/mlpol/ - My Little Politics

If you want to see the latest posts from all boards in a convenient way please check out /overboard/

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

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

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

>Or the Hoofbook if you wanna be a pony:

>Then drop a post here.

>Fortress Map:

>Overall Pastebin:

>Bulletin Board:

>Previous Thread:
>>279343 →
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/3
GM Strangler
352315 352362
>>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
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/3
GM Strangler
352299 352315 352362
>>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.
aryanne - bump.jpeg

Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/3
GM Strangler
352278 352299 352315 352362 352501

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.
[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.')
GM Strangler
[1d6+17 = (1+17) = 18] <Secondary Tech-Arcane Armaments
Snowfall The Pred-Elk
The GM L.O.N.T
>>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."
352315 352501 352576
"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?)
Sunny Feathers
Here it comes.png
>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

>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."
Bubba the Second
>>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.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>>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?"
Ivan the STALKER
"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."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>>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."
Mallia Castella

(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.
The L.O.N.T
Lont stressed!.jpeg
>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.

>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

>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.')
The L.O.N.T
Jeff by Wyzar.png

Razorback Fortress: The Clinic, Operating Room #2
GM Strangler
>>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."
Lost in the Crag Moors: Saving Wild's Damaged Ass
GM Strangler
>>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]
[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]
[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.
"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.
Sand Cutter
GM Strangler
>>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."
Razorback Enclave
GM Strangler
>>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]
>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.)
The L.O.N.T
Jeff by Wyzar.png
Lost in the Crag Moors: Saving Wild's Damaged Ass
GM Strangler
"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
[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
>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.
Lost in the Crag Moors: Saving Wild's Damaged Ass
GM Strangler
>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.
>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.
[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

>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]
>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.
Lost in the Crag Moors: Saving Wild's Damaged Ass
GM Strangler
>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.
[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.
>Centering on the head again, the left screen's view shows her squeezing the trigger again.
[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
"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
Op Major Success.png
>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.
>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?"
>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.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
"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'?"
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
'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."
Ivan the STALKER
"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..."
352585 352815

>"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
Razorback Enclave
GM Strangler
'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
>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
>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."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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
>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."
Mallia Castella
The what.jpg
>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.)
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
352576 352789 352815 352845

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!')
[1d6+16 = (1+16) = 17] <Discordite Destroyer Battalion 4 x 950 total
[1d6+5 = (1+5) = 6] <Airstreams: Subvert Control
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
352789 352815 352845
>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

>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.
Ivan the STALKER
>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.
>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]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/4
GM Strangler
352584 352789 352815 352845
>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.')

>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
GM Strangler
[1d6 = 2] <Belregard's Sub-Champion
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #4/4
GM Strangler
352789 352815 352817 352845
>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]
>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.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
'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
>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."
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
>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."
Ivan the STALKER
>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.
"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."
>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?"
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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."
Ivan the STALKER
"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
>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
"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."
Razorback Fortress, The Pagoda
GM Strangler
>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."*
>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

>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!"

>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."
Mallia Castella
>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? 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?)
Sunny Feathers
352815 352817 352845 353056

>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
352817 352845 353056 353068
>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.')

>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]
352845 353061 353068 353164

>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?"*


>"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.)
The L.O.N.T
353063 353068
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

>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.

>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.

>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.

>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]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
353068 353078 353164

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

Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
353068 353078 353164
>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!')

>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]
[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.
Just an avid reader lurking the Dark Horse.
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/4
GM Strangler
353068 353078 353164 353212
>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]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #4/4
GM Strangler
353068 353078 353164
>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
Welcome to the Filly Zone.
Sunny Feathers

>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.


>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.')
The L.O.N.T
353087 353970 353974
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

>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.

>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.
>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.

>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]
The L.O.N.T
[1d6 = 5] >Wish Disc
Bubba the Second
"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.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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
Ivan the STALKER
"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."
353165 353166 353212 353970 353974
>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.

