach a human, pony, other sapient that isn't directly part of Razorback."*
*"Seconded, and don't ask any fucking questions. Reports later, security first. Whomever gets done at the south entrance, gather around me, east side of Basin Village, or you'll be eating solid copper faster than this bitch can deliver it."*
*"Don't screw this up people, it's a bad fucking night to test any further limits."*
>Sharply turning about to face you, the lead Spireguard mare tosses her lance backwards, stomping forwards.
>Stopping at barely 2M away, the crystal-unicorn glances down to study the Mural Blade, frowns, then lifts her head, speaking in a tightly clipped Canterlot accent.
"Against multiple standing orders, I am willfully breaking all imposed restrictions solely of my own cognizance and equinity. Therefore, no party is liable for harm caused to me-"
>Shade larger than the Moon fills her voice, visibly snarling under the crystalline mask.
"'Whether out of suspected willfulness or negligence'. None of us have the full details or reports, but I must state the following under severe distress and duress.
One: precisely nine of us have been negatively effected by Anti exposure, from Class Ten to Class Eight. Direct contact acts as the primary vector but as of yet there is little proof to back our own theories.
At this distance I do not feel, detect, nor sense entropic effects which would be similar, and none of us are capable of recognizing Anti.
Two: we do not believe Razorback was aware of causing exposures, nor do the majority think the actions of Razorback to be hostile. Negligence a matter for much later.
While Minor Champion Vokreed via Grand Champion Belregard has verbally ordered such an isolation in good standing and trust, Vokreed is fresh, untested, and unknown. As such, once we return to the City-State there will be an immediate summoning of all those able to recognize Anti, in its known and theoretical forms, and conduct thorough examinations.
In addition, not a single proto-sapient Ethereal, and especially not the ignorant, idiotic, zealotry-ridden Moss-Wisps shall be allowed contact with humans. I am not alone in stating that the addition of an Ethereal shield or weapon to my family's honors would be tremarendously celebrated.
Three: the vast majority of Razorback does not understand or know how such an incredulous amount of Anti exposure has occurred, therefore if the majority of ponies within Razorback have not suffered from harm... there must be individuals, factors, vectors, or items within and around Razorback Fortress to explain such a critical discrepancy.
If possible, order an examination and survey of every last micron."
>Glancing back at the majority of Spireguard, Kingdom, and Conclavists sharing a brief hum, her expression remains bitter.
"Four: a small number of Spireguard, myself not included, have suggested a highly consolidated, rather logical, but as of yet unsupported theory. We know that Princess Cadenza brought three Kingdom Generals to Razorback Fortress, thus we are requesting that when you return, to, politely, insist they perform thorough medical analyses for negative and potential Anti-related side effects.
Send their completed logs to Imperial Task Force Five, codename Fractured Cliff, Section Three, Building Nine, Squad One, preferably using one of the top five Consortium crystalplates."
>Eyes rolling at numerous dissonant battlehums ejecting from the Crystal forces behind her, the mare exhales slowly.
"Rather, any of the top ten Consortium brands will suffice, though the more expensive plates have significantly fewer recording failure risks."
"And they sound a lot clearer!"
>Shaking her left foreleg twice, a small, bright blue sphere falls from the knee armor segmarents, hoof bending back and kicking it towards you.
"This is a Subrefined Rime Matrix, carry it at all times against your skin. It may be capable of purging small amounts of Anti within a short radius, but we do not know for sure. If not, and it becomes damaged, that will be vital information to test contact exposure."
*"Hate to say this right now bu-"*
*"Can it. People, Emerald's missing. Last I saw her was at the fountain, shouting at a whitesteel cube, could've been a crate or box. Didn't get a good look at it either."*
*"Like what? Poof? Gone, no traces?"*
*"Look, I'm tired but not hallucinating or stupid. Okay, definitely SOME stupid given all the shit tonight. Between nothing and nada, she WAS there, then she WASN'T."*
*"I didn't see her enter with us, or anyone else."*
*"No one?"*
*"Kind of remember the box. Shouting.. yeah, that too."*
*"So she DIDN'T march with us?"*
*"Now that you mention.. that's a no. Anyone else?"*
*"Big no from this squad, we were on the east end."*
*"Same here."*
*"I heard something about.. fuck! My everything hurts from all the pollen I can't think straight!"*
*"Think she was talking about sleeping horses, or maybe lazy ones?"*
*"...check what can be seen in Basin Village. Eyes, senses, and gear only."*
*"Thermals, infrared, night vision, all other optics, starting looking right now. We better see fingers STAYING off triggers or the first dipshit gets wall duty for the next year straight-"*
[1d6-1 = (5-1) = 4] <Search
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication, The Storm King's Room
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371773
>>371701
>>371770
'Acknowledged.'
>Placing that option on a tiny digital shelf marked Odds & Ends, 'Shiibo' performs a low range EM sweep of the room.
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
"Any time, but it ain't gonna be a massage!"
>The avatar regards Kaytal with mild dubiousness, hands spreading out while speaking in faint sarcasm.
'Willful acceptance and complete dedication? A truly unique position to be in.'
"Anti is Otherworld-derived, so thematically speaking, humans must have some innate protection. However, the known symptoms are of such broad natures that they could fit into most categories of illnesses and injuries."
>Glancing at his collection briefly, Hodch eyes those atop the kanpri anvil in particular.
"Unfortunately none of those will be useful in determining potential Anti contact and exposure. And why am I not degenerating more rapidly due to the inherently corrosive effects? Since I've been with Razorback the progression has slowed by three, perhaps five percent. Not enough to matter but that cannot be a coincidence."
>Raises his left foreleg to eye the bright white and blue lightning scars covering it, then the right, he frowns heavily.
"Subconsciously, or unconsciously, he knew that he had a negative condition, yet did not understand the dangers nor what extent of the same was affecting him. That still brings us back to the same initial question: where did he acquire the means to produce Anti from?"
>Pinning Nibbles by her wings and hind legs, refusing to let the furiously wriggling cat go, Katyal's face tightens in realization.
"So that ACTUALLY contains Rime. Shit, I didn't know, thought it was a metaphor. Forget that idea then."
"What did you think a lattice means?"
>Tossing the First Responder a mock-irate glance, Hodch sighs at her before glancing up at you.
"You most certainly know a wide variety of methods to activate enchantmarents independently or interdependently. Instead of invoking the Rime itself, focus on what else it can or may enact, perform, and affect. Derive that knowledge into a classification. Or allow me to study it."
>Taking on a small, cryptic smile, 'Shiibo' folds both arms together, bending forwards as if peering into you.
'Search your feelings, sir. You know his words to be true.'
>Leaving the archaic reference, her left hand points at numerous EMF disturbances in the Room.. in rather large numbers.
'And, please, stop teasing them.'
>>371770
'Acknowledged.'
>Placing that option on a tiny digital shelf marked Odds & Ends, 'Shiibo' performs a low range EM sweep of the room.
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
"Any time, but it ain't gonna be a massage!"
>The avatar regards Kaytal with mild dubiousness, hands spreading out while speaking in faint sarcasm.
'Willful acceptance and complete dedication? A truly unique position to be in.'
"Anti is Otherworld-derived, so thematically speaking, humans must have some innate protection. However, the known symptoms are of such broad natures that they could fit into most categories of illnesses and injuries."
>Glancing at his collection briefly, Hodch eyes those atop the kanpri anvil in particular.
"Unfortunately none of those will be useful in determining potential Anti contact and exposure. And why am I not degenerating more rapidly due to the inherently corrosive effects? Since I've been with Razorback the progression has slowed by three, perhaps five percent. Not enough to matter but that cannot be a coincidence."
>Raises his left foreleg to eye the bright white and blue lightning scars covering it, then the right, he frowns heavily.
"Subconsciously, or unconsciously, he knew that he had a negative condition, yet did not understand the dangers nor what extent of the same was affecting him. That still brings us back to the same initial question: where did he acquire the means to produce Anti from?"
>Pinning Nibbles by her wings and hind legs, refusing to let the furiously wriggling cat go, Katyal's face tightens in realization.
"So that ACTUALLY contains Rime. Shit, I didn't know, thought it was a metaphor. Forget that idea then."
"What did you think a lattice means?"
>Tossing the First Responder a mock-irate glance, Hodch sighs at her before glancing up at you.
"You most certainly know a wide variety of methods to activate enchantmarents independently or interdependently. Instead of invoking the Rime itself, focus on what else it can or may enact, perform, and affect. Derive that knowledge into a classification. Or allow me to study it."
>Taking on a small, cryptic smile, 'Shiibo' folds both arms together, bending forwards as if peering into you.
'Search your feelings, sir. You know his words to be true.'
>Leaving the archaic reference, her left hand points at numerous EMF disturbances in the Room.. in rather large numbers.
'And, please, stop teasing them.'
>>371704
>Eyebrows raised, Shanis returns the nod with a thin, tired smile.
"There's over two thousand Ferron allied to Razorback, three small clans worth or so. Whenever they get a chance they deliver letters and packages."
>While Nao studies the candy once more in sheer fascination, the pegasus shakes her head slightly.
"Nah, was more curious than anything else. All I know is some Lunars go crazy whenever they're marentioned."
"Nah is my sister's name. She is not particularly nice most of the time."
>Pausing to blink down at the Polar Seal, Shanis' face twists, trying to process, and utterly fails to.
>Gazing at you for a half-second, visibly unsure of what to say, Starglow's shoulders lift, dragging the pen over once more.
"You're welcome."
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
"Catch you later."
"Of course."
"Be safe."
>Raising from the matrice's center, an unusually dull metallic eyeball forms, blinking once, then speaks in a flat, rocky monotone.
"VIP status confirmed. Access granted to the following two destinations in Argenta's Lands as per contractual agreemarents: Marequipa, Yurikay."
>Sinking down into the stone, a large, directly overhead view of a massive continent appears.
>While each region had a few similarities to certain countries you knew, the names were nearly all equine puns.
>One in particular is a brightly glowing mountain chain that descended into surrounding highland forest and jungles, simply labeled as prohibited.
>Eyebrows raised, Shanis returns the nod with a thin, tired smile.
"There's over two thousand Ferron allied to Razorback, three small clans worth or so. Whenever they get a chance they deliver letters and packages."
>While Nao studies the candy once more in sheer fascination, the pegasus shakes her head slightly.
"Nah, was more curious than anything else. All I know is some Lunars go crazy whenever they're marentioned."
"Nah is my sister's name. She is not particularly nice most of the time."
>Pausing to blink down at the Polar Seal, Shanis' face twists, trying to process, and utterly fails to.
>Gazing at you for a half-second, visibly unsure of what to say, Starglow's shoulders lift, dragging the pen over once more.
"You're welcome."
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6] <E.Appraisal
[1d6+2 = (4+2) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Bartering
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
"Catch you later."
"Of course."
"Be safe."
>Raising from the matrice's center, an unusually dull metallic eyeball forms, blinking once, then speaks in a flat, rocky monotone.
"VIP status confirmed. Access granted to the following two destinations in Argenta's Lands as per contractual agreemarents: Marequipa, Yurikay."
>Sinking down into the stone, a large, directly overhead view of a massive continent appears.
>While each region had a few similarities to certain countries you knew, the names were nearly all equine puns.
>One in particular is a brightly glowing mountain chain that descended into surrounding highland forest and jungles, simply labeled as prohibited.
>>371771
"I don't know. Why didn't you ask him? Besides, expending words without explicit action can mean everything. Or a whole lot. Maybe some. Possibly little. Potentially nothing."
>Blinking slowly over the course of five seconds, the hummingbird is replaced indistinct woman's figure, legs crossed and sitting forwards, palms supporting chin.
"What would it matter if I did or didn't? All of the Moors, except that one little stain, is my home. When this world began to exist I became a part of it. THIS part of it. While I can travel, I don't like to."
>Unmoving, you get the sense that Lin wasn't staring down, or even at you, as she shrugs.
"Why do the Tainted exist? Such a silly question, but are you ready for an even sillier answer: two stupid alicorns. It's becoming harder for me to recall, but watching Solar and Lunar striking each other millions of times across this world was like watching two Eldritch wannabe deities clashing. Then the widespread destruction between their followers and others. If I said a twentieth of this world was corrupted or tainted that'd be the biggest understatement tonight.
Also, Tainted haven't been a threat for a long time now, except for tiny numbers throughout the Moors and sections of Old Everfree. They appear and are put down as they should have been. The better question: whom caused them to coalesce where they did? An even greater one: why?"
>Reverting to the hummingbird once more, it stands up and turns, sweeping both wings out in slow, dramatic fashion.
"Yes, there certainly was a tremendous effort.. but it wasn't specifically for this region as a whole. Building new roads atop old ones? Recovering, reclaiming, and repairing lost buildings? Adding new towers everywhere?"
>Halting as the left wing points at you, Lin's head snaps towards you.
"Those actions were for the benefits of equines and your species, but no others.
Do you understand how selfish, hypocritical, and arrogant the words you just spoke are? Probably not. Definitely not. What have YOU done to further shape and evolve the Moors itself?"
>Gazing for a second longer, the hummingbird hops about to face you once more.
>Eyes closing while sitting down, Lin's tone is brittle in anger.
"Net negative in every major aspect. And still deteriorating."
>Remaining utterly still and not answering a single question, after your last word the right eye opens halfway.
"So close, so often, and so many times. The inability to take a single step in any direction that won't lead to disaster, death, or destruction. A few humans have demonstrated that they are capable of belonging here. Far too late and not enough."
>Silent for nearly a minute, she shakes her head twice in slow, firm motions.
"It's clear that you do not understand a single offer I've made."
"I don't know. Why didn't you ask him? Besides, expending words without explicit action can mean everything. Or a whole lot. Maybe some. Possibly little. Potentially nothing."
>Blinking slowly over the course of five seconds, the hummingbird is replaced indistinct woman's figure, legs crossed and sitting forwards, palms supporting chin.
"What would it matter if I did or didn't? All of the Moors, except that one little stain, is my home. When this world began to exist I became a part of it. THIS part of it. While I can travel, I don't like to."
>Unmoving, you get the sense that Lin wasn't staring down, or even at you, as she shrugs.
"Why do the Tainted exist? Such a silly question, but are you ready for an even sillier answer: two stupid alicorns. It's becoming harder for me to recall, but watching Solar and Lunar striking each other millions of times across this world was like watching two Eldritch wannabe deities clashing. Then the widespread destruction between their followers and others. If I said a twentieth of this world was corrupted or tainted that'd be the biggest understatement tonight.
Also, Tainted haven't been a threat for a long time now, except for tiny numbers throughout the Moors and sections of Old Everfree. They appear and are put down as they should have been. The better question: whom caused them to coalesce where they did? An even greater one: why?"
>Reverting to the hummingbird once more, it stands up and turns, sweeping both wings out in slow, dramatic fashion.
"Yes, there certainly was a tremendous effort.. but it wasn't specifically for this region as a whole. Building new roads atop old ones? Recovering, reclaiming, and repairing lost buildings? Adding new towers everywhere?"
>Halting as the left wing points at you, Lin's head snaps towards you.
"Those actions were for the benefits of equines and your species, but no others.
Do you understand how selfish, hypocritical, and arrogant the words you just spoke are? Probably not. Definitely not. What have YOU done to further shape and evolve the Moors itself?"
>Gazing for a second longer, the hummingbird hops about to face you once more.
>Eyes closing while sitting down, Lin's tone is brittle in anger.
"Net negative in every major aspect. And still deteriorating."
>Remaining utterly still and not answering a single question, after your last word the right eye opens halfway.
"So close, so often, and so many times. The inability to take a single step in any direction that won't lead to disaster, death, or destruction. A few humans have demonstrated that they are capable of belonging here. Far too late and not enough."
>Silent for nearly a minute, she shakes her head twice in slow, firm motions.
"It's clear that you do not understand a single offer I've made."
>>371775
>Jeff again shrugs halfheartedly at the hummingbird.
"I wasn't there for the entire trial. I saw it begin, already in what I figured were capable hands and a crowd, and didn't hear about the verdict until everything was over."
>So the battle was insignificant to her? She is the embodiment of the Moors, in a sense. It was vast enough for the Basin to be of little worth in the grand scheme.
>She goes on about the origins of the Tainted. Souls from the Lunar-Solar war, he knew that much.
>The who and why were valid questions. Even he never got that far from anyone.
"I had just arrived right before they attacked the Village. I had no time to ask the who and why, only defending the Basin was important at that point. And before I could ask once the fighting was over, I was whisked away before I can ask. And now again, with you bringing me here."
>As she adds body to his efforts, she throws it all in his face again.
>He's seen her pattern, now. Nothing he has done is going to please her. Nothing he says will sway her.
"Yes, I suppose I was just enacting on gratitude to the inhabitants that took us in as friends. Shaping and evolving the Moors that way... didn't cross my mind."
>None of it was helping the Moors. Just the ponies and them. No one ever suggested anything else otherwise. How would he have known?
>She says nothing to his comments regarding the options.
>Whatever humans she's talking about, he isn't one of them.
>Jeff sighs, crestfallen at her final comment.
"What am I not understanding, here? All you've given me are options to either throw my morals, convictions, relationships, and even my life away. And at a chance for what? If I'm so hopeless and insignificant to this world, why are you even bothering with me?"
>Jeff just stares at the giant emerald, empty of any fight left with this God-like being.
"If we're at an impasse, just send me back. If you know what's keeping Razorback and myself so miserably disconnected from Tallus, at least there I have friends that I know can help me figure it out."
>Jeff again shrugs halfheartedly at the hummingbird.
"I wasn't there for the entire trial. I saw it begin, already in what I figured were capable hands and a crowd, and didn't hear about the verdict until everything was over."
>So the battle was insignificant to her? She is the embodiment of the Moors, in a sense. It was vast enough for the Basin to be of little worth in the grand scheme.
>She goes on about the origins of the Tainted. Souls from the Lunar-Solar war, he knew that much.
>The who and why were valid questions. Even he never got that far from anyone.
"I had just arrived right before they attacked the Village. I had no time to ask the who and why, only defending the Basin was important at that point. And before I could ask once the fighting was over, I was whisked away before I can ask. And now again, with you bringing me here."
>As she adds body to his efforts, she throws it all in his face again.
>He's seen her pattern, now. Nothing he has done is going to please her. Nothing he says will sway her.
"Yes, I suppose I was just enacting on gratitude to the inhabitants that took us in as friends. Shaping and evolving the Moors that way... didn't cross my mind."
>None of it was helping the Moors. Just the ponies and them. No one ever suggested anything else otherwise. How would he have known?
>She says nothing to his comments regarding the options.
>Whatever humans she's talking about, he isn't one of them.
>Jeff sighs, crestfallen at her final comment.
"What am I not understanding, here? All you've given me are options to either throw my morals, convictions, relationships, and even my life away. And at a chance for what? If I'm so hopeless and insignificant to this world, why are you even bothering with me?"
>Jeff just stares at the giant emerald, empty of any fight left with this God-like being.
"If we're at an impasse, just send me back. If you know what's keeping Razorback and myself so miserably disconnected from Tallus, at least there I have friends that I know can help me figure it out."
>>371776
"I see."
>Wings flicking once more as she nestles down, Lin emits a low trill.
"Then Razorback completely and utterly lacks communication. With a few exceptions. Little wonder more than half of Tallus is beginning to hate your species."
>Peering off to the side, her feathers bristle.
"I'm not the original Druid, merely the.. only remaining one. Was probably a hundred. Maybe. But I can't remember that far back anymore."
>Snapping focus onto you once more, the hummingbird's thin beak clacks.
"That is precisely what I was requesting. And why shouldn't I? When a single individual takes the willingness to sacrifice their life in search of the best possible outcome is a standard. This WORLD'S standard, in case you haven't noticed, but no. Humans arrive as outcasts, derelicts, renegades, or whatever they all are, then start imposing their own damned wills when they're no longer wanted, and especially not desired! I'm not insulted... tired. Sick. Disgusted."
>Springing up and throwing her wings outwards, toxic nettles burn worse than before.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Pain
"FOR WHAT!? You've refused every single offer I made! You act like a leader when the authority and role benefit you, yet when was the last time you used those without any potential for gain!? Every single word you've spoken only serves to tell me that you don't want to be here! In MY home no less, the same place that you've dedicated yourself as belonging to multiple times!
AND for reasons I CAN'T fathom you've been refuting those SAME dedications with your own words! Which means this entire time has been WASTED! FOR NOTHING! You've been a guest this long but you can't even decide whether or not you want to be here?!"
>Sharp talons grip the emerald tightly as she stands, left wing pointed at you.
"But I will keep this promise: if I so much as hear a rumor that ANY being of or from Razorback so much as takes the tiniest possible piece from a Reliquary, active or otherwise, I will tear apart each one of your rotten species and wipe every trace out to the last!
Excluding only two.. unless they happen to turn out like their sire-"
>Blinking after a few moments, you realize the Druid was gone.
"I see."
>Wings flicking once more as she nestles down, Lin emits a low trill.
"Then Razorback completely and utterly lacks communication. With a few exceptions. Little wonder more than half of Tallus is beginning to hate your species."
>Peering off to the side, her feathers bristle.
"I'm not the original Druid, merely the.. only remaining one. Was probably a hundred. Maybe. But I can't remember that far back anymore."
>Snapping focus onto you once more, the hummingbird's thin beak clacks.
"That is precisely what I was requesting. And why shouldn't I? When a single individual takes the willingness to sacrifice their life in search of the best possible outcome is a standard. This WORLD'S standard, in case you haven't noticed, but no. Humans arrive as outcasts, derelicts, renegades, or whatever they all are, then start imposing their own damned wills when they're no longer wanted, and especially not desired! I'm not insulted... tired. Sick. Disgusted."
>Springing up and throwing her wings outwards, toxic nettles burn worse than before.
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7] <Pain
"FOR WHAT!? You've refused every single offer I made! You act like a leader when the authority and role benefit you, yet when was the last time you used those without any potential for gain!? Every single word you've spoken only serves to tell me that you don't want to be here! In MY home no less, the same place that you've dedicated yourself as belonging to multiple times!
AND for reasons I CAN'T fathom you've been refuting those SAME dedications with your own words! Which means this entire time has been WASTED! FOR NOTHING! You've been a guest this long but you can't even decide whether or not you want to be here?!"
>Sharp talons grip the emerald tightly as she stands, left wing pointed at you.
"But I will keep this promise: if I so much as hear a rumor that ANY being of or from Razorback so much as takes the tiniest possible piece from a Reliquary, active or otherwise, I will tear apart each one of your rotten species and wipe every trace out to the last!
Excluding only two.. unless they happen to turn out like their sire-"
>Blinking after a few moments, you realize the Druid was gone.
>>371773
>Pareidolia gives Shiibo a wry look.
"Don't mistake a Katarn for a Skywalker. 'You know in your heart that you'll never truly be one of them.'"
>He pauses briefly to focus on the errant particles.
[1d6 = 1]<Gravitic Coaxing
"I'm not trying to. The probability of holding their interests this long is extremely unusual."
>Glancing down at the orb again, he purses his lips.
"I am nowhere near trained or knowledgeable enough to take that risk here with the mission we are on. You are better equipped to potentially derive something useful."
>He rolls the orb from his palm into his fingers before flicking it across the pelt rug to Hodch.
"Can we confirm that it was Spiral producing Anti and not simply cross contamination from another source? Humans corrupted by Horizon or the Tyrant? Logs indicate that Sweet's variant of Anti was selective and capable of discrimination. If Enchains can alter its properties, is this some sort of result of such?"
>Pareidolia gives Shiibo a wry look.
"Don't mistake a Katarn for a Skywalker. 'You know in your heart that you'll never truly be one of them.'"
>He pauses briefly to focus on the errant particles.
[1d6 = 1]<Gravitic Coaxing
"I'm not trying to. The probability of holding their interests this long is extremely unusual."
>Glancing down at the orb again, he purses his lips.
"I am nowhere near trained or knowledgeable enough to take that risk here with the mission we are on. You are better equipped to potentially derive something useful."
>He rolls the orb from his palm into his fingers before flicking it across the pelt rug to Hodch.
"Can we confirm that it was Spiral producing Anti and not simply cross contamination from another source? Humans corrupted by Horizon or the Tyrant? Logs indicate that Sweet's variant of Anti was selective and capable of discrimination. If Enchains can alter its properties, is this some sort of result of such?"
File (): 6AD088386016DB5BCCACBBCF239431BF-84721.jpg (82.7 KB, 468x323, 1468190961788.jpg)
>>371778
>Upon her now clear explanation of the options, Jeff blinks stupidly.
>He's irritated. And confused. Why did she have to give him the run-around on that?
"Then why didn't you just say that? I thought I was going to sacrifice myself for nothing. You explained nothing to me, expected me to choose with no clear goal."
>Before he can get anything else out, the nettle in his hand fires right back up.
>Jeff screams this time, no longer having the fortitude to hold it in. He drops to his knees, gripping his wrist again out of habit.
>His ears ring, and his head gets light-headed from the pain.
>She's yelling at him but it's only half registering from the nettle's fresh stinging.
>The vow to wipe them out the next time they loot a reliquary catches his ears, at least.
>IF he gets out of here, he needs to warn Razorback.
>Trying to regain his focuses, he realizes Lin had left.
>Sweeping around, he was alone. Which was worrying... he was still here.
>She kidnaps him, hurts him, yells at him for things he knows nothing about, gets madder when she doesn't explain herself clearly, hurts him again, and leaves him there.
>Of course, why would she send him back?
>Getting in enough breathes to think straight, he activates his emergency distress beacon on his TacPad and immediately drops Anon's iron ball he picked up during the Basin's resupply.
"Come on Anon. Get me out of here. Someone, please..."
>While he waits for any kind of response, he uses whatever energy he has left keeping an eye on his surroundings.
>Lin did say she cooked up the nastiest creatures in the Moors here...
[1d6 = 4]<M.Scouting
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 3]
>Upon her now clear explanation of the options, Jeff blinks stupidly.
>He's irritated. And confused. Why did she have to give him the run-around on that?
"Then why didn't you just say that? I thought I was going to sacrifice myself for nothing. You explained nothing to me, expected me to choose with no clear goal."
>Before he can get anything else out, the nettle in his hand fires right back up.
>Jeff screams this time, no longer having the fortitude to hold it in. He drops to his knees, gripping his wrist again out of habit.
>His ears ring, and his head gets light-headed from the pain.
>She's yelling at him but it's only half registering from the nettle's fresh stinging.
>The vow to wipe them out the next time they loot a reliquary catches his ears, at least.
>IF he gets out of here, he needs to warn Razorback.
>Trying to regain his focuses, he realizes Lin had left.
>Sweeping around, he was alone. Which was worrying... he was still here.
>She kidnaps him, hurts him, yells at him for things he knows nothing about, gets madder when she doesn't explain herself clearly, hurts him again, and leaves him there.
>Of course, why would she send him back?
>Getting in enough breathes to think straight, he activates his emergency distress beacon on his TacPad and immediately drops Anon's iron ball he picked up during the Basin's resupply.
"Come on Anon. Get me out of here. Someone, please..."
>While he waits for any kind of response, he uses whatever energy he has left keeping an eye on his surroundings.
>Lin did say she cooked up the nastiest creatures in the Moors here...
[1d6 = 4]<M.Scouting
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 1]
[1d6 = 3]
>>371780
>Head cocking while examining the local atmosphere, the avatar's left eyebrow raises in mild surprise.
'Which would you prefer to be?'
>You feel the closest Graviton rippling out, attention dragging to her own screen.
>'Shiibo' twitches once.
'No. I am not laughing. Perhaps you should sweet talk the next one, sir.'
>Then almost imperceptibly convulses.
>Reaching forward to collect the heavy sphere and bring it up to eye level, Hodch's ears perk interestedly, muted colors swirling across his coat.
"Don't worry, I have.. probably fifty of each Rime lattice and matrice safely stored elsewhere. This SHOULD offer some clarifications due to being in contact with your armor. Structural damage, Rime degradation containmarent failure, disruption, and what not-"
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Crystal Alchemy
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism: Reveal-Thy-Secrets
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
"That's a definite no to the first, I'm afraid. Without a Core there's no Anti."
>Releasing Nibbles and setting her down, not before running both hands across the smooth fur, Katyal closes one eye, looking upwards.
"Huh. Hold on. Hodch, how come there's no records of individuals being able to sense them? Wish I'd brought my laptop now, have a bunch of records on it."
"I... fair question, but with a much more sinister answer. At a calculated guess: it's not possible. Anti functionally burns out all memory at close range, which would include senses. Effects drastically scale upwards per each stage. The most volatile Dynasty Cores are known as 'Supreme Flawed type', opposite that are Flawless, Perfect, and Untouched. Of course, I have NO idea what those even mean..
As for 'Horizon', the event which occurred in Razorback Fortress and Enclave at the same time is still a complete unknown. Nearly every human did witness a single alicorn, accompanieghed by numerous Anti Cores and corrupted Sunglobes.
Sweet does indeed have a Flawless Anti Core, though that is another no: proper Enchains reinforce and increase the capabilities of an item's metaphysical functionalities. It is... terrifying and horrifying to think what she may be capable of with it. Unfortunately, again, I do not know."
>A crow blue cloud lifts the Rim Lattice towards you, Hodch glancing upwards.
"Then again.. my theory depends on the following three calculations being correct.
One, there is enough of a protective and connective Otherworld spectrum overlap that Anti may not be directly or indirectly harmful to humans. The sheer amount of exposure Operators have sustained should have killed them all.
Two, Anti may be, based on the prior, negligibly harmful to humans in total, which would make the same unwilling hosts. The reports and records Tipper wrote down should be enough to confirm whether or not ponies have been negatively impacted.
Three, there is a potential that Spiral did not know he was utilizing Anti, at all. Which brings up this question: are there micro-Anti Cores embedded in, or throughout, each weapon, armor, and device?"
>Ocean blue glove grasping at the portal's entrance/exit, Lonestar's head slides in sideways, half-shouting in pure joy.
"You all gotta see her now, my baby's got the BIGGEST tune up possible! Cannons are perfect, armor's nearly triple what she had before, even got a repulsion lift system! She's ready to go!"
>Disappearing briefly, then poking in again, he coughs, poorly trying to hide further excitement from Hodch.
"And uh.. so's Dul. She brought some, let's call it 'stuff' in-"
>Head cocking while examining the local atmosphere, the avatar's left eyebrow raises in mild surprise.
'Which would you prefer to be?'
>You feel the closest Graviton rippling out, attention dragging to her own screen.
>'Shiibo' twitches once.
'No. I am not laughing. Perhaps you should sweet talk the next one, sir.'
>Then almost imperceptibly convulses.
>Reaching forward to collect the heavy sphere and bring it up to eye level, Hodch's ears perk interestedly, muted colors swirling across his coat.
"Don't worry, I have.. probably fifty of each Rime lattice and matrice safely stored elsewhere. This SHOULD offer some clarifications due to being in contact with your armor. Structural damage, Rime degradation containmarent failure, disruption, and what not-"
[1d6+5 = (3+5) = 8] <E.Crystal Alchemy
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <GM.Mysticism: Reveal-Thy-Secrets
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
"That's a definite no to the first, I'm afraid. Without a Core there's no Anti."
>Releasing Nibbles and setting her down, not before running both hands across the smooth fur, Katyal closes one eye, looking upwards.
"Huh. Hold on. Hodch, how come there's no records of individuals being able to sense them? Wish I'd brought my laptop now, have a bunch of records on it."
"I... fair question, but with a much more sinister answer. At a calculated guess: it's not possible. Anti functionally burns out all memory at close range, which would include senses. Effects drastically scale upwards per each stage. The most volatile Dynasty Cores are known as 'Supreme Flawed type', opposite that are Flawless, Perfect, and Untouched. Of course, I have NO idea what those even mean..
As for 'Horizon', the event which occurred in Razorback Fortress and Enclave at the same time is still a complete unknown. Nearly every human did witness a single alicorn, accompanieghed by numerous Anti Cores and corrupted Sunglobes.
Sweet does indeed have a Flawless Anti Core, though that is another no: proper Enchains reinforce and increase the capabilities of an item's metaphysical functionalities. It is... terrifying and horrifying to think what she may be capable of with it. Unfortunately, again, I do not know."
>A crow blue cloud lifts the Rim Lattice towards you, Hodch glancing upwards.
"Then again.. my theory depends on the following three calculations being correct.
One, there is enough of a protective and connective Otherworld spectrum overlap that Anti may not be directly or indirectly harmful to humans. The sheer amount of exposure Operators have sustained should have killed them all.
Two, Anti may be, based on the prior, negligibly harmful to humans in total, which would make the same unwilling hosts. The reports and records Tipper wrote down should be enough to confirm whether or not ponies have been negatively impacted.
Three, there is a potential that Spiral did not know he was utilizing Anti, at all. Which brings up this question: are there micro-Anti Cores embedded in, or throughout, each weapon, armor, and device?"
>Ocean blue glove grasping at the portal's entrance/exit, Lonestar's head slides in sideways, half-shouting in pure joy.
"You all gotta see her now, my baby's got the BIGGEST tune up possible! Cannons are perfect, armor's nearly triple what she had before, even got a repulsion lift system! She's ready to go!"
>Disappearing briefly, then poking in again, he coughs, poorly trying to hide further excitement from Hodch.
"And uh.. so's Dul. She brought some, let's call it 'stuff' in-"
>>371782
>Pareidolia watches Hodch begin to examine the orb in a swirl of multi-colored energy while sighing inside his helmet.
"You quoted Vader. I quoted Dessan. I know my rec room on station had Jedi Outcast in its catalog, but I see you don't have knowledge of it in your memory. It wasn't a 'I'd prefer to be' one or the other situation. Just a sentiment that I will never truly be spiritually compatible with Tallus. At least, not for now. The Protocol takes priority."
>As Katyal and Hodch converse, he takes a moment to reach out to the remaining Gravitons.
"Everything in this world being sentient or sapient is very... troublesome. Potential for Class threes or fours is staggering."
[1d6 = 2]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Glancing up at Lonestar's mirth, he narrows his eyes as Dul is mentioned.
>Directing his voice towards the portal, he asks.
"What stuff?"
>Pareidolia watches Hodch begin to examine the orb in a swirl of multi-colored energy while sighing inside his helmet.
"You quoted Vader. I quoted Dessan. I know my rec room on station had Jedi Outcast in its catalog, but I see you don't have knowledge of it in your memory. It wasn't a 'I'd prefer to be' one or the other situation. Just a sentiment that I will never truly be spiritually compatible with Tallus. At least, not for now. The Protocol takes priority."
>As Katyal and Hodch converse, he takes a moment to reach out to the remaining Gravitons.
"Everything in this world being sentient or sapient is very... troublesome. Potential for Class threes or fours is staggering."
[1d6 = 2]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Glancing up at Lonestar's mirth, he narrows his eyes as Dul is mentioned.
>Directing his voice towards the portal, he asks.
"What stuff?"
>>371781
>Finding the buttons much harder to remember, the screen lights up, a single strobe appearing as the command initializes, slowly fading back to its standard dim level.
>The trees had virtually ceased illumination, leaving only vague pillars and branches jutting out, though the highly active stones and gems in the stream were enough to see the nearest five meters around it.
>While you couldn't spot obvious nests or creches, there were enough scents here to recognize the tang of blood, though not fresh.
>Now considerably darker than the area around Basin Village on most worst nights, and utterly quiet save for water.
>Distant, hollow keening from a predatory avian far to your left rings downward, bouncing multiple times before eventually terminating.
>Finding the buttons much harder to remember, the screen lights up, a single strobe appearing as the command initializes, slowly fading back to its standard dim level.
>The trees had virtually ceased illumination, leaving only vague pillars and branches jutting out, though the highly active stones and gems in the stream were enough to see the nearest five meters around it.
>While you couldn't spot obvious nests or creches, there were enough scents here to recognize the tang of blood, though not fresh.
>Now considerably darker than the area around Basin Village on most worst nights, and utterly quiet save for water.
>Distant, hollow keening from a predatory avian far to your left rings downward, bouncing multiple times before eventually terminating.
>>371783
'If that is a stock program or updated then it may be found in archives, searching now.'
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
'Then I do not need to remind you potential risks and dangers mu-'
>Unsteadily orienting or moving in patterns that would fuel a Chaos Theory Designer's mind with decidedly unwholesome thoughts, a few of the closest ones.. twitch.
'...must be studied first. A sentient particle would confirm a clear evolutionary improvement over a purely mechanical version, magic or not. Multiple claims have been made yet no evidence exists to describe a proto-sentience in nature outside of chemical-derived biology. Excluding interference during experiments, that is.
If true, it may be possible to utilize your capabilities to effect one without causing successive catastrophic failures. Theoretically.'
>Bringing up a small though neat selection of records on Empress Silver, the avatar side eyes Katyal.
'Your records state she was present at the.. Enclave Party. Her awareness of the three Dynasty Eras appears to be routine knowledge; facial expressions denoting deep recall are irregular at best. Perhaps a conversation might help.'
"Bunch of old Dynasty coins, gems, a few medals, and a bunch of others she dug outta somewhere. Said she left the sketchy pieces or reactive ones a few hundred meters out. Speaking of which the cabin's real comfortable now-"
>Leaving quickly, Katyal and Hodch share A Look.
