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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

>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

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
>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
>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
>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
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.