>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] <GBU-12 Paveway IV Bomb

[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]
[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]
353970 353974
>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
>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."
"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.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
>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."
"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."
>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?"*
*"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:

"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'."*
>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."
353972 353974
>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

("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
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
'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.'
Razorback Enclave
GM Strangler
"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?"
"Are there Shrikes in the vicinity?"
"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."
Bubba the Second
"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
>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."
"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."
Mallia Castella

>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.
Canterlot University
The GM L.O.N.T
>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...

>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."
>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.
Canterlot University
The GM L.O.N.T

"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.
>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.
"I wanna try!"
"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."
353352 353358
>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?
[1d6 = 5]
[1d6 = 2]
[1d6 = 5]<Master Perception
[1d6 = 4] < Master Perception: Formatting is hell
Dang dice
Canterlot University; Steel Mane
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.
"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
>Whimsy Willow.
>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?"
>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)
Canterlot University; Steel Mane
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.
>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.
Canterlot University; Steel Mane
The GM L.O.N.T

>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?"
>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.
>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.
Canterlot University; Steel Mane
The GM L.O.N.T

>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?"
>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.
Canterlot University; Guardmare
The GM L.O.N.T


>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~?"
>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!
Canterlot University; Golden Horn And Aquarian Field
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.
>She shouted over the doors slowly opening.
>Golden Horn shouted back as he faced the doors.
>The doors finally came to a stop against the rough stone walls, the noise immediately dying down to manageable levels.
"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!"
>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.
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

A Curious Inquest Part 2

>>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."
>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
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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.
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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
>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.
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.
>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
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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...
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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...
Ivan the STALKER
"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.
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
>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.
"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?"

"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?"
"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
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.
>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...

>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.)
>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.
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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.
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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!
Canterlot University; Exam Time!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.


>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.

>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...
Canterlot University; First Puzzle Completed!
The GM L.O.N.T

>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]

Razorback Enclave
GM Strangler
>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
"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 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
Canterlot University; Time to Move on

>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.

>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.
>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
Razorback Fortress: The Hangar
GM Strangler
>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.
'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'
'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."
Canterlot University; Time to Run

>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.

>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.

>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.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
>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
Ivan the STALKER
"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."
Razorback Fortress: The Pagoda
GM Strangler
>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.

>'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.'
"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."
Canterlot University; Time For Chaos
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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.

370030 370064
>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?"
Sand Cutter
GM Strangler
>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."
>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]
Mallia Castella
>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.
Canterlot University; Blowing Hot Air
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

>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]
Canterlot University; Oops
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
353974 353988

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
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
353974 353988

('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.
('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
[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]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/4
GM Strangler
353974 353988 355345
"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.

"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.')
('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
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #4/4
GM Strangler
353974 353988 354707
>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
Sunny Feathers
353988 354707 370039
>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.
>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.




>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.')
The L.O.N.T
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

>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.

>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]

>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.

>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."
Bubba the Second
>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]
>Kissy's previous fright at the imminence of her death caused her eyes to shrink into pinpricks.
>How could the-

>y let this...
>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.
Canterlot University Go Again
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

354594 355009
>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 = 6]
[1d6 = 3]

[1d6 = 4]<Master Casting: Water Bolt (pls brain)
[1d6 = 1]
355345 370042 370068
>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

>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
Canterlot University Go Again
The GM L.O.N.T

>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.

Bren's Cabin: The Dead Do Not Sleep
GM Strangler
>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."
>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.

>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.
>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.
Canterlot University, Things Are Heating Up
The L.O.N.T

>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.

>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!
Dead as fuck comp
GM Strangler
356186 356212 356216
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.
356191 356249
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.
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.
oh shit, get well soon man! >>356179
>heart attack
Are you a big guy?
I thought he was kidding.
GM Strangler
Only had OS on it, all else is safe.

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.
GM Strangler
356253 356257
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.
U vaxxed?
Seriously tho. Hope you get better soon. May God help you stick around.
fuckin' yeesh. dunno what else to say other than you'll get better soon, and i know you will because i believe so.
When anon isn't a big guy 4u
I never got these threads or knew what they were about, but get well soon, Anon.
GM Strangler
356496 356503
Fuck no, never will be. Epona is watching my ass with intense disgust.