"Onetwothreefournotit-"
"Onetwothreefournotit-"
>Finishing at the same time, except the woman was 0.01 seconds faster, they shrug together before gazing down at Nibbles.
"Your turn. Remember the first rule of archaeology-"
"Get the longest stick you can and poke everything at least a hundred times! Or make one."
"Not technically standard procedure, but that's the second rule."
"So what's the first?"
"Watch how fauna and flora in the vicinity act, react, function, or do not function in the presence of an unknown."
"For.. how long exactly?"
"Until you become bored enough to find something else to study."
>Standing with a slack, relieved face to stretch out, the stallion chuckles as two middle fingers wave at him, Nibbles taking the chance to scramble out.
>Collecting her kit bag and slinging it over the right shoulder as she walks to the portal, Katyal stops.
>Left hand reaching into her pouches, then presents a brightly shimmering, blue and purple cylindrical crystal, which takes the Starborn Reservist's full interest.
"I'll bet this baby he's going to give it a pet name. Any takers?"
"Well isn't that a surprise. I'll bet two 29,920 red diamondine discs it's a woman's name. Is that acceptable?"
>Tossing back a grin, Kat spins it while stepping out.
"Deal!"
[1d6 = 6] <Choice
'If that is a stock program or updated then it may be found in archives, searching now.'
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
'Then I do not need to remind you potential risks and dangers mu-'
>Unsteadily orienting or moving in patterns that would fuel a Chaos Theory Designer's mind with decidedly unwholesome thoughts, a few of the closest ones.. twitch.
'...must be studied first. A sentient particle would confirm a clear evolutionary improvement over a purely mechanical version, magic or not. Multiple claims have been made yet no evidence exists to describe a proto-sentience in nature outside of chemical-derived biology. Excluding interference during experiments, that is.
If true, it may be possible to utilize your capabilities to effect one without causing successive catastrophic failures. Theoretically.'
>Bringing up a small though neat selection of records on Empress Silver, the avatar side eyes Katyal.
'Your records state she was present at the.. Enclave Party. Her awareness of the three Dynasty Eras appears to be routine knowledge; facial expressions denoting deep recall are irregular at best. Perhaps a conversation might help.'
"Bunch of old Dynasty coins, gems, a few medals, and a bunch of others she dug outta somewhere. Said she left the sketchy pieces or reactive ones a few hundred meters out. Speaking of which the cabin's real comfortable now-"
>Leaving quickly, Katyal and Hodch share A Look.
"Onetwothreefournotit-"
"Onetwothreefournotit-"
>Finishing at the same time, except the woman was 0.01 seconds faster, they shrug together before gazing down at Nibbles.
"Your turn. Remember the first rule of archaeology-"
"Get the longest stick you can and poke everything at least a hundred times! Or make one."
"Not technically standard procedure, but that's the second rule."
"So what's the first?"
"Watch how fauna and flora in the vicinity act, react, function, or do not function in the presence of an unknown."
"For.. how long exactly?"
"Until you become bored enough to find something else to study."
>Standing with a slack, relieved face to stretch out, the stallion chuckles as two middle fingers wave at him, Nibbles taking the chance to scramble out.
>Collecting her kit bag and slinging it over the right shoulder as she walks to the portal, Katyal stops.
>Left hand reaching into her pouches, then presents a brightly shimmering, blue and purple cylindrical crystal, which takes the Starborn Reservist's full interest.
"I'll bet this baby he's going to give it a pet name. Any takers?"
"Well isn't that a surprise. I'll bet two 29,920 red diamondine discs it's a woman's name. Is that acceptable?"
>Tossing back a grin, Kat spins it while stepping out.
"Deal!"
[1d6 = 6] <Choice
>>371785
>His eyes close at the mention of Silver while his face twists in a mixture of resignation and disgust.
"I detest invoking her, but given the extenuating circumstances you may be correct."
>Setting his backpack in front of his lap, he fishes through one of the side pockets for any on hand rations or energy bars.
>He would begin eating while again trying to connect with a graviton as Katyal and Hodch's banter and antics continue.
[1d6 = 3]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Eyeing Katyal's backpack disappearing through the portal leaving him and Shiibo alone with Hodch, he then speaks up.
"Should we request Silver's presence for information on Anti and the ruins we're moving towards? I'm not fond of invoking high Class beings, whether they stepped away from their ambitions or not, but it seems like we can't afford to not make use of everything we can at this point."
>His eyes close at the mention of Silver while his face twists in a mixture of resignation and disgust.
"I detest invoking her, but given the extenuating circumstances you may be correct."
>Setting his backpack in front of his lap, he fishes through one of the side pockets for any on hand rations or energy bars.
>He would begin eating while again trying to connect with a graviton as Katyal and Hodch's banter and antics continue.
[1d6 = 3]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Eyeing Katyal's backpack disappearing through the portal leaving him and Shiibo alone with Hodch, he then speaks up.
"Should we request Silver's presence for information on Anti and the ruins we're moving towards? I'm not fond of invoking high Class beings, whether they stepped away from their ambitions or not, but it seems like we can't afford to not make use of everything we can at this point."
File (): 825051A5D591053FF4C0CEF3DF4BED05-4839.jpg (4.7 KB, 224x225, maxresdefault3.jpg)
>>371784
>Distress signal activated, it didn't give him any odd feedback. Worst case he was somewhere where it wasn't going to be picked up.
>And with Anon's iron ball supposedly activated, all he can do now is wait for the gestalt to respond. That smart phone of his should alert him if a Razorback member strayed too far from normal areas. That was assuming he was even capable of reaching him, or if he hadn't recovered from that close call in the Basin Village.
>Jeff picks the iron ball back up and drops it back onto the ground.
"Come on, man. Don't hold out on me."
>He recalled Thrill saying the reliquaries were all over the Everfree, so he has a general idea where he is outside of here. Or is this some sort of pocket dimension?
>Await rescue... or for Lin to return? Maybe she'll be in a better mood, and let him go? Maybe she'll bring something worse back with her.
>Who's he kidding... definitely the latter.
>Jeff slumps down from his kneel and into a sitting position on the ground.
>Right now he just needs to stay put, and try to rest. The pain in his hand wasn't doing much for that, though.
>He's got water, rations, near a noticeable body of water with light.
>Although everything sounds quiet, that doesn't mean something won't show up eventually. Not like he's in any shape to fight anything right now.
>And if he did... Lin mentioned earlier that she didn't want him touching anything in here. If he managed to spill blood, and she returned and saw it...
>Fuck himself at this point. He's more worried she'd twist her own promise around and go after the others if he did anything in here.
>Removing the TacPad from out the underside of his gauntlet, he switches it to video recording and unhooks his helmet from his side.
>Making sure the camera was on, he switches the side mounted headlight to its red lens setting and points it at himself. Making sure he's in shot from the pad's screen, he starts to record his last will and testament.
"If you're watching this video, then I am dead and you have found my body..."
>He glances to the side morbidly.
"or what's left of it. The details of my death are unimportant. I only bear warnings for Razorback, and, humanity as a whole. One: The death for Vulgroz's Guardian as well as the looting and desecration of his reliquary have yet to have justice served for them. Void's sentencing ONLY covered its destruction. If possible, seek Vulgroz out for forgiveness and accept whatever punishment he sees fit. Two: Lin or Linear-in-Nature, an Ancient, has vowed to slaughter all of Razorback if any of us loot from ANY reliquary. Active or derelict, one single piece will be enough to set her off. Three: DO NOT come into contact with Lin. If you find yourself in a situation where she might be involved, turn the other way and LEAVE. And if you can't... I only hope you can make better sense of her than I did."
>He pauses. Should have though a little further out, before starting this.
"Let's see, what else? Obviously distribute my stuff across the Fortress, repurpose the Batcave if Belltower and Malyne don't want to stay in it. Right. Belltower, if you're seeing this: I know, and if you kept them I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you and them. Whatever anyone says or what has happened, I do love the both of you."
>That caught him for a second. He might never see her, Malyne, or anyone else again.
>He sighs into the camera.
"So much shit left unsaid and undone. I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything, all they way back to Sharonel. A lot of stuff sounded in-play to change Razorback, hopefully for the better. Shame I won't be around for it. Some humans just don't belong here, and I guess I'm one of them."
>Trying to think of anything else to add, Jeff stops the recording there.
>Waiting for rescue, last message recorded. Might as well take a look at his hand.
>Removing his backpack, he grabs his emergency medical pouch and opens it to check on its contents before committing to anything.
>Nettle rashes were localized and go away on their own, but he doesn't know what else Lin had done to this strain to hurt so much.
>He then removes his gauntlet and pans his helmet light onto his afflicted hand to see how bad it was.
>As he assesses the wound, he keeps his ears open for any sound cutting through the silence around him.
[1d6 = 3] <M.Perception
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]
>Distress signal activated, it didn't give him any odd feedback. Worst case he was somewhere where it wasn't going to be picked up.
>And with Anon's iron ball supposedly activated, all he can do now is wait for the gestalt to respond. That smart phone of his should alert him if a Razorback member strayed too far from normal areas. That was assuming he was even capable of reaching him, or if he hadn't recovered from that close call in the Basin Village.
>Jeff picks the iron ball back up and drops it back onto the ground.
"Come on, man. Don't hold out on me."
>He recalled Thrill saying the reliquaries were all over the Everfree, so he has a general idea where he is outside of here. Or is this some sort of pocket dimension?
>Await rescue... or for Lin to return? Maybe she'll be in a better mood, and let him go? Maybe she'll bring something worse back with her.
>Who's he kidding... definitely the latter.
>Jeff slumps down from his kneel and into a sitting position on the ground.
>Right now he just needs to stay put, and try to rest. The pain in his hand wasn't doing much for that, though.
>He's got water, rations, near a noticeable body of water with light.
>Although everything sounds quiet, that doesn't mean something won't show up eventually. Not like he's in any shape to fight anything right now.
>And if he did... Lin mentioned earlier that she didn't want him touching anything in here. If he managed to spill blood, and she returned and saw it...
>Fuck himself at this point. He's more worried she'd twist her own promise around and go after the others if he did anything in here.
>Removing the TacPad from out the underside of his gauntlet, he switches it to video recording and unhooks his helmet from his side.
>Making sure the camera was on, he switches the side mounted headlight to its red lens setting and points it at himself. Making sure he's in shot from the pad's screen, he starts to record his last will and testament.
"If you're watching this video, then I am dead and you have found my body..."
>He glances to the side morbidly.
"or what's left of it. The details of my death are unimportant. I only bear warnings for Razorback, and, humanity as a whole. One: The death for Vulgroz's Guardian as well as the looting and desecration of his reliquary have yet to have justice served for them. Void's sentencing ONLY covered its destruction. If possible, seek Vulgroz out for forgiveness and accept whatever punishment he sees fit. Two: Lin or Linear-in-Nature, an Ancient, has vowed to slaughter all of Razorback if any of us loot from ANY reliquary. Active or derelict, one single piece will be enough to set her off. Three: DO NOT come into contact with Lin. If you find yourself in a situation where she might be involved, turn the other way and LEAVE. And if you can't... I only hope you can make better sense of her than I did."
>He pauses. Should have though a little further out, before starting this.
"Let's see, what else? Obviously distribute my stuff across the Fortress, repurpose the Batcave if Belltower and Malyne don't want to stay in it. Right. Belltower, if you're seeing this: I know, and if you kept them I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you and them. Whatever anyone says or what has happened, I do love the both of you."
>That caught him for a second. He might never see her, Malyne, or anyone else again.
>He sighs into the camera.
"So much shit left unsaid and undone. I'm sorry... I'm sorry for everything, all they way back to Sharonel. A lot of stuff sounded in-play to change Razorback, hopefully for the better. Shame I won't be around for it. Some humans just don't belong here, and I guess I'm one of them."
>Trying to think of anything else to add, Jeff stops the recording there.
>Waiting for rescue, last message recorded. Might as well take a look at his hand.
>Removing his backpack, he grabs his emergency medical pouch and opens it to check on its contents before committing to anything.
>Nettle rashes were localized and go away on their own, but he doesn't know what else Lin had done to this strain to hurt so much.
>He then removes his gauntlet and pans his helmet light onto his afflicted hand to see how bad it was.
>As he assesses the wound, he keeps his ears open for any sound cutting through the silence around him.
[1d6 = 3] <M.Perception
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]
>>371126
"There will ever be some whom are unfortunate to accept a fact of life, and those whom act irrationally. Those are the ones that must be watched carefully and 'treated' a bit faster than the rest."
>Pupils rapid flicking at the pistol multiple times, Nova allows herself a short giggle.
"Indeed. She will marenage how she always does: drag her opponents up a mountain and roll them off when they're tired. Then grant them the best possible treatmarents."
"They are indeed biologically fascinating in several mareners.. which reminds me. There have been reports of substantially more dangerous and physically larger Nickel, Silver, Gold, or Platinum Predatory-Elk encroaching into the native Copper Pred-Elk ranges and wiping them out.
The Minotaur Hegemony's marshlands and low forests specifically, though some have been noted throughout the eastern Moors regions and Ferron claimed lands as well."
>Hoof off the stasis, the Ward frowns at small tics in the static field surrounding her horn.
"Ten minutes was ever the maximum, though she could immediately resummon it for twenty, thirty hours straight. It should not be functional now, which is quite concerning. ..there is a signature which I am unfamiliar with."
>Performing indepth, layer-by-layer analysis from bruised hide, fat, soft tissues, muscle, down to bone, then into the brain, the worst indications Dr. Carlos expected were still visible:
>Non-vital tissues remained damaged while crushed neural pathways and collapsed arteries had been, mostly, restored.
>Post-set skull fractures around the horn would heal, albeit slowly, but the unusual copper composition would take significant time to regrow, if it could.
>Small arteries throughout the skull cavity and frontal lobes were less affected, these Pred-Elk biologically more robust than their wild kin, two tiny bleeds had been halted, unlikely to pose a threat.
>Examining the orbital socket, multiple severe fractures had occurred then partially set, the injuries more complicated and would require significant care to fully recover from.
>The eye itself suffered from compression shock, partially restored but would need to be closely monitored.
>>371129
>Turning around on bed to study the roof quickly, Nova's eyes glance downwards, then faces north.
"That is quite unfamiliar to me. It does not sound like the typical Lunar or independent Druid's name either."
>Sleeping soundly on her left side, Snowfall could easily tell Astral thoroughly drained herself, few sparks of lightning traveling across antlers and teeth.
>Her normal pattern of inhales and exhales was rough, though not physically injured.
"I beli-"
>A loud, bizarrely wet and hard thump on the Clinic's north wall interrupts the hybrid, head whipping to stare at the spot the sound occurred, then whispers quietly towards Carlos.
"Doctor, lock the door when I leave. There is a.. not a creature, it is partially sapient. One which I am entirely unfamiliar with, and it is HIGHLY angered."
>Streaking apart in bright crystalline blurs, tinges of lower spectrums darken her exit-
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Assault
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <M.Casting: Voidshear
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Teleport
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <???
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <???
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <???
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <???
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <???
"There will ever be some whom are unfortunate to accept a fact of life, and those whom act irrationally. Those are the ones that must be watched carefully and 'treated' a bit faster than the rest."
>Pupils rapid flicking at the pistol multiple times, Nova allows herself a short giggle.
"Indeed. She will marenage how she always does: drag her opponents up a mountain and roll them off when they're tired. Then grant them the best possible treatmarents."
"They are indeed biologically fascinating in several mareners.. which reminds me. There have been reports of substantially more dangerous and physically larger Nickel, Silver, Gold, or Platinum Predatory-Elk encroaching into the native Copper Pred-Elk ranges and wiping them out.
The Minotaur Hegemony's marshlands and low forests specifically, though some have been noted throughout the eastern Moors regions and Ferron claimed lands as well."
>Hoof off the stasis, the Ward frowns at small tics in the static field surrounding her horn.
"Ten minutes was ever the maximum, though she could immediately resummon it for twenty, thirty hours straight. It should not be functional now, which is quite concerning. ..there is a signature which I am unfamiliar with."
>Performing indepth, layer-by-layer analysis from bruised hide, fat, soft tissues, muscle, down to bone, then into the brain, the worst indications Dr. Carlos expected were still visible:
>Non-vital tissues remained damaged while crushed neural pathways and collapsed arteries had been, mostly, restored.
>Post-set skull fractures around the horn would heal, albeit slowly, but the unusual copper composition would take significant time to regrow, if it could.
>Small arteries throughout the skull cavity and frontal lobes were less affected, these Pred-Elk biologically more robust than their wild kin, two tiny bleeds had been halted, unlikely to pose a threat.
>Examining the orbital socket, multiple severe fractures had occurred then partially set, the injuries more complicated and would require significant care to fully recover from.
>The eye itself suffered from compression shock, partially restored but would need to be closely monitored.
>>371129
>Turning around on bed to study the roof quickly, Nova's eyes glance downwards, then faces north.
"That is quite unfamiliar to me. It does not sound like the typical Lunar or independent Druid's name either."
>Sleeping soundly on her left side, Snowfall could easily tell Astral thoroughly drained herself, few sparks of lightning traveling across antlers and teeth.
>Her normal pattern of inhales and exhales was rough, though not physically injured.
"I beli-"
>A loud, bizarrely wet and hard thump on the Clinic's north wall interrupts the hybrid, head whipping to stare at the spot the sound occurred, then whispers quietly towards Carlos.
"Doctor, lock the door when I leave. There is a.. not a creature, it is partially sapient. One which I am entirely unfamiliar with, and it is HIGHLY angered."
>Streaking apart in bright crystalline blurs, tinges of lower spectrums darken her exit-
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Assault
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <M.Casting: Voidshear
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8] <M.Teleport
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <???
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+5 = (4+5) = 9] <???
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9] <???
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <???
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15] <???
>>371791
"Gold and platinum too ey? They should call them Pred-Elkements, instead. Hehehe! Do they come in any non-metallic or conductive variedad?"
>Carlos examines the continued stability of the spell.
"At any rate, it is still operacional. We must use is for a long as posible."
>Blume Gales examination is fascinating, considering the amount of damage he can originate.
>Most, if not all, circulatory and nervous damage had already healed to the point of being very minor.
>The eye's restoration was fifty-fifty, but he's confident whatever this Lin had done would probably put it on the mend.
>He notes mostly the more complex fractures that, while already partially set, were still far from fully healed.
>The nature of the Pred-Elk structural makeup needed copper, no surprise.
>Perhaps an actual copper transplant into the fractures to help fuse bone back together? No, it's not like like putting a plate in. It needs to be a more cohesive homogenization. A high copper diet? He'll have to infer with Nova, when she is no longer on the hunt. Perhaps Snowfall would know.
>Carlos jots down more notes, juggling methods.
>Re-examining Blume Gale again in ten or fifteen minutes to see if there is any noticeable improvement could give him a rough time table on this Lin's recovery... he's not sure what to call it.
>>371129
>Deciding on seeing he was here, it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Senior Snowfall, a moment of your time, por favor. Do you Pred-Elks ever suffer from copper deficiency? Siento... If you needed more copper in your diet, how would you normally go by doing that?"
>As he continues his note taking, Nova Flicker hones in on the intruder. He HEARD that thump on the North end as well.
>Whispering the game plan to him, he nods as she
"Entendido, Señorita Flicker. Keep it away from Taco Loco, si? Buane suerte, and stay safe. I will hold down the clinica."
>As the hybrid mare teleports out of the clinic, Carlos hurries over to the main door and locks it up tight.
>Heading back over to the care area with the patients, he looks over at Snowfall.
"It is just you an me, Senior Snowfall. Protect the pacientes, if needed, but I am aware how well fortificado this building is. We should be safe."
>Taking this Lin's restoration abilities into consideration for a quick round, Carlos decides to a quick monitor on SnakeBite and Lejura.
"I am going to check on the more injured patients from before you arrived. Please be mindful of the entrada."
>Starting with the human, Carlos checks SnakeBite's vitals, fluid and medicine levels, as well as a quick visual check og his body for any abnormalities. His samples were in his truck, still processing... no they would be done soon. Hopefully he can retrieve them, before they start to deteriorate. Taking any more samples from the already debilitated operators would only hinder his recovery.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <M.Physician
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <M.Research
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Teacher: Biology
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Teacher: Human Physiology
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
"Gold and platinum too ey? They should call them Pred-Elkements, instead. Hehehe! Do they come in any non-metallic or conductive variedad?"
>Carlos examines the continued stability of the spell.
"At any rate, it is still operacional. We must use is for a long as posible."
>Blume Gales examination is fascinating, considering the amount of damage he can originate.
>Most, if not all, circulatory and nervous damage had already healed to the point of being very minor.
>The eye's restoration was fifty-fifty, but he's confident whatever this Lin had done would probably put it on the mend.
>He notes mostly the more complex fractures that, while already partially set, were still far from fully healed.
>The nature of the Pred-Elk structural makeup needed copper, no surprise.
>Perhaps an actual copper transplant into the fractures to help fuse bone back together? No, it's not like like putting a plate in. It needs to be a more cohesive homogenization. A high copper diet? He'll have to infer with Nova, when she is no longer on the hunt. Perhaps Snowfall would know.
>Carlos jots down more notes, juggling methods.
>Re-examining Blume Gale again in ten or fifteen minutes to see if there is any noticeable improvement could give him a rough time table on this Lin's recovery... he's not sure what to call it.
>>371129
>Deciding on seeing he was here, it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Senior Snowfall, a moment of your time, por favor. Do you Pred-Elks ever suffer from copper deficiency? Siento... If you needed more copper in your diet, how would you normally go by doing that?"
>As he continues his note taking, Nova Flicker hones in on the intruder. He HEARD that thump on the North end as well.
>Whispering the game plan to him, he nods as she
"Entendido, Señorita Flicker. Keep it away from Taco Loco, si? Buane suerte, and stay safe. I will hold down the clinica."
>As the hybrid mare teleports out of the clinic, Carlos hurries over to the main door and locks it up tight.
>Heading back over to the care area with the patients, he looks over at Snowfall.
"It is just you an me, Senior Snowfall. Protect the pacientes, if needed, but I am aware how well fortificado this building is. We should be safe."
>Taking this Lin's restoration abilities into consideration for a quick round, Carlos decides to a quick monitor on SnakeBite and Lejura.
"I am going to check on the more injured patients from before you arrived. Please be mindful of the entrada."
>Starting with the human, Carlos checks SnakeBite's vitals, fluid and medicine levels, as well as a quick visual check og his body for any abnormalities. His samples were in his truck, still processing... no they would be done soon. Hopefully he can retrieve them, before they start to deteriorate. Taking any more samples from the already debilitated operators would only hinder his recovery.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <M.Physician
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <M.Research
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Teacher: Biology
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <Teacher: Human Physiology
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
>>371787
>Still for a split-second, 'Shiibo' tosses a large warning sticker across the helmet's interior.
'I did not mean the giant whore-of-a-mare. My intention was to open a dialogue with Katyal as she has demonstrated relevant familiarities, more so than Hodch.
There is a cracked copy of the stated program in archives.. and corresponding unofficial patches.'
>Having packed a few of the best MRE's available from the Armory's stockpiles, you come across one of the more satisfying and hoarded ones.
>At least according to the contents, which had no synthetics or chemicals, also guaranteed to have a 10 year shelf life.
>As you eat, the avatar displays a reading of surrounding electromagnetic fields within the Room, pointing out deviations that mirrored twitching.
>Denoting individuals deliberately orienting in your direction, 'Shiibo' runs through comprehensive simulations before speaking.
'Unfortunate, but the data is excellent. Reactions begin occurring precisely at the apex of each attempt, possibly due to distance or preoccupation.
Probability of particle sentience is minimal at worst, negligible at best. Magical and modified analogues are possible.'
>Squinting as patterns dissipate from his coat, Hodch rocks from side to side in thought.
"Hm. I can indeed confirm that particular Rime Lattice is, rather passively and effectively, removing a constantly regenerating entropy-based effect which I believe is Anti, but I do not know which classification. It is adeptly destroying residual Rift corruption and negating Tallus-based essences which you are unattuned towards, though the-"
>Glancing you up and down three times, he experiences a brief, full body wince.
>But was more likely cringing internally.
"Hyfalgryph.. scales.. are halting further spread, however, not efficiently. I am unable to confirm the presence of a single or multiple Anti Cores, neither can I objectively state the opposite.
At a worst case estimate I would expect approximately twenty to thirty Anti Cores of standard play small marble size. There is a high probability they would not be spherical, a few of the defunct Cores we attempted to retrieve were geometric or featured native styled shapes. Those that Spiral did retrieve were naturally shaped according to their Elemarental property."
>Pausing, the sheer amount of existential questioning between the stallion's smile and speckles in both eyes causes a warning from 'Shiibo' as indicative of murder-through-nonstop-interrogation.
"You know.. there IS someone that should."
>Stepping out quickly through the portal while you finish, Hodch's low, definitely suspicious voice is overridden by Katyal's glee, but quickly stopped by Lonestar shouting angrily.
"Yeah? Yeah, I'll do it! Bitch can't read me, might get a few shots in her face if I'm fast enough."
"NOT INSIDE HERE DAMN IT! SHE AIN'T EVEN BEEN TESTED YET!"
"The fuck dude? I wasn't going to summon her ten ton ass here so chill! I'll do it outside.. where's the buttons at?"
"Left and right of each door. .....the DOWN button, obviously!"
>Sounds of quick acting hydraulics occur, and ten seconds later, muffled shouting.
"EMPRESS SILVER, EMPRESS SILVER, EMPRESS SILVER!
YOUR MANE IS SHAMEFUL, YOUR TEATS ARE SAGGY, AND YOU BELONG IN A PRESCHOOL!"
>Leaning forwards to plant both palms on her digital face, 'Shiibo' only shakes her head.
Why.
>Still for a split-second, 'Shiibo' tosses a large warning sticker across the helmet's interior.
'I did not mean the giant whore-of-a-mare. My intention was to open a dialogue with Katyal as she has demonstrated relevant familiarities, more so than Hodch.
There is a cracked copy of the stated program in archives.. and corresponding unofficial patches.'
>Having packed a few of the best MRE's available from the Armory's stockpiles, you come across one of the more satisfying and hoarded ones.
>At least according to the contents, which had no synthetics or chemicals, also guaranteed to have a 10 year shelf life.
>As you eat, the avatar displays a reading of surrounding electromagnetic fields within the Room, pointing out deviations that mirrored twitching.
>Denoting individuals deliberately orienting in your direction, 'Shiibo' runs through comprehensive simulations before speaking.
'Unfortunate, but the data is excellent. Reactions begin occurring precisely at the apex of each attempt, possibly due to distance or preoccupation.
Probability of particle sentience is minimal at worst, negligible at best. Magical and modified analogues are possible.'
>Squinting as patterns dissipate from his coat, Hodch rocks from side to side in thought.
"Hm. I can indeed confirm that particular Rime Lattice is, rather passively and effectively, removing a constantly regenerating entropy-based effect which I believe is Anti, but I do not know which classification. It is adeptly destroying residual Rift corruption and negating Tallus-based essences which you are unattuned towards, though the-"
>Glancing you up and down three times, he experiences a brief, full body wince.
>But was more likely cringing internally.
"Hyfalgryph.. scales.. are halting further spread, however, not efficiently. I am unable to confirm the presence of a single or multiple Anti Cores, neither can I objectively state the opposite.
At a worst case estimate I would expect approximately twenty to thirty Anti Cores of standard play small marble size. There is a high probability they would not be spherical, a few of the defunct Cores we attempted to retrieve were geometric or featured native styled shapes. Those that Spiral did retrieve were naturally shaped according to their Elemarental property."
>Pausing, the sheer amount of existential questioning between the stallion's smile and speckles in both eyes causes a warning from 'Shiibo' as indicative of murder-through-nonstop-interrogation.
"You know.. there IS someone that should."
>Stepping out quickly through the portal while you finish, Hodch's low, definitely suspicious voice is overridden by Katyal's glee, but quickly stopped by Lonestar shouting angrily.
"Yeah? Yeah, I'll do it! Bitch can't read me, might get a few shots in her face if I'm fast enough."
"NOT INSIDE HERE DAMN IT! SHE AIN'T EVEN BEEN TESTED YET!"
"The fuck dude? I wasn't going to summon her ten ton ass here so chill! I'll do it outside.. where's the buttons at?"
"Left and right of each door. .....the DOWN button, obviously!"
>Sounds of quick acting hydraulics occur, and ten seconds later, muffled shouting.
"EMPRESS SILVER, EMPRESS SILVER, EMPRESS SILVER!
YOUR MANE IS SHAMEFUL, YOUR TEATS ARE SAGGY, AND YOU BELONG IN A PRESCHOOL!"
>Leaning forwards to plant both palms on her digital face, 'Shiibo' only shakes her head.
Why.
>>371791
>Snowfall listened intently as Nova Flicker and Dr.Carlos talked.
>It was one of his many past times after all to simply observe others interact. It was right up there cataloguing every type of snowflake, such fun activities.
>His ears did rise in alarm however at the mention of other Pred-Elk species intruding on his baser siblings.
>He wondered if there was something disrupting their native habitats, making other Metal Antler species migrate towards their smaller cousins.
>"Will need to investigate these encroachments."
>Snowfall shook his head, Lin was anything but typical.
"For the little time I was with her she had the aura of something far greater than anything I have ever witnessed, greater than Oldhorn even."
>It was more powerful than him, but he stood by that he was the more wizened one, which made his snoot wiggle in cheeky delight.
>Observing his sister, the Pred-Elk was content with what he saw and was about to tap his antlers to hers when something hit the Clinic wall from outside.
"Not good."
>Is all he said as he took an alerted stance. Closing his mystic eyes he went ahead and tried to discern -what- was out there.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] >E.Druidry
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] >E.Perception
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
>>371792
>Ear turning to face Carlos, followed by his head to look at the good Doctor while one ear was swivelled at the door.
"Before Oldhorn we would go down to any moving body of water and smell for copper deposits and waterborne nuggets. Much like herbivores would sniff around for roots to eat."
>He thought for a second before adding.
"Or humans panning for gold."
>Stepping away from Astral, Snowfall stood between the doors and the reception desk.
"Now we actively dig out chunks of copper ore from the dirt and rock, grind them down and add them as seasoning for our meals."
>His tail wags slowly.
"Which makes me curious as to why other Metal Antler species are intruding into Copper Pred-Elk territories, since they cannot gain much benefits from eating lesser ores."
>Snowfall listened intently as Nova Flicker and Dr.Carlos talked.
>It was one of his many past times after all to simply observe others interact. It was right up there cataloguing every type of snowflake, such fun activities.
>His ears did rise in alarm however at the mention of other Pred-Elk species intruding on his baser siblings.
>He wondered if there was something disrupting their native habitats, making other Metal Antler species migrate towards their smaller cousins.
>"Will need to investigate these encroachments."
>Snowfall shook his head, Lin was anything but typical.
"For the little time I was with her she had the aura of something far greater than anything I have ever witnessed, greater than Oldhorn even."
>It was more powerful than him, but he stood by that he was the more wizened one, which made his snoot wiggle in cheeky delight.
>Observing his sister, the Pred-Elk was content with what he saw and was about to tap his antlers to hers when something hit the Clinic wall from outside.
"Not good."
>Is all he said as he took an alerted stance. Closing his mystic eyes he went ahead and tried to discern -what- was out there.
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] >E.Druidry
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (6+5) = 11] >E.Perception
[1d6+5 = (5+5) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6]
>>371792
>Ear turning to face Carlos, followed by his head to look at the good Doctor while one ear was swivelled at the door.
"Before Oldhorn we would go down to any moving body of water and smell for copper deposits and waterborne nuggets. Much like herbivores would sniff around for roots to eat."
>He thought for a second before adding.
"Or humans panning for gold."
>Stepping away from Astral, Snowfall stood between the doors and the reception desk.
"Now we actively dig out chunks of copper ore from the dirt and rock, grind them down and add them as seasoning for our meals."
>His tail wags slowly.
"Which makes me curious as to why other Metal Antler species are intruding into Copper Pred-Elk territories, since they cannot gain much benefits from eating lesser ores."
>>371789
>Taking the heavy sphere once more, it didn't feel any different than normal.
>Watching as it drops, the orb rolls partway towards the stream before stopping in a small print.
>It didn't move or flicker like previous uses.
>Examining the print closer, five externally splayed short claws were reminiscent of common reptiles, similar to a gila rather than a monitor lizard.
>Ridge definitions and short, careful strides indicate a predatory inclination, though smaller than common iguanas; around the size of a common house cat at best.
>As you sit down, a barely heard, low croak occurs far to your left.
>Similar to the keening from before, it bounces multiple times, and ends as a shrill, organic snapping noise occurs.
>Recording completed, the Reliquary's internal space remains silent.
>The EMS kit contained everything after revisions from the last inspections and subsequent overhauls by Tipper, Nova, Roust, Hodch, Naliyna, and Dancing Eyes:
>Four rigorously inspected, thoroughly sealed, silk alchemical-infused wound clotting pads, 6"x6", six 4"x4", four 2"x4" wound pads, a small variety of improved bandaids, a pair of 12' and one 6' similarly infused alchemical-infused bandages.
>Four hi-alloy human styled tweezers for various applications, a thin crab pincer forcep, a fine needle-type forcep, one diamondine surgical scalpel with four quick exchange blades, a small magnetized disc and another version for nonmagnetic metals, and a cauterizing heatstone cylinder mounted atop a temperature neutral Empire Crystal grip, 6" long, rounded out Tipper's planned-to-be-exchanged tools.
>Two each of low, moderate, and high grade painkillers, two medium and high potency antiparasitics, four inflammation relievers, two small titanium alloy tubes of human and equine safe styptics, two vials of stabilized temperature burn semi-liquid creams, and a multiuse vial of maximum strength Waker pellets.
>Between 1MM to 2.5MM upraised skin lesions across the palm and fingers were focused across a standard human hand print pattern, smaller when compared to a man of equal size than the approximately 5' human figure had appeared to be, while above the wristbands was untouched.
>Considerably more pain inducing than both the nettles of your own world and the few varieties you'd come across on Tallus, this species was worse when the hairlike structures become triggered upon motion, though Lin had been able to excite it into a hyperactivated state, possibly as an enhanced but shorter lived biochemical deterrent mechanism.
>The pain itself was abnormal: sharp pulses occur at predictable, regular intervals, but alternated between hot and cold reactions which were easily exacerbated by movement.
>Focusing mainly on locating sounds in the near-dark Reliquary, muted, keen avian squawking amid faint, distant commotions commotion of creatures you couldn't recall analogues of.
>Reverbs and echoes finalize somewhere left at a distance around 600M, poorly bouncing off the crystalline trees and ending around you.
[1d6 = 2] <Time
[1d6 = 1]
[1d200 = 79]
[1d6 = 2] <Time
[1d10000 = 4599]
>vs:
[1d2 = 1]
>Taking the heavy sphere once more, it didn't feel any different than normal.
>Watching as it drops, the orb rolls partway towards the stream before stopping in a small print.
>It didn't move or flicker like previous uses.
>Examining the print closer, five externally splayed short claws were reminiscent of common reptiles, similar to a gila rather than a monitor lizard.
>Ridge definitions and short, careful strides indicate a predatory inclination, though smaller than common iguanas; around the size of a common house cat at best.
>As you sit down, a barely heard, low croak occurs far to your left.
>Similar to the keening from before, it bounces multiple times, and ends as a shrill, organic snapping noise occurs.
>Recording completed, the Reliquary's internal space remains silent.
>The EMS kit contained everything after revisions from the last inspections and subsequent overhauls by Tipper, Nova, Roust, Hodch, Naliyna, and Dancing Eyes:
>Four rigorously inspected, thoroughly sealed, silk alchemical-infused wound clotting pads, 6"x6", six 4"x4", four 2"x4" wound pads, a small variety of improved bandaids, a pair of 12' and one 6' similarly infused alchemical-infused bandages.
>Four hi-alloy human styled tweezers for various applications, a thin crab pincer forcep, a fine needle-type forcep, one diamondine surgical scalpel with four quick exchange blades, a small magnetized disc and another version for nonmagnetic metals, and a cauterizing heatstone cylinder mounted atop a temperature neutral Empire Crystal grip, 6" long, rounded out Tipper's planned-to-be-exchanged tools.
>Two each of low, moderate, and high grade painkillers, two medium and high potency antiparasitics, four inflammation relievers, two small titanium alloy tubes of human and equine safe styptics, two vials of stabilized temperature burn semi-liquid creams, and a multiuse vial of maximum strength Waker pellets.
>Between 1MM to 2.5MM upraised skin lesions across the palm and fingers were focused across a standard human hand print pattern, smaller when compared to a man of equal size than the approximately 5' human figure had appeared to be, while above the wristbands was untouched.
>Considerably more pain inducing than both the nettles of your own world and the few varieties you'd come across on Tallus, this species was worse when the hairlike structures become triggered upon motion, though Lin had been able to excite it into a hyperactivated state, possibly as an enhanced but shorter lived biochemical deterrent mechanism.
>The pain itself was abnormal: sharp pulses occur at predictable, regular intervals, but alternated between hot and cold reactions which were easily exacerbated by movement.
>Focusing mainly on locating sounds in the near-dark Reliquary, muted, keen avian squawking amid faint, distant commotions commotion of creatures you couldn't recall analogues of.
>Reverbs and echoes finalize somewhere left at a distance around 600M, poorly bouncing off the crystalline trees and ending around you.