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.

An old school d6 text based RPG. We started in middle 2012!
The Tainted by Fabcob.jpg
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.
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.
GM Strangler
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.

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.
Good to know you like it!

And better knowing you're not done and out yet, mang
GM Strangler
356619 357004
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.
Jeez, that is a lot of bad news right there. AND terrible food.

You're not dead yet so that is a positive.
GM Strangler
357000 357002 357004 357067 357115
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.
357067 357123
Don't jinx it
What are these heart exercises?
You didn't take the lethal injection. Right?
>got trips on informing us on the good news

now you can't die or else you'll be a massive faggot

the trips protect against any jinxes, also GG on the 7k post
Bubba the Second
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.
GM Strangler
357126 357146 357545
Don't make a tempting offer~

Medium to high intensity, moderate impact cardio. Basically metered speed exercises.

FUCK no. Never have, never will. Got done watching 'Died Suddenly', real sickening. It's on rumble, unfortunately.

Can't be a faggot if you like mares more.

If I'm not active enough taking it easy might kill me. We've lived this long, I ain't leaving now.
>FUCK no. Never have, never will.
Bubba the 2nd
Take it easy in a sense of not giving yourself the die
any updates?
GM Strangler
357797 357851 357857 357927
Less die, got it.

Got held another week and a half due to a 'false' heart attack that turned out to be a paroxysmal muscular spasm, am wearing a heart rate monitor now. Should be home late this week or next.
Told you not to jinx it.
be safe man
Nurse Redheart - winking.png
Be well fren.
Bubba the Second
Why are you like this
GM Strangler
358722 358764 358765 358899
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.
welcome home, now start eating your greens :3
Welcome back, horse overlord :)
Bubba the Second
Glad to see you're keeping yourself from the die.

Also punch the PC into working
GM Strangler
Have been, feel considerably better. My diet before was atrocious now that I know. Procedure helped greatly, fuck it hurt just to sit down though.

Julie Covington time~

Ohaiyo gozai mashita.

Trying, not going well. Might need to use a SpinTenLite OS for a bit.
Any updates, feeling a bit better now you're settled in?
GM Strangler
361161 361162
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.
hope you're enjoying Linux lmao
Yeah. Now you must be up and fine.
Let the fun begin.
GM Strangler
361400 361401 361404
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.
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).
That's a nightmare bro, sorry to hear that.
GM Strangler
361648 361742
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 good news
Glad to know
>The BAD news:
Or you've created a brand new horsefucker
GM Strangler
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.

Someone might have said something. The official email was hilarious to read.
GM Strangler
Did what they could. Sadly wasn't enough. No complaining from me.
>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.
GM Strangler
Already got backups in place including a pre-shutdown system restore. Also fuck WD, bunch of tranny loving Silicuck Valley commie whores.
bad sectors - Screenshot 2.png
Do not forget to scan the surface for bad blocks before to setup LUKS and begin dumping the files.
learn to code lmao
Take a hike Windows fag.
365633 365774
A WiP of Wildride
Needs bigger tits
365792 365799
Finished version

next time i'll tell them
Very nice! (And good~)
GM Strangler
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.
Big tit version.
Bigger is better.
Razorback Fortress: The Workshop
GM Strangler
"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
>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
Ivan the STALKER
"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..."
"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~
Taking A Lead: Breakdown in Communication
GM Strangler
>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."*
>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]
Razorbat Fortress: The Hangar
GM Strangler
>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."
'or throw it. that usually made it work before'
'calm your binary ma'

>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!"
Razorback Enclave: One (GIANT) Detour
GM Strangler
"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]
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #1/4
GM Strangler
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

('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-')
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #2/4
GM Strangler
370053 370105
('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.')

>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
Basin Village: The Lost Legions, Post #3/4
GM Strangler
370053 370082
>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