[1d6 = 2] <Time
[1d6 = 1]
[1d200 = 79]
[1d6 = 2] <Time
[1d10000 = 4599]
>vs:
[1d2 = 1]
File (): EB6D2EA7E040FCF46B2B2356CED39CEC-345823.jpg (337.7 KB, 1920x1280, Estwynna Panris.jpg)
>>371792
>Shoving all five brightly marked, interlocking sections of the Clinic's immensely heavy sealed door into position, acoustic Void fractures north are overpowered by intensely shrill, long winded double shrieks.
>Returning to Operating Room #1, Snakebite had moved little.
>Arms and legs spalyed out into more comfortable positions, his head was turned right, eyes underneath the lids moving in slow-to-high, pre-REM twitches.
>Mentally noting the motions and positioning as relatively normal unconscious or subconscious behaviors, the Operator's skin was abjectly different:
>The external creases had solidified, visually thicker now with compact, small ridges pronounced.
>Comparing between the thousands of hours spent in his own practices and on-hand instruction in Canterlot's College of Magic, Snakebite had forcefully taken multiple drastic and extremely high grade Dracosine mutations.
>Checking the young man's pulse, it was marginally lower than normal though steady given the sheer amount of Dampener he'd been doped with.
>Feeling for fluid uptake across the neck, armpits, then stomach, slight subdermal swelling was increasing, though at a a glacial rate, yet had a comfortable temperature accompanied by above average human perspiration.
>The fluid wasn't sticky or acrid, but thicker than normal, it was clear enough to pass for sweat.
>Examining the IV line, it was clearly being considered a foreign object, but most bizarrely Snakebite's skin was tightly wrapped around the needle.
>While Carlos writes down minimal to maximal estimates for recovery, regaining full motion, sensation, and transcribes neural pathway regeneration figures, the Operator's skin changes coloration multiple times, finally settling on burnt bronze-white.
>Pausing to inspect Snakebite once more, a deliberate, slight tap was entirely stopped.
>Trying to poke him results in a near-completely unyielding barrier, acting more like solid steel than biological flesh.
>Odd.. wasn't even close to the proper word.
>>371794
>Easily gazing through evershifting panes of Nature into the native reality of Razorback Fortress, facing north of the Clinic, Snowfall... does not understand.
>Refuses to understand.
>Then tries.
>Far newer than Tallus itself was, the lack of recognizable organs and unrestrained, inorganic movements was worse than the few Abominations his sapient herd of Pred-Elk had survived against.
>The large crest running atop the head down to the being's neck, then from pelvis to tail, should have been aquatic, but would never be submerged in water.
>Hollowed, ichor-leaking sockets for eyes above a pronounced nose, then shearing teeth below, an external, oily structure from forearm to elbow lending extraordinarily powerful strength for false-muscles, seeking to grip and tear what the barely human-like hands could reach,
>Barely covered and exposed ribs ripple above rapid, uninterrupted moving legs, an external structure from the calf muscles to the heel aiding in oily, unpredictable strikes.
>A name surfaces, one older than all of the known Druidic earth pony, Ferron, Minotaur, and unicorn lineages combined, one that Snowfall could not speak aloud.
>Struggling to translate it, the concept was clear: slaughter.
>Neither Planar nor spectrum derived, it was not from Tallus, and could never fit here.
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Horror
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Terror
>Snarling between every short, spit out epithet in Kingdom Crystal pony dialect, Nova Flicker dives into successive teleports for one strike each, the Ward's unusually bright, enraged presence barely comparable to the being seeking to crush her.
>Soft, glowing carnelian sheathed by raw Void slams against solid white little-to-nothingness multiple times, the hybrid scarcely able to harm or effect it's movements.
>Returning her hoof impacts with attempted grabs, the being was unaffected by Tallus entropy, yet seemed to sneer amusedly, and derisively, at each touch of Void able to mar it's false-skin-
>Nova Flicker: 2 turns of Critical Enrage remaining
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Vile Taunt
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <M.Casting: Voishear
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <M.Teleport
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <???
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <???
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <???
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <???
>Shoving all five brightly marked, interlocking sections of the Clinic's immensely heavy sealed door into position, acoustic Void fractures north are overpowered by intensely shrill, long winded double shrieks.
>Returning to Operating Room #1, Snakebite had moved little.
>Arms and legs spalyed out into more comfortable positions, his head was turned right, eyes underneath the lids moving in slow-to-high, pre-REM twitches.
>Mentally noting the motions and positioning as relatively normal unconscious or subconscious behaviors, the Operator's skin was abjectly different:
>The external creases had solidified, visually thicker now with compact, small ridges pronounced.
>Comparing between the thousands of hours spent in his own practices and on-hand instruction in Canterlot's College of Magic, Snakebite had forcefully taken multiple drastic and extremely high grade Dracosine mutations.
>Checking the young man's pulse, it was marginally lower than normal though steady given the sheer amount of Dampener he'd been doped with.
>Feeling for fluid uptake across the neck, armpits, then stomach, slight subdermal swelling was increasing, though at a a glacial rate, yet had a comfortable temperature accompanied by above average human perspiration.
>The fluid wasn't sticky or acrid, but thicker than normal, it was clear enough to pass for sweat.
>Examining the IV line, it was clearly being considered a foreign object, but most bizarrely Snakebite's skin was tightly wrapped around the needle.
>While Carlos writes down minimal to maximal estimates for recovery, regaining full motion, sensation, and transcribes neural pathway regeneration figures, the Operator's skin changes coloration multiple times, finally settling on burnt bronze-white.
>Pausing to inspect Snakebite once more, a deliberate, slight tap was entirely stopped.
>Trying to poke him results in a near-completely unyielding barrier, acting more like solid steel than biological flesh.
>Odd.. wasn't even close to the proper word.
>>371794
>Easily gazing through evershifting panes of Nature into the native reality of Razorback Fortress, facing north of the Clinic, Snowfall... does not understand.
>Refuses to understand.
>Then tries.
>Far newer than Tallus itself was, the lack of recognizable organs and unrestrained, inorganic movements was worse than the few Abominations his sapient herd of Pred-Elk had survived against.
>The large crest running atop the head down to the being's neck, then from pelvis to tail, should have been aquatic, but would never be submerged in water.
>Hollowed, ichor-leaking sockets for eyes above a pronounced nose, then shearing teeth below, an external, oily structure from forearm to elbow lending extraordinarily powerful strength for false-muscles, seeking to grip and tear what the barely human-like hands could reach,
>Barely covered and exposed ribs ripple above rapid, uninterrupted moving legs, an external structure from the calf muscles to the heel aiding in oily, unpredictable strikes.
>A name surfaces, one older than all of the known Druidic earth pony, Ferron, Minotaur, and unicorn lineages combined, one that Snowfall could not speak aloud.
>Struggling to translate it, the concept was clear: slaughter.
>Neither Planar nor spectrum derived, it was not from Tallus, and could never fit here.
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4] <Horror
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <Terror
>Snarling between every short, spit out epithet in Kingdom Crystal pony dialect, Nova Flicker dives into successive teleports for one strike each, the Ward's unusually bright, enraged presence barely comparable to the being seeking to crush her.
>Soft, glowing carnelian sheathed by raw Void slams against solid white little-to-nothingness multiple times, the hybrid scarcely able to harm or effect it's movements.
>Returning her hoof impacts with attempted grabs, the being was unaffected by Tallus entropy, yet seemed to sneer amusedly, and derisively, at each touch of Void able to mar it's false-skin-
>Nova Flicker: 2 turns of Critical Enrage remaining
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Vile Taunt
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
[1d6+9 = (2+9) = 11]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <M.Casting: Voishear
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <M.Teleport
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <???
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <???
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10] <???
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12]
[1d6+6 = (4+6) = 10]
[1d6+6 = (5+6) = 11]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <???
>>371798
>Staring down at the iron sphere for a lot longer than he would usually have to, it settles into the print of a small cat-sized lizard.
>Jeff picks up Anon's ball, eyes it for any abnormalities, then stows it back on his person.
>Either he's incapacitated, or this place is outside of the gestalt's signal range.
>Every time he heard a creature, so far, nothing sounded large enough to kill him. Smaller critters. Birds or... that sounded like a frog maybe?
>Then again, any real predators wouldn't be revealing themselves so easily. Or quickly.
>Whatever he needs to do he needs to be quick about it.
>Before he starts on his hand, he plucks Luna's feather out of his helmet and takes out his Moon Orb. He mentally calls into both of them simultaneously before storing them on his person.
'Luna, or whoever can hear me, it's Jeff. I've been kidnapped and trapped in an Ancient's reliquary, don't know where or how to get out.... I haven't stopped since the Basin Village was attacked. I'm spent, injured, and in grave danger. Someone, please hear me.'
>Waiting for any response from either, he starts thumbing over the updated medical pouch on top of his pack.
>It had all the latest pieces in it. Luckily, he at least knew how to deal with nettle. Special cocktail of it, aside.
>If he's going to be stuck here for a while, he needs the use of both of his hands.
>Slipping of his left gauntlet, he notices the hairs of the nettle still embedded in his hand. Lesions had formed all over the contact points. They were hyper sensitive, just getting his gauntlet off was a struggle and confirmed the were triggered by movement.
>He takes a dose of the anti-inflammatory and a high-dose pain-killer, sucking them down with water from his pack, and picks out a finer-sized tweezer and a anti-clot pad ready in case he starts to bleed.
>Placing his helmet back on his head he reattaches his combi-goggle to the tilt mount and gets into a more comfortable position.
>Taking his helmet's straps and firmly biting into the nylon and padding, he takes the tweezers and aims the red light at his left hand.
>Until he hears commotion to his left. Far away, but still unsettling. He rotates himself in its direction so he can keep an eye out of his peripheral.
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <E.Stealth
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>Now ready, he aims the tweezers at the tips of his fingers. Even if he gets interrupted and has to stop, at least he can get function of his digits.
>Starting on his thumb, and planning on working his way around, he starts to pluck out the nettle hairs. He tries to take his time, as quick as he could.
[1d6-3 = (3-3) = 0] <U. Medical
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Iron Will
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
>Staring down at the iron sphere for a lot longer than he would usually have to, it settles into the print of a small cat-sized lizard.
>Jeff picks up Anon's ball, eyes it for any abnormalities, then stows it back on his person.
>Either he's incapacitated, or this place is outside of the gestalt's signal range.
>Every time he heard a creature, so far, nothing sounded large enough to kill him. Smaller critters. Birds or... that sounded like a frog maybe?
>Then again, any real predators wouldn't be revealing themselves so easily. Or quickly.
>Whatever he needs to do he needs to be quick about it.
>Before he starts on his hand, he plucks Luna's feather out of his helmet and takes out his Moon Orb. He mentally calls into both of them simultaneously before storing them on his person.
'Luna, or whoever can hear me, it's Jeff. I've been kidnapped and trapped in an Ancient's reliquary, don't know where or how to get out.... I haven't stopped since the Basin Village was attacked. I'm spent, injured, and in grave danger. Someone, please hear me.'
>Waiting for any response from either, he starts thumbing over the updated medical pouch on top of his pack.
>It had all the latest pieces in it. Luckily, he at least knew how to deal with nettle. Special cocktail of it, aside.
>If he's going to be stuck here for a while, he needs the use of both of his hands.
>Slipping of his left gauntlet, he notices the hairs of the nettle still embedded in his hand. Lesions had formed all over the contact points. They were hyper sensitive, just getting his gauntlet off was a struggle and confirmed the were triggered by movement.
>He takes a dose of the anti-inflammatory and a high-dose pain-killer, sucking them down with water from his pack, and picks out a finer-sized tweezer and a anti-clot pad ready in case he starts to bleed.
>Placing his helmet back on his head he reattaches his combi-goggle to the tilt mount and gets into a more comfortable position.
>Taking his helmet's straps and firmly biting into the nylon and padding, he takes the tweezers and aims the red light at his left hand.
>Until he hears commotion to his left. Far away, but still unsettling. He rotates himself in its direction so he can keep an eye out of his peripheral.
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <E.Stealth
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7]
>Now ready, he aims the tweezers at the tips of his fingers. Even if he gets interrupted and has to stop, at least he can get function of his digits.
>Starting on his thumb, and planning on working his way around, he starts to pluck out the nettle hairs. He tries to take his time, as quick as he could.
[1d6-3 = (3-3) = 0] <U. Medical
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <E.Iron Will
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
>>371793
>He notes the warning sticker with a shrug.
"While that may be true, considering this mess is partly Silver's fault I think it's fitting to attempt to bring her in. She'll know more than Katyal about Anti and our target Ruins. We need to exhaust our best options for information first."
>Nodding at Hodch's analysis, he stows his gear before standing.
"Understood. Thank you."
>He pockets the Rime Orb once more after Hodch sets it down on the pelt.
>Looking over Hodch's devious grin, he leans away from him slightly.
"I'll leave you to that."
>He watches him leave, heralding an ensuing ruckus on the other side of the portal.
>Exhaling and picking up his pack, he focuses his mind again before stepping through the portal back into Lonestar's supposedly revamped carrier.
[1d6 = 3]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Arching the center of his brow in resignation at Shiibo, he remarks.
"Consider it a fair price for Silver to pay if nothing else. I'm certain she'll hate this interaction far more than any of us."
>He notes the warning sticker with a shrug.
"While that may be true, considering this mess is partly Silver's fault I think it's fitting to attempt to bring her in. She'll know more than Katyal about Anti and our target Ruins. We need to exhaust our best options for information first."
>Nodding at Hodch's analysis, he stows his gear before standing.
"Understood. Thank you."
>He pockets the Rime Orb once more after Hodch sets it down on the pelt.
>Looking over Hodch's devious grin, he leans away from him slightly.
"I'll leave you to that."
>He watches him leave, heralding an ensuing ruckus on the other side of the portal.
>Exhaling and picking up his pack, he focuses his mind again before stepping through the portal back into Lonestar's supposedly revamped carrier.
[1d6 = 3]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Arching the center of his brow in resignation at Shiibo, he remarks.
"Consider it a fair price for Silver to pay if nothing else. I'm certain she'll hate this interaction far more than any of us."
>>371800
>Still damp from constant exposure to Moors air, the Nightmare's feather was cold as usual cold but unlike previous uses had no reaction to your touch.
>Hundreds of rapid hoof taps on stone transmit through the Flawless Moon Orb, indescribable sensations felt in the Lunar Overherd's background as attempted connections pass down the chain of commard.
>That is until an exhausted, mid-50's or early 60's pegasi mare answers, her inflection either a Lunar cloud city, or possibly a Villager.
"Velvet Cloudstrike, Lunar Guard, Watchkeeper in Armistice Vault Two. I don't recognize your.. name, or codename."
>A loud thump occurs as multiple crunches follow, speaking stiffly in severe pain.
"Have you been able to identify the region you're trapped in? And can you locate any visible local structures, possibly landmarks? There's at least.. ..eight hundred to a thousand ancient Lunar reliquaries..... probably fifty times that around Tallus."
>Halfway blacking out from removing the gauntlet alone, the external damage wasn't yet beginning to swell but would do so soon.
>Tenuously slipping into the Void, you were far too wiped out to do more than enter the lower adherent spectrums.
>Mentally clouded by fatigue and unsure of what to do with an unknown strain, the first attempt at a likely one on the thumb provokes a minor, quickly searing flash of hot-cold.
>Ignoring the vast majority of pain responses, the second try results in the same as the first, as does the third and fourth.
>While you could deliberately focus on a single task, there wasn't enough mental coherence to concentrate on the same, motions sloppy and barely able to function.
>Still damp from constant exposure to Moors air, the Nightmare's feather was cold as usual cold but unlike previous uses had no reaction to your touch.
>Hundreds of rapid hoof taps on stone transmit through the Flawless Moon Orb, indescribable sensations felt in the Lunar Overherd's background as attempted connections pass down the chain of commard.
>That is until an exhausted, mid-50's or early 60's pegasi mare answers, her inflection either a Lunar cloud city, or possibly a Villager.
"Velvet Cloudstrike, Lunar Guard, Watchkeeper in Armistice Vault Two. I don't recognize your.. name, or codename."
>A loud thump occurs as multiple crunches follow, speaking stiffly in severe pain.
"Have you been able to identify the region you're trapped in? And can you locate any visible local structures, possibly landmarks? There's at least.. ..eight hundred to a thousand ancient Lunar reliquaries..... probably fifty times that around Tallus."
>Halfway blacking out from removing the gauntlet alone, the external damage wasn't yet beginning to swell but would do so soon.
>Tenuously slipping into the Void, you were far too wiped out to do more than enter the lower adherent spectrums.
>Mentally clouded by fatigue and unsure of what to do with an unknown strain, the first attempt at a likely one on the thumb provokes a minor, quickly searing flash of hot-cold.
>Ignoring the vast majority of pain responses, the second try results in the same as the first, as does the third and fourth.
>While you could deliberately focus on a single task, there wasn't enough mental coherence to concentrate on the same, motions sloppy and barely able to function.
>>371802
>Loading the game in a corner window, 'Shiibo' runs through the patch notes with a minute expression of distaste.
'In the unlikely margins that a Class Three, Four, or Five, is able to feel regret over their actions, should that place more blame on each willing participant or is this an attempt at looking a gifted horse in the mouth?'
>Taking on a short, self-chiding expression, the avatar makes a rapid, utterly graceless and sarcastic pirouette.
'I will not apologize for an unintentional pun even if I hate it.'
>Watching twinges of movements and EMF spectrum deviations, the AI slams her fist against the helmet's interior, a small feedback in algorithms erupting, then outfeeds a poorly translated insult.
<Japanese> EITHER JOIN RIGHT NOW OR STOP TOUCHING ME LIKE THAT YOU.. WEIRD, DEMEANING, UPSKIRT SEEKING PARTICLES!
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Holding off a glare, both arms fold as she takes on an attitude of molested umbrage.
'Good. She deserves to suffer.'
>Boot landing on an appreciably semirigid substance, as you exit into the crew compartment, the interior was vastly improved:
>Two feet taller than the cut-down original, the sides had been extended the same, now long enough to comfortably stretch out in or exercise without touching another passenger.
>The uncomfortable bench seats had been entirely replaced by twelve much better, heavy duty crash chairs with multiple adjustments, able to fold against the wall.
>The style a curious mix between aviation and naval, they were on obvious swivel mounts, yet you could sense the bases to be a non-ferrous magnetic composite.
>Clipped into the headrest side of each is an adjustable, one-size-does-fit all rubber mask, and below that was a fold out digital display, marked as a flexible, sensitive bioplastic.
>Both armrests now had a variety of protected electronic ports across the inner length of each, heavy duty albeit simple snap-locking mechanisms keeping those safe.
>The underchair lockers had doubled in size, next to each is a separated floor-to-ceiling locker, made from heavy gauge alloy that featured a glittering sheen in direct light.
>Partially recognizing the material coating the entire compartment, it was a drastic plus over the prior thin layerings.
>'Shiibo' points out a large number of heavy attachment rings, U-bolts, and eye-bolts at precise intervals through the interior, hidden yet easily accessible under cutout metaramid circles.
>The rear hatches were drastically upgraded, no longer several thin layers of titanium sheets, instead a solid, most likely ceramic coated monoplate; 'Shiibo' labels the obvious UP and DOWN buttons next to each as inaccessible in sincere humor.
>Eight pairs of high pressure hydraulic cyldinders on each assured rapid opening and closing.
>Standing roughly 20M inside the partial cavern, Katyal was constantly checking around her in quick 15-degree combat shuffling maneuvers, arms outstretched although her jacket was open, both gunbelts exposed wide.
>To the left of you, the original piloting cabin door had been moved to the center, able to slide either way either from one hydraulic ram in the floor and ceiling, or using a simple disconnect lever and brute force.
>Accessing revised schematics, the AI lists the vehicle as the newly renamed OT-4 'Landbarge', eyebrows lifting with an unrestrained smirk.
'They both lost. I am.. surprised. Personally I thought it would be the name of a preferred pond, stream, river, or ocean. ..I wonder what the cylinder's composition is and why Nightblade Hodch desires it so much.'
>Displaying a fully revamped pilot's seat on the left side, gunner-operator in center, and technician on passenger side.
>All three were inside a fully enclosed, individually temperature-atmosphere regulated cockpit, featuring a 360 degree radius, seamless internal screen.
'The material is a form of metastabilized diamond composite. It was created via particle synthesis, close to diamondine specifications.'
>A complex foldout seat that would be comfortable for a large human, unicorn, or pegasus, between each chair was listed in schematic form.
>Browsing through the electronic packages, the capabilities of each were increased by nearly 250% while the plasma weapons improved by 1/4, also having far less limited firing arcs.
>The PD laser systems had been slightly improved for lethality, armor penetration, and an additional hypercapacitor allowing for a second rapid fire cycle.
>Saving the best for last, 'Shiibo' displays the complete diagram of an 8-limbed, octopodal android exoskeleton and interface; six arms were dedicated to repair functions, and two multipurpose.
>Responding to a short communication from the avatar, the processing speed was slightly better than 'Shiibo', though had zero personality.
'Or tact. Meet the Rerculon Artificial Enhanced Hyper-Intelligence. It operates on brute force logic algorithms under a semi-energy post-quantum state. Octodecimal is indeed faster. Has no finesse and can be confused rather easily. It is capable of processing individual facial expressions to understand emotion when supplied with necessary data, though is incapable of forming a mood.
..would this be ten technological steps forwards and one back, or anti-Uncanny Valley?'
>Intercepting a technically lossless short range, direct-beam transmission from the pilot's cockpit, Lonestar was sitting back in a naval officer's chair, hands above his head and grinning.
*"Welcome to the OT-4! Calling her Landbarge. It ain't an insult, it's a threat now! Better range, bigger guns, lot better protection, hardened system packages, way more comfortable, got plenty of stowage. Itching to start up the repulsion lift but that can wait 'til Hodch gets his archaeology done."*
*"I heard that!"*
*"Of course you did. Also got him a sneaky little radio. So?"*
*"...haven't even seen them yet. Which way?"*
*"Further east then south, in a big pile next to a... tree that makes my old medium warcruiser look malnourished."*
>Loading the game in a corner window, 'Shiibo' runs through the patch notes with a minute expression of distaste.
'In the unlikely margins that a Class Three, Four, or Five, is able to feel regret over their actions, should that place more blame on each willing participant or is this an attempt at looking a gifted horse in the mouth?'
>Taking on a short, self-chiding expression, the avatar makes a rapid, utterly graceless and sarcastic pirouette.
'I will not apologize for an unintentional pun even if I hate it.'
>Watching twinges of movements and EMF spectrum deviations, the AI slams her fist against the helmet's interior, a small feedback in algorithms erupting, then outfeeds a poorly translated insult.
<Japanese> EITHER JOIN RIGHT NOW OR STOP TOUCHING ME LIKE THAT YOU.. WEIRD, DEMEANING, UPSKIRT SEEKING PARTICLES!
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Holding off a glare, both arms fold as she takes on an attitude of molested umbrage.
'Good. She deserves to suffer.'
>Boot landing on an appreciably semirigid substance, as you exit into the crew compartment, the interior was vastly improved:
>Two feet taller than the cut-down original, the sides had been extended the same, now long enough to comfortably stretch out in or exercise without touching another passenger.
>The uncomfortable bench seats had been entirely replaced by twelve much better, heavy duty crash chairs with multiple adjustments, able to fold against the wall.
>The style a curious mix between aviation and naval, they were on obvious swivel mounts, yet you could sense the bases to be a non-ferrous magnetic composite.
>Clipped into the headrest side of each is an adjustable, one-size-does-fit all rubber mask, and below that was a fold out digital display, marked as a flexible, sensitive bioplastic.
>Both armrests now had a variety of protected electronic ports across the inner length of each, heavy duty albeit simple snap-locking mechanisms keeping those safe.
>The underchair lockers had doubled in size, next to each is a separated floor-to-ceiling locker, made from heavy gauge alloy that featured a glittering sheen in direct light.
>Partially recognizing the material coating the entire compartment, it was a drastic plus over the prior thin layerings.
>'Shiibo' points out a large number of heavy attachment rings, U-bolts, and eye-bolts at precise intervals through the interior, hidden yet easily accessible under cutout metaramid circles.
>The rear hatches were drastically upgraded, no longer several thin layers of titanium sheets, instead a solid, most likely ceramic coated monoplate; 'Shiibo' labels the obvious UP and DOWN buttons next to each as inaccessible in sincere humor.
>Eight pairs of high pressure hydraulic cyldinders on each assured rapid opening and closing.
>Standing roughly 20M inside the partial cavern, Katyal was constantly checking around her in quick 15-degree combat shuffling maneuvers, arms outstretched although her jacket was open, both gunbelts exposed wide.
>To the left of you, the original piloting cabin door had been moved to the center, able to slide either way either from one hydraulic ram in the floor and ceiling, or using a simple disconnect lever and brute force.
>Accessing revised schematics, the AI lists the vehicle as the newly renamed OT-4 'Landbarge', eyebrows lifting with an unrestrained smirk.
'They both lost. I am.. surprised. Personally I thought it would be the name of a preferred pond, stream, river, or ocean. ..I wonder what the cylinder's composition is and why Nightblade Hodch desires it so much.'
>Displaying a fully revamped pilot's seat on the left side, gunner-operator in center, and technician on passenger side.
>All three were inside a fully enclosed, individually temperature-atmosphere regulated cockpit, featuring a 360 degree radius, seamless internal screen.
'The material is a form of metastabilized diamond composite. It was created via particle synthesis, close to diamondine specifications.'
>A complex foldout seat that would be comfortable for a large human, unicorn, or pegasus, between each chair was listed in schematic form.
>Browsing through the electronic packages, the capabilities of each were increased by nearly 250% while the plasma weapons improved by 1/4, also having far less limited firing arcs.
>The PD laser systems had been slightly improved for lethality, armor penetration, and an additional hypercapacitor allowing for a second rapid fire cycle.
>Saving the best for last, 'Shiibo' displays the complete diagram of an 8-limbed, octopodal android exoskeleton and interface; six arms were dedicated to repair functions, and two multipurpose.
>Responding to a short communication from the avatar, the processing speed was slightly better than 'Shiibo', though had zero personality.
'Or tact. Meet the Rerculon Artificial Enhanced Hyper-Intelligence. It operates on brute force logic algorithms under a semi-energy post-quantum state. Octodecimal is indeed faster. Has no finesse and can be confused rather easily. It is capable of processing individual facial expressions to understand emotion when supplied with necessary data, though is incapable of forming a mood.
..would this be ten technological steps forwards and one back, or anti-Uncanny Valley?'
>Intercepting a technically lossless short range, direct-beam transmission from the pilot's cockpit, Lonestar was sitting back in a naval officer's chair, hands above his head and grinning.
*"Welcome to the OT-4! Calling her Landbarge. It ain't an insult, it's a threat now! Better range, bigger guns, lot better protection, hardened system packages, way more comfortable, got plenty of stowage. Itching to start up the repulsion lift but that can wait 'til Hodch gets his archaeology done."*
*"I heard that!"*
*"Of course you did. Also got him a sneaky little radio. So?"*
*"...haven't even seen them yet. Which way?"*
*"Further east then south, in a big pile next to a... tree that makes my old medium warcruiser look malnourished."*
>>371806
>Correcting Shiibo slightly after her slightly amusing outburst, he responds.
"It's still too early to apply Class designations to gravitons in this... dimension. The nature of their existence is too limited for that to apply. They're still following rules laid out by their respective Plane of origin. Apparently I have to persuade them to lend me themselves. Though if they were doing that as they left... it's best I didn't convince those ones."
>Giving a brief glance at the corner display of a game running, he involuntarily recalls a memory of one the station technicians sneaking installations of DOOM onto everyone's onboard HUDs.
"If you start taking an interest in retro games like that, just don't start getting too invested yet. I'd rather handle cultural dataset building for media when not on an active operation."
>Passing through the portal, a new spacious interior stretched out before him in a curious mix of styles.
(Ocean planet background must have dictated minimal delineation between airborne and naval operations... )
>Looking around the improved cabin, his helmet shifts in a firm nod of approval.
"Uparmored, improved functionality, expanded storage space. Starting to remind me of something reminiscent of a downsized combat Landship."
>Finding suitable give against the floor for his suit's boots, he makes his way towards his new storage locker and sets his pack away as Shiibo provides a schematics briefing.
>The unusual design of the RAEHI catches his attention and he checks its description three times rather than twice.
"I see. Appears to be a model suited to specific applications of combat with minimal questions. A design meant solely for war, rather than one to champion the humanistic strengths of the mind like your model. It cannot hold a spark to the fruits of Amadeus and Salieri systems. Five steps forward in a narrow band of weaponization application. Two steps back in the advancement of humanistic philosophy. Should be suitable for menial calculations you could save processing power on."
>Taking the opportunity to manifest his personal conceptual weapon in his gloved hand, he attempts to persuade any nearby gravitons.
(Maybe it will be more effective if it has physicality.)
[1d6 = 6]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Receiving the communication as he finishes securing his gear, he replies.
*"The upgrade was effective. Can only hope we won't need it. Has Silver responded? And where is Dul?"*
>Correcting Shiibo slightly after her slightly amusing outburst, he responds.
"It's still too early to apply Class designations to gravitons in this... dimension. The nature of their existence is too limited for that to apply. They're still following rules laid out by their respective Plane of origin. Apparently I have to persuade them to lend me themselves. Though if they were doing that as they left... it's best I didn't convince those ones."
>Giving a brief glance at the corner display of a game running, he involuntarily recalls a memory of one the station technicians sneaking installations of DOOM onto everyone's onboard HUDs.
"If you start taking an interest in retro games like that, just don't start getting too invested yet. I'd rather handle cultural dataset building for media when not on an active operation."
>Passing through the portal, a new spacious interior stretched out before him in a curious mix of styles.
(Ocean planet background must have dictated minimal delineation between airborne and naval operations... )
>Looking around the improved cabin, his helmet shifts in a firm nod of approval.
"Uparmored, improved functionality, expanded storage space. Starting to remind me of something reminiscent of a downsized combat Landship."
>Finding suitable give against the floor for his suit's boots, he makes his way towards his new storage locker and sets his pack away as Shiibo provides a schematics briefing.
>The unusual design of the RAEHI catches his attention and he checks its description three times rather than twice.
"I see. Appears to be a model suited to specific applications of combat with minimal questions. A design meant solely for war, rather than one to champion the humanistic strengths of the mind like your model. It cannot hold a spark to the fruits of Amadeus and Salieri systems. Five steps forward in a narrow band of weaponization application. Two steps back in the advancement of humanistic philosophy. Should be suitable for menial calculations you could save processing power on."
>Taking the opportunity to manifest his personal conceptual weapon in his gloved hand, he attempts to persuade any nearby gravitons.
(Maybe it will be more effective if it has physicality.)
[1d6 = 6]<Gravitic Coaxing
>Receiving the communication as he finishes securing his gear, he replies.
*"The upgrade was effective. Can only hope we won't need it. Has Silver responded? And where is Dul?"*
>>371774
>Snickering softly from the surprise reveal of Nao's sister's name, José would carefully peer closer on the globe where Argenta was supposed to be.
"What kind of 'access granted' are we talking about? Do you have the ability to outright teleport me there, schedule appropriate transport to authorized destinations or does it simply allow me to see the city states on the map?"
>He pensively tapped his chin as his gaze briefly went over the prohibited area before softly pointing at it.
"What does prohibitied mean in this context? Is it a simple matter of not being allowed to travel there or is it considered sensitive data that needs to be classified?"
>Hopefully Vortex Remnant was alright with all these questions about how it works.
>He's gonna need all the help he can get to properly set off to do some work.
>Snickering softly from the surprise reveal of Nao's sister's name, José would carefully peer closer on the globe where Argenta was supposed to be.
"What kind of 'access granted' are we talking about? Do you have the ability to outright teleport me there, schedule appropriate transport to authorized destinations or does it simply allow me to see the city states on the map?"
>He pensively tapped his chin as his gaze briefly went over the prohibited area before softly pointing at it.
"What does prohibitied mean in this context? Is it a simple matter of not being allowed to travel there or is it considered sensitive data that needs to be classified?"
>Hopefully Vortex Remnant was alright with all these questions about how it works.
>He's gonna need all the help he can get to properly set off to do some work.
>>371807
>Left side of her face twitching, the avatar appends her linguistic sections, adding the updated terminology, then searches through libraries and archives for more precise phrasing.
'I was referring to the as-of-yet unclassified individual known as Empress Silver. Sir, are you experiencing abnormal thought processes or patterns? This is the second time you have either lost or mistaken a direct topic of conversation.'
>Both eyebrows raise, biting her lips at the title screen while examining the game's processes on a side display.
'Noted. It functions at the least. The graphics could be greatly improved, and the coding.... there is more spaghetti than one hundred knockoff Italian restaurants.'
*"I'm trying to make her into a dual purpose asset, both land and naval, but that'll take a lot of effort. Long time ago my faction had a near completely energy-state ground hovering system that didn't rely on magnetic repulsion. Weighed about a third this one, but they also had way better particle synthesis systems, access to loads of trace elements, and lots of time."*
>Kicking back and swiveling around in the chair slowly, Lonestar's gaze quickly bounces across the multitude of readouts in visible familiarity.
*"Problem is balancing the fusion-core with energy consumption, maintaining fire support and PD weapon capabilities, and keeping weight scaled. She's currently sixteen tons, minus a bit here and there."*
>Shutting down the game and switching to the android model, the AI requests a self-diagnostic from it.
'Visually neutral. Easily visible yet non-threatening. Highly useful for intended roles. Logic faults are few in number. It understands a few complex illogic concepts: this statement is illogical, how can you be perfect when your creators are human, and similar with ease. Also some non sequiturs. An excellent support model within designated operating parameters. Outside the same parameters performance decreases by a factor of three.
The inbuilt limitations and aesthetics were designed by a human faction.. pseudo-Luddite in spirit, not nature or culture. Technological capabilities and applications are distinctly considered as tools first, weapons last. In their own words, they believed the Rerculon species would not accept similar-in-appearance artificial beings due their native partial energy-state.
A system and interface which would function in specialist support roles that a human could not, and would not cause conflict with the Rerculons themselves. An interestingly adaptive multispecies thought process.'
>Closing that screen down, 'Shiibo' returns to her former task of modeling equine cultural and civil interactions.
'With your permission I will assign marginal tasks and median to long term calculations to the AEHI interface.'
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Stopping the spin to rotate facing directly forwards, Lone reaches out to tap nearly solid keys.
*"Same, but I'll always hope for the best and prepare for everything else. Dul's outside, hundred fifty-eight meters. And now I can actually pick her up on scans. She's taking Hodch to the cache she dug up."*
>Sensing the exact opposite of mood, a single Tallus-bound Graviton escapes it's position in chaotic patterns and streaks to the weapon's barrel, politely slowing to a mere several thousand miles per second in order to enter the containment chamber where it nestles.
>Comfortably.
>The avatar's expression is beyond dead flat.
'The second I collect data which confirms a probability of emotionally bonded particles acting upon perverse inclinations, sir? Delete me. Immediately. That is not a question.'
*"...nothing."*
*"What do you mean?"*
*"I don't feel her. The so-called Empress? Not even a shift in the world. The absence of some THING and SOME thing in part, sum, and totality. She used to be the opposite of a gigantic black hole, a... million villages on a million roads branching off a million pathways, always leading to her."*
>Glancing up at a display off screen, Lonestar frowns, right hand reaching out to center the forward view on Dul and Hodch close together.
*"Look, I know how touchy Ferron, batponies, and unicorns get when they start talking about ka, the soul, spirits, and other stuff, but that don't sound right for her."*
*"Because it is not. By now she would have arrived to humorously punish and mock Katyal in equal measure for her own flaws."*
*"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess? ...why don't y-"*
*"No. I only want to kill her through endless interrogations."*
*"Fiiine. ..hey Lone. You got a minute to spare? Try calling out to the biggest bitch in the whole wide world! It's a lot of fun, I promise!"*
*"... sure, why not. Ain't even the weirdest or craziest thought I've had this week.
Empress Silver, Empress Silver, Empress Silver, you're a real cryptic bitch when you shouldn't be, your skin makes me wish I never saw it because that STILL creeps me out, and I hate the fact that your posterior is forever burned into my brain.
Also don't land on my Landbarge or I swear to every God and Goddess of this world that I'll throw ground hot pepper mixes in your face every time I see you!"*
*"See? That wasn't hard at all!"*
*"That was kinda fun."*
*"Wait.. the wh- damn it! Hodch, we both lose this round."*
*"Then, next time?"*
*"Sure."*
>Left side of her face twitching, the avatar appends her linguistic sections, adding the updated terminology, then searches through libraries and archives for more precise phrasing.
'I was referring to the as-of-yet unclassified individual known as Empress Silver. Sir, are you experiencing abnormal thought processes or patterns? This is the second time you have either lost or mistaken a direct topic of conversation.'
>Both eyebrows raise, biting her lips at the title screen while examining the game's processes on a side display.
'Noted. It functions at the least. The graphics could be greatly improved, and the coding.... there is more spaghetti than one hundred knockoff Italian restaurants.'
*"I'm trying to make her into a dual purpose asset, both land and naval, but that'll take a lot of effort. Long time ago my faction had a near completely energy-state ground hovering system that didn't rely on magnetic repulsion. Weighed about a third this one, but they also had way better particle synthesis systems, access to loads of trace elements, and lots of time."*
>Kicking back and swiveling around in the chair slowly, Lonestar's gaze quickly bounces across the multitude of readouts in visible familiarity.
*"Problem is balancing the fusion-core with energy consumption, maintaining fire support and PD weapon capabilities, and keeping weight scaled. She's currently sixteen tons, minus a bit here and there."*
>Shutting down the game and switching to the android model, the AI requests a self-diagnostic from it.
'Visually neutral. Easily visible yet non-threatening. Highly useful for intended roles. Logic faults are few in number. It understands a few complex illogic concepts: this statement is illogical, how can you be perfect when your creators are human, and similar with ease. Also some non sequiturs. An excellent support model within designated operating parameters. Outside the same parameters performance decreases by a factor of three.
The inbuilt limitations and aesthetics were designed by a human faction.. pseudo-Luddite in spirit, not nature or culture. Technological capabilities and applications are distinctly considered as tools first, weapons last. In their own words, they believed the Rerculon species would not accept similar-in-appearance artificial beings due their native partial energy-state.
A system and interface which would function in specialist support roles that a human could not, and would not cause conflict with the Rerculons themselves. An interestingly adaptive multispecies thought process.'
>Closing that screen down, 'Shiibo' returns to her former task of modeling equine cultural and civil interactions.
'With your permission I will assign marginal tasks and median to long term calculations to the AEHI interface.'
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6]
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
>Stopping the spin to rotate facing directly forwards, Lone reaches out to tap nearly solid keys.
*"Same, but I'll always hope for the best and prepare for everything else. Dul's outside, hundred fifty-eight meters. And now I can actually pick her up on scans. She's taking Hodch to the cache she dug up."*
>Sensing the exact opposite of mood, a single Tallus-bound Graviton escapes it's position in chaotic patterns and streaks to the weapon's barrel, politely slowing to a mere several thousand miles per second in order to enter the containment chamber where it nestles.
>Comfortably.
>The avatar's expression is beyond dead flat.
'The second I collect data which confirms a probability of emotionally bonded particles acting upon perverse inclinations, sir? Delete me. Immediately. That is not a question.'
*"...nothing."*
*"What do you mean?"*
*"I don't feel her. The so-called Empress? Not even a shift in the world. The absence of some THING and SOME thing in part, sum, and totality. She used to be the opposite of a gigantic black hole, a... million villages on a million roads branching off a million pathways, always leading to her."*
>Glancing up at a display off screen, Lonestar frowns, right hand reaching out to center the forward view on Dul and Hodch close together.
*"Look, I know how touchy Ferron, batponies, and unicorns get when they start talking about ka, the soul, spirits, and other stuff, but that don't sound right for her."*
*"Because it is not. By now she would have arrived to humorously punish and mock Katyal in equal measure for her own flaws."*
*"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess? ...why don't y-"*
*"No. I only want to kill her through endless interrogations."*
*"Fiiine. ..hey Lone. You got a minute to spare? Try calling out to the biggest bitch in the whole wide world! It's a lot of fun, I promise!"*
*"... sure, why not. Ain't even the weirdest or craziest thought I've had this week.
Empress Silver, Empress Silver, Empress Silver, you're a real cryptic bitch when you shouldn't be, your skin makes me wish I never saw it because that STILL creeps me out, and I hate the fact that your posterior is forever burned into my brain.
Also don't land on my Landbarge or I swear to every God and Goddess of this world that I'll throw ground hot pepper mixes in your face every time I see you!"*
*"See? That wasn't hard at all!"*
*"That was kinda fun."*
*"Wait.. the wh- damn it! Hodch, we both lose this round."*
*"Then, next time?"*
*"Sure."*
>>371804
>Luna's feather turns out to be a dud, as well. Any times he has used it, there was a response of some sort. Either its signal could not reach past here, or the Princess was still in critical condition from... that was HOURS ago. He hopes she's okay.
>However the Moon Orb takes his message in, feeling himself being transferred to and fro until it settles on an older mare from the sound of it.
>He apparently didn't give her enough identification.
'My apologizes, Watchkeeper Cloudstrike. I am Nightblade Jeff, from Razorback. The one human that got initiated, a while back. I know my creds are good with the Councilmembers, if any of them are available to vouch for me. Can't really think of anypony else, right now.'
>Looking around at the forest, he wasn't going to get any good land-wait she thinks he's in a Lunar reliquary.
'No, I don't. I was taken... transported inside here directly from the Basin Village. And it's not a Lunar reliquary. It's owned by a very old Druid. Calls herself Linear-in-Nature, Lin for short. She says the Moors is her home, that she was born into being when it first emerged from Tallus. She even attests to creating all the plants and animals within it. That old! I can try and triangulate my position. I tried calling for Luna but she didn't answer. I know she's been hurt really bad since the siege, but what's going on up at the Citadel? Last I heard something about the Nahtmare Flowing Spark, but that was a few hours ago. You don't sound too good yourself, ma'am. Are you alright, on your end?'
>Grabbing the TacPad, he opens the GPS to try and pinpoint his position on Tallus. Knowing Lin's reluctancy to leave the Moors for whatever reason, he should at least be somewhere there. He calls out his position the best as he or his tech could.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <TacPad: GPS
'Here's my coordinates. Do what you can with the info I shared with you. I need... a minute to try some impromptu field medicine. Please stay connected. I don't want to be alone, right now.'
>It was less out of fear, but more of a small comfort that he can talk to someone. The last company he has was less than pleasant.
>The process of trying to remove the nettle was excruciating. Everytime he tried on one it was like it was reactivating all over again.
>He was already too tired mentally and physically to keep doing this. At some point he's going to injure himself more.
>Jeff decides to stop after a handful of attempts, stashing the tweezer and wound pad back into the med pouch and attaching it to his hip for quick access later. He can try again, if he finds himself in better shape.
>He touches base with Cloudstrike on the other end of the Moon Orb.
'Cloudstrike, you still there? Sorry if you heard any of that. I was... unsuccessful. This Lin caught me with what I swear is weapons-grade stinging nettle.'
>Strapping the TacPad back onto his arm, he's reluctant to slip it his gauntlet fully back on over the barbs. Instead, he just fastens and stickies the forearm section back on, the gloved end slumped limply over the uninjured backside of his hand. At least this way can can still use his left to block.
>Finally carefully slinging on his pack, he looks down at the stream.
'I need to get moving. Not feeling safe where I am. I was told there was a hidden exit out of here, but I would still have to climb out once I did. The reliquary is bowl shaped, going off the acoustics. At least twelve hundred meters in diameter, assuming I'm in the center. There's a huge emerald in front of me, maybe around eightish tons worth. Giant crystalline trees that were glowing but have dimmed out. And a stream in front of me filled with emeralds of all different sizes. There are signs of life, small. So far. She mentioned she bred the meanest the Moors has to offer in here.'
>Letting Cloudstrike sink his descriptions in, he inches toward the only light source available to him. At least it was a constant source, and an easy guide so he won't get lost. He observes the direction of the flow, downstream would be the gamble pond Lin mentioned earlier. What would happened if he followed it upstream? There would have to be a source, somewhere. Perhaps the source also held the potential exit?
>Signs of obvious life on the banks an a clean flow told him it's probably drinkable. No way the Druid would let dirty water flow through her home, right? She did warn him of touching anything.
>Then again, wasn't he touching the ground? If something happen to attack him, he'd be touching that too.
>His hand was killing him. Leaving it open to the air should help, but he wanted to flush it out at the very least.
>It wasn't the pond. And it wasn't his own drinking water. And she wasn't here, right now.
>Unless she was silently observing him. No time for THAT level of paranoia, yet.
>He keeps his ears open around him, now that he's calmed down enough to get his senses in place again.
>Although anything he's heard earlier were a ways off, he could be getting honed in on.
[1d6 = 5] <M.Perception
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 4]
>The only weapon he could think of handling right now would be the tomahawk, Lunarite blade, or the Spellslinger. The Honeybadger needed two hands. And he didn't want to spill any blood if he didn't have to.
>He checks the elemental chambered, rotating it to the Air element and cocking the hammer back.
>Jeff kneels down next to the bank, reaching out and over the surface of the water.
>And skims the top of the water with enough of his hand to wetten the afflicted areas for a few seconds.
>Luna's feather turns out to be a dud, as well. Any times he has used it, there was a response of some sort. Either its signal could not reach past here, or the Princess was still in critical condition from... that was HOURS ago. He hopes she's okay.
>However the Moon Orb takes his message in, feeling himself being transferred to and fro until it settles on an older mare from the sound of it.
>He apparently didn't give her enough identification.
'My apologizes, Watchkeeper Cloudstrike. I am Nightblade Jeff, from Razorback. The one human that got initiated, a while back. I know my creds are good with the Councilmembers, if any of them are available to vouch for me. Can't really think of anypony else, right now.'
>Looking around at the forest, he wasn't going to get any good land-wait she thinks he's in a Lunar reliquary.
'No, I don't. I was taken... transported inside here directly from the Basin Village. And it's not a Lunar reliquary. It's owned by a very old Druid. Calls herself Linear-in-Nature, Lin for short. She says the Moors is her home, that she was born into being when it first emerged from Tallus. She even attests to creating all the plants and animals within it. That old! I can try and triangulate my position. I tried calling for Luna but she didn't answer. I know she's been hurt really bad since the siege, but what's going on up at the Citadel? Last I heard something about the Nahtmare Flowing Spark, but that was a few hours ago. You don't sound too good yourself, ma'am. Are you alright, on your end?'
>Grabbing the TacPad, he opens the GPS to try and pinpoint his position on Tallus. Knowing Lin's reluctancy to leave the Moors for whatever reason, he should at least be somewhere there. He calls out his position the best as he or his tech could.
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <TacPad: GPS
'Here's my coordinates. Do what you can with the info I shared with you. I need... a minute to try some impromptu field medicine. Please stay connected. I don't want to be alone, right now.'
>It was less out of fear, but more of a small comfort that he can talk to someone. The last company he has was less than pleasant.
>The process of trying to remove the nettle was excruciating. Everytime he tried on one it was like it was reactivating all over again.
>He was already too tired mentally and physically to keep doing this. At some point he's going to injure himself more.
>Jeff decides to stop after a handful of attempts, stashing the tweezer and wound pad back into the med pouch and attaching it to his hip for quick access later. He can try again, if he finds himself in better shape.
>He touches base with Cloudstrike on the other end of the Moon Orb.
'Cloudstrike, you still there? Sorry if you heard any of that. I was... unsuccessful. This Lin caught me with what I swear is weapons-grade stinging nettle.'
>Strapping the TacPad back onto his arm, he's reluctant to slip it his gauntlet fully back on over the barbs. Instead, he just fastens and stickies the forearm section back on, the gloved end slumped limply over the uninjured backside of his hand. At least this way can can still use his left to block.
>Finally carefully slinging on his pack, he looks down at the stream.
'I need to get moving. Not feeling safe where I am. I was told there was a hidden exit out of here, but I would still have to climb out once I did. The reliquary is bowl shaped, going off the acoustics. At least twelve hundred meters in diameter, assuming I'm in the center. There's a huge emerald in front of me, maybe around eightish tons worth. Giant crystalline trees that were glowing but have dimmed out. And a stream in front of me filled with emeralds of all different sizes. There are signs of life, small. So far. She mentioned she bred the meanest the Moors has to offer in here.'
>Letting Cloudstrike sink his descriptions in, he inches toward the only light source available to him. At least it was a constant source, and an easy guide so he won't get lost. He observes the direction of the flow, downstream would be the gamble pond Lin mentioned earlier. What would happened if he followed it upstream? There would have to be a source, somewhere. Perhaps the source also held the potential exit?
>Signs of obvious life on the banks an a clean flow told him it's probably drinkable. No way the Druid would let dirty water flow through her home, right? She did warn him of touching anything.
>Then again, wasn't he touching the ground? If something happen to attack him, he'd be touching that too.
>His hand was killing him. Leaving it open to the air should help, but he wanted to flush it out at the very least.
>It wasn't the pond. And it wasn't his own drinking water. And she wasn't here, right now.
>Unless she was silently observing him. No time for THAT level of paranoia, yet.
>He keeps his ears open around him, now that he's calmed down enough to get his senses in place again.
>Although anything he's heard earlier were a ways off, he could be getting honed in on.
[1d6 = 5] <M.Perception
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 4]
>The only weapon he could think of handling right now would be the tomahawk, Lunarite blade, or the Spellslinger. The Honeybadger needed two hands. And he didn't want to spill any blood if he didn't have to.
>He checks the elemental chambered, rotating it to the Air element and cocking the hammer back.
>Jeff kneels down next to the bank, reaching out and over the surface of the water.
>And skims the top of the water with enough of his hand to wetten the afflicted areas for a few seconds.
>>371772
>Lont was about to turn away, to go back to the Fortress, to sleep away the rest of this awful night when he saw the Lead Spireguard march towards him from the corner of his eye.
>He didn't really expect that to happen, he wasn't sure what to expect anymore.
>He was going to take a step back if she got any closer but she stopped far enough away.
>His mouth opened, then promptly closed as she spoke.
>The Operator listened to the mare with as much focus he could muster. She didn't leave room for him to talk much and he didn't have much to say or ask.
>No. There were a few questions he needed to ask.
>Lont picked up the blue crystal ball when he felt it bounce off his boot. He was slow when picking it up, his knees audibly popping. His fatigue was an oppressive weight on him now intent on dragging him down to the dirt where it'll force him to sleep. He fought it off with what little energy he had left in him.
>He spun the orb around in his hand a few times before looking back to the Spireguard mare. Stressed and tired human eyes met hers.
"I will tell these Generals that, maybe they have been doing there own research already."
>"Unless they didn't detect Anti either."
"And I will endeavour to not contaminate the Crystalplates with too much of my Anti."
>He said with a small wry smile.
>It didn't last long.
"I need somepony to seek out Matron Farezith of the Conclaves, there is a high possibility of Anti contamination with her. And in the Conclave that she resides over there is a Shell by the name of Shattered Glacier, she and her foal are definitely contaminated. You might find Grand Champion Belregard there still along with one Shining Armour, they too might be contaminated."
>He only hoped somepony had already checked on them in the interim.
"Also, I wish to know a few things. Firstly; the number of ponies contaminated. And-"
>His grip on the Rime Orb grew tight, so tight the sphere threatened to slip out of his grasp.
"-Were there fatalities?"
>Lont stared at the orb before focusing on his sword. His contaminated Mural Blade left clattered on the hallowed Basin Village ground.
>Again he bent down, but this time with the aid of his sword he stood up much faster. A perfect allegory of himself really.
"What of Cadence? Was she contaminated too? Did she...Did she know? Know about Razorbacks negligence, about my own?"
>The din of chatter going all around him by his fellow Operators finally registered in his mind.
>He could not recall what happened to Emerald, so he turned his head to sweep his vision across the Basin to see if anything or anyone was amiss.
[1d6-3 = (2-3) = -1] >E.Perception
[1d6-3 = (3-3) = 0]
[1d6-3 = (3-3) = 0]
[1d6-2 = (2-2) = 0] >H.E
>Lont was about to turn away, to go back to the Fortress, to sleep away the rest of this awful night when he saw the Lead Spireguard march towards him from the corner of his eye.
>He didn't really expect that to happen, he wasn't sure what to expect anymore.
>He was going to take a step back if she got any closer but she stopped far enough away.
>His mouth opened, then promptly closed as she spoke.
>The Operator listened to the mare with as much focus he could muster. She didn't leave room for him to talk much and he didn't have much to say or ask.
>No. There were a few questions he needed to ask.
>Lont picked up the blue crystal ball when he felt it bounce off his boot. He was slow when picking it up, his knees audibly popping. His fatigue was an oppressive weight on him now intent on dragging him down to the dirt where it'll force him to sleep. He fought it off with what little energy he had left in him.
>He spun the orb around in his hand a few times before looking back to the Spireguard mare. Stressed and tired human eyes met hers.
"I will tell these Generals that, maybe they have been doing there own research already."
>"Unless they didn't detect Anti either."
"And I will endeavour to not contaminate the Crystalplates with too much of my Anti."
>He said with a small wry smile.
>It didn't last long.
"I need somepony to seek out Matron Farezith of the Conclaves, there is a high possibility of Anti contamination with her. And in the Conclave that she resides over there is a Shell by the name of Shattered Glacier, she and her foal are definitely contaminated. You might find Grand Champion Belregard there still along with one Shining Armour, they too might be contaminated."
>He only hoped somepony had already checked on them in the interim.
"Also, I wish to know a few things. Firstly; the number of ponies contaminated. And-"
>His grip on the Rime Orb grew tight, so tight the sphere threatened to slip out of his grasp.
"-Were there fatalities?"
>Lont stared at the orb before focusing on his sword. His contaminated Mural Blade left clattered on the hallowed Basin Village ground.
>Again he bent down, but this time with the aid of his sword he stood up much faster. A perfect allegory of himself really.
"What of Cadence? Was she contaminated too? Did she...Did she know? Know about Razorbacks negligence, about my own?"
>The din of chatter going all around him by his fellow Operators finally registered in his mind.
>He could not recall what happened to Emerald, so he turned his head to sweep his vision across the Basin to see if anything or anyone was amiss.
[1d6-3 = (2-3) = -1] >E.Perception
[1d6-3 = (3-3) = 0]
[1d6-3 = (3-3) = 0]
[1d6-2 = (2-2) = 0] >H.E
>>371799
>The young being, the novice Druid and freshly sapient Snowfall could not move.
>Something instinctual had bolted him down in place. All his muscles were locked up. Eyes unblinking as he stared north.
>The only thing he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest.
>This thing.
>This utterly unnatural thing was here, in the Fortress, in his home.
>His home.
>That thought brought some lucidity back to the Pred-Elk.
"Calm down, breath, think."
>So he attempted to do so by breathing deeply through bared copper teeth. He was eventually able to break eye contact with the northern wall of the Clinic, and dared not to look out of the Clinics' doors. He did listen however.
>Shakily stepping backwards then turning around he made his way towards the Clinics desk, there he would have more protection if/when this Horror broke in.
"Nova can hoofle this."
>Snowfall said to himself as a measure to calm himself down some more.
>Nova was powerful. And not wholly alone, nor was the Fortress completely unstaffed. If she needed backup she will get it.
>The question that made him gnaw at his lips and tap his hooves on the desktop, would he and his herd b part of it?
>The young being, the novice Druid and freshly sapient Snowfall could not move.
>Something instinctual had bolted him down in place. All his muscles were locked up. Eyes unblinking as he stared north.
>The only thing he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest.
>This thing.
>This utterly unnatural thing was here, in the Fortress, in his home.
>His home.
>That thought brought some lucidity back to the Pred-Elk.
"Calm down, breath, think."
>So he attempted to do so by breathing deeply through bared copper teeth. He was eventually able to break eye contact with the northern wall of the Clinic, and dared not to look out of the Clinics' doors. He did listen however.
>Shakily stepping backwards then turning around he made his way towards the Clinics desk, there he would have more protection if/when this Horror broke in.
"Nova can hoofle this."
>Snowfall said to himself as a measure to calm himself down some more.
>Nova was powerful. And not wholly alone, nor was the Fortress completely unstaffed. If she needed backup she will get it.
>The question that made him gnaw at his lips and tap his hooves on the desktop, would he and his herd b part of it?
>>371810
>Stopping on the other side of the portal, he gives Shiibo a confused stare.
"I won't discount potential confusion from recent events, but Silver is already classified hence why I assumed you were referring to the gravitons. Silver is a Class Two, formerly Class One or on the verge of becoming a Class One."
>He shakes his head before moving on.
"Or the temporal discrepancies Katyal had mentioned are creating further miscommunications."
>Finally receiving a graviton, he deconceptualizes the weapon and tests the chair nearest his storage locker.
"Noted. And permission is granted, so long as the information offloaded is of non-classified clearance. Since this 'Rerculon' species is somewhat emulated in this design, then it seems Lonestar's origin faction attempted some level of integration with them. More adaptive than I was expecting. Likely still problematic, but technologically I'll give them credit."
>He quickly stands again however, as Katyal's reply brings an uncomfortable premonition to mind.
(First the Nightmare's critical status with those clouds... now Silver's complete non-presence. This feels like a nonsensical portent.)
*"There isn't anything out here strong enough to block out Silver's presence entirely, is there? First the Nightmare, now this, it all seems too coincidental."*
>With a vague sense of unease, he makes his way out the rear hatch to survey Katyal and the nearby surroundings in the massive den.
>Stopping on the other side of the portal, he gives Shiibo a confused stare.
"I won't discount potential confusion from recent events, but Silver is already classified hence why I assumed you were referring to the gravitons. Silver is a Class Two, formerly Class One or on the verge of becoming a Class One."
>He shakes his head before moving on.
"Or the temporal discrepancies Katyal had mentioned are creating further miscommunications."
>Finally receiving a graviton, he deconceptualizes the weapon and tests the chair nearest his storage locker.
"Noted. And permission is granted, so long as the information offloaded is of non-classified clearance. Since this 'Rerculon' species is somewhat emulated in this design, then it seems Lonestar's origin faction attempted some level of integration with them. More adaptive than I was expecting. Likely still problematic, but technologically I'll give them credit."
>He quickly stands again however, as Katyal's reply brings an uncomfortable premonition to mind.
(First the Nightmare's critical status with those clouds... now Silver's complete non-presence. This feels like a nonsensical portent.)
*"There isn't anything out here strong enough to block out Silver's presence entirely, is there? First the Nightmare, now this, it all seems too coincidental."*
>With a vague sense of unease, he makes his way out the rear hatch to survey Katyal and the nearby surroundings in the massive den.
>>371799
>Now able to focus on Snakebite, he makes little of note to his more comfortably neutral position on the table.
>His skin, now much thicker than before and reminded him of more lizard-like.
>Checking his pulse through the new dermal layer, he found his pulse was keeping up well with the drugs in his system.
>The levels were measured for regular human tolerances. Would the infusions have given him a heartier constitution, higher metabolism to handle more?
>Observing and also feeling a slight increase in fluid buildup, along with more-than usual sweating, Carlos gets a sample kit for a nearby supply station. No temperature change meant no inflammation or infection. He collects several generous vial samples of the thicker-than-usual perspiration.
>Certain reptilian species prefer to keep their skin constantly moist. He wonders if his body is overreacting to the liquification of the fat layer, and is taking in extra fluid to build it back up. He'll mark the new absorbtion rate of the saline/dextrose solution for an earlier change-out.
>As he check the lines, he notes Snakebite was subconciously forming a combative layer around his IV. It reminded him of a tree growing around an object in contact of it.
>Skin change fluctuates as he updates his notes. Fascinating! Chameleons are known to change their skin tone based on their emotions. Pair that up with the pre-REM sleep, Snakebite's skin may be reacting to him dreaming.
>And a tap on his skin made it tense up. No, harden? Almost completely.
>He wasn't sure how to put it.
>When he was palpating before he didn't experience this. Hmm... perhaps a sharp strike over a certain force threshold activates a sort of reactive dermal hardening. Muscles under the skin could be hyper-contracting along with an instantaneous no tolerance alignment of skin laminars.
>He would have to test it, during outpatient recovery. With Snakebite's permission, of course.
>>371813
>As he wraps up their human patient's current status, he looks over at Snowfall.
>The Pred-Elk must be able to sense the entity that Nova Flicker is now facing. He's definitely shaken up a bit, as he cowers behind the front desk.
>He takes a concerned pause, before he goes and checks on Lejura.
"Is it that powerful, Senior Snowfall? The Fortress is rather undermanned. Should I radio for help?"
>He idles up with the Pred-Elk at the front desk, before continuing his rounds.
>Now able to focus on Snakebite, he makes little of note to his more comfortably neutral position on the table.
>His skin, now much thicker than before and reminded him of more lizard-like.
>Checking his pulse through the new dermal layer, he found his pulse was keeping up well with the drugs in his system.
>The levels were measured for regular human tolerances. Would the infusions have given him a heartier constitution, higher metabolism to handle more?
>Observing and also feeling a slight increase in fluid buildup, along with more-than usual sweating, Carlos gets a sample kit for a nearby supply station. No temperature change meant no inflammation or infection. He collects several generous vial samples of the thicker-than-usual perspiration.
>Certain reptilian species prefer to keep their skin constantly moist. He wonders if his body is overreacting to the liquification of the fat layer, and is taking in extra fluid to build it back up. He'll mark the new absorbtion rate of the saline/dextrose solution for an earlier change-out.
>As he check the lines, he notes Snakebite was subconciously forming a combative layer around his IV. It reminded him of a tree growing around an object in contact of it.
>Skin change fluctuates as he updates his notes. Fascinating! Chameleons are known to change their skin tone based on their emotions. Pair that up with the pre-REM sleep, Snakebite's skin may be reacting to him dreaming.
>And a tap on his skin made it tense up. No, harden? Almost completely.
>He wasn't sure how to put it.
>When he was palpating before he didn't experience this. Hmm... perhaps a sharp strike over a certain force threshold activates a sort of reactive dermal hardening. Muscles under the skin could be hyper-contracting along with an instantaneous no tolerance alignment of skin laminars.
>He would have to test it, during outpatient recovery. With Snakebite's permission, of course.
>>371813
>As he wraps up their human patient's current status, he looks over at Snowfall.
>The Pred-Elk must be able to sense the entity that Nova Flicker is now facing. He's definitely shaken up a bit, as he cowers behind the front desk.
>He takes a concerned pause, before he goes and checks on Lejura.
"Is it that powerful, Senior Snowfall? The Fortress is rather undermanned. Should I radio for help?"
>He idles up with the Pred-Elk at the front desk, before continuing his rounds.
>>371333
"Well I still feel pain and stuff so I know it isn't. You usually don't feel anything in dreams."
>Probably the case here too.
>PROBABLY.
"Wild do not have an existential crisis right now, that can be postponed indefinitely."
>Or occur at a more convenient time and place.
>While I had no real basis of how she looked besides the Mini-her, I knew she was pretty fucked up.
"Well uh..."
>I mull my words over for a moment.
"You wouldn't be able to get a first date with anyone, I'd say."
>..
"Yeah you're all kinds of fucked up, aside from your legs which are mostly intact. Aside from the seams. And cabling that's exposed."
>I grimace as I inspect her upper body a bit.
"You're going to have a lot of work replacing all of this."
"Well I still feel pain and stuff so I know it isn't. You usually don't feel anything in dreams."
>Probably the case here too.
>PROBABLY.
"Wild do not have an existential crisis right now, that can be postponed indefinitely."
>Or occur at a more convenient time and place.
>While I had no real basis of how she looked besides the Mini-her, I knew she was pretty fucked up.
"Well uh..."
>I mull my words over for a moment.
"You wouldn't be able to get a first date with anyone, I'd say."
>..
"Yeah you're all kinds of fucked up, aside from your legs which are mostly intact. Aside from the seams. And cabling that's exposed."
>I grimace as I inspect her upper body a bit.
"You're going to have a lot of work replacing all of this."
>>371768
>Hmmm...she's speechless
>But hopefully she understands and stays away from the Riftseeker or the Constructs
>Watching the screen form from the two cases, he still has no idea what the symbols mean
>The cultist mare has more of a idea than he has though but it ain't much
>Clemency flinched at the mare shrieking in frustration
>The fatigue fully set in and was making Clemency jumpy
>But she is hatching a plan at least
"Lann's shop? I know where it is. But I didn't know she had a Moon Orb."
>At the mention of a berry name, Clemency tried to remember who she is referring to
>It had to be somepony back at the Citadel
>Basin City?
>He was unaware that a city exists in the Basin
>Maybe it's just a very good secret
>More code words though
"Ok, 20 charcoal sticks and 5 tomes. Anything else to expect from them?"
>After asking the question, Clemency winces against the harpy's screaming
>He didn't realize the sarcophagus still had some effect considering it was dead
>He instead deigns to not even enter it
>As much as he want to sleep, he rather have one he can wake up from and not be comatose
>"So, no and no. But she also mentioned the Basin City."
*"Don't worry, I won't. I'll be waiting in the meantime."*
>Hmmm...she's speechless
>But hopefully she understands and stays away from the Riftseeker or the Constructs
>Watching the screen form from the two cases, he still has no idea what the symbols mean
>The cultist mare has more of a idea than he has though but it ain't much
>Clemency flinched at the mare shrieking in frustration
>The fatigue fully set in and was making Clemency jumpy
>But she is hatching a plan at least
"Lann's shop? I know where it is. But I didn't know she had a Moon Orb."
>At the mention of a berry name, Clemency tried to remember who she is referring to
>It had to be somepony back at the Citadel
>Basin City?
>He was unaware that a city exists in the Basin
>Maybe it's just a very good secret
>More code words though
"Ok, 20 charcoal sticks and 5 tomes. Anything else to expect from them?"
>After asking the question, Clemency winces against the harpy's screaming
>He didn't realize the sarcophagus still had some effect considering it was dead
>He instead deigns to not even enter it
>As much as he want to sleep, he rather have one he can wake up from and not be comatose
>"So, no and no. But she also mentioned the Basin City."
*"Don't worry, I won't. I'll be waiting in the meantime."*
>>371809
>Either unable to resize, or refusing to, the map's northern edge was centered on two broad regions, Mareixico and Mexicolt, sharing a thoroughly unmarked border, excepting small villages and a few towns.
>Hundreds of clustered islands and a wide variety of archipelagos dot the western ocean off Argentum's Lands, the majority listed as unknown, prohibited, dangerous, tainted, corrupted, or both of the previous two statuses.
>More than 40% had previously inhabited markers, current indications of lightly inhabited below 2%, and only the largest archipelagos or island chains were moderately inhabited.
>In total, the uninhabited number was nearly 98%.
>Far west however, Cuteba is listed as the largest Caribean Island, mostly jungle with a broad, wide beach that looked uninterrupted around the landmass, and currently inhabited by numerous Ferron Clans spread throughout.
>A mixture of smaller islands around Cuteba weren't individually distinguished, instead, patches of claims by the main Ferron and two sister clans, the Malurians and Arkadians.
>On the eastern side of Argentum's Lands, of the approximately 600 islands, less than than 50 were inhabited, entirely functioning as small military ports, research outposts, or both.
>Sorting through envelopes once more, Starglow emits a moderately snide snort as the metallic eye twists around in a full rotation.
>Sighing and folding her lift wing over her head, Shanis speaks in a slow, nonchalant tone before the Crystal mare can cause further damage.
"That stone circle covered in symbols and runes you're standing in front of is a translocation matrice. Translocation is a near-instant dimarensional travel through the Vortex Remnant's network across Tallus. It's safe unless you're carrying a Planar being or creature that thinks, 'hay, this would be a good time to dive back home real quick'. Worse case scenario, everything inside that tunnel gets spit out to where they entered.
Each matrice is usually connected to all other matrices, but the owner of one can set any limitations or stipulations they want. For example I've limited the two major matrices on Tartarus Island to only accept translocations that've been verified by the Remnant and and deliveries from direct allies. The rest are used for inter-island transport.
The map is accessible by everypony and everyone so long as they ask first. Each matrice has to be accessed by the Remnant, so some aren't up to date. If possible ask a sub-Remnant to provide an immediate view.
Most regions that aren't listed, darkened, sectioned off, marked with large borders, and so on, either have a travel ban, are prohibited, or restricted. That region's been prohibited for.. over a decade."
>Pausing to blink upwards, the pegasi's snout twitches morosely.
"I think. Nopony knows why and asking questions about it is probably a bat idea."
>Either unable to resize, or refusing to, the map's northern edge was centered on two broad regions, Mareixico and Mexicolt, sharing a thoroughly unmarked border, excepting small villages and a few towns.
>Hundreds of clustered islands and a wide variety of archipelagos dot the western ocean off Argentum's Lands, the majority listed as unknown, prohibited, dangerous, tainted, corrupted, or both of the previous two statuses.
>More than 40% had previously inhabited markers, current indications of lightly inhabited below 2%, and only the largest archipelagos or island chains were moderately inhabited.
>In total, the uninhabited number was nearly 98%.
>Far west however, Cuteba is listed as the largest Caribean Island, mostly jungle with a broad, wide beach that looked uninterrupted around the landmass, and currently inhabited by numerous Ferron Clans spread throughout.
>A mixture of smaller islands around Cuteba weren't individually distinguished, instead, patches of claims by the main Ferron and two sister clans, the Malurians and Arkadians.
>On the eastern side of Argentum's Lands, of the approximately 600 islands, less than than 50 were inhabited, entirely functioning as small military ports, research outposts, or both.
>Sorting through envelopes once more, Starglow emits a moderately snide snort as the metallic eye twists around in a full rotation.
>Sighing and folding her lift wing over her head, Shanis speaks in a slow, nonchalant tone before the Crystal mare can cause further damage.
"That stone circle covered in symbols and runes you're standing in front of is a translocation matrice. Translocation is a near-instant dimarensional travel through the Vortex Remnant's network across Tallus. It's safe unless you're carrying a Planar being or creature that thinks, 'hay, this would be a good time to dive back home real quick'. Worse case scenario, everything inside that tunnel gets spit out to where they entered.
Each matrice is usually connected to all other matrices, but the owner of one can set any limitations or stipulations they want. For example I've limited the two major matrices on Tartarus Island to only accept translocations that've been verified by the Remnant and and deliveries from direct allies. The rest are used for inter-island transport.
The map is accessible by everypony and everyone so long as they ask first. Each matrice has to be accessed by the Remnant, so some aren't up to date. If possible ask a sub-Remnant to provide an immediate view.
Most regions that aren't listed, darkened, sectioned off, marked with large borders, and so on, either have a travel ban, are prohibited, or restricted. That region's been prohibited for.. over a decade."
>Pausing to blink upwards, the pegasi's snout twitches morosely.
"I think. Nopony knows why and asking questions about it is probably a bat idea."
>>371811
"You're a Starborn then."
>Constant paper noises are accompaneighed by short, hard three-hoof steps, then a partial tap after.
"Four of the Lunar Council are deceased. Three are awaiting their last hour or less. One is in critical condition. One is severely crippled, unlikely to recover. One is moderately injured, currently absent. One is lightly injured, also absent. The last has been missing for over four hours, possibly five.
Until replacemarents are vetted, approached, questioned, then accepted or rejected, five previous Lunar Council members have been brought from stasis to assume temporary duties. One more per each will follow. We ha-"
>Crystalline fractures in the background and a distant explosion drifts, the mare quiet for some time, then speaks in low, firm tones.
"I'm stating the following so that there are zero future consequences, ramifications, and repercussions: I have no idea what you are speaking of, and I do not understand the same. For the purposes of not being dragged in another shitshow... everything you have seen and will experience is to never be shared. Not a single bloody word shall ever be spoken aloud. Do you understand?
If you do, and accept my words have been spoken as significant matters of existential security, continue speaking. If not then I will disconnect you from the Lunar Network.
.......a ritual is being prepared to aid the Lunar Princess. I am not allowed to speak on that matter further.
...that one. Beyond insane. Dreams that shouldn't occur when awake. Half-alive in unreality. Half-dead in mind, spirit. Sings for the flames that can't speak any longer... carves names for each one. Only cares for them now.
She pushed together most every piece of Construct debris, hulls, fluid, and everything, then proceeded to melt most of it, but not all. The lowest tunnels are flooded, entire Underworks is filled with cooling orange metal. There were a few parts she.. 'prevented from being touched by extreme force'.
........I was supposed to be off the Citadel three hours ago. Medical retiremarent. Permarenent. In short, a complete mess all the way around.... we didn't even have time to enact catastrophic measures, that's how quick the Constructs burst down and through."
>Wingblades clack together followed by loud tearing, Cloudstrike huffing irritably.
"Horseasses, this map's at least five years old. Some of the new ones are marked, should work. You're in the Deep Moors, trying to find latitude and longitude, need a few minutes. ..I'll be here."
>Hoof clicking on stone and barely muttering now, her tone shifts to brief accusation.
"Awake for now. Alive, not so much. Unless Heartbreak storms in for another useless check up..
...Nigthblade, if you're in such bad shape that you can't even treat yourself, moving is the worst option. Then again mostly I ca- ...nevermind. Hold on, let me see if these open-"
>Metallic and crystalline locks clicking multiple times, she exhales calmly at a dull thud.
"Nope, don't even know where the slots are. ..the good and bad news: I've found your probable location-"
>Reading off a series of coordinates which you compare to the TacPad, the entire central Deep Moors grids matched them.
"Been little explored before the Early Dynasty, majority is prohibited. No Warp Gates, and no teams are willing to set down translocation matrices.
..and I've just confirmed the last orbital crashdown pod was taken a few hours ago... there's not even a horsefucking name on the log sheet! Why do someponies never follow protocol?! Those are for emergency use only!
I know this much: the Lunar Druids, their warclans, orders, brotherhoods, sisterhoods, allegiances, and allies disappeared before 29,400 or shortly after. They claimed the Deep Moors and parts of the New Everfree. Few descendants remain in Equestria, and weren't fond of Malurians. There might be some records left in the Hall's Archives, will bitchfit someponies into going down for a search.
They left behind all of the.. ‘modified’ Warguard and Vanguard Wolves in specific locations. Independent Druids use those as neutral trading grounds sometimes. They can inherently detect sapience but won't willingly help an uninjured non-Druid, so if you see one they might let you stay with until recovering. ..do NOT piss them off for any reason, they were.. 'shaped' to kill Minotaurs and similar equivalents during the Middle Dynasty.
Tidelock Bog's in the southernmost Deep Moors, close to Ferron lands. Could be anywhere from two to four thousand miles south. Mirekeep is west, three to five thousand where Central touches Deep. Nothing southeast, east, or northeast, those are the Crags. North.. twenty to thirty medium Ferron villages, loads of smaller ones. Lot of batpony colonies; dots, campfires, or outpost signs. About the same distances.
Look, Nightblade, I can't even tell you what my duties are but that whole region is NOT a place to be in, much less wandering around. Could travel a hundred miles in any direction and not be seen by a living, but most importantly untainted AND uncorrupted batpony. There's enough insanity near the inhabited regions they won't even fly twenty miles over the Deeps.
Unless I can find or force another crashdown's production, you'd better have a fourth or fifth option available.. and I don't mean suicide."
>Focusing on the last echoes bouncing down into the Reliquary, whatever had occurred wasn't being repeated.
>Ebbing to a bare few lumens each, diffracted traces of green were all that marked the crystalline trees while the boulder and gems in the stream remained bright.
>The water was freezing, numbing palm, fingers, and thumb, intensity welcoming enough to blunt the constant pulsing.
"..I think you're inside a spawning chamber. That's where young are created, fed the first few times, then released. That'll be the safest place until noon, after that reptiles, insects, hybrids, and big predators start hunting. Look for a small place you can hide and defend from if need be."
"You're a Starborn then."
>Constant paper noises are accompaneighed by short, hard three-hoof steps, then a partial tap after.
"Four of the Lunar Council are deceased. Three are awaiting their last hour or less. One is in critical condition. One is severely crippled, unlikely to recover. One is moderately injured, currently absent. One is lightly injured, also absent. The last has been missing for over four hours, possibly five.
Until replacemarents are vetted, approached, questioned, then accepted or rejected, five previous Lunar Council members have been brought from stasis to assume temporary duties. One more per each will follow. We ha-"
>Crystalline fractures in the background and a distant explosion drifts, the mare quiet for some time, then speaks in low, firm tones.
"I'm stating the following so that there are zero future consequences, ramifications, and repercussions: I have no idea what you are speaking of, and I do not understand the same. For the purposes of not being dragged in another shitshow... everything you have seen and will experience is to never be shared. Not a single bloody word shall ever be spoken aloud. Do you understand?
If you do, and accept my words have been spoken as significant matters of existential security, continue speaking. If not then I will disconnect you from the Lunar Network.
.......a ritual is being prepared to aid the Lunar Princess. I am not allowed to speak on that matter further.
...that one. Beyond insane. Dreams that shouldn't occur when awake. Half-alive in unreality. Half-dead in mind, spirit. Sings for the flames that can't speak any longer... carves names for each one. Only cares for them now.
She pushed together most every piece of Construct debris, hulls, fluid, and everything, then proceeded to melt most of it, but not all. The lowest tunnels are flooded, entire Underworks is filled with cooling orange metal. There were a few parts she.. 'prevented from being touched by extreme force'.
........I was supposed to be off the Citadel three hours ago. Medical retiremarent. Permarenent. In short, a complete mess all the way around.... we didn't even have time to enact catastrophic measures, that's how quick the Constructs burst down and through."
>Wingblades clack together followed by loud tearing, Cloudstrike huffing irritably.
"Horseasses, this map's at least five years old. Some of the new ones are marked, should work. You're in the Deep Moors, trying to find latitude and longitude, need a few minutes. ..I'll be here."
>Hoof clicking on stone and barely muttering now, her tone shifts to brief accusation.
"Awake for now. Alive, not so much. Unless Heartbreak storms in for another useless check up..
...Nigthblade, if you're in such bad shape that you can't even treat yourself, moving is the worst option. Then again mostly I ca- ...nevermind. Hold on, let me see if these open-"
>Metallic and crystalline locks clicking multiple times, she exhales calmly at a dull thud.
"Nope, don't even know where the slots are. ..the good and bad news: I've found your probable location-"
>Reading off a series of coordinates which you compare to the TacPad, the entire central Deep Moors grids matched them.
"Been little explored before the Early Dynasty, majority is prohibited. No Warp Gates, and no teams are willing to set down translocation matrices.
..and I've just confirmed the last orbital crashdown pod was taken a few hours ago... there's not even a horsefucking name on the log sheet! Why do someponies never follow protocol?! Those are for emergency use only!
I know this much: the Lunar Druids, their warclans, orders, brotherhoods, sisterhoods, allegiances, and allies disappeared before 29,400 or shortly after. They claimed the Deep Moors and parts of the New Everfree. Few descendants remain in Equestria, and weren't fond of Malurians. There might be some records left in the Hall's Archives, will bitchfit someponies into going down for a search.
They left behind all of the.. ‘modified’ Warguard and Vanguard Wolves in specific locations. Independent Druids use those as neutral trading grounds sometimes. They can inherently detect sapience but won't willingly help an uninjured non-Druid, so if you see one they might let you stay with until recovering. ..do NOT piss them off for any reason, they were.. 'shaped' to kill Minotaurs and similar equivalents during the Middle Dynasty.
Tidelock Bog's in the southernmost Deep Moors, close to Ferron lands. Could be anywhere from two to four thousand miles south. Mirekeep is west, three to five thousand where Central touches Deep. Nothing southeast, east, or northeast, those are the Crags. North.. twenty to thirty medium Ferron villages, loads of smaller ones. Lot of batpony colonies; dots, campfires, or outpost signs. About the same distances.
Look, Nightblade, I can't even tell you what my duties are but that whole region is NOT a place to be in, much less wandering around. Could travel a hundred miles in any direction and not be seen by a living, but most importantly untainted AND uncorrupted batpony. There's enough insanity near the inhabited regions they won't even fly twenty miles over the Deeps.
Unless I can find or force another crashdown's production, you'd better have a fourth or fifth option available.. and I don't mean suicide."
>Focusing on the last echoes bouncing down into the Reliquary, whatever had occurred wasn't being repeated.
>Ebbing to a bare few lumens each, diffracted traces of green were all that marked the crystalline trees while the boulder and gems in the stream remained bright.
>The water was freezing, numbing palm, fingers, and thumb, intensity welcoming enough to blunt the constant pulsing.
"..I think you're inside a spawning chamber. That's where young are created, fed the first few times, then released. That'll be the safest place until noon, after that reptiles, insects, hybrids, and big predators start hunting. Look for a small place you can hide and defend from if need be."
>>371812
"It is improbable they will be aware of Anti contamination as each General's ExoFrame is thoroughly examined by Princess Cadenza. Likewise I do not believe Crystalplates will degrade unless subjected to prolonged direct contact by Class Four or worse exposure."
>Glancing over her back at the Conclavists and Kingdom adherents, her head swivels about to give a firm nod.
"You have my word we will search for Matron Farezith and her Conclave, but we must undergo precise decontamination procedures before a next course of action may be approved. As for the Crystal-Revenant, he and..."
>Taking on a thoroughly dumbfounded face, the Spireguard squints before returning to a neutral tone.
"They will be unaffected, that is assured.
While we understand that the majority of Razorback is exhausted or worse, fatigue should not resemble being incapable of remembering previously marentioned facts.
As was previously stated: we have shared what we positively know; numbers and individual statuses are as of yet unknown.
It is unlikely Princess Cadenza can be negatively affected due to her..."
>Turning a derisive sneer downwards, she snorts in a flatly hostile marener.
"Prior history with a certain incomprehensible silver-skinned whorse, may all suffering be etched within that one's crooked mind one hundred thousand times over.
Similarly improbable she was or is contaminated, and the latter questions do not have sufficient facts on hoof to answer. I am most tired of endless speculation, guesswork, and quarter-flanked calculations with which to throw hypotheticals or theories upon."
>Offering a slight, formal bow, the Spireguard swivels on hoof in short measured hoof steps, calling over her shoulder as she clanks towards the Crystal forces.
"Warn Razorback of the words we have shared-"
>Blearily surveying around Basin Village, there was no sign of the short Korean woman, her prominently fashionable white coat missing among the thousands of Day and Watch Guard still exiting south of the fountain.
>Surveying the Operators arranged in groups, most sitting down, kneeling, or standing close to the east building walls, you try matching known armors, helmets, preferred colors, patches, weapons, and other identifiers.
>Besides Clemency occupied with the unusual aircraft, it seemed all of Razorback was still here.
>...except for Jeff, his helmet and mask would've been highly visible from where you were.
*"I've got nothing."*
*"No sign anywhere?"*
*"There's nowhere to hide and we've have seen her moving around real easy."*
*"Nada. Bunch of those cold armored unicorns though."*
*"Can we be sure she didn't, y'know, fall in a swamp or bog?"*
*"If she did, and I'm playing along here, there'd be twenty to fifty ponies dragging her out immediately afterwards."*
*"What about some Void critter that could've grabbed her?"*
*"I'm cutting you off right now. There were Lunar unicorns and psions in the thousands, they knew EXACTLY where everything bigger than a micrognat was at all times."*
*"Crystal ponies too..."*
*"Where's Jeff?"*
*"What?"*
*"JEFF, YOU MORON!"*
*"He was.. with us at the the south entrance?"*
*"When?"*
*"Right before Lont radioed in."*
*"Saw him there too, had one of those blades in hand, scarring himself."*
*"Yeah, same."*
*"I got out of there around the same time he did."*
*"Hold on, I saw him starting to get up when I was leaving."*
*"....then what?"*
*"I don't fucking know, was thinking about checking the rooftops."*
*"Didn't see him when we left either."*
*"That's two people missing now. Is there anyone else?"*
*"We made roll call right after getting in, so, all squads sound off, Rooks first."*
"It is improbable they will be aware of Anti contamination as each General's ExoFrame is thoroughly examined by Princess Cadenza. Likewise I do not believe Crystalplates will degrade unless subjected to prolonged direct contact by Class Four or worse exposure."
>Glancing over her back at the Conclavists and Kingdom adherents, her head swivels about to give a firm nod.
"You have my word we will search for Matron Farezith and her Conclave, but we must undergo precise decontamination procedures before a next course of action may be approved. As for the Crystal-Revenant, he and..."
>Taking on a thoroughly dumbfounded face, the Spireguard squints before returning to a neutral tone.
"They will be unaffected, that is assured.
While we understand that the majority of Razorback is exhausted or worse, fatigue should not resemble being incapable of remembering previously marentioned facts.
As was previously stated: we have shared what we positively know; numbers and individual statuses are as of yet unknown.
It is unlikely Princess Cadenza can be negatively affected due to her..."
>Turning a derisive sneer downwards, she snorts in a flatly hostile marener.
"Prior history with a certain incomprehensible silver-skinned whorse, may all suffering be etched within that one's crooked mind one hundred thousand times over.
Similarly improbable she was or is contaminated, and the latter questions do not have sufficient facts on hoof to answer. I am most tired of endless speculation, guesswork, and quarter-flanked calculations with which to throw hypotheticals or theories upon."
>Offering a slight, formal bow, the Spireguard swivels on hoof in short measured hoof steps, calling over her shoulder as she clanks towards the Crystal forces.
"Warn Razorback of the words we have shared-"
>Blearily surveying around Basin Village, there was no sign of the short Korean woman, her prominently fashionable white coat missing among the thousands of Day and Watch Guard still exiting south of the fountain.
>Surveying the Operators arranged in groups, most sitting down, kneeling, or standing close to the east building walls, you try matching known armors, helmets, preferred colors, patches, weapons, and other identifiers.
>Besides Clemency occupied with the unusual aircraft, it seemed all of Razorback was still here.
>...except for Jeff, his helmet and mask would've been highly visible from where you were.
*"I've got nothing."*
*"No sign anywhere?"*
*"There's nowhere to hide and we've have seen her moving around real easy."*
*"Nada. Bunch of those cold armored unicorns though."*
*"Can we be sure she didn't, y'know, fall in a swamp or bog?"*
*"If she did, and I'm playing along here, there'd be twenty to fifty ponies dragging her out immediately afterwards."*
*"What about some Void critter that could've grabbed her?"*
*"I'm cutting you off right now. There were Lunar unicorns and psions in the thousands, they knew EXACTLY where everything bigger than a micrognat was at all times."*
*"Crystal ponies too..."*
*"Where's Jeff?"*
*"What?"*
*"JEFF, YOU MORON!"*
*"He was.. with us at the the south entrance?"*
*"When?"*
*"Right before Lont radioed in."*
*"Saw him there too, had one of those blades in hand, scarring himself."*
*"Yeah, same."*
*"I got out of there around the same time he did."*
*"Hold on, I saw him starting to get up when I was leaving."*
*"....then what?"*
*"I don't fucking know, was thinking about checking the rooftops."*
*"Didn't see him when we left either."*
*"That's two people missing now. Is there anyone else?"*
*"We made roll call right after getting in, so, all squads sound off, Rooks first."*
>>371813
>Huddling in front of Tipper's strongly scented wood desk, the level of safety was a marginal increase.
>Except the surface clutter and interior contents would have to be removed, then filled before it could be turned over, around, and shoved against the door.
>Nova Flicker 1 turn of Critical Enrage remaining
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Vile Taunt
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <M.Casting: Voidshear
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <M.Teleport
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <???
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <???
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <???
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <???
>>371816
>Nudging open the #2 Operating Room to peer in, Lejura was still on her side, little moved from earlier.
>Forelegs tucked into a comfortable crossed, calm, moderately deep, rumbling inhales and exhales are accompaneighed by slow, minor ear twitches.
>A heavily drugged, albeit standard rhythmic sleeping pattern for a full dose of Dampener.
>Taking a quick feel across the mare's soft neck from throat to below her skull, each pulse was average for heavy sedation, though considerably stronger than normal, a definite response from being critically overdosed by potent restoration mixtures.
>Performing a snout pinch test, then a ten second frog hold to check proper blood flow, each was within satisfactory conditions, though her bodily temperature was closer to 105, within normal for a Saddle Arabian.
>Waiting to overhear possible lung constrictions, nasal hitching, teeth grinding, whistling, and other disruptive sounds for two minutes, none occur.
>Peeling open the mare's left eyelids, the pupil remains fully expanded.
>Testing the responsiveness with a split-second penlight check, delayed minor dilation occurs and is subsequently restored in nine seconds.
>Performing the same test, this time the dilation and expansion occurs in eight seconds.
>Rotating through the remaining patients, the earlier two injured humans had long since left, clipboards with affixed charts marked by Nova Flicker's neat writing; times, later treatmarents, and scheduled checkups were more constricting than standard, but otherwise workable.
>Returning to the heavily distorted stasis capsules containing Kraut, Novus, and Caliya, visual examinations reveal no changes or alterations of the temporal containing field.
>Panning the diagnostic disc over the first..... Carlos bleakly wishes he hadn't.
>And that anything resembling minced meat or corned beef hash could disappear. Forever.
>Taking a bit to recover from those wholly unforeseen shocks, a base layer inspection of Novus was barely distressing in comparison.
>Far less tenderized, but equally unsurvivable, the entire combined medical staff of Canterlot College and the Crystal Empire's alchemist teams would never be able to safely restore Novus' vital organs in the half-second or less it would take to physically expire, even with significant temporal delay.
>Considering the man's apparently conscious state at his technical time of pre-death, Carlos notes a number of significant, yet barely studied and poorly understood, parameters that weren't possible to replicate in lab conditions.
>Taking in the conditions of combining extremely violent force and speed-induced fractures, impact deformations across bone, muscle, tendon, nerve, and blood vessel compactions, along with shearing forces to all of the same, a suitably comprehensive human physiological study could be made.
>Deliberating on whether or not to attempt surveying Caliya, the beyond-first-degree burns, visibly charred exposed musculature, near-carbonized bone, and whiplashed tendons alike were beyond any method of categorizing.
>And stomach churning.
>Huddling in front of Tipper's strongly scented wood desk, the level of safety was a marginal increase.
>Except the surface clutter and interior contents would have to be removed, then filled before it could be turned over, around, and shoved against the door.
>Nova Flicker 1 turn of Critical Enrage remaining
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <Vile Taunt
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <E.Assault
[1d6+9 = (4+9) = 13]
[1d6+9 = (1+9) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <M.Casting: Voidshear
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <M.Teleport
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
>vs:
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <???
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+5 = (2+5) = 7] <???
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <???
[1d6+6 = (3+6) = 9]
[1d6+6 = (2+6) = 8]
[1d6+6 = (1+6) = 7]
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14] <???
>>371816
>Nudging open the #2 Operating Room to peer in, Lejura was still on her side, little moved from earlier.
>Forelegs tucked into a comfortable crossed, calm, moderately deep, rumbling inhales and exhales are accompaneighed by slow, minor ear twitches.
>A heavily drugged, albeit standard rhythmic sleeping pattern for a full dose of Dampener.
>Taking a quick feel across the mare's soft neck from throat to below her skull, each pulse was average for heavy sedation, though considerably stronger than normal, a definite response from being critically overdosed by potent restoration mixtures.
>Performing a snout pinch test, then a ten second frog hold to check proper blood flow, each was within satisfactory conditions, though her bodily temperature was closer to 105, within normal for a Saddle Arabian.
>Waiting to overhear possible lung constrictions, nasal hitching, teeth grinding, whistling, and other disruptive sounds for two minutes, none occur.
>Peeling open the mare's left eyelids, the pupil remains fully expanded.
>Testing the responsiveness with a split-second penlight check, delayed minor dilation occurs and is subsequently restored in nine seconds.
>Performing the same test, this time the dilation and expansion occurs in eight seconds.
>Rotating through the remaining patients, the earlier two injured humans had long since left, clipboards with affixed charts marked by Nova Flicker's neat writing; times, later treatmarents, and scheduled checkups were more constricting than standard, but otherwise workable.
>Returning to the heavily distorted stasis capsules containing Kraut, Novus, and Caliya, visual examinations reveal no changes or alterations of the temporal containing field.
>Panning the diagnostic disc over the first..... Carlos bleakly wishes he hadn't.
>And that anything resembling minced meat or corned beef hash could disappear. Forever.
>Taking a bit to recover from those wholly unforeseen shocks, a base layer inspection of Novus was barely distressing in comparison.
>Far less tenderized, but equally unsurvivable, the entire combined medical staff of Canterlot College and the Crystal Empire's alchemist teams would never be able to safely restore Novus' vital organs in the half-second or less it would take to physically expire, even with significant temporal delay.
>Considering the man's apparently conscious state at his technical time of pre-death, Carlos notes a number of significant, yet barely studied and poorly understood, parameters that weren't possible to replicate in lab conditions.
>Taking in the conditions of combining extremely violent force and speed-induced fractures, impact deformations across bone, muscle, tendon, nerve, and blood vessel compactions, along with shearing forces to all of the same, a suitably comprehensive human physiological study could be made.
>Deliberating on whether or not to attempt surveying Caliya, the beyond-first-degree burns, visibly charred exposed musculature, near-carbonized bone, and whiplashed tendons alike were beyond any method of categorizing.
>And stomach churning.
>>371815
'Testing both the prototype's theoreticals and my records for clarity.'
>Setting up six windows, two for video, two for audio, and two for text, 'Shiibo' sets the last five minutes into extreme playback speeds.
>Slowing down multiple points of each for comparisons, the avatar's face creases scorfully.
'Temporal divergences are not what occurred sir, rather, the opposite. A correction is necessary: my algorithms blended together causing me to speak of both Empress Silver and Tallus-linked Gravitons at the same time; whether intentional or not is unclear. My original processes intended information solely on the individual known as Silver. The second was spoken in a near-failure state specifically focused on Graviton particles.
I do not have sufficient data to determine a likelihood or potential cross-contamination of future incidents. The best I can offer is: possible yet unlikely.
Clarifications have been archived and should not fail when subjected to temporal anomalies. Pattern and divergent vector studies would be recommended... but you do not have the necessary equipment to conduct such indepth analyses, sir.'
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
'Understood. There are numerous data volumes contained within the AEHI interface to peruse.. approximately four thousand near-standard years of surface level information is publicly available.'
>Stepping onto the deployed hatch, the ambient light level was below dim though comfortable enough to see by.
>Wide, blunted, 10' to 12' claws, or extremely crude scraping tools, had widened out a cavity between two of the gigatrees, the cavity sheltered by three smaller ones piled atop.
>To the right was, mostly, evenly flat, the ramp leading up and out looked to have weathered a number of recent heavy rainfalls, deep semicircle impressions barely able to be called tracks.
>Left and deep inside the den was an irregular, elongated bowl, partially filled with loam colored water, the same peculiar markings surrounding it.
>'Shiibo' marks out the dimensions for an estimate while you notice there were no stones, boulders, sticks, or plant life inside.
>Katyal's arms drop to her gunbelt, head swiveling towards the OT-4, then turns in quarter-circles as she speaks.
*"If there was, Hodch and Nibbles could tell immediately. Might take me a few minutes, but so far, not so much as a twitch. Maybe Dul can sense what we don't, or can't. Don't know how she experiences Tallus though."*
*"Other than worldwide Construct jamming in effect? It's gotten stronger but otherwise nothing on scans. Been in a few places where I can feel making enchantment work's more difficult than normal. Has this hard to forget tingle in the mind, between an electrical sting and a resistor not quite blowing out. Here? I feel good. Normal's a stretch."*
*"No, not in the slightest Pare. This region is among the least tainted and corrupted I have felt."*
*"Through all four hooves, or just you?"*
*"Both, in fact. Here reminds me of.. certain locations which are best described as pure. Freed from all non-Tallus essences, influences, and traces; harsh or primal Elemarentals, Planar, Otherworld, Spectral, Animus, a list of lists that are often negative in association and totality. If there is a proper name for this sensation, I do not know it."*
*"Then that brings us back to the same problem: if Silverbitch isn't listening like she should be, then what?"*
*"I do not know. It is both a sincere, vast relief knowing that Tallus is not currently suffering from her vagaries.. and an iota concerning at the same time. Unfortunately that means lacking information which we deserve access to, especially given the precarious objectives and nature of our mission. The- oh, there it is. That is...... quite the pile. Hm.
And quite fortunately for you Miss Alvugarde, she will not be here to offer sincere advice on choosing an excellent stallion, or colt, using your womanly attributes, and most certainly will not be commarenting on your fairly lacking hip to teat ratio."*
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <GM.Mysticism: Reveal-Thy-Secrets
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
>Scrambling Katyal's half-laughing, half-shouting before she could flood the current channel, Lonestar sits up in his chair, frowning painfully while thumbing controls on the right piloting stick.
*"Why'd I have to be stuck with the two biggest jokesters around? At least Finny doesn't ask if she should walk or fly behind me ten paces any more."*
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanners
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
'Testing both the prototype's theoreticals and my records for clarity.'
>Setting up six windows, two for video, two for audio, and two for text, 'Shiibo' sets the last five minutes into extreme playback speeds.
>Slowing down multiple points of each for comparisons, the avatar's face creases scorfully.
'Temporal divergences are not what occurred sir, rather, the opposite. A correction is necessary: my algorithms blended together causing me to speak of both Empress Silver and Tallus-linked Gravitons at the same time; whether intentional or not is unclear. My original processes intended information solely on the individual known as Silver. The second was spoken in a near-failure state specifically focused on Graviton particles.
I do not have sufficient data to determine a likelihood or potential cross-contamination of future incidents. The best I can offer is: possible yet unlikely.
Clarifications have been archived and should not fail when subjected to temporal anomalies. Pattern and divergent vector studies would be recommended... but you do not have the necessary equipment to conduct such indepth analyses, sir.'
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (6+3) = 9]
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8]
'Understood. There are numerous data volumes contained within the AEHI interface to peruse.. approximately four thousand near-standard years of surface level information is publicly available.'
>Stepping onto the deployed hatch, the ambient light level was below dim though comfortable enough to see by.
>Wide, blunted, 10' to 12' claws, or extremely crude scraping tools, had widened out a cavity between two of the gigatrees, the cavity sheltered by three smaller ones piled atop.
>To the right was, mostly, evenly flat, the ramp leading up and out looked to have weathered a number of recent heavy rainfalls, deep semicircle impressions barely able to be called tracks.
>Left and deep inside the den was an irregular, elongated bowl, partially filled with loam colored water, the same peculiar markings surrounding it.
>'Shiibo' marks out the dimensions for an estimate while you notice there were no stones, boulders, sticks, or plant life inside.
>Katyal's arms drop to her gunbelt, head swiveling towards the OT-4, then turns in quarter-circles as she speaks.
*"If there was, Hodch and Nibbles could tell immediately. Might take me a few minutes, but so far, not so much as a twitch. Maybe Dul can sense what we don't, or can't. Don't know how she experiences Tallus though."*
*"Other than worldwide Construct jamming in effect? It's gotten stronger but otherwise nothing on scans. Been in a few places where I can feel making enchantment work's more difficult than normal. Has this hard to forget tingle in the mind, between an electrical sting and a resistor not quite blowing out. Here? I feel good. Normal's a stretch."*
*"No, not in the slightest Pare. This region is among the least tainted and corrupted I have felt."*
*"Through all four hooves, or just you?"*
*"Both, in fact. Here reminds me of.. certain locations which are best described as pure. Freed from all non-Tallus essences, influences, and traces; harsh or primal Elemarentals, Planar, Otherworld, Spectral, Animus, a list of lists that are often negative in association and totality. If there is a proper name for this sensation, I do not know it."*
*"Then that brings us back to the same problem: if Silverbitch isn't listening like she should be, then what?"*
*"I do not know. It is both a sincere, vast relief knowing that Tallus is not currently suffering from her vagaries.. and an iota concerning at the same time. Unfortunately that means lacking information which we deserve access to, especially given the precarious objectives and nature of our mission. The- oh, there it is. That is...... quite the pile. Hm.
And quite fortunately for you Miss Alvugarde, she will not be here to offer sincere advice on choosing an excellent stallion, or colt, using your womanly attributes, and most certainly will not be commarenting on your fairly lacking hip to teat ratio."*
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12] <GM.Mysticism: Reveal-Thy-Secrets
[1d6+9 = (5+9) = 14]
[1d6+9 = (3+9) = 12]
[1d6+9 = (6+9) = 15]
>Scrambling Katyal's half-laughing, half-shouting before she could flood the current channel, Lonestar sits up in his chair, frowning painfully while thumbing controls on the right piloting stick.
*"Why'd I have to be stuck with the two biggest jokesters around? At least Finny doesn't ask if she should walk or fly behind me ten paces any more."*
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10] <ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanners
[1d6+8 = (6+8) = 14]
[1d6+8 = (1+8) = 9]
>>371863
>Standing at the foot of the ramp, he folds his arms and scuffs the soil once with his right boot.
>He listens on as everyone offers their considerations.
>Despite Hodch's good humor to Silver's lack of presence, the sense of uncertainty does not dissipate in his mind.
>Responding first to Shiibo, he blinks in acknowledgement.
"AEHI data likely pertains to world history relevant to Lonestar's background. Not a current priority for analysis. Will be relevant in future technology and cultural risk vector assessments for his profile. And yes, current equipment suites are substandard given the total strategic goals dictated by the Protocol. Noted for if this operation succeeds."
>Fishing into his pack for a flashlight, he slaps it twice before turning it on, Sticking it to the top of his helmet, and pointing it towards the pool of water.
>Scanning around it and the edges of the den, he checks for anything unusual or out of place.
[1d6 = 3]<Expert Perception
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 6]
>Once finished, he would then shift his pack again to find and turn on the 5CTA tablet.
"This should have fauna detection functionality and additional sensory tools... "
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]<Flora Detection
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]<Fauna Detection
>Sighing, as he uses the tablet he speaks into the helmet radio.
*"Then it seems we have no additional options at present other than asking Katyal to probe the function of the Rime Lattice Orb's enchantments in an attempt to find a property capable of cleansing the probable sources of Anti in our equipment... and this den is devoid of any expected debris. Is that something to note for what kind of creature would make a den like this?"*
>Standing at the foot of the ramp, he folds his arms and scuffs the soil once with his right boot.
>He listens on as everyone offers their considerations.
>Despite Hodch's good humor to Silver's lack of presence, the sense of uncertainty does not dissipate in his mind.
>Responding first to Shiibo, he blinks in acknowledgement.
"AEHI data likely pertains to world history relevant to Lonestar's background. Not a current priority for analysis. Will be relevant in future technology and cultural risk vector assessments for his profile. And yes, current equipment suites are substandard given the total strategic goals dictated by the Protocol. Noted for if this operation succeeds."
>Fishing into his pack for a flashlight, he slaps it twice before turning it on, Sticking it to the top of his helmet, and pointing it towards the pool of water.
>Scanning around it and the edges of the den, he checks for anything unusual or out of place.
[1d6 = 3]<Expert Perception
[1d6 = 6]
[1d6 = 6]
>Once finished, he would then shift his pack again to find and turn on the 5CTA tablet.
"This should have fauna detection functionality and additional sensory tools... "
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]<Flora Detection
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]<Fauna Detection
>Sighing, as he uses the tablet he speaks into the helmet radio.
*"Then it seems we have no additional options at present other than asking Katyal to probe the function of the Rime Lattice Orb's enchantments in an attempt to find a property capable of cleansing the probable sources of Anti in our equipment... and this den is devoid of any expected debris. Is that something to note for what kind of creature would make a den like this?"*
>>371862
>Giving Lejura a comprehensive once-over, he is satisfied with her progress.
>Despite the Dampeners and toxic-levels of Restoration, the Saddle Arabian was faring quite normally.
>Blood flow, temperature, breathing, reaction, and dilation under sedation were satisfactory.
>He updates her chart with his check-up, and moves on.
>The next three... were still in stasis, at least.
>He doesn't even know what he was expecting looking at Kraut. Just as bad inside as he looked outside.
>The doctor was literally at a loss for words he even remained intact. Just ground meat, in a skin suit, at this point.
>Assuming his ka was still with his body, it was going to be a tough position for him to be in. Some sort of transfer into a shell body, would be the only viable option, at this point. Or allow the man to pass, naturally.
>Novus was not as bad, but the damage to his body was beyond fatal as well. At least there was more substance to observe. He did all he could to take plenty of notes on what could be salvaged information-wise from the Operator's body.
>And last, Caliya, who may as well have been third degree barbecued. Fourth degree, if it can be categorized.
>Charred and flesh and bone along with flayed tendons and ligaments...
>More reactionary than a conscious act, Carlos makes a sign of the cross with his pen hand.
>The fact that at some point, the stallion was probably awake and feeling every bit of that...
>>371813
>Having completed his rounds on all current patients' recoveries... or barely alive in stasis, Carlos looks over at the Pred-Elk.
"Senior Snowfall, how does Seniorita Nova fare? You seemed nervous, earlier. Like you could see la lucha unfolding."
>He starts heading over to the Clinic's radio.
"Shall we call in for assistance? I am not much of a fighter, myself. If whatever it is gets in here, well... I guess you'd be our last line of defensa!"
>Giving Lejura a comprehensive once-over, he is satisfied with her progress.
>Despite the Dampeners and toxic-levels of Restoration, the Saddle Arabian was faring quite normally.
>Blood flow, temperature, breathing, reaction, and dilation under sedation were satisfactory.
>He updates her chart with his check-up, and moves on.
>The next three... were still in stasis, at least.
>He doesn't even know what he was expecting looking at Kraut. Just as bad inside as he looked outside.
>The doctor was literally at a loss for words he even remained intact. Just ground meat, in a skin suit, at this point.
>Assuming his ka was still with his body, it was going to be a tough position for him to be in. Some sort of transfer into a shell body, would be the only viable option, at this point. Or allow the man to pass, naturally.
>Novus was not as bad, but the damage to his body was beyond fatal as well. At least there was more substance to observe. He did all he could to take plenty of notes on what could be salvaged information-wise from the Operator's body.
>And last, Caliya, who may as well have been third degree barbecued. Fourth degree, if it can be categorized.
>Charred and flesh and bone along with flayed tendons and ligaments...
>More reactionary than a conscious act, Carlos makes a sign of the cross with his pen hand.
>The fact that at some point, the stallion was probably awake and feeling every bit of that...
>>371813
>Having completed his rounds on all current patients' recoveries... or barely alive in stasis, Carlos looks over at the Pred-Elk.
"Senior Snowfall, how does Seniorita Nova fare? You seemed nervous, earlier. Like you could see la lucha unfolding."
>He starts heading over to the Clinic's radio.
"Shall we call in for assistance? I am not much of a fighter, myself. If whatever it is gets in here, well... I guess you'd be our last line of defensa!"
File (): DEFFF163533AD32AF6BF43BFCCC7D064-39819.jpg (38.9 KB, 800x450, survive.jpg)
>>371853
>Now having confirmed his identity, Cloudstrike gets down to the meat and potatoes of the Citadel's situation.
>They were some pretty depressing meat and potatoes...
>The entire council was either dead, dying, or missing.
>Chuz`Ain, Cracked Eye, Oranti, Ridgeback, Sleethoof? He was well enough with them, especially after their training. The others were less, unfortunately. There was the baticorn that berated him at the crypt, and an earth pony he swear he hasn't seen since she voted against him at his induction.
>And going off of what Clem mentioned... that was hours ago. No way Twisted was part of the casualties.
>And pulling more out of stasis, of all things, just to keep things together. He was aware enough of such emergency procedures, just never thought it's get that bad to implement them.
'Shit... hmm. I was acquainted with most of them. The... I forget the bat unicorn's name right now. She came crashing down to my aid along with Marshmallow Moon uh... four and change hours ago actually. Unrelated to my current predicament. She was barely standing, but left on her own power and left Diplomat Marshmallow with me and my team. Not sure where she went after that.'
>After leveling his predicament with the Guardmare, he could feel he may have divulged too much. Her voice shifts to a no-nonsense tone. Either out of disbelief, or the implications were far too fantastical to quantify.
>Once she gives him an ultimatum to keep his mouth shut or lose her aid, it was the latter.
>Jeff clams up, not wanting to squander the only aid he has right now. But what Lin said to him regarding Vulgroz and the reliquaries weighs heavy on his mind.
'Understood. I don't think Lin would let me live long if I was blabbing her existence to everypony I bump into. However, she did express two unknown dangers to me that could threaten every human's life in Razorback. Unless if there's an acceptable way to pass those warnings on without divulging my current situation...'
>Jeff sighs through the Network to the older mare, conflicted.
'Consider myself classified, ma'am. As much as I want to help the others, you're my only life line out here right now.'
>She continues on about Luna, and Flowing Spark in greater detail. It seems the Nahtmare was truly raising hell in the Citadel's underground, slagging
'Here's good luck to the Princess then... Jeez, she's really razing hell up there. I hope you're able to evacuate, before things get any worse. No wonder Clem-'
>He pauses for a second, cutting himself off. His inner voice becoming concerned.
'Clemency. Another human from Razorback, General Twisted Wing's mate. He's not a Starborn member, but he's in the know. I've been gone long enough for the others to have probably noticed. Once they have exhausted any immediate means to locate me, he's probably going to try and contact me through the Network. What's the play, if-no when he does?'
>Cloudstrike finally gets a bead on his general location.
>The Deep Moors. Fantastic.
>She continues to dial him in as he calms down from the freezing coolness from the stream. He wasn't expecting a miracle cure, but it didn't harm him further.
>Lin hadn't showed up to mock him for touching something. She wasn't observing him from the shadows at least.
'They're all in my left hand. I can still move and defend myself, if needed, just may as well have a clipped wing. It doesn't help that I'm somewhat... egh medically inept.'
>As Cloudstrike begins detailing his current position, he stands up and places a pin at his current location. The giant emerald can serve as a set point, in case he starts to explore.
'Okay, so definitely Deep Moors. These Wolves... are they actually wolves, or is that a title? Just so I know what to look out for. I'll have a hard enough time trying to explain I'm NOT a Minotaur to them. Humans, myself included, have been mistaken for... heh calves before. So other than that, middle of nowhere in every direction. Got it. Still figuring over long term. There IS a being that should be able to reach me here, in theory, but either my request isn't getting to them or they're unable to right now. The only other way would be to connect with Clemency and try to get a direct line to them that way.'
>Letting his hand drip try to refrain from agitating the nettle any more, Jeff checks the time on his TacPad. He remembers it being early morning at the Village, once he arrived there.
>A spawning chamber, huh?
'Makes sense. There's no natural light in here, only what the crystal trees were giving off and they've dimmed out a few minutes ago. Only real light source is the giant emerald, and the stream.'
>He takes note of the direction of the streams flow, and decides to follow it up.
'There's only trees from my position, no topography worth taking shelter on or in. I'm going to follow the stream up. I was told at the end of it was a pond that could potentially liquefy me into a puddle of my own biomass, if I drank from it.'
>He shudders at the thought.
'There was also mention of a hidden exit, one I'd have to climb out through. If the stream originates outside of the reliquary, that could be my way out. If not, there might be more suitable shelters near the edges of the chamber.'
>He starts off upstream as fast as he could without agitating his hand or his stealth.
[1d6 = 4] <E.Sprint
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 4]
>Despite the lack of surroundings around him, he does keep an eye out for anything he'd possibly consider to be a shelter.
[1d6 = 3] <E.Wilderness Survival
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]
>Now having confirmed his identity, Cloudstrike gets down to the meat and potatoes of the Citadel's situation.
>They were some pretty depressing meat and potatoes...
>The entire council was either dead, dying, or missing.
>Chuz`Ain, Cracked Eye, Oranti, Ridgeback, Sleethoof? He was well enough with them, especially after their training. The others were less, unfortunately. There was the baticorn that berated him at the crypt, and an earth pony he swear he hasn't seen since she voted against him at his induction.
>And going off of what Clem mentioned... that was hours ago. No way Twisted was part of the casualties.
>And pulling more out of stasis, of all things, just to keep things together. He was aware enough of such emergency procedures, just never thought it's get that bad to implement them.
'Shit... hmm. I was acquainted with most of them. The... I forget the bat unicorn's name right now. She came crashing down to my aid along with Marshmallow Moon uh... four and change hours ago actually. Unrelated to my current predicament. She was barely standing, but left on her own power and left Diplomat Marshmallow with me and my team. Not sure where she went after that.'
>After leveling his predicament with the Guardmare, he could feel he may have divulged too much. Her voice shifts to a no-nonsense tone. Either out of disbelief, or the implications were far too fantastical to quantify.
>Once she gives him an ultimatum to keep his mouth shut or lose her aid, it was the latter.
>Jeff clams up, not wanting to squander the only aid he has right now. But what Lin said to him regarding Vulgroz and the reliquaries weighs heavy on his mind.
'Understood. I don't think Lin would let me live long if I was blabbing her existence to everypony I bump into. However, she did express two unknown dangers to me that could threaten every human's life in Razorback. Unless if there's an acceptable way to pass those warnings on without divulging my current situation...'
>Jeff sighs through the Network to the older mare, conflicted.
'Consider myself classified, ma'am. As much as I want to help the others, you're my only life line out here right now.'
>She continues on about Luna, and Flowing Spark in greater detail. It seems the Nahtmare was truly raising hell in the Citadel's underground, slagging
'Here's good luck to the Princess then... Jeez, she's really razing hell up there. I hope you're able to evacuate, before things get any worse. No wonder Clem-'
>He pauses for a second, cutting himself off. His inner voice becoming concerned.
'Clemency. Another human from Razorback, General Twisted Wing's mate. He's not a Starborn member, but he's in the know. I've been gone long enough for the others to have probably noticed. Once they have exhausted any immediate means to locate me, he's probably going to try and contact me through the Network. What's the play, if-no when he does?'
>Cloudstrike finally gets a bead on his general location.
>The Deep Moors. Fantastic.
>She continues to dial him in as he calms down from the freezing coolness from the stream. He wasn't expecting a miracle cure, but it didn't harm him further.
>Lin hadn't showed up to mock him for touching something. She wasn't observing him from the shadows at least.
'They're all in my left hand. I can still move and defend myself, if needed, just may as well have a clipped wing. It doesn't help that I'm somewhat... egh medically inept.'
>As Cloudstrike begins detailing his current position, he stands up and places a pin at his current location. The giant emerald can serve as a set point, in case he starts to explore.
'Okay, so definitely Deep Moors. These Wolves... are they actually wolves, or is that a title? Just so I know what to look out for. I'll have a hard enough time trying to explain I'm NOT a Minotaur to them. Humans, myself included, have been mistaken for... heh calves before. So other than that, middle of nowhere in every direction. Got it. Still figuring over long term. There IS a being that should be able to reach me here, in theory, but either my request isn't getting to them or they're unable to right now. The only other way would be to connect with Clemency and try to get a direct line to them that way.'
>Letting his hand drip try to refrain from agitating the nettle any more, Jeff checks the time on his TacPad. He remembers it being early morning at the Village, once he arrived there.
>A spawning chamber, huh?
'Makes sense. There's no natural light in here, only what the crystal trees were giving off and they've dimmed out a few minutes ago. Only real light source is the giant emerald, and the stream.'
>He takes note of the direction of the streams flow, and decides to follow it up.
'There's only trees from my position, no topography worth taking shelter on or in. I'm going to follow the stream up. I was told at the end of it was a pond that could potentially liquefy me into a puddle of my own biomass, if I drank from it.'
>He shudders at the thought.
'There was also mention of a hidden exit, one I'd have to climb out through. If the stream originates outside of the reliquary, that could be my way out. If not, there might be more suitable shelters near the edges of the chamber.'
>He starts off upstream as fast as he could without agitating his hand or his stealth.
[1d6 = 4] <E.Sprint
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 4]
>Despite the lack of surroundings around him, he does keep an eye out for anything he'd possibly consider to be a shelter.
[1d6 = 3] <E.Wilderness Survival
[1d6 = 3]
[1d6 = 5]
>>371862
>The latent aroma of Tipper helped calm the young elk down, he sat up higher with a straight posture as he recomposed himself as if she was with him now.
>He wondered where the old mare was at this time.
>>371816
>Snowfall glanced away from the Clinics front doors to the human doctor for a moment, carefully considering if he should tell Carlos to call for help.
>"The sooner Nova defeats this horrid foe the sooner she can return to helping all those in the Clinic."
>His gaze moved from Carlos to all the patients, his vision lingering on his sisters before turning to the inquiring doctor again.
"It is best you call in reinforcements. I believe Shanis' Mercenaries are around."
>His ear flicked quizzically.
"Around somewhere."
>>371871
"She is holding her own. Whether she can dispatch it by herself in a timely manner is beyond me. If only Tipper was here to care over the patients, it would free up Nova Flicker."
>He exhaled, dropping his head against the desk making all the loose appliances clatter about.
"I have only heard of such a thing. And now I wish I did not know what it looked like in the flesh."
>The Pred-Elk watched as Carlos made his way to the radio.
"Humans are otherworldly beings, and to an extent so am I and my family. Yet I can see both of us joining in the harmony of Tallus-"
>Snowfall stabbed a foreleg towards doors.
"-However that thing out there is truly unwelcomed here. It must die tonight."
>The latent aroma of Tipper helped calm the young elk down, he sat up higher with a straight posture as he recomposed himself as if she was with him now.
>He wondered where the old mare was at this time.
>>371816
>Snowfall glanced away from the Clinics front doors to the human doctor for a moment, carefully considering if he should tell Carlos to call for help.
>"The sooner Nova defeats this horrid foe the sooner she can return to helping all those in the Clinic."
>His gaze moved from Carlos to all the patients, his vision lingering on his sisters before turning to the inquiring doctor again.
"It is best you call in reinforcements. I believe Shanis' Mercenaries are around."
>His ear flicked quizzically.
"Around somewhere."
>>371871
"She is holding her own. Whether she can dispatch it by herself in a timely manner is beyond me. If only Tipper was here to care over the patients, it would free up Nova Flicker."
>He exhaled, dropping his head against the desk making all the loose appliances clatter about.
"I have only heard of such a thing. And now I wish I did not know what it looked like in the flesh."
>The Pred-Elk watched as Carlos made his way to the radio.
"Humans are otherworldly beings, and to an extent so am I and my family. Yet I can see both of us joining in the harmony of Tallus-"
>Snowfall stabbed a foreleg towards doors.
"-However that thing out there is truly unwelcomed here. It must die tonight."
>>371854
"I see. I will nonetheless keep contact to the bare minimum, better safe than sorry."
>Lont was...Not spiralling down into total abject depression anymore.
>He was still exhausted in all forms. Still emotionally drained.
>Yet he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It is accepted Razorback are guilty of merely being ignorant of the dangers of Anti towards themselves and the Empire, and innocent of any malicious intent on using Anti too. Cadence was most likely unaffected by Anti and was just as ignorant of it as they all were. He knew when she had time she will be one of the first to study it in-depth. To help the ponies effected. It bothered him that the exact numbers of ponies was an unknown, but that too won't be a problem for long.
>And knowing all this will lead Razorback to being decontaminated and allowed entry back into the Empire, for himself to be allowed back in to continue with his help.
>Without the unwanted baggage of Anti.
>"Even seemingly good deeds will lead to more harm."
"Be safe, to you and the rest of your Host."
>His weary eyes looked up from the marching away Spireguard mare to the floating ghostly forms of the Crystal Moor Batponies that as of yet have not been noticed by anyone.
>Anyone except him.
>He gave the Batponies a knowing wink before turning his attention elsewhere.
>Putting his sword away he used his free hand to listen to the radio. Voices buzzed away at how Jeff was now missing too.
>His brow furrowed deeply at this.
*"I believe Emerald was waving around a box, no? Look for that box.*"
>The winged Operator looked towards the Lunars. Jeff would of been with them, or at least they would of seen him last if none of the other humans saw where he went.
[1d6-3 = (4-3) = 1] >E.Perception
[1d6-3 = (2-3) = -1]
[1d6-3 = (6-3) = 3]
[1d6-2 = (3-2) = 1] >H.E
"I see. I will nonetheless keep contact to the bare minimum, better safe than sorry."
>Lont was...Not spiralling down into total abject depression anymore.
>He was still exhausted in all forms. Still emotionally drained.
>Yet he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. It is accepted Razorback are guilty of merely being ignorant of the dangers of Anti towards themselves and the Empire, and innocent of any malicious intent on using Anti too. Cadence was most likely unaffected by Anti and was just as ignorant of it as they all were. He knew when she had time she will be one of the first to study it in-depth. To help the ponies effected. It bothered him that the exact numbers of ponies was an unknown, but that too won't be a problem for long.
>And knowing all this will lead Razorback to being decontaminated and allowed entry back into the Empire, for himself to be allowed back in to continue with his help.
>Without the unwanted baggage of Anti.
>"Even seemingly good deeds will lead to more harm."
"Be safe, to you and the rest of your Host."
>His weary eyes looked up from the marching away Spireguard mare to the floating ghostly forms of the Crystal Moor Batponies that as of yet have not been noticed by anyone.
>Anyone except him.
>He gave the Batponies a knowing wink before turning his attention elsewhere.
>Putting his sword away he used his free hand to listen to the radio. Voices buzzed away at how Jeff was now missing too.
>His brow furrowed deeply at this.
*"I believe Emerald was waving around a box, no? Look for that box.*"
>The winged Operator looked towards the Lunars. Jeff would of been with them, or at least they would of seen him last if none of the other humans saw where he went.
[1d6-3 = (4-3) = 1] >E.Perception
[1d6-3 = (2-3) = -1]
[1d6-3 = (6-3) = 3]
[1d6-2 = (3-2) = 1] >H.E
>>371834
>Taken away from his studious nature considering all his questions and snooping, José would turn his head towards Shanis with a couple of blinks before offering a grateful smile.
"Ah. Appreciate the help, Miss Shanis. This is my second time using this."
>Having said that, his feet would ensure to be in the matrice as he rolled the pressure off his shoulders.
(Okay. Momento de la verdad.)
>After one long, deep inhale followed by a steady exhale, he cleared his throat to utter what he thought were the magic words to start off this new experience.
"Vortex Remnant. I wish to travel to Marequipa."
>Taken away from his studious nature considering all his questions and snooping, José would turn his head towards Shanis with a couple of blinks before offering a grateful smile.
"Ah. Appreciate the help, Miss Shanis. This is my second time using this."
>Having said that, his feet would ensure to be in the matrice as he rolled the pressure off his shoulders.
(Okay. Momento de la verdad.)
>After one long, deep inhale followed by a steady exhale, he cleared his throat to utter what he thought were the magic words to start off this new experience.
"Vortex Remnant. I wish to travel to Marequipa."
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371884
>>371819
"Usually? That's acceptable, but if I ever dream of aquatic creatures then I'm going to construct the biggest possible warhead and launch it straight into the nearest body of water."
>Swinging around with precision cut metal sheets, four of the repair tendrils halt, twitching uneasily at the chest cabin's voice breaking down.
I CAN HAVE A CRISIS WHENEVER I WANT!
>Externally groaning, quietly, Wild forces her repair systems to continue their work.
"Panic is temporary, stupidity is forever.. wait, that seems wrong. Panic is momentary, stupidity can be learned from. And internal. Or would that be eternal in this case?"
"From what I've accessed in my data nodes there are few beings or creations I would WANT to interact with, especially those categorized as other. And don't even think of setting me up on a date."
>Hand lifting higher and curling in closer to the remains of her head, the little finger stops below where the eye would have been.
"I know, but reconnecting those isn't important right now. Less than twenty percent of the head unit's lower components remain intact."
>Taking another look, the Rilvenni's still glowing core was set atop what looked like a custom pilot's seat surrounded by debris, mostly scraps of odd metals.
>While you could climb to it easily, there was enough damage that the words 'structural integrity' would probably kill Wild.
"Update: eighty-nine percent of my legs have been replaced.. maybe I should downsize some, I feel far too tall."
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+20 = (2+20) = 22] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-#8
"Usually? That's acceptable, but if I ever dream of aquatic creatures then I'm going to construct the biggest possible warhead and launch it straight into the nearest body of water."
>Swinging around with precision cut metal sheets, four of the repair tendrils halt, twitching uneasily at the chest cabin's voice breaking down.
I CAN HAVE A CRISIS WHENEVER I WANT!
>Externally groaning, quietly, Wild forces her repair systems to continue their work.
"Panic is temporary, stupidity is forever.. wait, that seems wrong. Panic is momentary, stupidity can be learned from. And internal. Or would that be eternal in this case?"
"From what I've accessed in my data nodes there are few beings or creations I would WANT to interact with, especially those categorized as other. And don't even think of setting me up on a date."
>Hand lifting higher and curling in closer to the remains of her head, the little finger stops below where the eye would have been.
"I know, but reconnecting those isn't important right now. Less than twenty percent of the head unit's lower components remain intact."
>Taking another look, the Rilvenni's still glowing core was set atop what looked like a custom pilot's seat surrounded by debris, mostly scraps of odd metals.
>While you could climb to it easily, there was enough damage that the words 'structural integrity' would probably kill Wild.
"Update: eighty-nine percent of my legs have been replaced.. maybe I should downsize some, I feel far too tall."
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (6+15) = 21]
[1d6+15 = (3+15) = 18]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (2+13) = 15]
[1d6+13 = (3+13) = 16]
[1d6+20 = (2+20) = 22] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <RT-#8
>>371829
"This is definitely out of my league. I can understand four letters, one character, and what I think are two numbers, but that's it."
>Visibly playing connect the dots in her head, the Cultist nods slowly, splaying left wingclaws outwards and pulling the robe, then smoothing it with her right.
"Lann's done a lot of textile work for Lunar Guards, Starborn, but mostly us since she moved here. For example this wonderfully soft piece took her five minutes. Other than that she gets special orders from the City whenever they need protective work clothing, a particular style and diameter of rope, woven metal cables or meshing for some crazy project, that sort."
>Head raising to stare upwards, the mare freezes, crashes, and reboots in the space of ten seconds.
"...there's one thing that might help. Request a hoofheld inspection mirror, preferably white platinum or clear diamondine. They should have at least two rattling around down there somewhere. If not there's a few dozen craftsponies that can put one together."
>Airspace over Basin Village briefly illuminates in bright silver, Guillotine's pockmarked lower hull smoothly, and this time much more carefully, entering realspace from a gleaming ring.
>Gliding to a halt directly overhead at nearly 40M, a low pitched, comfortable thrum from the destroyer occurs, rolling 90 degrees left.
>Stabilizing and holding still, faint streaks of blue haphazardly wash across the armor.
*"Nae calmed they yet be, peace needest time tae heal thee Airstreams."*
>Silent for a short time, a third screen takes shape in the center above the two hardcases, the Harpy's voice deeply somber, yet wistful.
*"This vessail be thrice times thrice old tae use Mama's Tone, mineself nae hearest asince thee Ninth Fleet formed. Long afore mineself interred, shaped an' renewed aplenty t'was, piece by piece.... 'built', t'was thee word. Oft untouched mine logistics be, but farest well they yet be."*
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Intact Communication Protocols
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>Head craning up to study the archaic exoatmospheric vessel briefly, the Cultist's snout twitches.
"Is it just me or is there somepony talking?"
"This is definitely out of my league. I can understand four letters, one character, and what I think are two numbers, but that's it."
>Visibly playing connect the dots in her head, the Cultist nods slowly, splaying left wingclaws outwards and pulling the robe, then smoothing it with her right.
"Lann's done a lot of textile work for Lunar Guards, Starborn, but mostly us since she moved here. For example this wonderfully soft piece took her five minutes. Other than that she gets special orders from the City whenever they need protective work clothing, a particular style and diameter of rope, woven metal cables or meshing for some crazy project, that sort."
>Head raising to stare upwards, the mare freezes, crashes, and reboots in the space of ten seconds.
"...there's one thing that might help. Request a hoofheld inspection mirror, preferably white platinum or clear diamondine. They should have at least two rattling around down there somewhere. If not there's a few dozen craftsponies that can put one together."
>Airspace over Basin Village briefly illuminates in bright silver, Guillotine's pockmarked lower hull smoothly, and this time much more carefully, entering realspace from a gleaming ring.
>Gliding to a halt directly overhead at nearly 40M, a low pitched, comfortable thrum from the destroyer occurs, rolling 90 degrees left.
>Stabilizing and holding still, faint streaks of blue haphazardly wash across the armor.
*"Nae calmed they yet be, peace needest time tae heal thee Airstreams."*
>Silent for a short time, a third screen takes shape in the center above the two hardcases, the Harpy's voice deeply somber, yet wistful.
*"This vessail be thrice times thrice old tae use Mama's Tone, mineself nae hearest asince thee Ninth Fleet formed. Long afore mineself interred, shaped an' renewed aplenty t'was, piece by piece.... 'built', t'was thee word. Oft untouched mine logistics be, but farest well they yet be."*
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9] <Intact Communication Protocols
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>Head craning up to study the archaic exoatmospheric vessel briefly, the Cultist's snout twitches.
"Is it just me or is there somepony talking?"
>>371884
"There is a fountain in the middle of Razorback, I do not advise bombing it. The fillies will be pretty upset if you do."
>Yes but now is NOT a good time!
"When we aren't potentially going to get murderfucked by anything is a vastly better time for a crisis, not right now!"
>She'll have to learn how to not have a crisis at inopportune times.
"You're less than a day old, you won't have to worry about me setting up dates for you for a long time."
>Pause.
"Even if you're some sort of eldritch robot thing, still."
>While I've never really touched welding gear, I knew that we'd need more than a few torches to get her up and running again.
"You'll uh... definitely need some work. All over."
>Grimacing, I looked down at the ground below.
"Eh, you're not as tall as some buildings, you're fine."
"There is a fountain in the middle of Razorback, I do not advise bombing it. The fillies will be pretty upset if you do."
>Yes but now is NOT a good time!
"When we aren't potentially going to get murderfucked by anything is a vastly better time for a crisis, not right now!"
>She'll have to learn how to not have a crisis at inopportune times.
"You're less than a day old, you won't have to worry about me setting up dates for you for a long time."
>Pause.
"Even if you're some sort of eldritch robot thing, still."
>While I've never really touched welding gear, I knew that we'd need more than a few torches to get her up and running again.
"You'll uh... definitely need some work. All over."
>Grimacing, I looked down at the ground below.
"Eh, you're not as tall as some buildings, you're fine."
>>371864
'Histories, cultures, full pantheons of living deities on each world inhabited by sapients, descriptions, elemental and conceptual alignments of each, specific artistic styles, sciences.. limited technological excerpts. Some recordings.. equally limited explanations. Curious.'
>Examining rapidly scrolling directories, articles, then pages, the avatar's face tightens in heightening confusion.
'And incomprehensible. High brane functions interacting with unknown interdimensional waveforms. Cross references to a pangalactic feature known as skipspace. Artificially projected wavelengths between the same. Controlled interstellar travel below or above speed of light... no. No more. I am done.
Placing that last archive on the LOWEST priority until thorough explanations are obtained.'
>Tapping her chin before taking on a philosophical front leaning pose, 'Shiibo' nods to herself.
'The rest are of moderate to extreme interest. Checking.'
>Running a series of modified simulations in the background, the advanced AI frowns sharply.
'Rerculons. Neither hive mind or collectivist. A frightening species were they not peaceful. Dissimilar to... all known beings. Logic first, reason and rationale second or third, interchangeable metrics. High objectivism to violent conduct without well supported logical necessities.
Could be swayed to act in well defined parameters when exposed to reasonably logical arguments. Using one's moods and emotions was considered a substandard method of honorable interaction. Humans excluded. As partial energy-state beings they exhibited paradoxical yet rigidly defined principles, mentalities, moods, and functionality.
Tallus equines do not function similarly to Rerculons. In fact, they are.. entirely opposite. ......sssssir. I may have stumbled upon a significant cultural breakthrough. It will take some time to explore the ramifications and potential consequences.
Standard psychological predictive models for humans and equines updated.'
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>Sticking the heavy L-flashlight bottom on the helmet's top, then sensing it gripped firmly, sweeping its visible beam across the pool shows a perfectly flat surface.
>The loam coloration was natural due to surrounding earth leaching in over time, while the mixed sediment was long settled.
>Studying a number of heavily washed out prints, an equal number were close to 2M in diameter, the others barely 2.5M wide, and sunk in nearly 3M.
>On much closer inspection there was no debris whatsoever, not even a small leaf or pebble.
"Hey Pare, you look more like a unicorn every time I see ya! Do you get bigger and badder when engaged or is that just on the first date?!"
>Katyal cackles at the obvious physical image you were presenting, 'Shiibo' holding her face while the word SUFFERING covers her.
>Fishing the heavy crystalline device out, tapping the screen once into active status, then selecting the two functions, the surface unfolds a series of small hololiths around it while surveying the local 900M.
>A vastly scaled down gigatree, 2 types of vines, 3 miniature fruiting vines, 4 archaic ferns, 9 species of grass, 11 berry bushes or shrubs, 18 mushrooms, and 29 shrubs appear in a large external ring.
>Rotating through the specifics of each, one vine, three berries, one grass, fifteen mushrooms, and half of the shrubs were listed as either poisonous, toxic, containing hazardous elemarents, Elemarentals, or combinations of the same.
>In the center six species are displayed: house cat sized armored beetles, individual tunnels running deep under half the surrounding trees, and, unfamiliar, angular proto-termites with extended jaws the size of a standard rottweiler in giant clusters underneath every other tree.
>Two species of ants, the first 5-11" in length, the second 15-28", from drone, digger, planter, harvester, worker, guardian, warrior, noble or royal guard, and queen, were likewise under each tree, much deeper than the previous.
>A 6-toothed, potentially non-Elemarental armored wurm estimated to be 18' long was currently lying in the vines atop the center log above the den, the 3 internal eyes triangular ovals.
>High and south in a large nest was a poorly defined avian with a wingspan from 30-36', listed as either a predator or scavenger.
>Staring up for a moment, the woman shrugs, turning around to gaze up the earthen ramp.
*"I'll try to at least. Not feeling sick or ill. Yet."*
*"As stated last night, an Abomination, unique. Originally an herbivore, now thoroughly mutated beyond recognition. Those markings on the walls are not from teeth nor indicate a tail. Modified hooves are most likely."*
*"And it hasn't returned in weeks?"*
*"Three months, give or take a week. The clumping grass species here is similar to one we studied on expedition. In this region it would take that long to fully develop a root system. Had the Abomination returned numerous clumps would be dead."*
*"Unless it could fly."*
*"Doubtful. There are no landing sites or significant impacts close to the entrance. Based on the better preserved tracks I would estimate it to be from fifty to eighty tons.
...now THAT is a surprise. Raw falkite, and barely damaged! There's only five known examples in Equestria, and two of them are in Stallion... grad.... this isn't raw at all. It's been refined.. twice? And.. functional. Lonestar, please meet us out here, there is too much for me to bring back and Dul is rather limited."*
*"I thought you said it was a pile?"*
*"Yes, however I... did not know how large. The majority is Middle and Late Dynasty coins, gems, a number of trade items, but there are three quite intriguing objects here. ...Dul, you discovered this cache and committed the work to bring each piece out. Would you care to take any? ....no, I understand. ...of course, I will create an imprint once we are safely inside the vehicle."*
>Flicking a switch ahead of him, Lonestar's eyes roll.
*"All right then. Pare, Kat, if you two are done, load up please."*
'Histories, cultures, full pantheons of living deities on each world inhabited by sapients, descriptions, elemental and conceptual alignments of each, specific artistic styles, sciences.. limited technological excerpts. Some recordings.. equally limited explanations. Curious.'
>Examining rapidly scrolling directories, articles, then pages, the avatar's face tightens in heightening confusion.
'And incomprehensible. High brane functions interacting with unknown interdimensional waveforms. Cross references to a pangalactic feature known as skipspace. Artificially projected wavelengths between the same. Controlled interstellar travel below or above speed of light... no. No more. I am done.
Placing that last archive on the LOWEST priority until thorough explanations are obtained.'
>Tapping her chin before taking on a philosophical front leaning pose, 'Shiibo' nods to herself.
'The rest are of moderate to extreme interest. Checking.'
>Running a series of modified simulations in the background, the advanced AI frowns sharply.
'Rerculons. Neither hive mind or collectivist. A frightening species were they not peaceful. Dissimilar to... all known beings. Logic first, reason and rationale second or third, interchangeable metrics. High objectivism to violent conduct without well supported logical necessities.
Could be swayed to act in well defined parameters when exposed to reasonably logical arguments. Using one's moods and emotions was considered a substandard method of honorable interaction. Humans excluded. As partial energy-state beings they exhibited paradoxical yet rigidly defined principles, mentalities, moods, and functionality.
Tallus equines do not function similarly to Rerculons. In fact, they are.. entirely opposite. ......sssssir. I may have stumbled upon a significant cultural breakthrough. It will take some time to explore the ramifications and potential consequences.
Standard psychological predictive models for humans and equines updated.'
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5]
>Sticking the heavy L-flashlight bottom on the helmet's top, then sensing it gripped firmly, sweeping its visible beam across the pool shows a perfectly flat surface.
>The loam coloration was natural due to surrounding earth leaching in over time, while the mixed sediment was long settled.
>Studying a number of heavily washed out prints, an equal number were close to 2M in diameter, the others barely 2.5M wide, and sunk in nearly 3M.
>On much closer inspection there was no debris whatsoever, not even a small leaf or pebble.
"Hey Pare, you look more like a unicorn every time I see ya! Do you get bigger and badder when engaged or is that just on the first date?!"
>Katyal cackles at the obvious physical image you were presenting, 'Shiibo' holding her face while the word SUFFERING covers her.
>Fishing the heavy crystalline device out, tapping the screen once into active status, then selecting the two functions, the surface unfolds a series of small hololiths around it while surveying the local 900M.
>A vastly scaled down gigatree, 2 types of vines, 3 miniature fruiting vines, 4 archaic ferns, 9 species of grass, 11 berry bushes or shrubs, 18 mushrooms, and 29 shrubs appear in a large external ring.
>Rotating through the specifics of each, one vine, three berries, one grass, fifteen mushrooms, and half of the shrubs were listed as either poisonous, toxic, containing hazardous elemarents, Elemarentals, or combinations of the same.
>In the center six species are displayed: house cat sized armored beetles, individual tunnels running deep under half the surrounding trees, and, unfamiliar, angular proto-termites with extended jaws the size of a standard rottweiler in giant clusters underneath every other tree.
>Two species of ants, the first 5-11" in length, the second 15-28", from drone, digger, planter, harvester, worker, guardian, warrior, noble or royal guard, and queen, were likewise under each tree, much deeper than the previous.
>A 6-toothed, potentially non-Elemarental armored wurm estimated to be 18' long was currently lying in the vines atop the center log above the den, the 3 internal eyes triangular ovals.
>High and south in a large nest was a poorly defined avian with a wingspan from 30-36', listed as either a predator or scavenger.
>Staring up for a moment, the woman shrugs, turning around to gaze up the earthen ramp.
*"I'll try to at least. Not feeling sick or ill. Yet."*
*"As stated last night, an Abomination, unique. Originally an herbivore, now thoroughly mutated beyond recognition. Those markings on the walls are not from teeth nor indicate a tail. Modified hooves are most likely."*
*"And it hasn't returned in weeks?"*
*"Three months, give or take a week. The clumping grass species here is similar to one we studied on expedition. In this region it would take that long to fully develop a root system. Had the Abomination returned numerous clumps would be dead."*
*"Unless it could fly."*
*"Doubtful. There are no landing sites or significant impacts close to the entrance. Based on the better preserved tracks I would estimate it to be from fifty to eighty tons.
...now THAT is a surprise. Raw falkite, and barely damaged! There's only five known examples in Equestria, and two of them are in Stallion... grad.... this isn't raw at all. It's been refined.. twice? And.. functional. Lonestar, please meet us out here, there is too much for me to bring back and Dul is rather limited."*
*"I thought you said it was a pile?"*
*"Yes, however I... did not know how large. The majority is Middle and Late Dynasty coins, gems, a number of trade items, but there are three quite intriguing objects here. ...Dul, you discovered this cache and committed the work to bring each piece out. Would you care to take any? ....no, I understand. ...of course, I will create an imprint once we are safely inside the vehicle."*
>Flicking a switch ahead of him, Lonestar's eyes roll.
*"All right then. Pare, Kat, if you two are done, load up please."*
>>371888
>Closing his eyes, he replies to Shiibo.
"Noted. Save the explanation for after the operation unless relevant for immediate situation."
(Wish I had Command's Operators for data analysis. Sheer amount of information is staggering.)
>Opening them after feeling the slight weight of the flashlight firmly mounted on his helmet, he looks over the nearby earth and incredibly large prints.
(Massive mega fauna... even a section would be hard pressed without specialized weaponry.)
>Hearing Katyal's snickering, he turns to face her while keeping the flashlight active and on his helmet.
"Don't compare unicorns to humans. They don't deserve that. And I hope you never need to find out that answer."
>Turning away and looking down to the tablet he had taken out and activated, he scrolls through the listed species displays.
(Equipment appears functional. High proportion of inedible plants. All fauna just as large in size standardization as flora. Subterranean scans also functional.)
>He looks upwards towards the indicated position of the wyrm, apparently just beyond the thick trunk of the mega tree serving as a roof.
(Lucky we didn't need to deal with any local animals... )
>He turns back, powering down and stowing the tablet as he steps back up the ramp of the Landbarge.
>As the radio chatter continues, Hodch's remark on a refined ore being 'functional' catches his attention.
*"Onboard."*
(Falkite... if it is 'functional' now, does that mean it can be used?)
>Once past the ramp and inside, he turns off the L-flashlight on his head, unSticks it, and clips it onto the front of his vest.
>His pack is stored into his locker along with his P90 and SPS-18.
(If there are other underground caches, scanning with the tablet may be prudent.)
>Moving to his seat, he seats himself and Sticks to it.
*"The 5CTA tablet I brought with may be able to locate more caches, if they're buried near the surface. Though I don't know how Dul found this one."*
>Closing his eyes, he replies to Shiibo.
"Noted. Save the explanation for after the operation unless relevant for immediate situation."
(Wish I had Command's Operators for data analysis. Sheer amount of information is staggering.)
>Opening them after feeling the slight weight of the flashlight firmly mounted on his helmet, he looks over the nearby earth and incredibly large prints.
(Massive mega fauna... even a section would be hard pressed without specialized weaponry.)
>Hearing Katyal's snickering, he turns to face her while keeping the flashlight active and on his helmet.
"Don't compare unicorns to humans. They don't deserve that. And I hope you never need to find out that answer."
>Turning away and looking down to the tablet he had taken out and activated, he scrolls through the listed species displays.
(Equipment appears functional. High proportion of inedible plants. All fauna just as large in size standardization as flora. Subterranean scans also functional.)
>He looks upwards towards the indicated position of the wyrm, apparently just beyond the thick trunk of the mega tree serving as a roof.
(Lucky we didn't need to deal with any local animals... )
>He turns back, powering down and stowing the tablet as he steps back up the ramp of the Landbarge.
>As the radio chatter continues, Hodch's remark on a refined ore being 'functional' catches his attention.
*"Onboard."*
(Falkite... if it is 'functional' now, does that mean it can be used?)
>Once past the ramp and inside, he turns off the L-flashlight on his head, unSticks it, and clips it onto the front of his vest.
>His pack is stored into his locker along with his P90 and SPS-18.
(If there are other underground caches, scanning with the tablet may be prudent.)
>Moving to his seat, he seats himself and Sticks to it.
*"The 5CTA tablet I brought with may be able to locate more caches, if they're buried near the surface. Though I don't know how Dul found this one."*
>>371872
"Malformed don't have names and may all of them rot for what they've become!"
>After snarling the words out, the Lunar pegasus is quiet for nearly twenty seconds, flipping through heavy pages before speaking again, this time firmly neutral.
"Diplomat Marshmallow Moon is mostly regarded as an Independent regardless of her direct lineage from Princess Luna.. fourth or fifth generation descendant I believe. She prefers mediating between Ferron, Lunars, aligned, and unaligned Independents. It's rare she takes an active stance. On anything. ..other than baking mallow into funny shapes or wearing hats.
......she must've taken that last fucking crashdown without so much as leaving a hoofprint-"
>Angrily cutting herself off, Velvet returns shortly to mutter.
"In the fewest number of words possible.. yes. But I won't have the Citadel being attacked on account of your prior history, current predicamarent, negligence, failures, and whatever else might or might not have occurred.
Underworks were going to be overhauled starting next week, but they don't matter much. And Moonborn don't evacuate, they either die here or are laid to rest around the Citadel.
..only share strictly necessary information."
>Pages folding in the background, the mare sniffs several times.
"What i- ..hm. Both. Warguard and Vanguard Wolves were developed by crossbreeding more than four hundred species originating from the Old Everfree Forest. Started in the middle 25,000's. No records on which lineages were involved. We do know most of the armored, Major, Greater, noble, royal, metallic, magical, and Elemarental species were used.
Roughly a third of the earlier hybrids had specialist roles among Druids, Lunar Guardians, Arkadian Divides Ferron, two or three batpony clans, and.. that's all. Some of their descendants can be found in parts of Equestria; guards, scouts, hunters, or trackers mostly.
Stack two to five earth ponies on top of each other, then three to eight in length in the shape of a large feral canine, that's what to look for. Possibly natural or living armor covered in plants, Elemarental effects, glowing blue eyes.. and the sense of creatures that know exactly what, where, when, who, and how you are."
>Pausing for six seconds, her voice tightens harshly.
"A hand is nowhere near close to losing a wing."
>Flipping through pages again, numerous dull thuds in the background are talked over.
"Not marely details to offer here but that's Druidic from start to end. Couple of notes regarding ponds partially match that description. Don't approach, that's where flora and fauna shaping occurs.
Stream could be an underground pressure seep or from a near-volcanic upswell, there's hundreds of those in the Central Moors alone. Most of the larger Equestrian volcanoes feed out through underground tunnels towards the ocean, often push a lot of water upwards. If the water's cool then it's a seep, if warm or hot that's from an upswell."
>Tapping the screen once, the clock showed 8:04AM, slightly after Dawn.
"...shit, none of these are useful. I'm going to take precisely two risks. One, check if there's a damaged crashdown that might have been restored and simply wasn't listed in logs. Two, send somepony to jump into the Archives and see what they can find regarding Lunar Druid activities in the Deep Moors. If both turn out negative, then I have no means to aid you further.
I'll check back in... five to twenty minutes. That is if neither of us are caught."
>Taking off in a fast jog and keeping close to the stream for illumination, the ground was thoroughly rigid, harder than clay though not sticking.
>Turning around a partial bend into a widened out section, spindly clumps of green, faintly bioluminescent water grass was clustered in the middle, barely visible webs trailing off each.
>Passing close to one of the crystalline trees, the thick, cylindrical heartwood, or similar, deep within brightens fractionally, a low pitched, raspy chitter occurring well above.
>Rounding a half-bend, a wide, shallow and highly reflective pool was ahead of you, smaller emerald boulders, chunks, pieces, and hundreds of large gems scattered throughout.
>Now facing what felt like southwest, the pool's center was a 4 to 6M tall cone, water exiting it in a constant stream.
"Malformed don't have names and may all of them rot for what they've become!"
>After snarling the words out, the Lunar pegasus is quiet for nearly twenty seconds, flipping through heavy pages before speaking again, this time firmly neutral.
"Diplomat Marshmallow Moon is mostly regarded as an Independent regardless of her direct lineage from Princess Luna.. fourth or fifth generation descendant I believe. She prefers mediating between Ferron, Lunars, aligned, and unaligned Independents. It's rare she takes an active stance. On anything. ..other than baking mallow into funny shapes or wearing hats.
......she must've taken that last fucking crashdown without so much as leaving a hoofprint-"
>Angrily cutting herself off, Velvet returns shortly to mutter.
"In the fewest number of words possible.. yes. But I won't have the Citadel being attacked on account of your prior history, current predicamarent, negligence, failures, and whatever else might or might not have occurred.
Underworks were going to be overhauled starting next week, but they don't matter much. And Moonborn don't evacuate, they either die here or are laid to rest around the Citadel.
..only share strictly necessary information."
>Pages folding in the background, the mare sniffs several times.
"What i- ..hm. Both. Warguard and Vanguard Wolves were developed by crossbreeding more than four hundred species originating from the Old Everfree Forest. Started in the middle 25,000's. No records on which lineages were involved. We do know most of the armored, Major, Greater, noble, royal, metallic, magical, and Elemarental species were used.
Roughly a third of the earlier hybrids had specialist roles among Druids, Lunar Guardians, Arkadian Divides Ferron, two or three batpony clans, and.. that's all. Some of their descendants can be found in parts of Equestria; guards, scouts, hunters, or trackers mostly.
Stack two to five earth ponies on top of each other, then three to eight in length in the shape of a large feral canine, that's what to look for. Possibly natural or living armor covered in plants, Elemarental effects, glowing blue eyes.. and the sense of creatures that know exactly what, where, when, who, and how you are."
>Pausing for six seconds, her voice tightens harshly.
"A hand is nowhere near close to losing a wing."
>Flipping through pages again, numerous dull thuds in the background are talked over.
"Not marely details to offer here but that's Druidic from start to end. Couple of notes regarding ponds partially match that description. Don't approach, that's where flora and fauna shaping occurs.
Stream could be an underground pressure seep or from a near-volcanic upswell, there's hundreds of those in the Central Moors alone. Most of the larger Equestrian volcanoes feed out through underground tunnels towards the ocean, often push a lot of water upwards. If the water's cool then it's a seep, if warm or hot that's from an upswell."
>Tapping the screen once, the clock showed 8:04AM, slightly after Dawn.
"...shit, none of these are useful. I'm going to take precisely two risks. One, check if there's a damaged crashdown that might have been restored and simply wasn't listed in logs. Two, send somepony to jump into the Archives and see what they can find regarding Lunar Druid activities in the Deep Moors. If both turn out negative, then I have no means to aid you further.
I'll check back in... five to twenty minutes. That is if neither of us are caught."
>Taking off in a fast jog and keeping close to the stream for illumination, the ground was thoroughly rigid, harder than clay though not sticking.
>Turning around a partial bend into a widened out section, spindly clumps of green, faintly bioluminescent water grass was clustered in the middle, barely visible webs trailing off each.
>Passing close to one of the crystalline trees, the thick, cylindrical heartwood, or similar, deep within brightens fractionally, a low pitched, raspy chitter occurring well above.
>Rounding a half-bend, a wide, shallow and highly reflective pool was ahead of you, smaller emerald boulders, chunks, pieces, and hundreds of large gems scattered throughout.
>Now facing what felt like southwest, the pool's center was a 4 to 6M tall cone, water exiting it in a constant stream.
>>371879
>Receiving no further answer from the Spireguard's leadmare, the Crystal forces scatter into mixed squadruns with no apparent basis on presumed rank, species, weaponry, armor, or specialties.
>Disorganized wouldn't be the correct word, and chaotic was a stretch.
>Noting six of the Crystal Moorites staring at you, several more surrounding them speak.
>....which you couldn't hear or recognize.
>In less than eight seconds a raging scuffle breaks out between three apparent crystalline plated militia and, presumably, an officer covered by an ultralight weave.
>Which doesn't end well for the last mare.
>Plenty of frontal hoof stomps, headbutts, fruit-eater wingclaw 'punches', shoulder smashes, snapping rear kicks, and bodyslams are rapidly delivered.
>Ending with the more official looking crystal-batpony savagely mauled, armor dented, and thoroughly unconscious on a superior float two feet above stone, the three flip middle wingclaws at each other.
>While no blood was spilled, there was deep consternation among the crystal-unicorns, deliberately staring in any direction, other than their volatile charges.
>Surveying the dwindling number of Lunars south, each making their own appreciation to the lances and spears, there was no sign of Jeff, his weapons, identifiable helmet or face mask.
>Likewise there wasn't a single sheen of whitesteel in view, the closest approximation coming from hundreds of streamers and ribbons adorning weapons.
*"Ain't a white box around here."*
*"Nothing in view north."*
*"Or gray, platinum, silver, steel. East is clear."*
*"I've got Jack and shit, but Jack's starting to fall asleep. Anyone got smelling salts?"*
*"Don't do that, seriously."*
*"Not even a pebble or leaf south."*
*"Zero tracks, skid marks, hoof, boot, or shoe prints-"*
*"No clay, mud, or dirt either."*
*"Got no traces north."*
*"Emerald's been missing how long?"*
*"Little over three hours now."*
*"Jeff's been missing less than five."*
*"Fuck. Anyone with mounted radios and comms take 'em off and start checking. Step by step, run through each band for distant spikes, traffic, network signals, the whole works."*
*"What if we set up a repeating signal?"*
*"And let the orange fucks that AREN'T currently hostile know where we are?"*
*"...right. Nevermind."*
>Receiving no further answer from the Spireguard's leadmare, the Crystal forces scatter into mixed squadruns with no apparent basis on presumed rank, species, weaponry, armor, or specialties.
>Disorganized wouldn't be the correct word, and chaotic was a stretch.
>Noting six of the Crystal Moorites staring at you, several more surrounding them speak.
>....which you couldn't hear or recognize.
>In less than eight seconds a raging scuffle breaks out between three apparent crystalline plated militia and, presumably, an officer covered by an ultralight weave.
>Which doesn't end well for the last mare.
>Plenty of frontal hoof stomps, headbutts, fruit-eater wingclaw 'punches', shoulder smashes, snapping rear kicks, and bodyslams are rapidly delivered.
>Ending with the more official looking crystal-batpony savagely mauled, armor dented, and thoroughly unconscious on a superior float two feet above stone, the three flip middle wingclaws at each other.
>While no blood was spilled, there was deep consternation among the crystal-unicorns, deliberately staring in any direction, other than their volatile charges.
>Surveying the dwindling number of Lunars south, each making their own appreciation to the lances and spears, there was no sign of Jeff, his weapons, identifiable helmet or face mask.
>Likewise there wasn't a single sheen of whitesteel in view, the closest approximation coming from hundreds of streamers and ribbons adorning weapons.
*"Ain't a white box around here."*
*"Nothing in view north."*
*"Or gray, platinum, silver, steel. East is clear."*
*"I've got Jack and shit, but Jack's starting to fall asleep. Anyone got smelling salts?"*
*"Don't do that, seriously."*
*"Not even a pebble or leaf south."*
*"Zero tracks, skid marks, hoof, boot, or shoe prints-"*
*"No clay, mud, or dirt either."*
*"Got no traces north."*
*"Emerald's been missing how long?"*
*"Little over three hours now."*
*"Jeff's been missing less than five."*
*"Fuck. Anyone with mounted radios and comms take 'em off and start checking. Step by step, run through each band for distant spikes, traffic, network signals, the whole works."*
*"What if we set up a repeating signal?"*
*"And let the orange fucks that AREN'T currently hostile know where we are?"*
*"...right. Nevermind."*
>>371883
>Raising her free wing and flicking it in a human-like dismissive motion, Shanis offers a dry expression.
"Don't mention it. Been asking Naliyna for months now on putting instructions of how to use the translocation system. Can't blame her though. She does more for Razorback every hour than I sign off in a week."
>The dull metallic eye rotates again, this time counterclockwise.
>Pitching forward a degree, then sinking down into the translocation matrice, the map zooms in to display a southwestern oceanic locale.
>A long, capsule shaped town roughly 500M west from a thin, spread out jungle-lined coast featured well organized, short, one story buildings arranged in rows.
>The appearance was remarkably similar to the top level of a grounded ocean superfreighter, only much more inhabited.
"Nonspecific location request accepted. Random destination chosen. VIP passage granted to Shoalbarge."
>Catching Starglow raising a hoof in farewell, streaks of every metallic color you knew, and dozens more inbetween, flick by.
>Arriving on a flat, hard steel deck without any sense of motion, the air was fairly cool albeit salt-laden, the surroundings quite familiar:
>Orderly lines of barely waist height, single pony stalls and stands, mostly comprised of thin wood slats, a few having bamboo trim, in front of small, barely lit warehouses behind each.
>Dimly colored earth ponies, the vast majority being mares due to their rounded snouts and far more appealing visual characteristics, also a bit shorter than the few you'd seen in Razorback Fortress, wandered with utterly carefree attitudes from stall or stand to the next.
>Scents of grilled arepas, roasted ensalada, cheese enpanadas, gallo pinto, feijoada, pastel de choclo, fritos platanos, and pico de gallo waft about, half of the stands specializing in one specific dish, though you quickly realize there were no meat scents in the air.
>Proudly, and visibly loud, signboards proclaimed what was being cooked at each, the dialect an easy to read form of Simplified Spanish.
>Or as a few helpful ones noted: Common Spaneigh.
>Half of the remaining stands and nearly all of the trade stalls were materials: bagged charcoal, driftwood of numerous varieties, organic creature plates, and incredible selections of bright, neutral, dim, or gleaming sea shells.
>A few stalls held only produce:
>Sacks of maize, whether on cob, sheaved, or ground, whole, preservedm, and glass-like canned chiles, bundled coca leaves, chayote, sacks of jicama, large glass canisters of over twenty tomatillo species, stacks of cilantro, sacked mama and papa cribolla, pickled and whole purpara, then ulluco in colors that definitely weren't native to your homeworld.
>Tiny to giant cassava roots, shoots, clusters, and seedlings of thirty varieties, cactus leaves and fruits from hundreds of species, at least a hundred tomato variations, about the same number of squash, then pumpkins, oca, yacon, achojcha, then callaloo, amusingly named as 'efflo'.
>Colored papayas ranging from tiny to basketball sized, guava berries or fruits, barely identifiable feijoa, profuse strains of pozzifloras, around forty bola verde, thirty plus avocados, pineapples both archaic and exotic, five dragonfruits, six chañar, nine carob, twenty barberries, ten fuchsia, insanely packed clusters of myrtle, nine separate yerba flowers and fruits, more sweetsops and soursops than you could name, then three strains of sumac round out the identifiables.
>Stacks of tightly woven, sacked and dried quinoa, dozens of beans, ten long grained rice species, taro, a perplexing array of wide leafed grasses, swamp grains, peanuts, Brasil nuts, sorghum, then further legumes, nuts, and more that weren't familiar.
>Large glass canisters with bronze or steel lids containing rica-rica, pingo-pango, canelo, and hundreds more spices, the minority familiar to you, seemed to be the major takeaways,
"Hello hu`um!"
>A deep, teenaged mareish Spaneigh voice from behind you speaks out, the second word stretched into 'hyu-oohm'.
>Clopping into view, one decidedly average mare barely 3'6" tal, unusually a dark, reflective brown with a dirty gray mane and tale.
>Friendly burnt red pupils glance you up and down, eyes closing merrily as a broad smile creases her entire face.
<Spaneigh> "Enns'k'ta vul-nal!"
>You recognized the up-down phrasing, sharp pronunciations, and linguistics as a late Mayan Era dialect translated into a comfortably Spanish-simplified language that you had no issues translating, but had no idea what the words meant.
<Spaneigh> "Welcome to Shoalbarge! Fifth biggest trading villa in Marequipa, in case you haven't been here before."
>Eyes opening to gaze up at you, both of the younger mare's ears fold backwards, flicking rapidly in reasonable excitemarent.
<Spaneigh> "I'm Sallinas Pren, greeter and sometime courier. No relation to the Pyren or Poran familes among the Ferron clans. What brings you here, and can I help you find anything?"
>Raising her free wing and flicking it in a human-like dismissive motion, Shanis offers a dry expression.
"Don't mention it. Been asking Naliyna for months now on putting instructions of how to use the translocation system. Can't blame her though. She does more for Razorback every hour than I sign off in a week."
>The dull metallic eye rotates again, this time counterclockwise.
>Pitching forward a degree, then sinking down into the translocation matrice, the map zooms in to display a southwestern oceanic locale.
>A long, capsule shaped town roughly 500M west from a thin, spread out jungle-lined coast featured well organized, short, one story buildings arranged in rows.
>The appearance was remarkably similar to the top level of a grounded ocean superfreighter, only much more inhabited.
"Nonspecific location request accepted. Random destination chosen. VIP passage granted to Shoalbarge."
>Catching Starglow raising a hoof in farewell, streaks of every metallic color you knew, and dozens more inbetween, flick by.
>Arriving on a flat, hard steel deck without any sense of motion, the air was fairly cool albeit salt-laden, the surroundings quite familiar:
>Orderly lines of barely waist height, single pony stalls and stands, mostly comprised of thin wood slats, a few having bamboo trim, in front of small, barely lit warehouses behind each.
>Dimly colored earth ponies, the vast majority being mares due to their rounded snouts and far more appealing visual characteristics, also a bit shorter than the few you'd seen in Razorback Fortress, wandered with utterly carefree attitudes from stall or stand to the next.
>Scents of grilled arepas, roasted ensalada, cheese enpanadas, gallo pinto, feijoada, pastel de choclo, fritos platanos, and pico de gallo waft about, half of the stands specializing in one specific dish, though you quickly realize there were no meat scents in the air.
>Proudly, and visibly loud, signboards proclaimed what was being cooked at each, the dialect an easy to read form of Simplified Spanish.
>Or as a few helpful ones noted: Common Spaneigh.
>Half of the remaining stands and nearly all of the trade stalls were materials: bagged charcoal, driftwood of numerous varieties, organic creature plates, and incredible selections of bright, neutral, dim, or gleaming sea shells.
>A few stalls held only produce:
>Sacks of maize, whether on cob, sheaved, or ground, whole, preservedm, and glass-like canned chiles, bundled coca leaves, chayote, sacks of jicama, large glass canisters of over twenty tomatillo species, stacks of cilantro, sacked mama and papa cribolla, pickled and whole purpara, then ulluco in colors that definitely weren't native to your homeworld.
>Tiny to giant cassava roots, shoots, clusters, and seedlings of thirty varieties, cactus leaves and fruits from hundreds of species, at least a hundred tomato variations, about the same number of squash, then pumpkins, oca, yacon, achojcha, then callaloo, amusingly named as 'efflo'.
>Colored papayas ranging from tiny to basketball sized, guava berries or fruits, barely identifiable feijoa, profuse strains of pozzifloras, around forty bola verde, thirty plus avocados, pineapples both archaic and exotic, five dragonfruits, six chañar, nine carob, twenty barberries, ten fuchsia, insanely packed clusters of myrtle, nine separate yerba flowers and fruits, more sweetsops and soursops than you could name, then three strains of sumac round out the identifiables.
>Stacks of tightly woven, sacked and dried quinoa, dozens of beans, ten long grained rice species, taro, a perplexing array of wide leafed grasses, swamp grains, peanuts, Brasil nuts, sorghum, then further legumes, nuts, and more that weren't familiar.
>Large glass canisters with bronze or steel lids containing rica-rica, pingo-pango, canelo, and hundreds more spices, the minority familiar to you, seemed to be the major takeaways,
"Hello hu`um!"
>A deep, teenaged mareish Spaneigh voice from behind you speaks out, the second word stretched into 'hyu-oohm'.
>Clopping into view, one decidedly average mare barely 3'6" tal, unusually a dark, reflective brown with a dirty gray mane and tale.
>Friendly burnt red pupils glance you up and down, eyes closing merrily as a broad smile creases her entire face.
<Spaneigh> "Enns'k'ta vul-nal!"
>You recognized the up-down phrasing, sharp pronunciations, and linguistics as a late Mayan Era dialect translated into a comfortably Spanish-simplified language that you had no issues translating, but had no idea what the words meant.
<Spaneigh> "Welcome to Shoalbarge! Fifth biggest trading villa in Marequipa, in case you haven't been here before."
>Eyes opening to gaze up at you, both of the younger mare's ears fold backwards, flicking rapidly in reasonable excitemarent.
<Spaneigh> "I'm Sallinas Pren, greeter and sometime courier. No relation to the Pyren or Poran familes among the Ferron clans. What brings you here, and can I help you find anything?"
>>371890
>Cloudstrike appeared to have had an issue with a unicorn batpony... baticorn? Baticorn existing. He's heard of Malformed before, saved for true taboo oddities. Most ponies seemed to feel that they were not worth existing, in the first place.
>Mercy acted oddly hostile toward the mare, as well, THAT entire hostile assistance situation aside.
>Obviously a batpony unicorn was considered a taboo pariah, even more interesting she was capable of acquiring a council position.
>Marshmallow on the other hand, Cloudstrike doesn't bring up any new info on the Lunar descendant. Was Razorback considered an aligned independent? No, definitely a dependent. And she didn't like dealing with mercenaries.
>It was an odd condition to force her into being their new upstart maretriarch.
>Jeff internally sigh in relief for the small leniency.
'Thank you. No, I don't want to put the Citadel in any jeopardy. If you don't wish to hear, I will save it for Razorback. I know Clem and a few others will trust me at my word, and carry the warnings along without much else to hang onto.'
>Almost feeling a little silly for asking, Velvet replies with a clear and detailed description of the Wolves.
>They sounded like something out of ancient mythology. Elemental giant wolves able to see your entire being.
'Okay. I'll definitely know when I see one then. Thank you for clarifying.'
>The awkward silence on the other line, along with the sharp intake was more than enough for him to take his wording back.
'My apologies, poor comparison.'
>As the pain begins to radiate through his palm again, he gets a good warning on the pond. He'll stay away from it, unless needed. No wonder Lin had challenged him to drink from it.
'No pond, got it. Also the water's ice cold, so it's a seep. I'll follow it to the end, and progress from there.'
>Checking the time, having just under four hours until it got real dangerous in here, Cloudstrike makes some plans over the network.
'You're risking a lot for me, Cloudstrike. I truly appreciate it, even if you come up empty hoofed. I'll try and get my bearings in here0 and try to find some shelter. If we don't hear from either in thirty... good luck to both of us.'
>The connection going quiet for now, Jeff starts to follow the stream flow upward.
>He's got less than four hours to either escape or find somewhere to hide and wait out the bigger fish in this underground pond.
>Gotten tired of slinging the Gepard under his shoulder he sticks it lengthwise onto his right side in line with his pack. He could have done without the heavy rifle, but ditching it in here might not have been the best idea.
>Other than being a bit lopsided, it freed up his good hand for now.
>Taking a couple bends and turns following the lit body of water, he finally comes across the end- or starting point.
>Opening up in to a pool with a tall cone-shaped protrusion in the middle, water flowing out of the top like a natural fountain.
>This must be the seep Cloudstrike mentioned.
>Realizing he hadn't walked that far to reach it, it meant he clearly hasn't hit the edge of the chamber.
>A little discouraged, his only option now is to venture out and into the crystal trees and in the darkness.
>He checks his heading on the TacPad, deciding to continue in a soutwest direction until he is stopped by a wall. From there he'll follow it clockwise until he can find a place to hold out in.
>If he's going to leave what he hoped was the safety of the stream and light, he needs to do something about the nettle first.
>Approaching the pool the seep resided in, he dips his hurting palm into the water again for some quick relief while he thinks over his options.
>Trying to pluck them out is out. He's too tired to concentrate enough to remove them conveniently or consistently.
>Not really coming up with any other method or tool that he thinks could reliably remove them.
>Damn this nasty druidic nettle.
>...
>He has that one ability he could try. The one Silver bestowed upon him, along with the the others. He's only practiced it a handful of times to get the hang of it. He recalls it can deflect attacks of Druidic nature, among other types and extends outward instantly from his center.
>If he can't pluck out the nettle from outside, maybe he can push them out from the inside?
>Moving away from the water, he finds a clearing nearby with over twenty meters of space.
>Not too bothered by the darkness, still within the shallower veil, he stops at the center and kneels down. He reaches for his medical pouch to pull out the wound pad from before as well as the smaller roller bandage. If it's a clean removal or not, the bandages will help. Not to mention the Dusk Film. It's more than dark enough in here for that to kick in and start healing him.
>Here's hoping doing this in here won't upset anything. Or anyone. Nothing's happened, so far. It's just a barrier, it'll go away after a bit.
>Jeff extends his left arm out halfway while bracing the wrist with his right hand and bends his palm upward so the barrier will extend flush across the back of his hand; the nettle facing outward and away from him.
>Taking a deep breath in, he mentally prepares to slow the barrier down once it activates so the nettle doesn't get ripped out of his hand too fast.
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <E.Iron Will
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>He activates the barrier, picking its starting point at his center. Prepared for however it affects the nettle.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Anti-Surge
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
>Cloudstrike appeared to have had an issue with a unicorn batpony... baticorn? Baticorn existing. He's heard of Malformed before, saved for true taboo oddities. Most ponies seemed to feel that they were not worth existing, in the first place.
>Mercy acted oddly hostile toward the mare, as well, THAT entire hostile assistance situation aside.
>Obviously a batpony unicorn was considered a taboo pariah, even more interesting she was capable of acquiring a council position.
>Marshmallow on the other hand, Cloudstrike doesn't bring up any new info on the Lunar descendant. Was Razorback considered an aligned independent? No, definitely a dependent. And she didn't like dealing with mercenaries.
>It was an odd condition to force her into being their new upstart maretriarch.
>Jeff internally sigh in relief for the small leniency.
'Thank you. No, I don't want to put the Citadel in any jeopardy. If you don't wish to hear, I will save it for Razorback. I know Clem and a few others will trust me at my word, and carry the warnings along without much else to hang onto.'
>Almost feeling a little silly for asking, Velvet replies with a clear and detailed description of the Wolves.
>They sounded like something out of ancient mythology. Elemental giant wolves able to see your entire being.
'Okay. I'll definitely know when I see one then. Thank you for clarifying.'
>The awkward silence on the other line, along with the sharp intake was more than enough for him to take his wording back.
'My apologies, poor comparison.'
>As the pain begins to radiate through his palm again, he gets a good warning on the pond. He'll stay away from it, unless needed. No wonder Lin had challenged him to drink from it.
'No pond, got it. Also the water's ice cold, so it's a seep. I'll follow it to the end, and progress from there.'
>Checking the time, having just under four hours until it got real dangerous in here, Cloudstrike makes some plans over the network.
'You're risking a lot for me, Cloudstrike. I truly appreciate it, even if you come up empty hoofed. I'll try and get my bearings in here0 and try to find some shelter. If we don't hear from either in thirty... good luck to both of us.'
>The connection going quiet for now, Jeff starts to follow the stream flow upward.
>He's got less than four hours to either escape or find somewhere to hide and wait out the bigger fish in this underground pond.
>Gotten tired of slinging the Gepard under his shoulder he sticks it lengthwise onto his right side in line with his pack. He could have done without the heavy rifle, but ditching it in here might not have been the best idea.
>Other than being a bit lopsided, it freed up his good hand for now.
>Taking a couple bends and turns following the lit body of water, he finally comes across the end- or starting point.
>Opening up in to a pool with a tall cone-shaped protrusion in the middle, water flowing out of the top like a natural fountain.
>This must be the seep Cloudstrike mentioned.
>Realizing he hadn't walked that far to reach it, it meant he clearly hasn't hit the edge of the chamber.
>A little discouraged, his only option now is to venture out and into the crystal trees and in the darkness.
>He checks his heading on the TacPad, deciding to continue in a soutwest direction until he is stopped by a wall. From there he'll follow it clockwise until he can find a place to hold out in.
>If he's going to leave what he hoped was the safety of the stream and light, he needs to do something about the nettle first.
>Approaching the pool the seep resided in, he dips his hurting palm into the water again for some quick relief while he thinks over his options.
>Trying to pluck them out is out. He's too tired to concentrate enough to remove them conveniently or consistently.
>Not really coming up with any other method or tool that he thinks could reliably remove them.
>Damn this nasty druidic nettle.
>...
>He has that one ability he could try. The one Silver bestowed upon him, along with the the others. He's only practiced it a handful of times to get the hang of it. He recalls it can deflect attacks of Druidic nature, among other types and extends outward instantly from his center.
>If he can't pluck out the nettle from outside, maybe he can push them out from the inside?
>Moving away from the water, he finds a clearing nearby with over twenty meters of space.
>Not too bothered by the darkness, still within the shallower veil, he stops at the center and kneels down. He reaches for his medical pouch to pull out the wound pad from before as well as the smaller roller bandage. If it's a clean removal or not, the bandages will help. Not to mention the Dusk Film. It's more than dark enough in here for that to kick in and start healing him.
>Here's hoping doing this in here won't upset anything. Or anyone. Nothing's happened, so far. It's just a barrier, it'll go away after a bit.
>Jeff extends his left arm out halfway while bracing the wrist with his right hand and bends his palm upward so the barrier will extend flush across the back of his hand; the nettle facing outward and away from him.
>Taking a deep breath in, he mentally prepares to slow the barrier down once it activates so the nettle doesn't get ripped out of his hand too fast.
[1d6+4 = (1+4) = 5] <E.Iron Will
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>He activates the barrier, picking its starting point at his center. Prepared for however it affects the nettle.
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5] <Anti-Surge
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (4+1) = 5]
>>371885
>Clemency nods at the cultist mare
"Yeah, that would make sense."
>He waits for the mare to seemingly come back from her stupor
"An inspection mirror, clear diamondine or platinum. Also, got it."
>Thinking for a moment to remember all the info given to him, including the passphrase for the Citadel, he looks up at the cultist mare
"Oh, before I forget! What's your name?"
>Looking up, Clemency again sees the Guillotine enter realspace and maneuver towards them
*"They should be healed sooner or later. As long as no other disturbances occur."*
>The little one is even older than the Guillotine and seems like its language is an older dialect
>Even if we did know harpy, it still would've given us issues
>Looking over to the mare, Clemency checks the volume of his radio before answering
"Is the "talking" a little hard to understand with the language it uses? You might be hearing the Guillotine."
>For emphasis, Clemency points up towards the ship
"She might help out with the glyphs but I'm still going over to Lann's."
>>371854
>The radio chatter from the rest of Razorback finally registered with Clem
>Jeff and Emerald's missing?
>The last time he saw Emerald was during the battle yelling at her box and warning against the use of radios
>Jeff though, he was sure he went with them through the gateway then back
>Last time he was seen was at the spear wall memorial
>While he gave the memorial a salute fit for fallen pilot's, Jeff took one of those scarring blades
>Clemency left him alone out of respect but he didn't expect him to go missing
>Turning to the mare, Clem gives her a farewell wave
"I'll be back soon."
>>371893
>Walking away, he navigates through the village towards Lann's shop
>During the walk, Clemency continues listening in to the radio chatter
>Both of them are now completely missing
>No tracks or traces
>Now he's getting concerned
>Clemency keys into his mic, checking all radio bands
*"Jeff, this is Clemency. Status?"*
>He made sure to repeat the message a couple times before switching bands
>To make extra sure, Clemency takes out his personal Moon Orb
>He uses it trying to locate Jeff's orb and contacts him
*"Jeff, this is Clemency? Status...where did you go?"*
>Clemency nods at the cultist mare
"Yeah, that would make sense."
>He waits for the mare to seemingly come back from her stupor
"An inspection mirror, clear diamondine or platinum. Also, got it."
>Thinking for a moment to remember all the info given to him, including the passphrase for the Citadel, he looks up at the cultist mare
"Oh, before I forget! What's your name?"
>Looking up, Clemency again sees the Guillotine enter realspace and maneuver towards them
*"They should be healed sooner or later. As long as no other disturbances occur."*
>The little one is even older than the Guillotine and seems like its language is an older dialect
>Even if we did know harpy, it still would've given us issues
>Looking over to the mare, Clemency checks the volume of his radio before answering
"Is the "talking" a little hard to understand with the language it uses? You might be hearing the Guillotine."
>For emphasis, Clemency points up towards the ship
"She might help out with the glyphs but I'm still going over to Lann's."
>>371854
>The radio chatter from the rest of Razorback finally registered with Clem
>Jeff and Emerald's missing?
>The last time he saw Emerald was during the battle yelling at her box and warning against the use of radios
>Jeff though, he was sure he went with them through the gateway then back
>Last time he was seen was at the spear wall memorial
>While he gave the memorial a salute fit for fallen pilot's, Jeff took one of those scarring blades
>Clemency left him alone out of respect but he didn't expect him to go missing
>Turning to the mare, Clem gives her a farewell wave
"I'll be back soon."
>>371893
>Walking away, he navigates through the village towards Lann's shop
>During the walk, Clemency continues listening in to the radio chatter
>Both of them are now completely missing
>No tracks or traces
>Now he's getting concerned
>Clemency keys into his mic, checking all radio bands
*"Jeff, this is Clemency. Status?"*
>He made sure to repeat the message a couple times before switching bands
>To make extra sure, Clemency takes out his personal Moon Orb
>He uses it trying to locate Jeff's orb and contacts him
*"Jeff, this is Clemency? Status...where did you go?"*
>>371893
>As Lont slowly walked around aimlessly while listening to the chatter from his radio, he took care not to get close to anyone or anything, giving them all wide berths.
>Movement. Violent movement was happening in his periphery. And it was coming from Crystal Host' direction.
>He turned his head and bore witness to an invisible beatdown. It made him stop and stare, he was utterly confused by it.
>It was for but a moment however, and with a headshake he returned to acting as someone who couldn't see the Crystal Moor Batponies.
>"I don't know what the hell that was about."
>Nor could he do anything to help, for it would blow the Batponies cover and he would contaminate the victim with Anti. He would just have to leave the poor mare to be healed by somepony else.
>The Operator clicked his tongue upon seeing the Lunar's behaviour. It piqued interest and he made up his tired mind.
>He marched towards the Lunarites. The need for an answer to this mystery gave him a boost of energy, enough to straighten his back and stop his wings from dragging across the ground of the Basin.
>Jeff (and Emerald) disappeared. He was with the Lunar ponies. He was scarring himself. He was right under their noses when he disappeared. Yet they seem nonplussed by his absence.
>"Surely they must have taken notice of Razorback looking for our missing members?"
"Excuse me."
>He called out to the closet Lunarite before stopping. Keeping a good 5 metre distance.
>Should he tell them that Razorback is Anti contaminated? Perhaps it was for the best. Why should one ally of theirs be in the know and not the other? This of course relied on them not knowing about that already, he thought dryly.
"Have you seen Jeff? He was last seen with your group not 10 minutes ago?"
>As Lont slowly walked around aimlessly while listening to the chatter from his radio, he took care not to get close to anyone or anything, giving them all wide berths.
>Movement. Violent movement was happening in his periphery. And it was coming from Crystal Host' direction.
>He turned his head and bore witness to an invisible beatdown. It made him stop and stare, he was utterly confused by it.
>It was for but a moment however, and with a headshake he returned to acting as someone who couldn't see the Crystal Moor Batponies.
>"I don't know what the hell that was about."
>Nor could he do anything to help, for it would blow the Batponies cover and he would contaminate the victim with Anti. He would just have to leave the poor mare to be healed by somepony else.
>The Operator clicked his tongue upon seeing the Lunar's behaviour. It piqued interest and he made up his tired mind.
>He marched towards the Lunarites. The need for an answer to this mystery gave him a boost of energy, enough to straighten his back and stop his wings from dragging across the ground of the Basin.
>Jeff (and Emerald) disappeared. He was with the Lunar ponies. He was scarring himself. He was right under their noses when he disappeared. Yet they seem nonplussed by his absence.
>"Surely they must have taken notice of Razorback looking for our missing members?"
"Excuse me."
>He called out to the closet Lunarite before stopping. Keeping a good 5 metre distance.
>Should he tell them that Razorback is Anti contaminated? Perhaps it was for the best. Why should one ally of theirs be in the know and not the other? This of course relied on them not knowing about that already, he thought dryly.
"Have you seen Jeff? He was last seen with your group not 10 minutes ago?"
>>371898
>Dazed, José blinked several times as his body refused to move until all those streaks of colors faded away.
>He promptly exhaled sharply and sagged his posture the momarent only the tropical sights encompassed his vision.
>It might be a simple trick of the mind who's not used to teleportation.
>Taking a second to compose himself once more, he properly took in all the sights he was surrounded in, taking tentative steps to get a full panorama.
"Woah~"
>It's as if he somehow found some sort of portal back to his reality, only enhanced to a ludicrous degree
>Even with all the dangers this world may bring, it sure can provide with unmatched beauty.
>Catching himself from mentally gushing any further, he was about to start checking out the various stalls until the friendly voice called out to him.
>He promptly turned around and smiled earnestly, practically raiding joy at hearing his mother tongue in such a warm, inviting locale.
<Spaneigh> "Greetings, amicable Pren. It's a pleasure to meet you. I came here to learn, make friends and find opportunity."
>He was incredibly tempted to outright pet her head, fingers wiggling on his sides.
<Spaneigh> "Could you please tell me about Shoalbarge? Maybe walk around and show me some points of interest around these parts?"
>Dazed, José blinked several times as his body refused to move until all those streaks of colors faded away.
>He promptly exhaled sharply and sagged his posture the momarent only the tropical sights encompassed his vision.
>It might be a simple trick of the mind who's not used to teleportation.
>Taking a second to compose himself once more, he properly took in all the sights he was surrounded in, taking tentative steps to get a full panorama.
"Woah~"
>It's as if he somehow found some sort of portal back to his reality, only enhanced to a ludicrous degree
>Even with all the dangers this world may bring, it sure can provide with unmatched beauty.
>Catching himself from mentally gushing any further, he was about to start checking out the various stalls until the friendly voice called out to him.
>He promptly turned around and smiled earnestly, practically raiding joy at hearing his mother tongue in such a warm, inviting locale.
<Spaneigh> "Greetings, amicable Pren. It's a pleasure to meet you. I came here to learn, make friends and find opportunity."
>He was incredibly tempted to outright pet her head, fingers wiggling on his sides.
<Spaneigh> "Could you please tell me about Shoalbarge? Maybe walk around and show me some points of interest around these parts?"
Lost in the Crag Moors: STILL Stuck (In The Middle Of You)
GM Strangler
!!5uISsUFiZo
98d436f
?
No.371918
>>371887
"Fountains are too small and vital, therefore I will not damage it. If there are no sufficient ponds available, then a medium stream or small river will suffice."
IT HAD BETTER BE!
"Shut up.
According to my previous environmarental scans there are no hostiles large or close enough to injure you. I will double check to be sure."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Omni-Sensor Arrays: Close Range Scan
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
>Hearing the inside voice fully melting down, it stops long enough to crack.
THIS IS THE PERFECT TIME! STOP TELLING ME WHAT NOT TO DO!
"This is inane. We are the same existential being. Cease being a pain in, on, and around our collective flanks or I will silence each and every component allowing you to speak."
>Swinging around a single tendril to, probably, stare at you, Wild's external speakers rumble briefly.
"Fine, but I will hold you to those words."
>While you couldn't see them, the electrical cables sparking below had finally ceased.
"I'm trying. But if a certain annoyance continues her resistance then the first bomb will be lodged in her face."
>Gazing around from the much too tall hand, and realizing you were at Wild Ride's chin... there were definitely large scale problems that hadn't been taken into account for a bipedal transport.
"Mom, the top of my head unit was precisely twenty meters of height, excluding antennae, which makes me a far larger target. My skin is from one to two-point-one millimeters thick, meaning external armor integrity is minor. My hull, endoskeletal structures, and motivation systems are adequate yet can be degraded and destroyed with relative ease due to their size.
I am much too tall to mareneuver effectively. I have few means to retaliate, which includes BREAKING EVERYTHING FROM MY HANDS TO MY SHOULDERS after a few strikes.. and a small cannon with limited range. Among other weaknesses, those three are concerning.
Should I reduce my height by five meters, my armor and internals can be reinforced by approximately thirty percent. That is why I am calculating the necessary modifications to downsize. And before you say the cabins require a specific amount of space, the interior size of each can be safely reduced by fifty-five percent.
Update: I have REPLACED all necessary interfaces, cables, systems, and biomechanical components throughout my legs.. excluding armor. Now attempting to... I don't have a word for this yet. Would you like to return to the cabin, or stretch your legs?"
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Ratio Scaling
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Ratio Scaling
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-#8
"Fountains are too small and vital, therefore I will not damage it. If there are no sufficient ponds available, then a medium stream or small river will suffice."
IT HAD BETTER BE!
"Shut up.
According to my previous environmarental scans there are no hostiles large or close enough to injure you. I will double check to be sure."
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Arcanum Sensors Array
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <Omni-Sensor Arrays: Close Range Scan
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6]
>Hearing the inside voice fully melting down, it stops long enough to crack.
THIS IS THE PERFECT TIME! STOP TELLING ME WHAT NOT TO DO!
"This is inane. We are the same existential being. Cease being a pain in, on, and around our collective flanks or I will silence each and every component allowing you to speak."
>Swinging around a single tendril to, probably, stare at you, Wild's external speakers rumble briefly.
"Fine, but I will hold you to those words."
>While you couldn't see them, the electrical cables sparking below had finally ceased.
"I'm trying. But if a certain annoyance continues her resistance then the first bomb will be lodged in her face."
>Gazing around from the much too tall hand, and realizing you were at Wild Ride's chin... there were definitely large scale problems that hadn't been taken into account for a bipedal transport.
"Mom, the top of my head unit was precisely twenty meters of height, excluding antennae, which makes me a far larger target. My skin is from one to two-point-one millimeters thick, meaning external armor integrity is minor. My hull, endoskeletal structures, and motivation systems are adequate yet can be degraded and destroyed with relative ease due to their size.
I am much too tall to mareneuver effectively. I have few means to retaliate, which includes BREAKING EVERYTHING FROM MY HANDS TO MY SHOULDERS after a few strikes.. and a small cannon with limited range. Among other weaknesses, those three are concerning.
Should I reduce my height by five meters, my armor and internals can be reinforced by approximately thirty percent. That is why I am calculating the necessary modifications to downsize. And before you say the cabins require a specific amount of space, the interior size of each can be safely reduced by fifty-five percent.
Update: I have REPLACED all necessary interfaces, cables, systems, and biomechanical components throughout my legs.. excluding armor. Now attempting to... I don't have a word for this yet. Would you like to return to the cabin, or stretch your legs?"
[1d6+6 = (6+6) = 12] <Sensory Node #2: Ratio Scaling
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <Sensory Node #3: Ratio Scaling
[1d6+14 = (6+14) = 20] <Grade 1 Auto-Repair
[1d6+15 = (2+15) = 17]
[1d6+15 = (1+15) = 16]
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18] <Grade 2 Auto-Repair
[1d6+13 = (5+13) = 18]
[1d6+13 = (1+13) = 14]
[1d6+20 = (3+20) = 23] <Tryptaran Autorestoration
[1d6+4 = (4+4) = 8] <Repair Tendril #1
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <RT-#2
[1d6+3 = (3+3) = 6] <RT-#3
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <RT-#4
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <RT-#5
[1d6+2 = (2+2) = 4] <RT-#6
[1d6+2 = (6+2) = 8] <RT-#7
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4] <RT-#8
>>371889
>Nodding, 'Shiibo' steps aside into a desk platform and reduces her avatar's size by half.
'Understood. ...insufficient cultural and cross-species data available to continue refining predictive algorithms, returning to human-interfaction dispute simulations.'
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Performing a rapid gunbelt, vest, and pouch check, the woman spins around, tossing a rough grin at you.
"Just keep acting like one, that'll attract either the cutest super-genius, softest snuggle friend, or the prettiest walking war crime around. Maybe you'll get real lucky and find one that's all three!"
>Glancing up, Katyal shrugs to herself after a few seconds, strolling back towards the hatch and around you as she walks up the ramp.
*"Hodch, couple background flickers and distortions here. Can't tell what, or when. Know what it is?"*
*"-ome of these coins ha- what? Yes, ten seconds please. A few of these have seals. Not the sapient and adorable pinniped variety. Dynasty City-State seals, noble and royal both, mint marks, years, and their damned engrammatic language. Rather unusual. Then again there aren't marely examples in Equestria anywhere.
That one is a Coldlands neytarm, not a threat. Scavenger, minor nuisance category, will flee from loud noises.
Veyurms are the original species, most of Tallus had fifty variants or more. Frequent and long distance underground travelers, not so much on land. Large numbers spread on boats, both water and sky, some survived river and ocean traversal on logs, and for the rare Air Elemarental ancestors, the Airstreams. Dusk Strider records state some of the Harpies, native, Extra-Planar, and Otherworld, kept them as companions. A few still do as they are easy to train and not picky.
Their descendants are known as wurms. You know them as having eight, twelve, or sixteen blades, stone or metal, protecting three, six, or nine eyes. The majority are considered degenerate subspecies due to mutation and surviving in suboptimal conditions. Nearly all have an Elemarental alignmarent. Feral and destructive without exception."*
*"Meaning the one around here isn't degenerate?"*
*"Correct. I must advise leaving it be, their numbers are unknown but presumably threatened."*
*"Hey, I'm all for keeping native populations safe, you know that!"*
*"Does that exclude the Bronze Guardians?"*
*"....looooow shot there, spikehead. True, but still. Damn."*
>Trying to match the wurm's position on the underside without an indicating distance showed clustered growths on the dead tree where bark had long since fallen or rotted off.
>Sweeping flashlight beam across each one, they looked to be fairly large asymmetrical burls, without holes to indicate pest damage.
*"A.. what tablet? Some kind of detection alchemical or drug?"*
*"No, a crystal device in service with biotechnicians, armorers, explorers, surveyors, scavengers, and the Underground's Pathfinders. I did toy with one some time back, has several functions quite similar to what the OT-3 did."*
*"Good, great, or amazing?"*
*"The second since there's a 6CTA undertaking trials right now. Better clarity than the previous model, multiple language translations, and, as always, quite durable. Exorbitant cost however, they were sixty thousand Bits each when introduced. Perhaps the price has dropped by now.
I would suggest keeping it on hand, but now is the best time to travel. Most creatures are either settling in, finding a safe location to sleep, not quite awake, or leaving.
Miss Dul, how did you find these? ...........really? ....Of course, the simplest methods are usually the best to use no matter how complicated a situation is. ....no, I thank you, this is highly interesting.
She patrolled the surface in a clockwise spiral outwards for threats, went around, up, then into the trees. Dul then explored underground, starting with the outer roots and finishing at the taproot. Two of the local.... antilar colonies guarded their nests, the rest did not seem to view her as a threat or take notice.
This tree however grew atop a large rectangle, sinking it deep underground. I know the shape well; heavily built trade containers used from the Early to Late Dynasty Eras. Quite difficult to break those damned locks. Could be any number of materials but it is too deep to excavate and I am not about to initiate a teleport without an absolute necessity.
.....Dul describes the material as hard, able to bend greatly without shattering, and caused a buzzing sensation when she attempted to phase through, but did not cause harm nor hinder her efforts. Two cycles, rather, two hours was spent bringing objects to the surface between further patrols as she is unable to carry more than... four, perhaps five pounds during continuous solid-phasing."*
>Settling her kit bag into the upright locker, Katyal leans over to push the UP button.
*"We're in and down navy man."*
*"Just say hatch sealed."*
>Lounging onto the chair next to the ramp as it closes, she snickers as a potent EM field accompanied by peculiar low pitched whines emanate from the Landbarge's subframe.
*"Got it. Say, if I paint a bunch of cute seals on this thing will it swim faster?"*
*"...please don't. .....shouldn't need seatbelts this time, if Green Man got his calculations right and tuning to spec. "*
>Finding the revised, actual seat rather comfortable, and highly adjustable, a solid holographic display in the center unfolds, showing the OT-4's current state in exacting detail.
>Lofting upwards to remain at 2M off ground for ten seconds, the Landbarge twists around in a smooth 180 turn, pitching back five degrees, then skims up the ramp with barely any sensation of gravity or speed.
*"Damn dude, this is smoother than.. words I probably shouldn't say out loud."*
*"Good. Also purrs like a sleepy Moor cat. Can't change the screens back there much, let me know if you want 'em facing a certain direction."*
*"Eh, I'll take the passenger side once we stop."*
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
>Nodding, 'Shiibo' steps aside into a desk platform and reduces her avatar's size by half.
'Understood. ...insufficient cultural and cross-species data available to continue refining predictive algorithms, returning to human-interfaction dispute simulations.'
[1d6+3 = (5+3) = 8] <E.Electronic Warfare
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7]
[1d6+3 = (1+3) = 4]
>Performing a rapid gunbelt, vest, and pouch check, the woman spins around, tossing a rough grin at you.
"Just keep acting like one, that'll attract either the cutest super-genius, softest snuggle friend, or the prettiest walking war crime around. Maybe you'll get real lucky and find one that's all three!"
>Glancing up, Katyal shrugs to herself after a few seconds, strolling back towards the hatch and around you as she walks up the ramp.
*"Hodch, couple background flickers and distortions here. Can't tell what, or when. Know what it is?"*
*"-ome of these coins ha- what? Yes, ten seconds please. A few of these have seals. Not the sapient and adorable pinniped variety. Dynasty City-State seals, noble and royal both, mint marks, years, and their damned engrammatic language. Rather unusual. Then again there aren't marely examples in Equestria anywhere.
That one is a Coldlands neytarm, not a threat. Scavenger, minor nuisance category, will flee from loud noises.
Veyurms are the original species, most of Tallus had fifty variants or more. Frequent and long distance underground travelers, not so much on land. Large numbers spread on boats, both water and sky, some survived river and ocean traversal on logs, and for the rare Air Elemarental ancestors, the Airstreams. Dusk Strider records state some of the Harpies, native, Extra-Planar, and Otherworld, kept them as companions. A few still do as they are easy to train and not picky.
Their descendants are known as wurms. You know them as having eight, twelve, or sixteen blades, stone or metal, protecting three, six, or nine eyes. The majority are considered degenerate subspecies due to mutation and surviving in suboptimal conditions. Nearly all have an Elemarental alignmarent. Feral and destructive without exception."*
*"Meaning the one around here isn't degenerate?"*
*"Correct. I must advise leaving it be, their numbers are unknown but presumably threatened."*
*"Hey, I'm all for keeping native populations safe, you know that!"*
*"Does that exclude the Bronze Guardians?"*
*"....looooow shot there, spikehead. True, but still. Damn."*
>Trying to match the wurm's position on the underside without an indicating distance showed clustered growths on the dead tree where bark had long since fallen or rotted off.
>Sweeping flashlight beam across each one, they looked to be fairly large asymmetrical burls, without holes to indicate pest damage.
*"A.. what tablet? Some kind of detection alchemical or drug?"*
*"No, a crystal device in service with biotechnicians, armorers, explorers, surveyors, scavengers, and the Underground's Pathfinders. I did toy with one some time back, has several functions quite similar to what the OT-3 did."*
*"Good, great, or amazing?"*
*"The second since there's a 6CTA undertaking trials right now. Better clarity than the previous model, multiple language translations, and, as always, quite durable. Exorbitant cost however, they were sixty thousand Bits each when introduced. Perhaps the price has dropped by now.
I would suggest keeping it on hand, but now is the best time to travel. Most creatures are either settling in, finding a safe location to sleep, not quite awake, or leaving.
Miss Dul, how did you find these? ...........really? ....Of course, the simplest methods are usually the best to use no matter how complicated a situation is. ....no, I thank you, this is highly interesting.
She patrolled the surface in a clockwise spiral outwards for threats, went around, up, then into the trees. Dul then explored underground, starting with the outer roots and finishing at the taproot. Two of the local.... antilar colonies guarded their nests, the rest did not seem to view her as a threat or take notice.
This tree however grew atop a large rectangle, sinking it deep underground. I know the shape well; heavily built trade containers used from the Early to Late Dynasty Eras. Quite difficult to break those damned locks. Could be any number of materials but it is too deep to excavate and I am not about to initiate a teleport without an absolute necessity.
.....Dul describes the material as hard, able to bend greatly without shattering, and caused a buzzing sensation when she attempted to phase through, but did not cause harm nor hinder her efforts. Two cycles, rather, two hours was spent bringing objects to the surface between further patrols as she is unable to carry more than... four, perhaps five pounds during continuous solid-phasing."*
>Settling her kit bag into the upright locker, Katyal leans over to push the UP button.
*"We're in and down navy man."*
*"Just say hatch sealed."*
>Lounging onto the chair next to the ramp as it closes, she snickers as a potent EM field accompanied by peculiar low pitched whines emanate from the Landbarge's subframe.
*"Got it. Say, if I paint a bunch of cute seals on this thing will it swim faster?"*
*"...please don't. .....shouldn't need seatbelts this time, if Green Man got his calculations right and tuning to spec. "*
>Finding the revised, actual seat rather comfortable, and highly adjustable, a solid holographic display in the center unfolds, showing the OT-4's current state in exacting detail.
>Lofting upwards to remain at 2M off ground for ten seconds, the Landbarge twists around in a smooth 180 turn, pitching back five degrees, then skims up the ramp with barely any sensation of gravity or speed.
*"Damn dude, this is smoother than.. words I probably shouldn't say out loud."*
*"Good. Also purrs like a sleepy Moor cat. Can't change the screens back there much, let me know if you want 'em facing a certain direction."*
*"Eh, I'll take the passenger side once we stop."*
[1d6+8 = (3+8) = 11] <M.ExoTech Optronic Particle Scanner
[1d6+8 = (4+8) = 12]
[1d6+8 = (2+8) = 10]
>>371919
>A twinge of disgust crosses his face as Katyal leaves with her parting jab.
"Pairing with a pony would be the opposite of luck. Misfortune, which this world has enough of already with humanity on it."
>He shakes his head and turns back towards his tablet.
>Multitasking between the tablet's display and listening to Hodch on the radio, he gives a long look towards where the apparent Wurm was resting.
(Best not to interfere with local wildlife then. Unclear just what will upset the Druidic factions that likely claim these locations and species. Assuming they even have any logic beyond their nature obsession.)
>He exhales in an attempt to loosen his brow and consider something other than Druids.
>Leaning back in the appreciably more comfortable seat, he manifests his unchristened graviton weapon in his hand to stare at it.
>Hodch's explanations providing commentary that piques a potential option.
*"I have... a weapon that may be able to bore a path to or into the container. If it's within subterranean scanning range of the tablet, I should be able to plot an accurate shot. Situation permitting, it's something to consider. Would allay the need for constant phasing from Dul."*
>Glancing up as the hatch seals, he watches the holographic display of the Landbarge's new ascent.
>Instinctively bracing for a sensation of movement or weight that never came, his shoulders take a second longer than normal to relax.
*"Impressive. I can only imagine the logistical cost of having to maintain the repulsor systems for this, but the ride is smooth."*
>Squeezing the grip of his conceptual weapon, he looks down at it once more.
(The weight of this weapon and the weight of a human's intent held in my hand. I'm no Oppenheimer or Leskinen, but this feels... only a few steps below. Need to ensure I don't contribute to further destabilization of Tallus' cultural ecosystem while somehow integrating into it. Need to check possible factions, if I survive. Ones capable of handling such potential power.)
>He closes his eyes and cocks his head while running a thumb over the containment chamber of the device.
(Fundamental strength, inherent power, discerning usage... dragons? Potentially accessible. Better option than Minotaurs at least. All this just to avoid erasure by an arbitrary god.)
>A twinge of disgust crosses his face as Katyal leaves with her parting jab.
"Pairing with a pony would be the opposite of luck. Misfortune, which this world has enough of already with humanity on it."
>He shakes his head and turns back towards his tablet.
>Multitasking between the tablet's display and listening to Hodch on the radio, he gives a long look towards where the apparent Wurm was resting.
(Best not to interfere with local wildlife then. Unclear just what will upset the Druidic factions that likely claim these locations and species. Assuming they even have any logic beyond their nature obsession.)
>He exhales in an attempt to loosen his brow and consider something other than Druids.
>Leaning back in the appreciably more comfortable seat, he manifests his unchristened graviton weapon in his hand to stare at it.
>Hodch's explanations providing commentary that piques a potential option.
*"I have... a weapon that may be able to bore a path to or into the container. If it's within subterranean scanning range of the tablet, I should be able to plot an accurate shot. Situation permitting, it's something to consider. Would allay the need for constant phasing from Dul."*
>Glancing up as the hatch seals, he watches the holographic display of the Landbarge's new ascent.
>Instinctively bracing for a sensation of movement or weight that never came, his shoulders take a second longer than normal to relax.
*"Impressive. I can only imagine the logistical cost of having to maintain the repulsor systems for this, but the ride is smooth."*
>Squeezing the grip of his conceptual weapon, he looks down at it once more.
(The weight of this weapon and the weight of a human's intent held in my hand. I'm no Oppenheimer or Leskinen, but this feels... only a few steps below. Need to ensure I don't contribute to further destabilization of Tallus' cultural ecosystem while somehow integrating into it. Need to check possible factions, if I survive. Ones capable of handling such potential power.)
>He closes his eyes and cocks his head while running a thumb over the containment chamber of the device.
(Fundamental strength, inherent power, discerning usage... dragons? Potentially accessible. Better option than Minotaurs at least. All this just to avoid erasure by an arbitrary god.)
>>371904
"Please do so, I have enough problems trying to find a replacemarent. .......have a small piece of news for you: Lunar Councilmare Vestal Gardenia of New Canterlot was listed as comatose... little over two hours ago. She has no family there, relatives in Stalliongrad ar-...... Starborn or not, all further details are classified."
>Letting out a sharp exhale, Cloudstrike can be heard sorting through rough paper sheaves.
"Wouldn't suggest trying to bribe or make friends with them either. Few scattered reports from Ferron subclans.. Vanguard and Warguard strains get real pissed when offered food. More I read, less I want to remember.
...think first, act second, apologize later."
>Hoof stomps and shuffling in the background occur, heavy doors closing, then a low, barely recognizable voice speaking.
"Half? No, I've been locked in here since the first few Maniples were distracted. The Medical Wing was evacuated but... yes, get them checked out. Send anypony else straight to... I... wouldn't advise it, but if they refuse slash a few throats. Gut one if you feel like it. If they won't listen to reason, make 'em suffer. .....no, I'm closing this place down. Go on ahead, I'll be out of here once these are set."
>Metallic locks shattering, the mare snarls aloud for a few seconds, spits, then is quiet until a door slams, speaking in a harsh subtone.
"Look, if keep the damage from none to minimal at most and you won't ever hear my voice again. I'm not keen to go on reliction duty. Keep that in mind.
First of rule of survival in a hostile region: a reasonably defensible location is worth more than having unlimited food and water without shelter, and.. did you say 'the water is ice cold'? That's... not possible. ...then again the central Deep Moors regions are basically unknown. Study that when or time permits.
......also, don't make contact on the Lunar Network unless it's from or to a specific individual that you know. Most connections are registered in the Archives, just not all of 'em. Winging off for now-"
>A loud click of hoof on stone confirms the dismissal, leaving the Moon Orb firmly silent.
>Making out what you could from the screen, on approaching the geyser-like seep it was clearly shaped at some point in the distant past, no projections or sharp edges, though appeared entirely natural.
>Feeling your exposed hand chilling slowly in air, the locale was nearly freezing.
>The same image of the unusual trio flickers across your consciousness, defending their home from an invasion that was much harder to recall now, fuzzy and barely recognizable.
>Directing the ruthlessly efficient hybrid shield to expand under firm control, streaks of unrecognizable agony jolt through the entirety of palm, fingers, and thumb, much faster than you can process.
>Maintaining nearly solid willpower as the barrier streaks into its predefined shape, as you mostly disconnect from your own body, intensely bright blue energies splash forwards, spraying the pool, stream, and ground to both sides in a wide cone.
>Where the blue touches, water immediately flash boils, chunks of earth vaporize before chain detonating, and miniature airbursts rebound throughout the Reliquary.
>Both the pain and erratic surging had been removed, but loud chatters, hisses, and mixed, low roars in the distance are immediately followed by an extremely high pitched, keening shriek far to your right.
[1d6 = 6]
"Please do so, I have enough problems trying to find a replacemarent. .......have a small piece of news for you: Lunar Councilmare Vestal Gardenia of New Canterlot was listed as comatose... little over two hours ago. She has no family there, relatives in Stalliongrad ar-...... Starborn or not, all further details are classified."
>Letting out a sharp exhale, Cloudstrike can be heard sorting through rough paper sheaves.
"Wouldn't suggest trying to bribe or make friends with them either. Few scattered reports from Ferron subclans.. Vanguard and Warguard strains get real pissed when offered food. More I read, less I want to remember.
...think first, act second, apologize later."
>Hoof stomps and shuffling in the background occur, heavy doors closing, then a low, barely recognizable voice speaking.
"Half? No, I've been locked in here since the first few Maniples were distracted. The Medical Wing was evacuated but... yes, get them checked out. Send anypony else straight to... I... wouldn't advise it, but if they refuse slash a few throats. Gut one if you feel like it. If they won't listen to reason, make 'em suffer. .....no, I'm closing this place down. Go on ahead, I'll be out of here once these are set."
>Metallic locks shattering, the mare snarls aloud for a few seconds, spits, then is quiet until a door slams, speaking in a harsh subtone.
"Look, if keep the damage from none to minimal at most and you won't ever hear my voice again. I'm not keen to go on reliction duty. Keep that in mind.
First of rule of survival in a hostile region: a reasonably defensible location is worth more than having unlimited food and water without shelter, and.. did you say 'the water is ice cold'? That's... not possible. ...then again the central Deep Moors regions are basically unknown. Study that when or time permits.
......also, don't make contact on the Lunar Network unless it's from or to a specific individual that you know. Most connections are registered in the Archives, just not all of 'em. Winging off for now-"
>A loud click of hoof on stone confirms the dismissal, leaving the Moon Orb firmly silent.
>Making out what you could from the screen, on approaching the geyser-like seep it was clearly shaped at some point in the distant past, no projections or sharp edges, though appeared entirely natural.
>Feeling your exposed hand chilling slowly in air, the locale was nearly freezing.
>The same image of the unusual trio flickers across your consciousness, defending their home from an invasion that was much harder to recall now, fuzzy and barely recognizable.
>Directing the ruthlessly efficient hybrid shield to expand under firm control, streaks of unrecognizable agony jolt through the entirety of palm, fingers, and thumb, much faster than you can process.
>Maintaining nearly solid willpower as the barrier streaks into its predefined shape, as you mostly disconnect from your own body, intensely bright blue energies splash forwards, spraying the pool, stream, and ground to both sides in a wide cone.
>Where the blue touches, water immediately flash boils, chunks of earth vaporize before chain detonating, and miniature airbursts rebound throughout the Reliquary.
>Both the pain and erratic surging had been removed, but loud chatters, hisses, and mixed, low roars in the distance are immediately followed by an extremely high pitched, keening shriek far to your right.
[1d6 = 6]
File (): CEA4359121747F8E716D950D80A72546-949018.gif (926.8 KB, 240x200, alsoNervous.gif)
>>371926
>Jeff does a mental spit take at the news Cloudstrike had just divulged to him.
>Vestal was a Lunar Council member? Why does he never recall seeing her around...
>He goes all the way back, back to his induction hearing. Most he knew by name and face.
>The one earth pony on the voting board, that down-voted him and left immediately after he was accepted.
>Shit, no wonder he doesn't remember her. Either they're paths have failed to cross, or she has actively avoided him this entire time.
>And he gave her so much of his bullshit, yesterday. That interaction was already plenty bad on his part, now he'd had done it to a superior. Why didn't she identify herself at the beginning? He would have kept his mouth shut real tight then.
>How could she also be a Chairmember of the Councilerge? Seems like a conflict of interest.
>It ultimately didn't matter. His actions to her were wrong, now matter who she is. Hopefully, he can get out of here and help make amends.
'I see. Thank you for sharing that. Here's hoping she recovers.'
>Taking in the latest info on the Wolves, the conversation shifts from him.
>Cloudstrike was conversing with someone else.
>Quite dubiously forceful, things were going. Yet again the situation on the Citadel was far worse than what he was presently dealing with. Whatever it took to get everyone moving, he figures.
>She then addresses him again, and he gets the warning.
'Understood. I have a short call list I can trust, anyway.'
>As the barrier activates, any attempt to slow it down was futile.
>It generated so quickly, he barely registers the nettle popping out of his hand. Before he knows it, it was over. His hand was freed, if bleeding a little.
>But despite having cleared the area around him, the ability had traveled far enough to affect the pool. Water instantly converted to steam, and loose earth explodes. What sounded like a barrage of fireworks echoes through the chamber.
>That was the least of his problems. The following uproar of unseen creatures obviously reacting to the commotion was only the beginning.
>His small victory turned into a shorter race against the clock.
"Shhhhould have seen that coming."
>Wasting no time, Jeff stows the bandage roll and opens up the wound pad. For now he adheres it against his hand to stop any bleeding and sterilize it. He'll get his hand back into the gauntlet once it's healed up. For now he keeps a grip on the wound pad, until the Dusk Film cleans up whatever remained.
>Standing up, Jeff places a marker on his current location. The seep would make a good reference point, as he navigates. Checking his heading on the TacPad and sticks to his earlier plan. Head SouthWest and keep going until he hits a wall. Hopefully he can lose whatever he managed to piss off.
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <E.Stealth
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <TacPad: GPS
[1d6 = 5] <E.Sprint
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 5]
>As he moves forward, Jeff flips down his Combi-Goggles and sweeps the area ahead of him in both night vision and thermal.
[1d6 = 1] <M.Perception
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <AdvNVG
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <AdvThermals
>>371907
>Feeling his Moon Orb activate, he expected Cloudstrike with an update. Instead, it was Clemency!
>Still on the move, he response back to his friend mentally.
*'Clem, great timing! I'm in a hell of a pickle. First off-'*
>He recites his current grid coordinates, same he gave Cloudstrike.
*'That is where I am right now, also underground at an unknown depth. Middle of nowhere, Deep Moors central. Thousand of miles to the nearest matrice, hundreds from anything civilized. Share it with the others, locals, that satellite of your's, whatever helps get the ball rolling. I can't divulge who or how I was taken from the Village for everyone's safety, so just trust me what I have to say from here on out.'*
>Jeff pauses as he huffs through the chamber. He attaches his deathmask as he continues on.
*'I've already got a handler on the Citadel checking if there's a crash pod available for me but I'm not holding my breath. I can't get a hold of Anon, his iron ball isn't responding. He got partially spaghetti'd earlier, so maybe he's healing from that still. Need to check on him pronto. Other than maybe Hodch, I can't think of anyone or thing that can get to me urgently. I've got more, so get something to write on. By the way, what's going on at the Village? Anyone else disappear, or is it just me?'*
>Jeff does a mental spit take at the news Cloudstrike had just divulged to him.
>Vestal was a Lunar Council member? Why does he never recall seeing her around...
>He goes all the way back, back to his induction hearing. Most he knew by name and face.
>The one earth pony on the voting board, that down-voted him and left immediately after he was accepted.
>Shit, no wonder he doesn't remember her. Either they're paths have failed to cross, or she has actively avoided him this entire time.
>And he gave her so much of his bullshit, yesterday. That interaction was already plenty bad on his part, now he'd had done it to a superior. Why didn't she identify herself at the beginning? He would have kept his mouth shut real tight then.
>How could she also be a Chairmember of the Councilerge? Seems like a conflict of interest.
>It ultimately didn't matter. His actions to her were wrong, now matter who she is. Hopefully, he can get out of here and help make amends.
'I see. Thank you for sharing that. Here's hoping she recovers.'
>Taking in the latest info on the Wolves, the conversation shifts from him.
>Cloudstrike was conversing with someone else.
>Quite dubiously forceful, things were going. Yet again the situation on the Citadel was far worse than what he was presently dealing with. Whatever it took to get everyone moving, he figures.
>She then addresses him again, and he gets the warning.
'Understood. I have a short call list I can trust, anyway.'
>As the barrier activates, any attempt to slow it down was futile.
>It generated so quickly, he barely registers the nettle popping out of his hand. Before he knows it, it was over. His hand was freed, if bleeding a little.
>But despite having cleared the area around him, the ability had traveled far enough to affect the pool. Water instantly converted to steam, and loose earth explodes. What sounded like a barrage of fireworks echoes through the chamber.
>That was the least of his problems. The following uproar of unseen creatures obviously reacting to the commotion was only the beginning.
>His small victory turned into a shorter race against the clock.
"Shhhhould have seen that coming."
>Wasting no time, Jeff stows the bandage roll and opens up the wound pad. For now he adheres it against his hand to stop any bleeding and sterilize it. He'll get his hand back into the gauntlet once it's healed up. For now he keeps a grip on the wound pad, until the Dusk Film cleans up whatever remained.
>Standing up, Jeff places a marker on his current location. The seep would make a good reference point, as he navigates. Checking his heading on the TacPad and sticks to his earlier plan. Head SouthWest and keep going until he hits a wall. Hopefully he can lose whatever he managed to piss off.
[1d6+1 = (6+1) = 7] <E.Stealth
[1d6+1 = (2+1) = 3]
[1d6+1 = (3+1) = 4]
[1d6+4 = (2+4) = 6] <TacPad: GPS
[1d6 = 5] <E.Sprint
[1d6 = 4]
[1d6 = 5]
>As he moves forward, Jeff flips down his Combi-Goggles and sweeps the area ahead of him in both night vision and thermal.
[1d6 = 1] <M.Perception
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6+3 = (4+3) = 7] <AdvNVG
[1d6+3 = (2+3) = 5] <AdvThermals
>>371907
>Feeling his Moon Orb activate, he expected Cloudstrike with an update. Instead, it was Clemency!
>Still on the move, he response back to his friend mentally.
*'Clem, great timing! I'm in a hell of a pickle. First off-'*
>He recites his current grid coordinates, same he gave Cloudstrike.
*'That is where I am right now, also underground at an unknown depth. Middle of nowhere, Deep Moors central. Thousand of miles to the nearest matrice, hundreds from anything civilized. Share it with the others, locals, that satellite of your's, whatever helps get the ball rolling. I can't divulge who or how I was taken from the Village for everyone's safety, so just trust me what I have to say from here on out.'*
>Jeff pauses as he huffs through the chamber. He attaches his deathmask as he continues on.
*'I've already got a handler on the Citadel checking if there's a crash pod available for me but I'm not holding my breath. I can't get a hold of Anon, his iron ball isn't responding. He got partially spaghetti'd earlier, so maybe he's healing from that still. Need to check on him pronto. Other than maybe Hodch, I can't think of anyone or thing that can get to me urgently. I've got more, so get something to write on. By the way, what's going on at the Village? Anyone else disappear, or is it just me?'*
>>371907
"Stellar Claws."
>Left set of wingclaws lifting, the Cultist flicks them from side to side, the sweeping motions creating small, dark nebulae lit by tiny moonbeams.
>Gazing fondly at the esoteric displays, she turns a highly scrunched snout towards you, motioning at the web-like scars across her face and wings, lips pulling back in a warm smile.
"But you can call me Skitter. Used to be real stupid as a filly, always running around without a care in the world. That's what caused these. Got tangled in an abandoned Spectral orb-weaver nest and couldn't get out for a couple hours. Spent the whole time staring at the Oceans Above.
Might not be as dumb as I once was, but I'm certainly not pretty like modern mares these nights.. unless you happen to like that sort of thing."
>Frontal weapons brightening quickly, then darkening, Guillotine's point defense systems glow in sequential measures, though her transmitted voice is calm.
*"Canst only hope 'til then. Awash they were 'tween hybrid chiropteran, pegasi, Germane, an' mineself's flows. Voices tae speak they havest... somber, forlorn, an' quieted.
Simple codices translated, ye grace. Transcribed they not be yet. Mama's Tone be not concise nor modernized tae Common Equine. Atime mineself needeth tae register meanings."*
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Intact Communication Protocols
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>Pursing her lips twice, Stellar Claws lifts a hoof at you, then gazes back up at the archaic Harpy Destroyer, left eyebrow raised humorously.
"Yep, real similar to the First Independent League cloud-town pegasi dialect, but the tones and inflections don't match."
>Flicking her right wing out in causal acceptance, the batmare snickers quietly.
"I'll be here. Wish I could talk to her.. but watching is neat, too."
>Striding towards Lann's formal shop, the second building east from the north entrance, informal squadruns of Crystal ponies, Conclavists, Kingdomites, Imperials, and small numbers of Crystal Minotaurs march south towards the fountain.
>Receiving a puzzling number of passing hoof, wing, and massive hand salutes, it was apparent they recognized you as both an ally and a welcomed friend.
>Entering the cleared out trade post, there wasn't a single bolt of cloth in sight on the tables and racks the chunky earth mare regularly kept track of.
>Reaching her low, rather normal height counter and spotting a brightly glowing Flawless Moon Orb on the second shelf, Jeff's transmission was spotty and fragmented.
"Stellar Claws."
>Left set of wingclaws lifting, the Cultist flicks them from side to side, the sweeping motions creating small, dark nebulae lit by tiny moonbeams.
>Gazing fondly at the esoteric displays, she turns a highly scrunched snout towards you, motioning at the web-like scars across her face and wings, lips pulling back in a warm smile.
"But you can call me Skitter. Used to be real stupid as a filly, always running around without a care in the world. That's what caused these. Got tangled in an abandoned Spectral orb-weaver nest and couldn't get out for a couple hours. Spent the whole time staring at the Oceans Above.
Might not be as dumb as I once was, but I'm certainly not pretty like modern mares these nights.. unless you happen to like that sort of thing."
>Frontal weapons brightening quickly, then darkening, Guillotine's point defense systems glow in sequential measures, though her transmitted voice is calm.
*"Canst only hope 'til then. Awash they were 'tween hybrid chiropteran, pegasi, Germane, an' mineself's flows. Voices tae speak they havest... somber, forlorn, an' quieted.
Simple codices translated, ye grace. Transcribed they not be yet. Mama's Tone be not concise nor modernized tae Common Equine. Atime mineself needeth tae register meanings."*
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7] <Intact Communication Protocols
[1d6+4 = (6+4) = 10]
[1d6+4 = (3+4) = 7]
[1d6+4 = (5+4) = 9]
>Pursing her lips twice, Stellar Claws lifts a hoof at you, then gazes back up at the archaic Harpy Destroyer, left eyebrow raised humorously.
"Yep, real similar to the First Independent League cloud-town pegasi dialect, but the tones and inflections don't match."
>Flicking her right wing out in causal acceptance, the batmare snickers quietly.
"I'll be here. Wish I could talk to her.. but watching is neat, too."
>Striding towards Lann's formal shop, the second building east from the north entrance, informal squadruns of Crystal ponies, Conclavists, Kingdomites, Imperials, and small numbers of Crystal Minotaurs march south towards the fountain.
>Receiving a puzzling number of passing hoof, wing, and massive hand salutes, it was apparent they recognized you as both an ally and a welcomed friend.
>Entering the cleared out trade post, there wasn't a single bolt of cloth in sight on the tables and racks the chunky earth mare regularly kept track of.
>Reaching her low, rather normal height counter and spotting a brightly glowing Flawless Moon Orb on the second shelf, Jeff's transmission was spotty and fragmented.
>>371934
>Stellar Claws
>Apt given the little astral flourish she does
>Clemency didn't even notice the scars on her face until she motioned towards them
>There not thaaaat bad
"Well, considering who my mate is..."
>Clemency then shrugs and flashes a sheepish smile
>Looking up at the Guillotine, is relieved when the Guillotine translates the runes from the hardcases
>However, the Guillotine also needs the understand what the message is
>Maybe it's like reading very VERY old English
*"I appreciate the help. When ever you get it transcribed, contact me..."*
>Whatever these hardcases say, they better help against the Constructs
>These ones at the Moors are the only ones that can communicate as far as Clem knows and at least they learned how to make agreements
>He hopes there's still a Citadel by the time Clemency is able to get up there
>>371932
>Passing all the groups, Clemency does make an effort to salute them back
>As he enters Lann's store, he sees how empty it is compared to the last time he was there
>No doubt part of the evacuation before the battle
>Spotting the Flawless Moon Orb, his own responds back
>"Jeff! Finally!"
>Clemency quickly focuses on Jeff's message but notes the spottiness
>If he's that far out for comms between orbs to be scrambled, the he's really far away from us
>Through it all, Clemency does hear coordinates
>Trying to piece it together, Clemency flicks his visor down and access the M-S.O.L.G
>With what he hears, he begins to move the satellite over the coordinates he can make out
>The rest of the message only concerns Clemency more
>He thinks he heard "Deep Moors" and he's far from civilization
>The rest is him talking about what he's done
>Hearing about something to write on, Clemency does get a notepad and pen out but speaks to Jeff
*"Before you start, communications is spotty for you. Gotta make sure I get those coordinates. Repeat those grid coordinates."*
>That one statement of trust was concerning but Clem is going to have to roll with it for now
*"Ok, trust. It took a good moment for the groups to notice you AND Emerald missing. We have no trace of you two. For the armies, they seem to be forming back into their factions but that's all I know."*
>If he was in a dangerous situation, he can only hope that he stays safe
*"Remember your SERE training now. I've got the M-S.O.L.G en route and I'll get the message about you out."*
>Clemency then waits and listens to Jeff's reply
>Stellar Claws
>Apt given the little astral flourish she does
>Clemency didn't even notice the scars on her face until she motioned towards them
>There not thaaaat bad
"Well, considering who my mate is..."
>Clemency then shrugs and flashes a sheepish smile
>Looking up at the Guillotine, is relieved when the Guillotine translates the runes from the hardcases
>However, the Guillotine also needs the understand what the message is
>Maybe it's like reading very VERY old English
*"I appreciate the help. When ever you get it transcribed, contact me..."*
>Whatever these hardcases say, they better help against the Constructs
>These ones at the Moors are the only ones that can communicate as far as Clem knows and at least they learned how to make agreements
>He hopes there's still a Citadel by the time Clemency is able to get up there
>>371932
>Passing all the groups, Clemency does make an effort to salute them back
>As he enters Lann's store, he sees how empty it is compared to the last time he was there
>No doubt part of the evacuation before the battle
>Spotting the Flawless Moon Orb, his own responds back
>"Jeff! Finally!"
>Clemency quickly focuses on Jeff's message but notes the spottiness
>If he's that far out for comms between orbs to be scrambled, the he's really far away from us
>Through it all, Clemency does hear coordinates
>Trying to piece it together, Clemency flicks his visor down and access the M-S.O.L.G
>With what he hears, he begins to move the satellite over the coordinates he can make out
>The rest of the message only concerns Clemency more
>He thinks he heard "Deep Moors" and he's far from civilization
>The rest is him talking about what he's done
>Hearing about something to write on, Clemency does get a notepad and pen out but speaks to Jeff
*"Before you start, communications is spotty for you. Gotta make sure I get those coordinates. Repeat those grid coordinates."*
>That one statement of trust was concerning but Clem is going to have to roll with it for now
*"Ok, trust. It took a good moment for the groups to notice you AND Emerald missing. We have no trace of you two. For the armies, they seem to be forming back into their factions but that's all I know."*
>If he was in a dangerous situation, he can only hope that he stays safe
*"Remember your SERE training now. I've got the M-S.O.L.G en route and I'll get the message about you out."*
>Clemency then waits and listens to Jeff's reply